What Happens in Tuscany...

by T A Williams

  ‘Are you coming to the Festa del Paese tomorrow? It’s Monte a Signa’s big weekend. They close the old town centre to all traffic. There are games and competitions for the kids in the afternoon and then a big parade, followed by dinner and dancing in the main square. We go every year. It’s brilliant. You’ve got to come. Bring the others; we can all sit on the same table.’

  ‘That sounds like a fantastic idea.’ She hesitated. ‘Tomorrow is Martin’s last night here before he flies home on Sunday. It would be nice to do something special for him.’ She reflected that, because of her operation, she hadn’t really been able to do anything much with him. Still, he had had Vicky as company, so it wasn’t a totally washout as holidays go.

  True to his promise, Marco made no comment on what she might or might not do to Martin on his last night in Tuscany. He concentrated on the road. He was an unusually slow driver for an Italian, but Katie reflected that this might just have been so as to allow his hair to dry naturally. After only about five minutes he turned right and crossed the River Arno by means of a Second World War-vintage bridge, just wide enough for one car at a time. Below them, the sluggish river water was an unappealing brown colour, but, undeterred, a couple of fishermen were sitting hopefully on the bank, lines in the water. Katie reflected that she wouldn’t want to eat any fish that came out of there.

  ‘Here we are. I told you it wasn’t far.’ A green and gold sign announced that they had reached the Villa Medici. Marco pulled off the road and drove between a pair of massive gate pillars, capped with sculpted stags. Ahead of them, a narrow drive led up through beautiful formal gardens, studded with specimen trees. As he had said, it was a delightful, romantic spot.

  ‘There’s a car park at the bottom of the hill and lots of people choose to leave their cars there and walk up through the gardens. You’ve already had your walk this evening so let’s head straight up to the old villa, meet the others, and get a drink on the terrace.’ He glanced across at her, a twinkle in his eye. ‘That way there’ll be more jealous women to see you on the arm of the handsomest man in Tuscany.’

  ‘Marco, remember what happened to Narcissus. As I remember, he fell into the water while admiring his reflection and died.’

  ‘Ah, but I can swim.’ Marco was unrepentant.

  They started to climb the hill. He was going very slowly and they had ample time to admire the amazing variety of plants and trees on display. Every now and then they would see people who had chosen to walk up one of the winding paths that led to the top. As they turned a particularly sharp corner up near the top of the hill they spotted a loving couple entwined in a passionate embrace on one of the benches.

  ‘I told you it was a very romantic place, didn’t I?’

  The man had his back towards them and the girl’s arms were wrapped around his light blue T-shirt, gripping him by the back of the head as they kissed.

  ‘Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it, Katie?’ Marco was smiling to himself. ‘Now, I wonder if you…’

  Katie’s voice interrupted him. ‘Marco, speed up. Speed up! We’ve got to get out of here. Quickly, Marco. Please!’ He was startled by her tone, but he wasted no time in changing down and accelerating hard. They shot forward with a loud squeal of tyres. As they passed the bench, the noise of the car disturbed the couple and, as if in slow motion, Katie and Marco saw them turn, their lips still glued to one another. The girl’s orange dress was ruffled, the man’s hair tousled. Marco suddenly realised what was going on.

  ‘Porca miseria!’

  As they sped away, Katie’s eyes and Victoria’s met for a second before Katie swung away and directed her gaze up the hill towards the villa. She felt as if somebody had just kicked her in the stomach. For a moment she even wondered if the rapid acceleration had torn her stitches, but she knew what it was she was feeling. She took a few deep breaths as Marco raced up into the car park at the top of the hill, scaring a group of people who were crossing the road. He shot straight across the car park and out the other side, following the one way system. They plunged down the hill towards the exit without exchanging a word. They were back on the bridge across the Arno before he looked across at her. He was unsurprised to see her crying.

  ‘We’ll go back to my place.’ His voice was low. She gave no response so he slowed to a more reasonable speed and drove them back to Monte a Signa. He made sure he did the last five hundred metres up the rough road as slowly and carefully as possible, so as to avoid hurting her stomach. When they reached his house, he drove straight into his courtyard and switched off the engine. He climbed out and went round to open her door. ‘Come on in. You need a drink.’

  Katie turned her head and looked up at him with a puzzled expression, as if she didn’t recognise him at first. He was pleased to see that she had stopped crying, but her cheeks were still wet. She blinked a few times and then gave him a weak smile. ‘Sorry, Marco, I was on another planet for a moment.’ She climbed cautiously out of the sports car, taking advantage of his strong arms to help her. He led her across the yard, through the house to the loggia. Settling her onto a seat at the head of the big old table, he went off to get something to drink. By the time he returned with a bottle of cold white wine and two glasses, she had dried her face and was looking more normal. He gave her a gentle smile but she was staring down at her hands.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ He filled the glasses and pushed one across the table to her. He took a mouthful and waited for her to say something. He had a long wait, but he didn’t hurry her. Finally she stirred.

  ‘The funny thing is that I’m not really that surprised.’ She noticed the glass of wine on the table in front of her for the first time. She picked it up and took a mouthful. It was blessedly cold and refreshing. ‘Somehow, in the back of my mind, I sort of suspected something might be going on.’

  ‘So now that you know something’s going on, how do you feel about it?’

  ‘I’m not really sure. Strangely, on one level I feel a sense of relief. It’s a bit like waiting for the results of an exam. You wait and wait, imagining the worst and then, when it happens, it somehow doesn’t sound so bad.’

  ‘But it isn’t so bad, surely?’ He had been thinking hard about what he should say to help her in the circumstances. He saw her look up as he continued. ‘Now, I told you an hour ago that I wouldn’t get involved in your love life, so if you want me to shut up, just say the word. But, it appears to me that you’ve been struggling for the last few days with the problem of having feelings for two men. Well, one of them has removed himself from the contest. Surely that simplifies things.’ He let his eyes rest on hers until she met his gaze.

  ‘You’re forgetting that the other one and I had a blazing row only a matter of days ago and we haven’t spoken since.’

  Marco raised a hand dismissively. ‘You don’t want to worry about that. What’s a little tiff between friends?’

  ‘But are we friends?’ Her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible. Then, after a few moments, she rallied and raised her glass in his direction. ‘Marco, thank you. Thank you for all your help and all your support. And this white wine is exceptional.’

  He stood up, leant across and let his hand rest against the side of her face. ‘Help yourself to more wine. I’m feeling hungry. Cynthia’s left hind leg has turned out to be even more succulent than her right leg. Just give me a few moments and you can judge for yourself.’ Before she could object, he disappeared into the house.

  She sat at the table and let her mind roam. So much had changed in such a short passage of time, and she was having trouble processing the possible repercussions. She looked out over the hills towards the setting sun. It was very low on the horizon now and the shadows had deepened. An owl was hooting somewhere close by. As it turned out, the owl wasn’t the only animal in the vicinity. There was a familiar clicking of canine nails on the flagstones and she felt a cold, wet nose press against her bare thigh.

  ‘Ciao bello.’ She leant down and stroked Da
nte’s ears. He laid his head on her lap and grunted. She found herself wondering just how he had realised she was there. Most likely he had caught the scent of the ham being carved. She looked down at the black shape affectionately, still doing her best to come to terms with events. She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Looks like the ugly sisters have won after all, Dante.’

  ‘Dante would make a magnificent sniffer dog.’ Marco reappeared with a leg of ham mounted on an intricate iron frame, a carving knife beside it. ‘As long as the criminals were trying to smuggle ham.’ He disappeared again and was back almost immediately with a tray full of food. There was bread, olives, artichokes in olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes and a huge chunk of pecorino cheese. The dog’s nose lifted magically from her thigh as the cold wet nose sniffed the air appreciatively.

  ‘Marco, this is amazing. You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘I’ve got to eat, Katie. If I can eat in good company that’s a bonus. Here, you really must try the ham.’ He picked up the knife and expertly sliced half a dozen thin slivers of meat from the leg. Balancing them on the knife, he deposited them on a plate and passed it across. ‘Help yourself to bread and anything else.’

  They spoke briefly as they ate and only about such things as the weather, the food and the Festa del Paese that would take place the next day. He could tell that she needed time to think things through. It was quite dark by the time he headed back into the kitchen to make the coffee. He returned with the coffee pot, cups, a couple of candles and some biscuits.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Please, Marco.’

  He poured a few millimetres into a cup and passed it across. After taking the same for himself and lighting the candles, he deemed it time to get serious. ‘So, what happens now, Katie? Finding your employer with your boyfriend isn’t a terribly normal state of affairs. I’ve got three spare rooms here if you want to stay the night. You would be very welcome.’ He sipped the coffee, decided it was not too scalding hot, and drained the cup in one easy movement.

  ‘Thanks, Marco. That’s so very kind, but I’m going back to the villa once I’ve had my coffee.’ As she spoke, she began to feel more confident about the course of action to follow. And about her own feelings. ‘I’ll go back to the villa. All my stuff’s there. And I have to see Victoria. She and I need to talk.’

  ‘And Martin?’

  Katie shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s like you said. He’s made my mind up for me. It makes things simpler.’

  He took a long, hard look at her. ‘You won’t do anything silly, now, will you?’

  She gave him a tired smile. ‘I promise. No punching, kicking or gouging. You don’t have to worry.’ She swallowed her coffee and stood up. Beside her, the dog awoke, stretched and leapt to his feet in his turn. Katie walked round the table to Marco and draped herself around his shoulders, her lips against his face. ‘You are a lovely man and I count myself very, very fortunate to be your friend.’ She kissed him on the cheek and straightened up.

  ‘Do you want me to walk you home?’

  She shook her head. ‘No need, thanks. My faithful guard dog will accompany me to the door.’

  As she walked up to the villa she saw that Martin’s hire car was missing. Did this mean he wasn’t there? Maybe Vicky as well? She and the dog carried on round to the back door and she saw light streaming out of the kitchen windows. As she reached the door, the dog nudged her leg with his nose. She knew what this meant by now. She bent down and gave him a big hug before he turned away, heading for home. She watched the black shadow disappear into the shadows and she realised, with a sudden jolt, that if she now decided to leave this wonderful place, she would really miss the company of the Labrador. She took a deep breath, turned the door handle and walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Katie! Oh, thank God. I’ve been so worried.’ Victoria leapt to her feet. She looked awful. She had clearly been crying for some time and her eyes were red, her cheeks streaky with salty tears. She came running across to greet Katie, pulling up abruptly as she got near to her. ‘Katie, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what happened. I feel just awful.’

  ‘Awful for what you were doing or awful for being seen doing it?’ Katie kept her voice level. Annoyed, hurt and shocked as she had been by the events of that evening, she could see that Victoria’s remorse was sincere and overwhelming.

  ‘Just awful, Katie. Awful and guilty and ashamed.’ Vicky’s tears were flowing once more. ‘You’re my first, my best friend in all the world, Katie, and how do I repay your friendship? By betraying the trust you had in me. I’m a worm, Katie, and you must hate me. I’m just so sorry, so sorry.’ She collapsed onto a chair and sobbed her heart out. Katie closed the door behind her and turned the key to lock it. Then, making up her mind, she walked over to Vicky and sat down beside her, stretching her arm around her shoulder. Vicky looked up in surprise and then buried her face against Katie and wept.

  ‘It’s all right, Vicky. It’s all right.’ Katie gently stroked her hair and calmed her down until the tears stopped.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Festa del paese was amazing. Katie and Victoria left the car at home and walked down the hill to the village at just after six o’clock on Saturday afternoon. As they walked, still quite slowly for Katie’s sake, they met other locals on their way down to see the show. Katie recognised a number of the workmen from the estate as well as some of the people from the houses that lined the bumpy road. Katie didn’t know their names, but had got used to seeing them as she walked past with the dog. They all gave her a smile or a wave. She found herself thinking how nice it would be to live here, rather than return to England. Her appendicitis had prevented her from fixing up an interview at the English language school in Florence, and she resolved to get onto that on Monday.

  Both of them had slept late that morning. The previous night, they had talked and talked and, gradually, the air had cleared between them. Katie was well aware that Dante the dog was not the only one she would miss if she left Tuscany. Victoria might well be her employer at present, but she had also without doubt become one of Katie’s very best friends. And best friends have a duty to make up after the bad times. A long walk with the dog in the morning had further served to clear Katie’s head and she had returned to the villa in a brighter frame of mind. In so many ways, Vicky was still a teenager in a grown woman’s body, and teenagers often make poor decisions. That Vicky bitterly regretted her poor decision was all too clear, and Katie forgave her.

  Martin had decided to take himself off to the hotel once more, rather than stay at the villa and Katie was grateful for that. Although his last words to Vicky were that he would go to Rome to see his sister in the morning, Katie had texted him to invite him to the Festa del Paese. She was determined to show both Vicky and him how grown-ups should behave.

  As they reached the old medieval heart of the village, they heard the peal of a trumpet.

  ‘Oh, look, it’s the band!’ Vicky sounded excited and Katie realised that this was another first for her after her years of seclusion. A marching band, sideshows and street performers were all new experiences. Katie set her thoughts aside and did her best to enter into the spirit of the event as the band went past.

  ‘Check out the triangle player.’ Sure enough, the triangle was held by the smallest member of the band, a young girl only about half the height of the men playing the trumpets. As the band marched past, the little girl gave them a proud smile and they waved back. Katie had never seen a band like this before, row after row of drummers making up over half the number. The rhythmic beat echoed up between the walls of the houses on either side of the road. The drummers themselves were dressed in medieval costume, complete with pantaloons and big, broad flat caps. She and Vicky followed the band as they penetrated further into the medieval heart of the little town. The route grew ever narrower and the noise of the drums deafening. Luckily, a few hundred metres further on, the road opened out into the square.

 
; ‘I never realised the piazza was so big.’ Vicky had to shout to make herself heard.

  ‘It’s because there are no cars.’ Katie had been thinking the same thing. Normally the square was a public car park, inevitably crammed with cars and vans all the time. ‘Shall we move up there, away from the band?’

  Vicky nodded, and led the way diagonally across the stone-paved square, towards the far side, where a brightly-lit merry-go-round was entertaining the under sevens. The square itself had been set up with long tables and benches, with odd groups of people already scattered about, drinking and chatting. To one side, a stage had been erected, presumably in readiness for the promised music to come later on. As the noise of the band diminished behind them, the jingling of the carousel took over, the combination of the two conflicting tunes far from harmonious. But at least they could hear themselves think again.

  ‘Those drummers must be deaf. What a racket!’ Vicky spotted a drinks counter set up under the old medieval arches. ‘Beer?’

  ‘Lovely. I’ll sit down and save us a spot.’

  While Vicky went off, Katie took a good look round. She saw a few vaguely familiar faces, but nobody she knew by name. Of Marco, Giuseppe and Franco there was no sign and, in particular, she couldn’t see any trace of either Martin or Paul Taylor. She sat down at the end of one of the long tables and waited for Vicky to come back with the drinks. It was a glorious evening, still very hot, but not oppressively humid. The sky was royal blue and hungry groups of swallows wheeled overhead, screaming at each other as they performed their acrobatic display. It was almost the middle of August. Before too long, the birds would set off for warmer climes, while Katie and Vicky would head back north. Or would they? Katie was idly wondering what that would mean to her, when Vicky reappeared with two plastic beakers of beer and Martin.