by T A Williams
Rachel winked at her. ‘You want to put that in your book. That would give it a bit of oomph.’
Just then her phone beeped to indicate the arrival of a message and the sisters exchanged glances. No prizes for guessing who the sender was. Sophie reached for the Delete button but hesitated as Rachel interrupted her.
‘If I were you, I’d at least read the message. What if it says he’s standing in the piazza right now?’
‘Oh, God…’ Sophie turned her back to the sun so she could read the message in her own shadow. It was short and unwelcome. She read it with disbelief before passing it over to her sister as she struggled not to scream out loud.
Ciao, Sophie. Long time no speak. I hear you’re back in Italy, in Paradiso. I’m coming north in a few weeks’ time and I’ll look you up. I miss you. Un bacione. Claudio.
‘Un bacione…?’ Rachel sounded flabbergasted. ‘You’re right about him having a thick skin. Fancy sending you a big kiss after what he did! I say get that oil on the boil and wait for him to show up. Pity there aren’t any cannons lying around here as well.’
Sophie pressed Delete, but still stood there, staring stupidly down at her phone. Rachel was right. It beggared belief. How could he possibly think there might be any point in trying to re-establish contact after his behaviour and their rancorous break-up? She was still standing there helplessly when her sister came up with a theory that made a lot of sense.
‘Of course, he now knows you’re about to inherit a castle. He must realise that this will make you a very rich woman and I reckon he wants some of it. He’s obviously determined to try to woo you back so he can get his grubby little hands on your inheritance.’
At least her sister’s choice of vocabulary brought a weak smile to Sophie’s face. ‘Nobody woos anybody these days, Rach, but I must use the word in my book – if I ever get started. One thing’s for sure, the last person on earth I’d like to see on my doorstep with a bunch of flowers in his hands – which, by the way, would be immaculately manicured, not grubby – is Claudio.’ Snapping out of her daze, she slipped the phone back in her pocket and glanced down at Jeeves who was being unusually patient.
‘Right, you want your walk, don’t you?’ He wagged his tail and she glanced over at her sister. ‘I won’t be long, Rach. See you for lunch.’
By the time she and Jeeves got back she had simmered down, but the prospect of Claudio darkening her doorstep in a few weeks’ time was genuinely unpleasant and most unwelcome. Much as it went against her nature and her wishes to reply to him, she decided she had better spell it out once and for all. While Rachel pulled food out of the fridge for lunch, she picked up her phone and started writing.
Claudio, believe me when I tell you that I never want to see you again. Forget me and do not bother me again. If you come here I’ll call the police.
She read it out to her sister who nodded approvingly. ‘And you could maybe add that he should never ever try to contact you again, or else.’
Sophie added the warning and pressed Send.
‘Here, Soph, a glass of cold red is called for. I know it’s lunchtime but it’ll help you forget about Claudio and it might get your creative juices flowing this afternoon. Don’t forget, there’s a long history of writers drinking themselves to death. You don’t need to go that far, but a little drop won’t hurt.’ She filled both glasses and clinked hers against Sophie’s. ‘Cheers. Here’s to a big vat of boiling oil. I’ll help you tip it on him.’
The glass hadn’t even reached Sophie’s lips when she heard a beep from her pocket. She set it down and pulled the phone back out of her pocket. She almost threw it across the room as she read his latest message.
I know you don’t mean that, carissima. We love each other. C
She was so angry, she was genuinely speechless, and she just passed the phone mutely across to Rachel who read it and snorted. ‘What planet does this guy live on? Carissima, indeed! It’s a pity Jeeves isn’t a Rottweiler. This guy needs something big and hairy to bite him – where it hurts.’
‘I told you he really fancies himself, but even I’m gobsmacked. I genuinely think he’s gone crazy.’
‘Not crazy; greedy. All he can think about is the money.’
Sophie sent him another message. It grated to waste time on him again but it had to be done.
Leave me alone. Never contact me again.
And she pressed Send.
* * *
Sophie ended up having two glasses of wine with her lunch and, as a result, decided she had to go up to her room for a snooze in the afternoon. Jeeves stretched out on the cool terracotta floor beside the bed and was snoring within minutes. She woke an hour later and lay there for a little while, still trying to think of a suitable opening line for her novel, but finding her head filled with thoughts of Claudio. It was hard to imagine that she had once truly believed she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Looking back on it now, she realised she had been blown away by his larger-than-life personality, his smouldering good looks and his ability to charm her with the sort of romantic words she had never heard from a man before. Compared to the series of fairly average British university student boyfriends she had had in Exeter, the handsome Roman had appeared like Cupid himself, a vision of romance and love.
Of course, with the benefit of hindsight, she now realised that the fact he was such a smooth talker meant that he had had a lot of practice – and had continued to hone his art on other women all the way through his relationship with her. How could she have been so blind, so stupid? Well, she told herself firmly, she would never make that mistake again, with him or any other man. And if Claudio were brazen enough to turn up here in Paradiso, she would set him straight in no uncertain terms, with or without the aid of a cauldron of boiling oil. Snorting to herself, she stretched and sat up. Hearing movement, Jeeves also got up and prodded her with his nose.
‘It’s all right for you, Jeeves. You have no such worries.’ The vet had seen to that. ‘But I’m counting on you to defend me if you see Claudio.’ Although she felt sure the best she could hope for would be that he would lick Claudio to death.
Seeing as it was still swelteringly hot, she slipped into her bikini and headed for the pool. By now the word ‘pool’ was firmly lodged in her dog’s vocabulary and he bounced along at her side, raring to go. As soon as she opened the back door he disappeared at a gallop. When she reached the pool she found him already happily splashing about in the water while Rachel was sitting in the shade with a newspaper.
‘Hi, Soph. Been writing?’
‘Sleeping mainly. Remind me not to drink wine at lunchtime again. What about you?’
‘I’ve been reading and snoozing. It’s so wonderful not to have anything urgent to do. In spite of living in Florida, I haven’t had a real lazy holiday for years.’
Sophie perched on the end of her sunbed. ‘That reminds me, when you see Beppe next Thursday, would you ask him for names of builders to sort out the things on Uncle George’s list? Signor Verdi strikes me as a very pernickety sort of character so we need to make sure we fulfil all of the stipulations – not just the residence requirement. And as you’re looking after the vineyard and wine side of things, I’ll make a start on sorting through the stuff on the top floor one of these days.’
‘On that subject, have you seen this?’ Rachel was holding a copy of the local newspaper. She folded it over and handed it to Sophie, tapping the bottom of the page with a finger. ‘Check out the advert. I’ve seen a couple of posters in the piazza too.’
Sophie read the banner advert carefully. It was advertising an antiques fair to be held here in the square at Paradiso on the last Sunday in August. Sophie handed the paper back and nodded.
‘Great idea. Anything that’s saleable I’ll put to one side and we can set up a stall in front of the gates that day and hopefully shift the lot.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Not sure what we do with the proceeds, though. I’d better run it past Signor Verdi just to be on the
safe side.’ She set down her towel and stood up. ‘And now I’m going to join my dog in the pool.’
Chapter 11
Sophie spent a quiet weekend writing two more short stories and working on her book – or, rather, making multiple attempts to begin it but without success. Rachel went out sailing on Saturday with Dario, returning at almost midnight, but she didn’t invite him in. Sophie was impressed to see her sister carrying out her plan of taking things slow. After her own experience with Claudio, she was still feeling distinctly mistrustful of Italian men, if not all men – although she was honest enough to acknowledge that this was probably an unfair and biased opinion – and she approved of Rachel’s cautious approach. This indicated considerable maturity on her part and a change from the impulsive Rachel of old. As for Sophie herself, now that Dan was safely out of the equation, there remained the question of Chris.
She would hopefully be able to sort out her head – and her heart – a bit better when he came to visit. Trying to think of somebody who had been such a close, supportive friend in a different light was especially hard without having him alongside her, and she was quite apprehensive about what was likely to transpire when he came over. To add to her anxiety was the possible looming arrival of her Roman ex. She had always considered herself to be a fairly pragmatic person and having big unknowns like these in her life was disturbing and even a bit annoying but, as Rachel never ceased reminding her, it made life interesting.
On Sunday afternoon Dan appeared at the kitchen door, saying he had come for a swim, and received a rapturous welcome from Jeeves. The two of them headed off for the pool and Sophie went upstairs to change before joining them there. Outside, it was still searingly hot, even though at this time of day the trees shielded the pool from the direct rays of the sun. In spite of this, the poolside thermometer told her it was thirty-five degrees. She unwrapped her towel from around her body and sank gratefully into the cool water where she was immediately leapt on by Jeeves. She had intended to keep her hair dry but as that was now a forlorn hope she threw a tennis ball down to the other end of the pool for the dog, lay back and floated with her head and her hair in the water. It felt just perfect.
Later on Rachel arrived with a bottle of cold white wine and three glasses, and they sat and chatted until the mosquitoes began to circle and they decided to head back inside. As ever, Dan was charming and friendly, but nothing more, confirming Sophie’s impression that theirs was purely friendship. He even brought up the subject of Chris, asking if she now knew exactly when he was coming, and the cheerful smile remained on his face throughout. They invited him to stay for dinner but he declined, saying he had to prepare for his next research trip and they arranged to accompany him to Albenga the next day.
He arrived as agreed at ten o’clock next morning and Sophie was relieved when he offered to drive the Mercedes. Apart from feeling as if it was twice the size of her own car, it was automatic, and she had never driven one of these before. Rachel on the other hand had driven exclusively automatics for the past few years in the States, but she sounded equally happy to let him drive. She immediately bagged the front passenger seat, but Sophie didn’t mind. She had put Jeeves’s towel down to protect the leather of the rear seat alongside her and she wanted to make sure he behaved himself.
As a plan it wasn’t a great success. This was the first time the dog had found himself sitting on a car seat beside his mistress and she was soon involved in an ongoing struggle to turf him off her lap. Still, it made the journey slip by very quickly and by the time she had finally persuaded him to get off her and settle down, they were already turning off the motorway after what had only been a fifteen minute drive.
The outskirts of Albenga weren’t immediately promising. The road in from the autostrada ran along the bank of a wide riverbed now almost completely dried up, with a sprawl of modern commercial buildings along the other side of the road. There were certainly no traces of anything medieval and Dan must have sensed her scepticism.
‘Look up ahead. See those towers? That’s the old town.’
He navigated his way into the centre where they managed to find a parking space after a bit of a hunt. Evidently Albenga was popular this morning. They walked from the car to the gates of the old city and Sophie’s first impression of it was, frankly, as fairly scruffy with posters peeling off the walls and modern road signs and adverts all over the place. However, once through the old gateway all that changed. They found themselves in a narrow stone-paved street, flanked on both sides by cafes, restaurants and shops – many of them selling designer clothes – and the feel of the place changed dramatically for the better. This area was for pedestrians only and there was no shortage of people milling around. Lots of the shops had displays outside on the roadside and Sophie kept a strict eye on Jeeves in case he should take it into his head to cock his leg against a basket of fruit or a display of pricey mohair jumpers.
About a hundred yards down this street Dan led them off to the left and they suddenly found themselves well and truly in the Middle Ages. The road became much narrower and the buildings on both sides became distinctly older, with brick arches, columns and intricate stonework. The brickwork was a weathered deep red, while the plastered walls were predominantly sun-bleached pink, giving the whole place a delightful summery feel.
‘Look up.’ Dan pointed upwards and Sophie followed the direction of his finger. ‘Check out the windows.’
Sure enough, many of the windows above them looked old and very elaborate, most of them set into stone arches. Sophie was reminded of a photo she had seen of Juliet’s house in Verona and it was easy to imagine medieval ladies in wimples leaning out to exchange greetings with passers-by mounted on horses. She made a mental note to include a trip to Albenga in her novel – assuming she ever managed to get beyond the first line.
A few paces further on they emerged into a little square with three very ancient tall, slim red brick towers rising up from the sides, a lovely old church at one end and the town hall diagonally opposite. The remarkably small cathedral, constructed with horizontal lines of alternating grey and white stone, was just a few yards further along and all of a sudden they felt as if they had stepped back in time.
‘What do you think of Albenga?’ Dan had his phone out, taking a succession of photos. ‘From the outskirts I wasn’t expecting anything as good as this.’
‘It’s lovely.’ Rachel had no hesitation, but then revealed that her reasons for this statement weren’t necessarily architectural or historical. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I spotted a dress back there in one of the shops that I’d like to take a closer look at.’
‘Of course.’ Dan looked around and pointed to a cafe at the end of the square with tables and parasols outside on the paving slabs. ‘I want to take a look inside some of the buildings – like the cathedral for example – so why don’t we meet up here at, say, half past twelve?’
‘Fine by me. See you.’ And Rachel was off.
Sophie stayed with Dan – as much for his company as for the history – and enjoyed listening to his expert commentary on the places they visited. In particular, she loved the feel of the twelfth-century cathedral. According to Dan this had been built on the site of a much older original church. They took it in turns to go inside, as one of them had to wait outside with Jeeves. At first sight the inside was quite plain – until she remembered Dan’s advice and looked up. She was astonished to see the whole expanse of the vaulted ceiling had been entirely covered in medieval frescos. Alongside the cathedral was another even older building, the Baptistery, whose origins apparently went right back to the fifth century. All in all, Albenga was a fine old historic site, but still very much a thriving twenty-first century commercial town.
Rachel was waiting for them at the bar with a carrier bag full of purchases beside her. In view of the time, Dan suggested heading straight to a restaurant for lunch. This turned out to be a tiny little place called Da Puppo and it was packed out. They managed to get th
e last free table, squashed in the far corner of the side room with Jeeves under their feet and Dan explained that he had first come here a few weeks back on Beppe’s recommendation and he had loved it.
‘It’s just such an authentic eating house. You can’t book tables; you have to queue up. Lunchtime’s supposed to be quieter than in the evening, but we only just got in, didn’t we? I shudder to think how busy it must get at night. As you can see, it’s very basic, there are no fancy tablecloths or uniformed staff, but the food’s delightful and – although I shouldn’t tell you this as this is my treat today – it’s really cheap.’
‘There’s no need for you to pay, Dan. It should be on me. I owe you lunch, remember?’ Sophie was the first to object and her sister chimed in straight after.
‘That’s not fair, Dan. You realise if you insist on paying, then you’ll have to let us buy or make you dinner one of these days to say thank you.’
‘Fine by me. I look forward to it.’
The meal was indeed excellent. The menu was only in Italian and included a number of regional dishes that had Sophie searching on her phone for translations. What a non-Italian-speaking tourist would have made of it was hard to tell and a quick glance around the room confirmed Sophie’s initial impression that their fellow guests were almost all Italians – always a good sign. The other two chose farinata, the local chickpea crêpe speciality, as a starter but Sophie wasn’t especially hungry so she went for a simple salad followed by a skewer of grilled prawns and squid. Accompanied by a glass of cold white wine it was a super lunch.
While they ate, Sophie related the latest developments with Claudio and his text messages. Dan looked sympathetic.
‘The man’s clearly an imbecile with the thick skin of a rhinoceros. I’m going to Rome tomorrow for a week or so. Tell me what he looks like and if I run into him I’ll push him in the Tiber.’