Under a Siena Sun (Escape to Tuscany Book 1)

by T A Williams

  As a result, by the time Saturday came round, she was feeling quite apprehensive. As she had told him, her skills in the kitchen weren’t that great, although Daniela’s mother had given her an introduction to Tuscan cookery when Lucy had been over here as a teenager. Since then, Nicole and Geneviève had also taught her how to cook a number of French dishes during their time together in Mabenta, but she was still far more comfortable with a scalpel in her hands than an egg whisk. She asked Daniela what she suggested and decided to go with her advice to serve cold food as it was suffocatingly hot with August dawning.

  She went down to see Donatello in the village shop and returned with fresh figs, slices of ham, porchetta and finocchiona, a dozen quails’ eggs and a big handful of broad beans still in their cases to be eaten raw with the salame the traditional Tuscan way. She made these into the antipasti, and for the main course she prepared a big mixed salad with pieces of cold chicken, olives and hardboiled egg, followed by a chunk of aged Pecorino cheese and a much fresher, soft goat cheese made by Donatello’s cousin. She even bought a packet of bone-shaped dog treats for her canine guests. In the fridge she had more of Roberto’s rosé and a couple of bottles of crisp, fruity white wine from a little producer in the next village. As a final touch, she bought a tub of meringue ice cream and planned to serve it with a fresh fruit salad of white flesh peaches, apricots and nectarines.

  She set the table upstairs in the loggia and put on the new dress she had bought specially for the occasion. It was made of light cotton, which was just as well as it was a very hot evening.

  The doorbell rang at just after seven thirty and she found both men standing there with their respective dogs, having just met on the doorstep. Lucy fended off the joyous greeting afforded to her by Boris, patted Barolo on the head and then kissed both men on the cheeks. Guido, the professor, looked slightly surprised, but she didn’t mind. There was no way she wasn’t going to kiss David, so it was a logical extension of her welcome to include her next-door neighbour. As it turned out, Guido didn’t recognise David and, if Lucy hadn’t introduced them, he would probably have remained in a state of ignorance as to the celebrity status of his fellow diner.

  She led them upstairs to the loggia, opened a bottle of sparkling rosé and they sat down to talk while the two canine brothers on the floor renewed their acquaintance. As the humans chatted, it soon became clear that Guido was a real authority on the English mercenary. He gave them a potted history of John Hawkwood’s career, his regular changes of allegiance, his tactical acumen and his total ruthlessness. It was clear Hawkwood had been very good at his job, but he probably wouldn’t have made a very sophisticated dinner guest. The bad news, however, was that Guido had heard nothing that indicated the Englishman might have had anything to do with David’s castle. However, all was not lost.

  ‘It’s fascinating to hear that the castle used to be referred to as the Englishman’s Castle. The thing is, Hawkwood was by no means the only Englishman over here in those days. The White Company itself was a very cosmopolitan group and there would have been numerous Englishmen among them. Even if the one in question wasn’t Hawkwood, maybe it was one of his colleagues. Leave it with me and my doctoral student. We’ll see what we can dig up.’

  The meal turned out to be a great success and by the time she had distributed cups of coffee to the men and dog biscuits to the Labradors she felt confident her efforts had been appreciated. By now night had fallen and all they could see were occasional lights dotting the hillsides. She had lit a couple of candles and there wasn’t a breath of wind to even make them flicker. She sat down and stretched her legs, encountering a warm hairy body with her feet as she did so. There was a satisfied grunt from under the table, followed by an unmistakable farting noise. She was wondering whether to comment, to specify that the source of the flatulence had been canine rather than human, when Guido saved the day.

  ‘Barolo, really! I can’t take you anywhere, can I? Sorry, Lucy, but he must have eaten something earlier that disagreed with him.’

  On the other side of the table she could see David grinning and then he burst out laughing, followed by Guido. It was really good to see David so relaxed. Maybe having his location plastered all over the internet and national and international papers really had been good for him after all.

  Guido finished his coffee, checked his watch, and rose to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, but Barolo and I have to go, I’m afraid. Thank you so much for a wonderful evening. Next time at my place.’

  Lucy accompanied him and his dog to the door and as she climbed back up the stairs to the loggia, she could feel a sensation of anticipation building at the thought of finding herself all alone with David by candlelight. However, she was disappointed to see him on his feet, leaning against the balustrade, staring out at the handful of lights dotting the dark hillside. She went over to his side.

  ‘All well, David?’

  He turned towards her and in the candlelight she could see he was smiling. ‘Fine, Lucy, just fine. This has been a lovely evening. I like Guido. He seems like a good guy. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be able to shed some light on the origins of the castle.’

  Lucy nodded, although she would have been far more interested to hear him tell her about any feelings he might be developing towards her. Still, conversation was conversation, so she rose to the occasion.

  ‘Well, if anybody can find out, it has to be Guido.’

  She saw him look at his watch. ‘Here’s hoping. Anyway, I suppose I’d better go, too. Boris needs his walk.’

  Boris was stretched out comatose beneath the table and Lucy seriously doubted whether he needed an urgent walk, but she went along with it. Clearly David was feeling uncomfortable finding himself here alone with her. She picked up the cheese plate and a few other bits that needed to go in the fridge and, as she did so, he collected the rest and loaded them onto a tray. She was impressed – millionaire or not, he was certainly housetrained.

  ‘Thanks, David. I could have done that. So, tell me, did you walk down through the olive trees?’

  ‘Yes. There are just two die-hard paparazzi left by the gate in a camper van, but I thought I’d better take no chances. Imagine if they followed me here and got a shot of you and me together. Who knows what story they might invent?’

  ‘What story, indeed!’ Although she was increasingly coming round to the conviction by now that she would enjoy being part of that story if it ever came to fruition. ‘Well, if you’re walking back through the fields, I might walk with you partway if you don’t mind. It’s such a lovely night.’

  David easily roused the dog with the magic word and they set out on their walk. The near-full moon had risen above the hills and it was bright enough to cast shadows among the olive trees. Lucy soon found it was quite easy to follow the track as it wound its way up the hillside. It was almost completely silent up here and she started to make out little yellow dots of light among the olive trees. As Boris stopped to mark his territory, she stopped as well, watching the fireflies and reflecting what a wonderful place she had chosen for her new home.

  She was very conscious of David beside her in the dark and she found herself yearning for his touch. She was even seriously considering at least catching hold of his hand, when a sudden movement barely a few yards away from them startled her. She actually did reach out and grab hold of his arm, but this was with no romantic intent. There could be no doubt about it – something big was lurking in the bushes just off the track to the right of them.

  ‘Well, well, well, are we lucky or are we lucky? Can you see it?’ David’s mouth was so close to her ear as he whispered that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her. ‘Look, there it is.’

  Still clutching his arm, she followed the direction of his pointing finger and gradually managed to make out a light-coloured wedge shape moving slowly through the bushes, roughly parallel to them. It was the size of a dog, but it very definitely wasn’t a dog. As she focused, it emerged from the bus
hes and there could be no mistake. What she was looking at was a porcupine. She swivelled her head up towards David.

  ‘I didn’t know they had porcupines here in Tuscany.’

  ‘Not that many. We’ve been very fortunate.’ Then, to her regret, he pulled away from her and bent down to catch hold of Boris by the collar. She heard his voice, still whispering. ‘Come here, dog. You don’t want a porcupine quill in the end of your nose.’

  Hearing the movement, the porcupine stopped and then, seconds later, scuttled back into the bushes once more. David waited for a full minute before releasing his hold on the dog and straightening up. Boris, apparently blissfully unaware that he had been close to a potentially dangerous animal, set off up the track once more. David turned back to Lucy.

  ‘That’s one for your diary.’

  ‘How amazing! When I first heard the noise I was afraid it might be a wild boar.’

  ‘I’m glad it wasn’t. They can be dangerous if you get in their way, or between a sow and her little ones.’

  ‘Well, I’d count on you to defend me if that happened.’

  She saw him grin in the moonlight. ‘After your time in the wilds of Africa, I bet you’d be better than me at defending yourself – and me for that matter.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it. Not without a helicopter.’ As they started off up the track again, she went on to tell him about her fraught final days in Mabenta and how worried she still was for her friend Miriam, the patients and colleagues she had left behind. As they reached the top of the olive grove where David had to turn off onto a narrow path, he stopped and looked down at her.

  ‘You’re a very caring person, aren’t you?’ His voice was gentle.

  ‘I’d like think so. It comes with the job.’

  ‘It’s more than that with you, though. I really admire that in you, Lucy.’

  And then, to her considerable surprise, he leant down towards her and kissed her softly on the lips.

  ‘This is where Boris and I have to leave you. Are you going to be okay walking back on your own?’

  She nodded mutely, still under the spell of that little kiss. Finally managing to regain the power of speech she replied. ‘I’m just fine, thanks, David. I mean that. Just fine.’

  ‘Goodnight, Lucy and thanks. Not just for tonight. Thanks for everything.’

  And he turned away, following Boris into the shadows.

  Chapter 22

  When she awoke next morning, she lay in bed for a while and reflected on the events of last night. Wonderful as it had been to see a porcupine for the first time, the stand-out moment had to be that kiss. Never in her life, not even with Charles, had such a minimal, fleeting touch managed to cut straight to her heart like that. There could be no doubt in her mind that she was developing serious feelings for David but, more importantly, did this kiss now maybe indicate that he also felt the same way about her?

  This was the big question going around and around in her head, but there was no point agonising about something over which she had no control, so she decided to do her best to dismiss it from her mind and move on – at least for now. She got up, took a fairly cool shower to freshen her up after what had been a particularly muggy night, and went downstairs to wash last night’s dishes and tidy the house. After that, she went out into the part of the garden which was still in the shade and did a bit more digging before it got too hot. Fortunately the pile of old timber she had propped against the ramshackle back gate was still in place and the wild boar had not put in another appearance. Her recently planted flowers and bushes were still intact and she watered them before the full force of the sun fell upon them.

  She came back in again around mid-morning and made herself a coffee. As she did so, her phone started ringing and, to her delight, she saw it was David.

  ‘David, hi. How’s it going?’

  ‘Good, thanks.’ His tone was warm. ‘I wanted to say thank you again for last night. It was great.’

  ‘You’re very welcome and I enjoyed it as well, all of it, especially our little walk – not just seeing the porcupine.’ She hoped he would read between the lines of her reply.

  ‘I wondered if you have plans for today.’

  ‘Nope. I’ve washed the dishes and it’s getting too hot for any more gardening, so I’m completely free. Did you have something in mind?’ Various ways of spending a sleepy Sunday with him had already occurred to her, but she chose not to voice them.

  ‘I was wondering if you might like a trip to the seaside and a fritto misto?’

  ‘That sounds amazing. I love fritto misto. I used to dream about all that lovely seafood when I was in the wilds of Africa. Where were you thinking of going?’ She knew that from Siena to the west coast was an hour and a half, or twice that long going east, over the Apennines to the Adriatic.

  ‘I know a good restaurant down at Punta Ala if that sounds okay.’

  ‘I have no idea where that is but it sounds fine to me as long as you don’t mind a long drive.’

  She heard him laugh. ‘It’s not that far, I promise. Listen, it’s almost eleven now. Would you be ready to go in, say, half an hour? If so, I’ll call ahead and book a table for one o’clock.’

  Lucy was ready and waiting well before eleven-thirty and she shook her head in quiet resignation as she saw him arrive in the Ferrari. She had been hoping he would bring his anonymous Mercedes with the tinted windows, but such was not the case and she realised she would once more be on display. This only served to highlight to her the abyss that existed – and would always exist – between the two of them and she felt a flicker of regret.

  She had checked out Punta Ala on Google Earth while she waited and had found that it was a little tree-covered promontory on the west coast of Tuscany, roughly opposite the Island of Elba. It looked lovely, but she had little doubt that in August, the month when Italy traditionally closed down for the summer break, it would be heaving with holidaymakers. Still, she would be with David and, for now, that was all that mattered to her, whether he was a multi-millionaire or not.

  As the car came to a halt outside her front door, she climbed into the passenger seat and lent towards him. He kissed her on both cheeks, rather than the lips, and she felt a little shot of disappointment but, she told herself, the day was still young. He was wearing shorts and his strong brown legs were very much in evidence. He looked very good and he even smelt good.

  ‘Hi, Lucy. You look gorgeous as usual. Look out for your ears.’

  ‘My ears?’ A second later, she realised what he meant as a cold wet nose nudged the side of her head. She turned to find a very happy dog positioned directly behind her, squeezed onto the tiny back seat, his lead secured to the door pillar so he couldn’t jump out. ‘Hi, dog. Seen any more porcupines?’ She made a fuss of him and then turned back to clip her seat belt in, gently fending off Boris’s attempts to kiss her ear. Now if it had been his master… She did her best to dismiss the thought. ‘How about you, David? All well?’

  ‘All very well, thanks. Last night was great, really great. It was good to get out and meet a new person after my self-imposed isolation.’

  He set off back down through the village and they were soon on the main road heading for the coast. At first as they travelled along Boris leant his head over the side and occasionally barked at passers-by, nearly deafening Lucy as he did so. As he gradually calmed and settled down to sleep, she and David got chatting and he told her more about Punta Ala.

  ‘We rented an apartment there right up until last year, but I was away playing so much that I rarely managed to go. After my injury, I gave up going there completely, but my wife used it a lot. The port’s a bit in-your-face, but the coastline’s beautiful.’

  Lucy discovered what he meant by ‘in-your-face’ as they drove down through the pine trees into the little seaside town just before one o’clock. Every available parking space was crammed and it was evident even to somebody like herself with no great interest in cars that there weren’t many litt
le Fiats to be seen. Everywhere she looked there were big, flashy cars – including several other Ferraris – and she began to get a bad feeling about Punta Ala. Of course, she told herself, she was in the company of a multi-millionaire and this was the sort of place they frequented, and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt – for now.

  They drove down the steep hill towards the sea until they came up against barriers and a sign saying that the port area was a restricted zone. He leant out and fiddled with something and, seconds later, the barrier magically lifted. He turned right and drove along the side of a crowded marina full of small boats, threading his way carefully through a host of holidaymakers at walking pace, many of whom stopped to stare at the luxury car until he found a parking space. As he turned off the engine he swivelled around towards her.

  ‘You hate this car, don’t you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say I hate it. It’s very pretty and I’m sure it’s a wonderful bit of engineering, but I do feel terribly exposed when I’m in it.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Want to know something? It’s probably heresy, but I hate this damn car too, now. It’s too big, it’s too low and if you’re going uphill you can’t see a thing in front of you, and don’t get me started on how much fuel it guzzles up. But, above all, it’s far too ostentatious. It’s crazy, I know. I used to love it, but it no longer does it for me. Somehow I reckon it’ll be years before I take it out of the garage again, if ever.’

  She was genuinely surprised, and she smiled back at him. ‘So how come the change of heart?’

  ‘Age, I suppose, at least partly. And maybe you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Talking to you about your life, the difference you must have made to hundreds or even thousands of people, it makes me realise how superficial this sort of thing is. Maybe I’ve just outgrown it.’