Secrets on the Italian Island

by T A Williams

  ‘Warning sign, Charlie, how come?’

  ‘The guy’s a player. It’s as plain as the nose on his face. Even I can see that. Just be careful.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s Casanova.’ Even she could hear the doubt in her voice.

  Charlie gave her the sort of look her grandma used to give her when Anna turned up wearing a skirt her gran deemed too short. ‘All I’m saying is be careful. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.’

  Anna reached over and gave his arm a little squeeze. ‘You’ve always got my back, haven’t you? I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice guy, but I promise I’ll be careful. Anyway, he’s only asked me out for dinner. What’s the harm in that?’

  ‘What indeed…? Besides, weren’t you just telling me about your friend back home?’

  ‘Yes, and I went out for dinner with him and then lunch and I didn’t end up in bed with him. I’m not totally out of control, you know.’ Realising that sounded a bit rude, she gave Charlie a little smile. ‘This is just an invitation to dinner with a nice guy. There’s no more to it than that, I promise.’

  As she spoke, she couldn’t help comparing Marco to Toby. She liked them both but she could honestly say she hadn’t felt the same primitive urge to leap on Toby, strip his clothes off and ravish him across the table right there in the pub. Marco on the other hand had instantly appealed to her baser instincts and she found it amazing that she could be equally attracted to two men, but in such different ways – at least for now. Still – she thought with considerable satisfaction – in the space of a very few days she had found herself with two very tasty men in her life and, more to the point, she had managed to talk to both of them without her trademark awkwardness showing its hand too badly. Things were looking up. She walked back up to her room still confused, but in unusually high spirits.

  Chapter 5

  Next day Anna and Charlie drove round to the nearby town of Marina di Campo. This was a more traditional seaside resort with an altogether far larger and softer sandy beach. As a result, the town was a lot busier and the beach was laid out with row upon row of sunbeds and umbrellas, each separate bagno identifiable by the colours of the umbrellas. They made their way to the boat rental company that Charlie had located on the internet the previous night and were given a new-looking rigid inflatable with a powerful outboard motor for the day. The wind had dropped and, with it, the waves. They had got hold of a detailed map of the island and today were planning on surveying the coast from here to the west of them, hopefully getting as far round as the north-western corner. Anna hoped yesterday’s swell would by now have subsided up there as it had here.

  As they set off she could see the distant dark lump on the horizon that her phone told her was the island of Montecristo, made famous by Alexandre Dumas in his book, The Count of Montecristo. The sea was a delightful rich cobalt blue away from the shore and the view back towards the island was stunning. She breathed deeply. It was work, but it really did feel pretty much like being on holiday.

  They slowed from time to time as they spotted openings or irregularities in the rock face and studied them through binoculars, looking for signs of mining activity in the past or indications of something other than limestone. Seen close up, the cliffs themselves were dotted with clumps of brightly coloured red flowers interspersed with white daisies clinging to little ledges and crevices. As a place to go prospecting, it was certainly very beautiful, even if geologically uninspiring so far.

  It was a charming day and Anna was glad she had plastered herself with sun cream before setting off. They spent the morning cruising around the rocky coastline, amazed at how unspoiled and empty the area was. In these days of mass tourism it seemed incredible that a picturesque Mediterranean island like this could be so underdeveloped – at least along this bit of the coastline. Charlie reminded her of what Sir Graham had said.

  ‘Didn’t he say most of the island was a national park or a conservation area or something like that? That would explain the lack of development.’

  ‘It’s also going to make it a hell of a lot trickier to get planning permission to start mining.’

  Charlie gave her a knowing wink. ‘I’m sure Sir Graham has ways of getting round that kind of thing.’

  ‘Almost certainly, but I sort of agree with the whole conservation thing really.’ Anna stared at the beauty of their surroundings. ‘It would be awful to see somewhere like this turned into another Kabwe.’

  They had both been deeply struck the previous year by the slag heaps and toxic dust all over the site of former mines in the Copperbelt of Zambia. Although shut down over twenty-five years ago, the devastating environmental impact on the area and on the health of its inhabitants was still ongoing and had been heartbreaking to see.

  Charlie gave her a wry smile. ‘Sounds like you’re developing a conscience.’

  ‘I’ve always had a conscience – you know that.’ She hesitated before smiling back. ‘It’s just that you and I find the deposits and move on, so we don’t see the unsavoury bit that happens next.’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it used to be, Anna. There are all sorts of environmental norms to be respected these days.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘In some countries, yes, but not everywhere by any means.’ They had seen mines in parts of South America and Asia that were poisoning everything and everyone for hundreds of kilometres all round. ‘In Europe, it’s probably going to be okay but, still, it would be a shame to spoil a setting like this. I can see why people might want to protect it.’

  Charlie’s tone became more cynical. ‘But how would environmental campaigners talk to each other without the metals we find and dig out of the earth to make their phones and computers work? They can’t have it both ways.’

  ‘Yes, but…’ Anna nodded her head sadly. When it came to charting her future career trajectory, she had been growing increasingly aware of the wider ramifications of what she was doing. It was easy to reassure herself that if she didn’t go out looking for rare metals, other people would, but she couldn’t conceal a growing sense of unease.

  In the space of several hours, they barely saw a single house, let alone village, and the only signs of human activity were the cars and cycles on the coast road that ringed the island. When it neared lunchtime they finally spotted a village with a narrow beach and a restaurant and they motored sedately in to the shore. The little town was squashed between the sea and the steep slopes leading up to the highest point on the island, Monte Capanne. They sat under a parasol outside a restaurant overlooking the sea and had lunch. Anna opted for grilled sardines and salad while Charlie, unable to get an all-day breakfast, settled for a very un-Italian double cheeseburger and a heap of fries instead.

  They had few secrets from each other and she was soon talking about the two men who had suddenly appeared in her life. When she confessed that the handsome windsurfer had appealed to her base animal instincts and made her feel like jumping all over him, Charlie repeated the warning he had given her yesterday.

  ‘You’re a pretty girl and you deserve a bit of fun, but just be careful. I know guys like him. He’d chew you up and spit you out without a moment’s remorse. I know we’re supposed to be here on holiday but if I were you I’d think twice before embarking on a sultry holiday romance with that character. You’re not that kind of girl.’

  But maybe I’d like to be, her subconscious had been telling her all night. Maybe the time had come to throw caution to the wind and stop acting like sensible, serious Anna for a change. ‘Don’t you think you might be wrong about him? He seemed so nice.’

  ‘That’s what Little Red Riding Hood thought about the Big Bad Wolf, and look where that got her.’

  ‘I’m not so sure, but I will admit he’s a bit out of my league.’

  ‘Rubbish. A girl like you could have any man she wanted. Why waste your time on a playboy?’

  ‘Playboys don’t exist anymore. They died out with James Bond.’

/>   ‘Call him what you like, but just be careful. Besides, what about the guy back in the UK? He sounded much more like your type.’

  ‘Toby’s a really nice guy.’ Although in a less primitive, physical way than Marco. ‘I like him a lot, too. I just don’t know at this stage how he feels about me.’

  ‘Ask yourself this. Can you really see anything worthwhile developing between you and your windsurfer apart from a week or two of good clean – or not so clean – fun, followed by inevitable heartache? You’ve only been out with this guy Toby a couple of times so I get that it’s maybe too early to tell, but my money’s on him being far more suitable for you in the long run.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Sensible Anna had no doubt about that, but Naughty Anna couldn’t stop thinking about the windsurfer’s hunky good looks.

  But there was no getting away from the fact that a week or two of fun – of any description – held a lot of appeal after the past fallow months and years wedded to her job. She was genuinely torn, but the memory of Marco’s strong thighs formed a very convincing argument for her not to take Charlie’s advice. She decided to reserve judgement until she had the chance to get to know her windsurfer a bit better over dinner tonight. Besides, she repeated her internal mantra, it was only an invitation to dinner after all. Wasn’t it?

  After lunch, they returned to the boat and travelled on northwards, just managing to get as far as the uppermost corner of the island before it was time to take the boat back to Marina di Campo. The ride back at speed was exhilarating and the cooling breeze very welcome. It was almost five p.m. by the time they returned to the hotel and Anna had to hurry to get ready for her dinner date. She had been thinking about Marco and Toby – not without guilt – on and off all day and had even considered cancelling the date except that she had no way of contacting the hunky windsurfer. She was definitely looking forward to seeing him again but she resolved to be on her best behaviour, however much Naughty Anna might disagree.

  She had brought one reasonably smart dress with her but she decided to save that just in case it turned out she had a more formal engagement to attend. Instead, she decided to stick with shorts – albeit a fresh pair – and a top that showed off a reasonable amount of skin but not too much. The naughty part of her brain helpfully suggested she should consider wearing the new underwear she had bought a few weeks back at Charles de Gaulle airport but, mindful of Charlie’s words and thoughts of Toby, she resisted the temptation.

  At ten to six she went out and walked up the track as instructed until the road surface improved. As she did so she was passed by a little Fiat driven by Felice the receptionist, presumably going home at the end of his shift. He gave her a cheery wave and she waved back. At that moment, Marco’s car hove into view and stopped alongside her. She immediately realised why he was concerned about damaging it on the uneven track. It was a very low, open-topped sports car and she was thankful she now had short hair so it wouldn’t get blown about too much in the breeze. The sleek, bright red vehicle looked quite old and rather fine, and the paintwork was gleaming.

  He climbed out and came across to greet her with a smile. His hair, quite a bit longer than hers, looked newly washed and hung down almost to his broad shoulders. It had probably started life a medium brown colour but the sun and the salt water – maybe with some chemical assistance – had bleached it almost blond in places. It suited him in a rugged outdoorsman, surfer sort of way and she felt yet another little shiver of good old-fashioned lust. Whatever Charlie said, maybe the new underwear might have been a good idea after all…

  ‘Hi, Anna. You’re looking great.’

  ‘Thanks, and you’re looking… colourful.’ She reached out a finger and turned his face so she could take a closer look at the bruise on the side of his head and felt another little tremor as she touched his skin. ‘I hope people aren’t going to think I’ve been knocking you about. Does it hurt?’ She was pleased to be able to make pretty authentic-sounding small talk. Maybe she was maturing or maybe he just knew how to get women to talk. Whatever the reason, it made a pleasant change from tongue-tied awkwardness.

  He shook his head – cautiously. ‘Just like you predicted I had a bit of a headache last night, but today’s been fine. Anyway, this evening I thought we could maybe go to a beach bar I know for an aperitivo and then I want to take you to a traditional Tuscan restaurant for dinner. Would that be okay with you?’

  ‘That sounds perfect.’ She climbed into the car and looked around, doing her best to concentrate on the vehicle rather than the sight of his strong, tanned legs. The worn old leather seat creaked beneath her as she surveyed the old-fashioned dials, the wood-rimmed steering wheel and the unexpectedly inelegant long gear lever. ‘What sort of car’s this?’

  She saw him raise his eyes from her bare legs and smile. ‘This is my old Alfa Spider. She’s almost fifty years old and I probably spend more time working on the engine than driving around, but I’ve had her for years now and I would never swap her. My wife used to say I thought more of the car than of her.’

  ‘Your wife?’

  ‘Sorry, I should have said my ex-wife.’ He reached for the key to start the engine and as the engine roared into life he added a bit of explanation. ‘I was married, but no longer.’ He put the car into gear, did a careful three-point turn and moved off, remarkably slowly and gently. ‘And what about you? Is there a Mr Anna somewhere?’

  ‘No, my job keeps me busy and I travel all over the world, so there really hasn’t been the chance.’ So it looked as though he was currently unattached. But, Sensible Anna helpfully reminded her, so was Toby. Anna did her best to switch her attention from Marco’s thighs to the road ahead as she repeated to herself that this was just an invitation to dinner.

  He drove back up the rough drive, taking it very slowly over the potholes, and out onto the coast road, heading back towards Marina di Campo. ‘What was it you said you did?’

  Anna and Charlie had discussed this over lunch and had come up with a cover story which, while not exactly true, wasn’t an outright lie. ‘I work for a big multinational company involved with the iron and steel industry.’

  ‘Well, you probably know that Elba used to be a big producer of high-grade iron ore.’

  Anna decided to affect an air of ignorance on geological matters. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘The island’s been famous throughout the Mediterranean for its iron ore since the days of the Etruscans – the original inhabitants of Tuscany.’

  ‘It sounds as though you know your history. Did you study it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing so interesting, I’m afraid. I did economics. But since settling here I’ve been reading up about the history of the island.’

  ‘And what brought you to the island, if you don’t mind me asking? Your wife?’

  He gave a little snort. ‘The island’s why she left me. As for why I came here, I wanted to escape.’

  ‘From…?’ She prompted him gently.

  ‘From the life I was leading.’ He glanced across at her and, although he summoned a smile, she could see he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘I’ll tell you all about it some time.’

  She didn’t press him – after all, she hadn’t told him much about herself. Instead, she talked about her day out in the boat with Charlie, just making it sound as if they had been tourists seeing the sights. This elicited another invitation from him.

  ‘Do you sail?’ Seeing her nod, he continued. ‘I’ve got an old sailing boat. I could take you out in it sometime if you like. There are lots of little beaches that are inaccessible from the land. Maybe we could sail to one of them and have a picnic?’ From the expression on his face she had a good idea of what he might like to happen after the picnic but that didn’t necessarily have to be the outcome, did it? Couldn’t they just go for a sail together?

  Naughty Anna chose to ignore the scepticism of Sensible Anna as she heard herself reply. ‘That sounds lovely, thank you. I’m no great expert, but
I used to do quite a bit of sailing when I was younger.’ An image of him in just a pair of swimming shorts, diving lithely over the side into the clear water and emerging with a pearl for her in his hand was immediately chased away by the realisation that this was never going to happen, not least because there weren’t any pearls around here. For now, she told herself sternly, it would be better if she just concentrated on having a pleasant evening with him, rather than heading off into some sort of steamy romance inside her brain. But it wasn’t easy.

  The beach bar they went to for their aperitivo was set at one end of the long sandy beach at Marina di Campo. It was a lively place with a load of people milling around, most dressed in shorts and T-shirts, or just their swimming things. An old Wurlitzer jukebox was pumping out the Beach Boys’ Surfin’ USA, which struck Anna as ideally suited to the feel of the place. The bar wasn’t actually on the beach but situated a few metres above it, the terrace covered with chairs and tables overlooking the bay with its moored boats, colourful parasols all along the beach and the mountains beyond. The sky was a clear blue everywhere except for the very top of the three-thousand-foot-high Monte Capanne which was cloaked in cloud. The sun was dropping lower in the sky and the shadows were lengthening, although it was still very warm.

  As they walked onto the terrace outside the bar, it immediately became clear that Marco was well-known here. People called out his name, jumped up to shake his hand or even hug him, and several attractive girls a good bit younger than Anna and wearing a whole lot less than she was came across to greet him with kisses. They inspected his battered head and he even got a few more kisses on top of the bruises from them, ostensibly to help make it better. Although she had met him barely twenty-four hours earlier Anna had no doubt that the sensation this sent coursing through her body was jealousy. Could she really be jealous of a man she had just met? What was happening to her? It certainly looked like confirmation of Charlie’s first impression that she was in the company of a philanderer. Sensible Anna reminded her that this was one more reason to take it slow while Naughty Anna continued to have other thoughts.