Summer on the Italian Lakes

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘My grandparents loved this part of Italy. It was second only to Scotland in their hearts.’

  For a man who was given very mixed signals about love at an early age, the preciousness of what his grandparents had wasn’t lost on him.

  ‘You mentioned selling the house in Surrey. Do you have a place to stay in the UK now? I suppose your TV work is mainly London based.’

  The waiter returns with two San Pellegrino Limonata, a sparkling lemon drink. He half fills the tumblers, leaving the bottles in the centre of our small bistro table.

  ‘Grazie.’ Arran gives him a nod.

  ‘Prego.’

  I watch, entranced, as the guy makes his way back to the bar inside. There’s something about Italian men and the self-assured way that they walk. I realise Arran has that trait and maybe he learnt it here, on his summer vacations. Head held high, shoulders back and a lightness of foot that reminds me of dancing, of all things. Yes, purposeful but stylish and with a sense of enthusiasm. Goodness, you can tell I’m a writer.

  ‘No, I don’t have anywhere at the moment. It’s going to be a problem, but I can’t think about that just now. Thankfully there are studios all around the country, which is just as well as London is so expensive.’

  ‘Well, if you are ever stuck and in need of a bed within striking distance of the Forest of Dean, I have a guest room that’s seldom used.’ He really is in an awkward position and I feel for him.

  ‘Thanks, I might just take you up on that offer.’

  He’s embarrassed now, and I feel awkward. I think he mistakes my silence for reflection.

  ‘Thinking about this morning? The first session is always the worst. One down, three to go.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I just wanted to explain something. I’ve recently lost quite a bit of weight and I’m careful what I eat now. That’s why I often pace around when I’m proof checking or reading.’ I raise my wrist, jiggling my Vivofit bracelet.

  ‘Oh, I thought that was a watch.’

  ‘No, it counts my steps and while I’m away from home I’m upping my daily target to compensate for not doing any cardio.’

  He stares at me, frowning. ‘You’re not overweight, Brie. Don’t for goodness’ sake end up like Harriet. I swear she’s borderline anorexic and it won’t take much to tip her over the edge. She looks at herself and thinks she’s fat but she’s unhealthily thin, given that she’s quite tall. Why do women do that to themselves?’

  Do I talk about the haters and the trolls?

  I let my eyes settle on Arran’s face. He’s really concerned but all I can think about is the fact that he’s very kissable. There’s a loud ping and at first, I think it’s my phone, so I drag it out, but Arran is already staring down at his mobile.

  Clearly, it’s a text because he scrolls down. And it’s a long one. I watch his face and he’s oblivious to the fact that I’m taking in every little detail. At one point he stops for a brief moment, his eyes flickering shut before opening again as he reads on. His head slouches a little as he turns it off, slipping it back into his shirt pocket.

  I can see by the look on his face it’s bad news. When he turns to face me, his expression is grim.

  ‘Would it help to share?’

  He takes a long, slow gulp of his drink before setting it back down.

  ‘I’m running out of time. Harriet’s solicitor has spelt out her terms if I can’t make the next payment on time. Even assuming Carrie can get me an advance quickly, it’s unlikely to be enough. In addition I have the running costs of the villa to cover and my next TV project doesn’t even start recording until August. There’s only one option left open to me. I have to go to my father and see if he’ll help me out.’

  Judging by the look on Arran’s face it’s a last resort he hoped he’d never have to contemplate. From the little he’s said about his father I can tell that this hurts him, deeply. He looks disappointed in himself but it isn’t his fault at all.

  ‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, Arran, but I have a little money put aside. It’s sitting in the bank doing nothing and earning very little. Money has never meant very much to me and I know it would be safe with you. This situation you’re in is an impossible one and I’d like to help if I can.’

  Arran looks across at me and he clears his throat, visibly upset and pulling himself together before he speaks.

  ‘It’s incredibly kind of you, Brie, and please don’t think I’m not very appreciative. But if I don’t make this next payment she wants the lot, in one go – that’s over half a million pounds. She’s well within her rights to demand that. If only the darned villa wasn’t worth so much. The only real option is to ask my father to buy a share in it to avoid it being sold off. But it has to be enough to pay Harriet every last penny the court says she’s due, or I might as well give up the fight now.’

  Arran is virtually crumbling in front of my eyes. He thinks she’s won because his father can’t be relied upon to do the right thing. How sad is that?

  ‘Pathetic, isn’t it?’ He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, his head bent over for a brief second before he raises it to look across at me. ‘I’m a bit like you, Brie. Money isn’t everything to me, but I guess it’s a lot more important than I thought it was. My grandfather left the rest of his estate to my father; it was mostly cash and shares but more than enough to bail me out if he wants to. But it was the villa my father wanted, and he felt cheated. If I have to beg him to help me save it then that’s what I must do.’

  The colour has drained from his face and I think the shock is beginning to hit him hard.

  ‘Look, let’s go back to the villa. You need to get your head around the next step so you can get this sorted.’

  He looks at me with sad eyes. ‘I don’t want to spoil—’

  ‘You’re spoiling nothing. I have work to do, remember? I can see the town next week, or the week after. It’s not the end of the world. Come on.’ I stand and offer him my hand. He takes it, hardly applying any pressure as he stands, but drawing comfort from the contact.

  Arran pulls a handful of coins out of his pocket, placing them on the table. He waves to the waiter, then we head towards the door. The journey back to the villa in a taxi takes place in total silence after Arran sends a quick text to update everyone. I can’t help but feel emotional on his behalf as I can see that this has rocked his world.

  *

  We head off to our respective rooms with hardly a word. Divorce law is an unknown to me. However, I find it mind boggling that both parties aren’t expected to work to support themselves if they split up. Obviously joint assets should be shared, regardless of who worked and who didn’t. Behind every successful man, or woman, as the saying goes. But having a share of pre-existing assets? And the court expecting one of the parties involved to maintain the standard of living for the other person after the divorce? That’s insanity unless there are children involved, which is an entirely different matter.

  After a few minutes I’m getting angry; throwing myself into the manuscript is the only way to stop my mind from whirling.

  I keep a careful watch on the time, and when it gets to just after five, I stop, have a shower and change. The minibus will no doubt be heading back to town to collect the group and I have no idea whether Arran will reappear tonight. I fleetingly wonder if the driver has been informed he’s picking up only six people now, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

  Wandering downstairs, it’s quiet and I have no idea where Arran is right now, or even if he’s in the house. Then I remember the library and I make my way outside, crossing the garden and keeping out of sight as best I can. I approach the building rather cautiously. Some of the louvres are tilted, so I know he’s in there. Quietly, I head back to the house.

  By the time the minibus returns it’s a quarter to seven and people head straight off to their rooms. Arran’s absence isn’t noticeable, thankfully. Tonight, everyone has ticked the list to eat at La Pergola again and after that
the plan is to laze around the pool. I ring the restaurant to book a table for six, saying that Arran is tied up on an important phone call and I have that manuscript to work on. No one seems too bothered as they’ve obviously had a good day and I think tonight might be a late one. There’s a bit of a party mood going on, which is a great diversion. It’s a relief in one way, although I’m not sure how Arran will feel about it if the noise level rises later tonight. As soon as they all leave, I head back across to the library.

  Peering inside, Arran is sitting in one of the winged armchairs. I think he’s reading a book. I turn the door handle, gently inching it open, and step inside. He immediately looks up.

  ‘Sorry. What time is it?’ As he says the words he checks his watch and jumps to his feet, sending the book crashing to the floor. ‘Is everyone back?’ He sounds appalled.

  I bend to pick up what I can now see is a photograph album. A few photos have fallen out and I pick them and the album up, handing the pile to him.

  ‘Yes. Don’t worry. I booked the table, and everyone has gone off for a relaxing meal. I wondered if you wanted anything to eat? And to warn you that I think there might be a bit of a party going on tonight around the pool.’

  He looks a little dazed.

  ‘I see you put the lights on, thank you. Sorry, I sort of went into a bit of a freefall there for a while. I needed to reminisce. I’m not hungry right now, maybe later.’

  ‘You haven’t made the call yet?’

  I can see by his face the answer is no. He doesn’t respond but places the album on one of the shelves. Following him to the door, I wait while he shuts the blinds and then I close the door behind me, stepping out into the garden.

  Feeling helpless to offer any sort of meaningful consolation, I say nothing. Once inside the villa, I follow Arran up the stairs and he disappears into his bedroom without a backwards glance. Hurrying onwards to my room, I go straight out onto the balcony. Sitting quietly, I avoid touching the laptop for fear of making a noise and alerting him to the fact that I’m here.

  In truth I can’t really hear anything other than a low murmur and he’s probably sitting on the bed as he talks on the phone. Suddenly I hear an almighty crash and I run back into my room, fling open the door and hurtle down the stairs. When I throw open the door to Arran’s room he’s standing there with blood running down his arm.

  ‘What on earth?’ I stare at him in horror for one split second before hurrying into the bathroom to soak a towel in water.

  When I return, he’s slumped on the edge of the bed shaking his head and cradling his hand against his chest. Very gently, I ease his arm away from his body and he slowly uncurls his clenched fist. Glancing at the wall, there’s a blood splattered mark and it’s clear that his knuckles bore the brunt of his anger.

  ‘My father won’t help me. That man has no conscience whatsoever, just bitterness.’ He spits the words out vehemently. It doesn’t scare me, because he isn’t angry and isn’t resisting my attempt to clean up his hand. In fact, he’s watching every move I make.

  ‘Thank you, Brie. I’m sorry you’re witnessing this mess I’m in. It’s not fair on you and this wasn’t what you signed up for.’

  I shush him and continue wiping away the worst of the blood. The grazes are bad, and it takes a while for the bleeding to ease off. Gradually, I peel the cold compress away and it’s obvious it’s going to need bandaging.

  As I look up, Arran’s eyes meet mine. ‘That was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?’ he admits. ‘The medical kit is downstairs in the utility room. Do you mind sorting me out?’

  ‘You stay there, I won’t be a minute.’

  I walk downstairs, trying to calm my wildly beating heart and return my breathing to normal. As far as I can tell he hasn’t broken anything. I’ve moved each of his fingers without making him aware of my concerns. I can’t imagine the amount of anger inside him to do something like that, knowing how much pain it would inflict.

  Foraging around for the kit, I’m pleased to find that it’s well stocked and I return to Arran’s room, climbing the stairs two at a time. To my surprise he’s on the phone, so I hover in the doorway until he’s finished.

  ‘… it’s wrong to lose this place and he knows that. Thanks for the offer and I’ll think about it. I’m not sure a quick fix is going to help but I appreciate that you’re going against him. I know that won’t sit well with you. I’m sorry it came to this. I’ll ring you tomorrow and I hope he calms down.’

  Arran stands, placing his phone on the side table before turning to face me.

  ‘That, surprisingly enough, was my mother. Seems my father and I both needed to vent, only he didn’t hit a wall. He just threw a chair across the room, but it smashed a window.’

  He sits back down on the edge of the bed and I kneel in front of him, unwrapping his hand gently from the towel. After using an antiseptic wipe, applying some cream and then bandaging his hand, he looks at me guiltily.

  What I see is such a well of emotion that I half stand to sit beside him on the bed. Suddenly, without any prior thought at all, I find myself throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him to me. His breath is warm on my neck and before I know it we’re falling back onto the crisp cotton bedding and his lips are on mine.

  My body feels like a firework has exploded inside me and there isn’t a part of me that isn’t tingling with expectation and anticipation. I pull at his shirt, while he eases the straps of my dress down over my shoulders and we adjust our position, frantically tugging to free ourselves of our clothes.

  When our eyes meet, Arran’s face is full of longing and something deep inside me begins to melt. I want to feel his body on mine and I don’t care whether this is a good idea or not.

  Arran pulls away, yanking off his trousers and boxer shorts, while I begin to slip my dress off and then I freeze. Looking down at my stomach it’s still like a mound. A mound which wobbles like a jelly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Arran asks, concerned. ‘Is this a bad idea?’

  I nod, then shake my head and he looks at me, confused.

  ‘I’m not in the best shape at the moment,’ I admit, lamely.

  ‘Oh. That’s not a problem. I understand.’ He turns away, preparing to get up but I place my hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Sorry. Just a little paranoia. I’ve been through a tough time lately, but that’s a long story. My body shape is what it is and I’m just being pathetic.’

  He rolls back in towards me, and I laugh as he playfully teases my lacy pants down over my hips one-handedly. Then he helps ease my dress up over my head. He runs his good hand over my stomach as if it’s flat.

  ‘You’re beautiful, Brie, and that’s a fact. Are you really sure about this? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,’ he asks, his voice husky and rather breathless.

  ‘I’m sure,’ I whisper as his mouth closes on mine.

  He rather gingerly continues to explore and suddenly I don’t care about the jiggly bits because he seems totally oblivious to them. As his arms wrap around me, I’m otherwise engaged and I’m having my David Gandy moment. Arran’s body is firm beneath my touch and he smells so good.

  I groan, unable to stop myself and he mutters, ‘I hope that’s a positive noise,’ which makes me giggle.

  It isn’t long before words aren’t necessary because already my legs are entwined around him, guiding him into me, and the ecstasy begins. But nothing that has ever gone before could have prepared me for the level and depth of passion this man has in his soul. And the tenderness, after such a shockingly violent display of temper, is a real surprise.

  19

  It’s Time to Party

  We lie in each other’s arms, allowing our bodies to calm down from that gloriously heightened state of sexual bliss. Nothing makes you feel more alive, but something was very different for me this time. Before, I’ve always been left with a transient doubt, not quite a regret but a sense of having given something and hoping I won’t regret it late
r. I have absolutely no regrets about having done the deed with Arran. And by the look of it, he has no regrets either.

  ‘That was rather cavalier of me,’ he admits. It’s obvious we’re both thinking roughly the same thing.

  ‘You can lay the blame at my door.’ I tilt my head up to look at him, so he can see I’m fine with it.

  ‘I didn’t think about—’

  ‘I have an implant in my arm. Not that it comes in handy very often, I hasten to add.’

  ‘Even with the famous Paul Turner?’ He’s trying to make a joke of it but I can see it’s bothering him.

  ‘I’m really not the sort of woman who usually acts on impulse. That’s why Paul Turner and I split up. I didn’t fancy adding my name to his list of conquests when it was clear he wasn’t looking for a long term relationship. What he wants is an A-list celebrity dangling off his arm, preferably one who photographs well from every conceivable angle. And that wasn’t… dammit!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Carrie sent me the draft of a magazine interview where Paul’s name came up. I meant to read it as I felt a little uncomfortable when the topic reared its ugly head. It’ll be too late now to change anything. Well, Carrie wasn’t upset by it so maybe I’m worrying over nothing.’

  Arran gives me a gentle squeeze.

  ‘It’s not easy, is it? Publicity might sell books but it’s intrusive. It curtails freedom and you never know when something is going to be blown up out of all proportion. I’ve ended up commanding your full attention, haven’t I? You are such a surprising woman, Brie. I wasn’t expecting you to be so interesting and genuine.’

  His eyes are sparkling as he looks at me in a way I haven’t seen on a man’s face, ever. At least on a face that was peering back at me after having had sex.

  ‘And I thought you were going to be intellectual and dismissive. Do you think Carrie knew what she was doing when she put us together?’

  What am I doing? That’s such a telling remark but it’s with a sense of great relief that I can see he isn’t fazed by it.