by T A Williams
‘Hi, Soph. It’s so good to see you.’
‘It is, isn’t it? I mean it’s good for you… for me to see you, too.’ She very nearly smacked her own wrist. ‘You know what I mean… I’m glad you’ve come.’ She was an almost thirty-year-old woman for crying out loud, not a tongue-tied teenager. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheeks and then enveloped him in a hug which felt marvellous. But that was as far as it went. For now.
She took him into the smart new kitchen, which he duly admired while she made tea and brought out the sponge cake she had made and iced earlier as a displacement activity. Rachel emerged from her essay writing and it looked as though she kissed him more warmly than Sophie had done.
‘Ciao, bello. It’s great to see you.’
‘And, erm… ciao bella to you, Rachel. That’s what I should say, isn’t it, seeing as you’re a girl?’
‘Dead right.’ Rachel nodded and then dropped Sophie right in it. ‘See, Soph, he has noticed that we’re girls.’
‘Rachel…!’ Sophie turned her back on them, ostensibly to concentrate on the teapot but in actual fact to hide her blushes. Behind her, she was heartened to hear Chris reply confidently.
‘It’s never been in doubt in my head, Rachel. Specially your sister.’
Rachel gave a cheeky ‘Ooh, I say…’ before relenting and returning the conversation to a safer topic. ‘So what are you two planning on doing this evening? I’ve got an assignment to write. Do you realise, in less than two weeks’ time I’m going to be back at uni? Just think – me a student again…’
Rachel and Sophie had already planned this. Although Rachel did indeed have work to do, she was deliberately removing herself from the equation so that Sophie and Chris could talk… or more. Sophie set the mugs of tea on the table alongside the cake and explained what she was proposing.
‘There’s a village just a little way inland of here that’s having its annual festa del paese, the local fair, this evening. If you aren’t too tired after your journey, I thought we could maybe go up and take a look. Rita tells me it’s usually a lot of fun. There are games, food and all sorts of other stuff to see. Jeeves can stay here and help Rachel with her homework.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ Chris gave her a smile that looked almost like his normal uncomplicated smile and Sophie felt her confidence grow, but only for a few seconds until he carried on. ‘And now, if you’d like to sit down, Sophie, there’s something you might like to hear.’
She was in the process of ferrying her tea from the worktop to the table at the time and it was a miracle she didn’t spill it all down her front. She hastily took a seat opposite him and gritted her teeth. She needn’t have bothered. What he had to say was not contentious and definitely welcome.
‘Yesterday was the arms auction in London. I thought you might both be interested to hear how it went.’ He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans and opened it on the table. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that both items sold and they went for considerably more than the reserve. The total that’s gone into your account after the deduction of auction fees is…’ He glanced down to check the figure. ‘One hundred and six thousand, three hundred and four pounds, fifty-three pence.’ He looked up and beamed across the table at them. ‘Fifty grand for each of you. Not too shabby, eh?’
‘Blimey.’ For once, Rachel sounded almost speechless.
‘Wow, Chris, that’s amazing.’ Sophie was delighted to get words out. ‘And we owe it all to you. Just think – I was going to throw the mace away, remember.’
‘I’m delighted I could help and, listen, there’s something else that just occurred to me in the car as I was driving here from Nice. Your plan is to sell the castle, isn’t it?’ He didn’t wait for them to nod in agreement. ‘Have you thought about what’s going to happen to the furniture?’
Sophie and Rachel exchanged glances. They hadn’t given it a thought.
‘That’s what I suspected. If you like, while I’m here this week I’d be happy – in fact I’d enjoy doing it – to take a look around and let you know what sort of value you might be sitting on. Would you like me to do that?’
‘That would be brilliant.’ The more Sophie thought of it, the better it sounded. She had no doubt that some of the furniture was quite possibly worth a lot. Then something occurred to her. ‘We’re hoping to buy a smaller place here in Paradiso for holidays and stuff so we’ll need a few things for that but no doubt the bulk of the furniture can go.’ She looked across at Rachel who was still looking shell-shocked. ‘Isn’t that so, Rach?’
‘Absolutely. The place we’re thinking of buying is the house Dan’s renting at the moment. You’ll see it tomorrow. He’s invited us all to dinner.’
‘Excellent news on both scores. I’m delighted you’re going to keep a connection with Paradiso and I look forward to seeing Dan again. He and I’ve been corresponding recently. He’s been very helpful with medieval queries.’ There was a smile on his face as he reached for his tea. ‘He tells me you’ve been dreading seeing me, Soph.’
Her cheeks flushed yet again, but she found the strength to reply resolutely. ‘I’m always delighted to see you, Chris, and I always will be.’ She looked hard into his eyes. ‘I want you to remember that – whatever happens this week.’ This time he was the one to blush.
‘Then that makes two of us.’ He glanced across at the cake. ‘Is that just there for appearances’ sake or do I get to try a bit?’
After tea and cake and half an hour chatting with Rachel, Sophie left the dog with her sister and set off with Chris for the little village of La Stella, barely ten minutes away by car, where the festival was taking place. To Sophie’s surprise, considering how relatively empty the beach now was, the place was swarming with people and they struggled to find somewhere to park, ending up leaning precariously into a ditch. They left the car and followed the crowds heading for the sound of the music. A band was playing some unidentifiable tune with what sounded like a trumpet and an accordion featuring heavily in it. Marquees and tents had been erected in a farmer’s field and numerous vendors’ vans and caravans were drawn up in a semi-circle, sides open, offering everything from candy floss to grilled prawns on a stick – probably best not eaten together.
At the far end there were booths, stalls and sideshows and Chris insisted on stopping at the lucky dip. He paid the lady behind the counter and they each dug into the wicker basket and pulled out a numbered ticket. Sophie’s didn’t win anything, but his did. The lady disappeared behind a curtain and emerged with a sweet little teddy bear and handed it over to Chris. He in turn held it out towards Sophie.
‘Here, a token of my undying affection.’
She took it from him and kissed it on the furry cheek. Then she leant towards him and kissed him softly on his cheek. ‘I’ll treasure it – even though I know you only gave it to me because you thought you’d look foolish wandering round with a teddy bear in your arms.’
‘You know me so well.’ He grinned back at her then, tentatively, held out his hand and caught hold of hers. ‘Shall we go and see what else we can win?’
She gave his hand a little squeeze and nodded. They strolled hand-in-hand along the line of stalls and Sophie realised that it felt just fine to be walking along with a teddy bear in one hand and him in the other.
At the end of the line was a big tent, open all along one side, with a queue outside it. Inside was what looked like a production line of people, starting on the far left with three people, arms white with flour, busy making dough. The finished dough in turn was divided into round pieces, a bit smaller than tennis balls, and on the far right of this human chain were four steaming cauldrons. On closer inspection, these contained boiling oil and Sophie was reminded for a moment of her book, which had just reached an interesting scene in which the castle was being besieged by Saracen pirates. The boiling oil would no doubt have come in handy in repelling the marauders.
‘Any idea what’s going on?’ Chris ha
d to put his mouth close to her ear as the nearby band had suddenly struck up again.
Sophie shook her head. ‘No idea. It looks like dough, but you don’t normally see a queue like this at a normal bakery. Shall we join the queue and find out?’
They bought a couple of tickets and, as they did so, Sophie asked the man at the till just what it was they had bought tickets for.
‘It’s a local speciality, pane fritto. It’s bread fried in olive oil, and its origins go way back. Some say it originated in North Africa and came over with the Saracen invaders back in the Middle Ages. Anyway, you try it. I guarantee it’s unlike any bread you’ve ever tasted before.’
Sophie translated for Chris’s benefit. ‘It literally translates as fried bread and he says it’s unique.’
‘Well, if it can generate a queue this long, it has to be something special.’
‘I must tell Dan about the possible Saracen connection. That’s his speciality at the moment.’
‘Try eating it with a few slices of ham from that stand over there.’ The ticket seller pointed over to where what looked like a whole carcass of an unfortunate – but no doubt delicious – pig was resting on a hefty wooden block. It had clearly been roasted and was covered in a glossy brown glaze and there was even a bright red apple in its mouth. ‘Those folks come up every year from Lazio with their porchetta. You have to try it. And maybe wash it down with a glass of my cousin Alfonso’s red wine.’ Once again he pointed across to another stand. ‘It’ll be a meal to remember.’
It did indeed turn out to be a meal to remember, but not just because of the tasty ham, the excellent local wine, or the fried bread.
Once they had received their little brown paper bags, each contained three piping-hot rolls of fried bread, they bought hand-carved slices of roast ham and beakers of wine, and looked for somewhere to sit. All the tables around them were jam-packed so they walked across to the far side of the field where the ground began to slope steeply upwards into the woods and they found a fallen tree trunk where they were able to sit and eat, side-by-side. Over here, away from the band, the noise was less deafening and it felt wonderfully peaceful. It was almost dark by now but there was enough light shining across from the fair to allow them to see what they were eating. The still warm fried bread was exceptional; unmistakably bread, but with a brown crust that was delicious and not too crisp. The soft cream-coloured inside combined perfectly with the rosemary-flavoured ham. The wine, as the ticket seller had said, provided the perfect accompaniment.
As they finished their meal, Sophie felt his hand reach over and catch hold of hers again. She gave his a little squeeze and felt him pull her gently towards him. Before she even realised what was happening, he kissed her.
It wasn’t the hardest, or the longest, or the most passionate kiss in the world, but Sophie was left in no doubt that if she hadn’t had the support of the tree trunk beneath her, her knees would just have buckled. It felt so very right and her heart soared. When he drew back, she caught the multicoloured lights of the fair reflecting in his eyes. He was looking down at her and his expression was one of almost awe. She felt confident this was a good sign, but still, she needed to be sure.
‘Chris…’ She had to clear her throat before continuing. ‘That was amazing. Please tell me it felt good to you too.’
‘Unbelievable.’ His voice was soft, his tone tender. ‘I’ve always known it would feel so magical to kiss you but even in my dreams I never thought it could be like that. Sophie, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had or ever will have.’
Chapter 25
The next few days were idyllic. Sophie spent almost all her waking hours with Chris and was very rapidly coming to the conviction that she would also like to spend her sleeping hours him. They went for walks with Jeeves and down to the beach for long swims in the sea. She took him to the little restaurant in Albenga and back to the pizzeria, and they just talked and talked. She told him about her book, which was progressing really well at the moment, and he was as supportive as ever. He told her about his recent overseas trips and how much he enjoyed what he did. The more she was with him and the more they kissed and cuddled, the more convinced she became that this was the man for her and it seemed almost absurd that she had had such doubts.
As promised, Chris took a good look at the furniture in the house and made a number of interesting discoveries. Prime among these was the huge tapestry on the wall of the lounge. He studied it closely and took a load of photos before consulting a colleague in London who came back with the breathtaking news that, subject to detailed analysis, it looked very much like a medieval original which could well be worth more than the arms. Adding in various other old and valuable items, the figure Sophie and Rachel stood to make from disposal of these objects at auction was stunning and more than a little humbling. The sisters discussed it and decided that if all went well, they should consider setting up some sort of fund or charity in Uncle George’s name to celebrate his life and to give something back to people who needed it more than they did.
Dinner at Dan’s house the day after Chris’s arrival was most enjoyable, not least as they met Jennifer for the first time. Sophie immediately took to her and couldn’t have approved more of Dan’s choice. It was clear to see that Jen had also taken the transition from good buddy to girlfriend in her stride and she and Dan looked and sounded inseparable. With Rachel’s Gabriel arriving very soon, everything was working out and they couldn’t have been happier.
Gabriel’s flight was a few days later on September the twenty-ninth, and he planned to stay for the party on the first of October to celebrate Rachel’s birthday and, of course, their successful completion of all the conditions of Uncle George’s bequest. He was scheduled to land at Nice airport in the late afternoon and so Rachel drove across to pick him up. Sophie offered to go with her but, understandably, Rachel preferred to have him to herself so they could talk things over in the car on their way back to Paradiso.
The only disappointment that day was the weather which had finally broken and the rain had been bucketing down for hours. The garden and vineyards were awash and, however hard Sophie tried to keep him dry, Jeeves kept on slipping in and out and as a result soon emanated an unappealing wet dog smell. More importantly the weather was making driving conditions difficult, so Rachel set out good and early for what should have been, under normal circumstances, a journey of less than an hour and a half to Nice airport.
Sophie got a call from Rachel at five, saying she had arrived safely at the airport – although the spray thrown up by the big trucks on the motorway had been challenging – but Gabriel’s flight was delayed by over an hour. Even so, she reckoned she should still be home by around eight o’clock. As Sophie read this, she felt a little flicker of concern. Neither of them had thought to bring forward their normal evening log-in onto Uncle George’s computer and, of course, this had to be done before midnight without fail. The irony that they might have got all the way through the three months together only to fall at the final hurdle wasn’t lost on her. It therefore came as a great relief when she received a text from Rachel at seven, telling her they were in the car and on their way home, hoping to be back in time for dinner at eight thirty.
Outside, the weather conditions showed no sign of improving and when Sophie and Chris took Jeeves out for a quick walk, the ground underfoot was inches deep in water in some places and all three of them were soon soaked to the skin long before they got back home. By this time it was half past seven so, after leaving Chris to dry the dog, Sophie ran upstairs to shower and change before hurrying down again to start laying the table and turn on the oven to warm the chicken and mushroom pie she had prepared as the main course.
Eight thirty came and went and Sophie’s anxiety increased. She turned off the oven after an hour as the crust was blackening and the chicken drying out fast, and she and Chris sat side-by-side, waiting for sight of the Mercedes. Nice as it was to be alongside him, holding his hand and chatting, Soph
ie’s apprehension continued to grow. Apart from the not so small matter of the computer log-in and the possibility of seeing their castle lost to them, she was growing ever more worried for her sister. In this weather, the autostrada would be treacherous and the thought of something happening to her was too terrible for words. With her parents gone, and now Uncle George too, Rachel was her last remaining close relative and she couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her. Chris was supportive and encouraging but she could see that even he was getting worried as nine o’clock arrived and there was still no word.
Sophie turned on the local news and the first thing they saw was a grainy picture of flashing blue and orange lights and the appalling news that one of the motorway bridges between here and the French border had collapsed an hour earlier, taking a number of vehicles with it and causing an unknown number of fatalities. Sophie’s hand flew to her mouth and she instinctively reached for her phone. She called Rachel’s number but a recorded message told her it had been impossible to connect her. She looked across at Chris, doing her best not to give in and burst into tears. He reached over and cradled her with his arm.
‘Try not to worry, Soph. They’ll be all right, you’ll see.’ He pointed to the screen where the pouring rain was still making the images hard to decipher. ‘The emergency services are all there. If something had happened, we would have heard by now. They’re probably just stuck in a queue. Just think: the collapse of the bridge must have closed the motorway so they’re probably in a traffic jam somewhere.’
‘But why hasn’t she called and why doesn’t her phone work?’
‘You and I have both driven that piece of motorway. It’s just one tunnel after another – and some of them are really long. She’s probably stuck somewhere without a signal. Just give it time. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.’