by Daisy James
‘And it’s all Nick’s stupid fault!’ blurted Sofia, her tiger-like eyes blazing.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Luca, pausing in the middle of emptying a bag of pistachios onto a baking tray as he prepared to launch into his demonstration of how to prepare the first of their recipes.
No one replied, but everyone stared expectantly at Nick.
‘Izzie, do you want to go upstairs to see if she’s okay?’
‘Sure…’
‘No, I’ll go,’ said Sofia, dropping the slab of white chocolate she’d been breaking into chunks and flouncing out of the room.
‘Would anyone like to enlighten us?’
‘Nick? Do you want to tell Izzie and Luca what you did last night – in front of the whole choir?’ snapped Phoebe, her upper lip curling in disgust.
‘Not really,’ he muttered.
It was the first time Izzie had seen him display reluctance when invited to take the floor, his face bathed in embarrassment. Even that day’s waistcoat showcased a rainbow of muted blues and purples, and his beloved baton was nowhere to be seen. His eyes were baggy and bloodshot, and when he reached up to run his fingers through his hair his hand trembled.
‘Then I will!’ said Phoebe, her hands on her waist as she turned to confront him. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Nick. What you did was unforgiveable and totally uncalled for!’
‘I apologised – I don’t know why I said it – it was probably the grappa or the—’
‘What happened?’ interrupted Luca, keen to prevent a full-blown altercation from breaking out in the kitchen.
‘One the way back to the villa last night, we decided to call in at the hotel in San Vivaldo for a nightcap with the others, and one of us indulged in so much grappa that they lost all control of their manners,’ said Dylan, who for the first time since he’d arrived in Tuscany did not have his faithful guitar by his side. Instead he stood next to Phoebe, facing down Nick, who seemed to shrink from the animosity flowing in his direction.
‘I said I was sorry…’
‘But what I want to know is why pick on Jennie?’ continued Phoebe, taking up the accusatory baton from Dylan. ‘She’s the nicest, most generous, kind-hearted person in the whole choir and quite frankly if it wasn’t for her loyalty to the Somersby Singers, we would never be where we are. You might be a talented musician, Nick, but you are an atrocious people-person. Do you have any idea how many of our current members would have quit if Jennie hadn’t been there to smooth over the cracks?’
Nick looked down to his feet and shook his head.
‘Almost everyone! In fact, I wouldn’t plan on there even being a Christmas concert this year…’
Phoebe’s final sentence woke Nick from his shamed reverie, and his eyes shot to hers in panic.
‘We can’t cancel the concerts! We can’t! I’ve given my word! We have to do this, we have to—’
‘You should have thought about that before you let your mouth go,’ said Dylan, spinning round a chair so he could sit astride it and look Nick straight in the eye.
‘I know, I know, and I’m truly sorry.’
‘It’s Jennie you need to grovel to, mate.’
‘I tried last night, and then again this morning, but she wouldn’t answer her door. Tell me what I should do and I’ll do it, just don’t threaten to cancel the shows – you can’t do that to me.’
‘You might not have a choice,’ said Sofia, appearing at the kitchen door, her journal tucked under her arm, glitter pen behind her ear. ‘Jennie’s taking a shower – she told me she’d be down a little later and we should start the class without her.’
‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on!’
‘Good old Nick here blurted out Jennie’s deepest darkest secret in front of the whole choir and half the hotel staff last night,’ said Phoebe, sliding into a chair next to Dylan and helping herself to a glass of Izzie’s home-made lemonade.
‘She was so upset, and who can blame her? You are a complete moron, Nick.’
‘True, true.’
Izzie understood why they were reluctant to repeat the disclosure but she thought she would burst if someone didn’t tell her what Nick had said. Ever-worsening scenarios spiralled through her brain until she had Jennie down as an axe murderer.
‘Actually, I think it’s fabulous, and if it were me, I’d be shouting about it from the rooftops,’ said Sofia, bending down to the floor to retrieve the wooden spoon she had nudged from the table, dropping her pen in the process.
‘What’s fabulous?’
‘Before Jennie got married and became a suburban housewife and the mother of twin boys, she was a burlesque dancer at a club in Soho. I googled her this morning, and apparently, she was exceptionally talented. However, as she’s kept her dalliance with showbiz quiet all these years, she clearly didn’t want her past broadcast in public! She was mortified last night, ran out of the hotel, and took a taxi straight back here. When we got back, she didn’t answer her door.’
Nick stood at the far end of the table, his hands shoved into his pockets, his head lowered, his expression reflecting his contrition.
‘If I were Jennie, I’d tell you where you can stick your stupid choir. In fact, you know what? I quit. I don’t want to be part of anything with a leader who is such an ar—’
‘It’s okay, Sofia, it’s okay. I’m fine.’
Jennie lingered in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed from crying but otherwise presenting the same neat exterior that everyone was used to: her chestnut hair flicked up at the sides to reveal a glimpse of her pearl earrings, a tasteful red cashmere sweater upon which she had embroidered a silver snowflake and added crystal gems to give it some extra sparkle.
‘The last thing I want is for people to quit the choir, especially you, Sofia.’
Izzie saw the look that passed between Jennie and Sofia but try as she might she couldn’t decipher its meaning. God, not another secret!
‘We’ve all worked too hard to give up on the Somersby Singers now. Anyway, I’m really excited about our concert on Saturday night, aren’t you?’
Jennie hugged Sofia to her, whispering something inaudible in her ear, and then moved on to embrace Phoebe and Dylan before stopping in front of Nick, who stood awkwardly, his eyes filled with terror that his beloved choir might be crumbling before his eyes.
‘I admit I was upset last night, Nick. When you interviewed me for a place in the choir, I told you about my former career in confidence and I’m saddened at the cavalier way you’ve disclosed a secret that only my husband was a party to for the best part of twenty-five years.’
‘Jennie, please, I offer you my sincerest apologies. I had no intention of…’
‘It’s okay, really. It’s a part of my life that I chose to keep to myself because I was the wife of a respected pharmacist and the mother of two impressionable boys. I didn’t want to risk loose gossip getting out of hand and embarrassing them. But you know what? My past is an important part of who I am, or who I was at the time, and I have to admit that I loved every single second of it, the glitz and the glamour, the feathers and the fabulousness of performing on stage with the other artistes. Being in that industry made me feel so alive, so in control, so desirable. I’m not ashamed of it, in fact, now that I’m divorced and my sons have their own lives, I might just be tempted to go back to it!’
Sofia giggled. ‘Really?’
‘So, I accept your apology, Nick, and I think we should all move on. I’m sure Izzie and Luca are keen to show us their Christmas recipes. What do you have planned for us this morning?’
And with her head held high, Jennie took her place at the table between Sofia and Phoebe, secured her apron around her waist and smiled in expectation at Luca.
‘So today we’ll be making cantucci di Prato – which are miniature anise-flavoured almond biscotti traditionally served at the end of the meal with a glass of dessert wine such as Vin Santo. I’ll also be demonstrating a twist on this Tuscan delic
acy, cantucci al pistacchio e cioccolato bianco, which are made with pistachios instead of almonds and a generous handful of white chocolate. Then, Izzie will take us through her recipe for gingerbread biscuits which we’ll be decorating with a Christmas theme. Okay, so first we make a pyramid of flour, like this, then we add the sugar, eggs, baking powder, lemon zest and a pinch of salt, mixing it all together on our individual pastry boards with our hands until we have a soft dough.’
As the morning of culinary endeavour progressed, the atmosphere in the villa’s kitchen softened, with Jennie making it clear to everyone that she had forgiven Nick for his impromptu exposé of her past – even helping him to roll out his lumpy attempt at Izzie’s gingerbread and showing him how to hold a piping bag to decorate his reindeer’s antlers. The smell of warm spices and sweet pastry spread through the air as their biscuits baked, and the room reverberated with animated chatter as everyone talked about their favourite Christmas traditions.
‘Last year, when Ben and Daniel came home from university for Christmas, they insisted on organising a real Christmas tree and they brought back the most enormous fir tree I’ve ever seen. Of course, it wouldn’t fit in the lounge, so do you know what they did?’
‘What?’ asked Sofia, smiling at the obvious delight on her friend’s face.
‘Well, they might be about to graduate with first class honours in their chosen fields, but when it comes to common sense, they could do with a few more lectures! Ben fetched a handsaw from the garage and instead of cutting off a few inches from the bottom of the trunk, he sawed a foot from the top! That year we had a Christmas bush! It was hilarious – certainly a conversation starter at our New Year’s Eve party!’
‘At home, we never had a Christmas tree,’ said Luca, laughing at Jennie’s story. ‘We had a ceppo instead – it’s a sort of wooden pyramid of shelves that’s filled with sweets and gifts and decorated with pine cones and candles – and we also had an Urn of Fate, where we take it in turns to draw out a present.’
‘Wow, that sounds fun!’
‘Also, in Italy, instead of writing a letter to Father Christmas asking for a long list of gifts, children write a letter to their parents telling them how much they love them. The letters are placed under the mother and father’s dinner plates on Christmas Eve and are read after the meal.’
‘Now that’s a tradition we could do with adopting!’ Jennie smiled, nodding her approval.
Leaving their cantucci to cool on wire racks, they all retired to the dining room to feast on Carlotta’s home-made lasagne. And when every morsel had been consumed, instead of rushing everyone off to the studio to rehearse, Nick allowed them to return to the kitchen to fill cellophane bags with their cantucci al pistacchio e cioccolato bianco and tie the tops with red and green ribbon. Izzie handed out snowflake-shaped wooden tags and, using Sofia’s glitter pen, they wrote the names of their lucky recipients. To everyone’s surprise, Jennie, who had again made two perfect batches, presented hers to Nick along with a conciliatory kiss on the cheek.
‘Okay, everyone,’ she laughed, her warm brown eyes sparkling. ‘If we don’t get going, I think Nick might explode and I don’t want to add to Izzie and Luca’s workload any more than we have done already.’
Izzie watched them leave for their afternoon rehearsal and then fell into the almost choreographed routine she and Luca had devised to clear away the culinary utensils and implements, wash them, dry them and then return each one to their rightful place in the cupboards.
‘Okay, now we’ve finished up here, I’ve got a surprise planned for you, Isa… bel… la.’
‘What sort of surprise?’
‘If I told you that it wouldn’t be a surprise!’ Luca smirked, the cute dimples appearing in his cheeks as his eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘One tip, though – you’ll need to bring your hat!’
Chapter Fifteen
Abetone, Tuscany
Colour: Snow white
Bundled up in a sunflower-yellow ski jacket, a pair of borrowed snow boots and the quirky knitted hat and gloves combo Luca had given her at the airport, Izzie stared out of the window of Luca’s Alfa Romeo as they threaded their way through the tiny Tuscan villages on their way to his ‘surprise’. In the distance, she could see snow-topped mountain peaks poking through the forests of fir trees that cloaked the hillside. It was like a scene from a Christmas card, except for the bulbous silver clouds that appeared in the sky as they climbed higher and higher up the Apennines.
‘Looks like it’s going to snow! Do you think we should change our plans?’ she asked.
‘Don’t you like snow?’
‘I love the snow if I can enjoy it from the inside of a cosy winter hideaway with a log fire burning and plenty of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and those tiny marshmallows! You know, I hate to admit it but I always just assumed that Tuscany basked under a blanket of year-round sunshine!’
‘This is Abetone – there’s usually snow here from December to April, so it’s one of the most popular ski resorts in the area. There’s over eighty kilometres of ski slopes from gentle nursery slopes to diamond runs for the more experienced.’
‘Oh my God, we’re not going skiing, are we?’
Luca laughed, but he didn’t answer her question, which sent her spirits bouncing to her fleece-lined boots. Before she could say anything else, Luca swung the Spider sharply to the left and they came to a halt in the car park of a hotel crouched at the base of a leisurely incline and covered in a pristine swathe of snow that glistened in the intermittent sunshine. To Izzie’s surprise it looked just like an Alpine ski lodge, with a pitched wooden roof and whitewashed façade, complete with bright red shutters – chocolate-box perfect.
‘This hotel belongs to Fabrizio, a friend of mine from university. I’ll introduce you to him later.’
‘Why later?’
‘Because we’re going to have some fun first. Come on!’
Luca jumped from the driver’s seat and raced around to her side of the car, pulling her out of her seat in his eagerness to show her what he had planned in that snowy winter wonderland. Izzie smiled at his enthusiasm, slid her palm into his and allowed him to guide her towards the veranda at rear of the hotel. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw it housed a collection of wooden tables and benches where snow lovers were enjoying a well-deserved cappuccino and the most fabulous view of the valley.
‘Wow, the scenery is amazing, and so is that aroma of freshly brewed coffee!’
But it was as if Luca hadn’t heard her because instead of heading for the empty table in the far corner and ordering them a gingerbread latte each, and maybe a slice of that delicious-looking castagnaccio sprinkled with pine nuts, he made his way to the bottom of the snow-covered hill.
‘Come on, this way.’
Sporting a trendy black-and-orange ski jacket with matching hat pulled down over his dark curls and a pair of reflective sunglasses, he looked like he was about to take part in an Olympic cross-country skiing challenge. Izzie groaned inwardly; she fervently hoped their afternoon did not involve anything so rigorous. If she were honest, whilst she appreciated the beauty of the panorama spread before her, she preferred the warmth of the sunshine on her face, maybe the odd palm tree and a symphony of cicadas rippling through the air. The silence up here in the mountains was so loud it made her ears buzz and the heavy pewter sky was beginning to feel oppressive.
‘Where exactly are we going?’ she puffed as she trudged behind Luca up the admittedly gentle slope behind the hotel, through whose windows she could see visitors enjoying an afternoon of relaxation in the swimming pool and indulging in spa treatments.
‘Not far.’
With her breath laboured, she plodded higher, the end of her nose smarting in the icy temperature, but at least the rest of her body was toasty. When they finally reached the brow of the hill, the area flattened out and she saw a tiny wooden cabin sitting against a battalion of pine trees like an oversized cuckoo clock. Then she saw what
was parked up in front of it and realised what Luca had planned.
‘No way! A sledge? Are you kidding me? I haven’t been on a sledge since I was ten years old!’
‘Come on!’
Luca sprinted towards their waiting toboggan and Izzie stumbled in his wake, her arms and legs flailing to keep herself upright in the ankle-deep snow. She eyed the ancient wooden contraption, sceptical that it would even make it to the bottom of the hill without falling to pieces. Also, looking back down at the hotel from their vantage point, the gradient looked much steeper than it had on the way up.
‘Luca, I’m really not sure about this.’
‘You’ll be fine. Just channel your inner ten-year-old child!’
Luca stooped down to pick up the rope, and waited for her to climb onboard. She hesitated, but what choice did she have? She could either whizz down the icy slope with Luca’s arms around her, or refuse and stomp back down the hill by herself, which didn’t appeal either.
‘Oh, God, I think I’m going to regret this.’
She took her position at the front of the sledge and Luca sat behind her, scooting in close and wrapping his legs around her thighs, clutching hold of the rope so he could control their descent. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and his muscular chest pressed into her back and a tingle of pleasure sizzled through her veins.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
Moments later, they had tipped over the lip of the hill and were whooshing through the air, slowly at first, then gathering speed. A feeling of total exhilaration spread through every single part of her as they sailed down the hill, skipping over tiny hillocks, landing with a bump, then continuing their rollercoaster journey until they skidded to stop at the bottom and a sensation of absolute joy burst into her heart.
‘Ya… aa… ay!’
Luca leaped from the sledge, his face wreathed in delight as he dragged her upright, drawing her into his embrace until their noses touched. Izzie expected him to kiss her, but instead he stooped to the ground, gathered a handful of snow and flung it at her.