by Daisy James
‘Have you decided what sort of wreath you’re going to make?’ Jennie asked Sofia, who was busy raking through a box of baubles, picking out all the pink and silver ones of varying shapes and sizes.
‘Yes! Don’t you think these go together really well? Can I use the glue gun, Izzie?’
‘Of course, it’s on the bench over there, along with the staple gun if anyone needs that, but there’s also wired tinsel, brown parcel string and darning needles. Oh, and there’s a roll of double-sided sellotape somewhere, too.’
‘What about you, Dylan?’ asked Jennie.
‘I’m going for a drinking theme! I love these Chianti corks and I think they’ll look great with a few of those blue and gold sleigh bells to add colour, with the added benefit that it’ll be musical too!’
Izzie smiled at Dylan’s enthusiasm. In fact, he seemed more engaged in the tutorial than he had been previously, and she was pleased to see that once again he’d left his guitar behind instead of having it either slung around his neck or perched on an adjacent chair like a trusted friend or guardian angel.
‘What do you have planned, Nick?’
‘I thought I’d create something from these wooden discs, maybe use a few of the pine cones with the holly leaves and make some hessian bows, then spray everything with that fake snow. I love a bit of fake snow!’
The group spent the next three hours chattering away about their forthcoming choir concerts, which of their songs still needed attention, whether Nick would let them customise their polo shirts or agree to them wearing jeans instead of plain black dress trousers, before moving on to their respective families’ Christmas traditions.
‘What do you think?’ asked Jennie, whose finished wreath looked like something you could buy in Harrods, the fragrance from the baked oranges and cinnamon sticks, as well as the pine cones she had studded with cloves and star anise, making it the most aromatic of all the entries.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Francesca smiled, handing Jennie a length of scarlet ribbon to attach to the back of her wreath to form a hanger so she could display it in the gazebo for the judging ceremony.
‘Thank you, but I think I’ve got some tough competition.’
She pointed to Dylan’s wreath, a perfect circle of wine corks studded with blue jingle bells that jangled when he held it aloft, beaming at the well-deserved compliment.
‘Thanks, Jennie. Thank you too, Francesca, I actually really enjoyed this session.’
‘Me too!’ agreed Nick, holding his entry at arm’s length and contemplating its greatness as if it were a Michelangelo sculpture. His wreath was different again: a ring of overlapping wooden discs that had been decorated with hand-drawn musical instruments. ‘I can’t wait to show Sarah what I’ve managed to create without her input!’
At the other end of the Christmas wreath spectrum was Sofia’s attempt, a fantasy of frilly silver and pink tinsel, intertwined with matching baubles, and then liberally doused with Izzie’s glitter spray and finished off with a silver heart she’d cut out of foil.
‘I love your wreath, Sofia, it’s so fresh and quirky. It’ll brighten up your aunt’s front door no end!’
Sofia grinned at the vote of confidence. ‘Thanks, Jennie. I’m going to upload a couple of photos to my Instagram page.’
‘Why don’t you wait until they’re all on display in the gazebo – it’ll make a much better photograph,’ suggested Nick, already striding towards the door. ‘Come on, I’ll help you.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t want to…’
‘It’s no trouble.’
‘It’s a great idea.’ Jennie smiled, blatantly ignoring the look of horror on Sofia’s face at the possibility of having to spend time with Nick on her own. ‘Don’t forget your coat.’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Sofia, wriggling into her fleece-lined denim jacket and following Nick out of the door, pausing briefly to exchange a strange look with Jennie when she thought no one was looking.
Izzie’s curiosity was piqued – there was definitely something going on between Jennie, Sofia and Nick – and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Jennie mouth the words, Tell him.
Chapter Seventeen
The studio, Villa Limoncello
Colour: Shady grey
Jennie helped Izzie and Francesca finish tidying up the detritus from their morning’s endeavour, then she scooped up her wreath and slotted it carefully into her canvas bag before turning to Phoebe.
‘Dylan, Phoebe, are you coming?’
Phoebe was so engrossed in scrolling through the messages on her phone that she hadn’t heard Jennie’s question.
‘Phoebe?’
‘Oh, sorry, what did you say?’
Izzie noticed that her complexion had lost its habitual radiance, and so did Jennie.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Oh, yes, just an email from the office, that’s all.’
‘You youngsters work far too hard!’ exclaimed Jennie, hitching the handles of her bag higher up her arm as she loitered at the studio’s door. ‘You’re supposed to be on holiday this week – why can’t they respect that and leave you alone so you can recharge your batteries? Surely there’s someone else in that law firm of yours who can handle things until you get back? None of us are indispensable, you know!’
But instead of bolstering Phoebe’s spirits, Jennie’s comments had the opposite effect, and to Izzie’s surprise Phoebe burst into tears.
‘Well, it turns out that you’ve hit the nail on the head. I’m not indispensable!’
‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…’
Jennie looked aghast, dropping her bag to the floor and rushing towards Phoebe to comfort her, but Dylan got there first and crouched down at the side of her chair.
‘Phoebe? What’s going on?’
‘I…’ began Phoebe, her eyes flicking from Jennie to Izzie and Francesca before coming to a stop on Dylan, whose face was bathed in concern.
‘I’ll catch up with you later, Izzie.’ Francesca smiled, clearly anxious to allow Phoebe some privacy.
Izzie nodded and smiled her thanks to her friend. ‘Phoebe, please, tell me what’s happened?’
Phoebe fiddled with her phone as she pondered on how to explain. ‘Oh, it’s just such a complete nightmare.’
Izzie reached out and took Phoebe’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. ‘If you talk to us, we might be able to help.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Well, my mum always told Anna and I when we said the same thing that we should start at the beginning and keep going until we get to the end.’
‘Good advice,’ muttered Dylan, clearly at a loss as to what had cause Phoebe’s meltdown in the middle of a crafting session, but Izzie could see from the look in his eyes that his reaction was more than that of a concerned friend. He was in love with Phoebe and she wondered whether she should make her excuses and join the others in the gazebo and leave Dylan and Phoebe to talk alone. She had just started to raise herself from her chair when Phoebe began to speak.
‘You’ll think I’m a fool.’
‘That’s not even a possibility.’
‘Okay, so… I’ve just been informed that I’m being transferred to a different department at work. Less complex cases, less responsibility, less…’
‘But I thought you were hoping to be promoted to associate partner in the new year?’
‘I was.’
‘So what’s happened?’
And it all came tumbling out.
‘Well, as you know, I’ve been a committed workaholic for years and in the summer it all seemed to be paying off when Giles Denby, that’s our senior partner, called me into his office. He told me that the equity partners were holding a board meeting to decide who should be made an associate partner in the new year and that my name was on a list of five potential candidates. I was overjoyed – it’s exactly what I’ve been working towards. So…’
Phoebe gulped in a breath and Izzie rema
ined motionless, not wanting to break the spell that had descended over the studio and bestowed the vaulted room with a feeling of safety in which to spill confidences. All that could be heard was the faint tinkle of festive music from the CD player in the corner and the chiming of a distant church bell telling everyone in the valley that it was lunchtime.
‘So, as I hadn’t had a social life for months, I decided to celebrate by treating myself to a spa weekend with a couple of girlfriends, joining the community choir, and registering with a few dating websites. I went out with a couple of guys…’
A streak of discomfort shot across Phoebe’s face and her cheeks coloured as she kept her eyes diverted from either Izzie or Dylan.
‘And after a few unsuccessful attempts, I met this guy called Nathan and we went on a few dates…’
Izzie remembered her conversation with Phoebe earlier in the week when she’d talked about dating and she had assumed that someone had broken her heart, but it was worse than that, much worse.
‘We seemed to just click, and after not being in a proper relationship for years, I started to see him most weekends, then it was every weekend, then it was during the week. I’d only known him for three months when he moved in with me in September. I admit that the sensible lawyer part of my brain was screaming caution, but the romantic dreamer in me was loving every moment we spent together – the bouquets of flowers Nathan sent to the office, the impromptu picnic lunches, the last-minute theatre tickets for my favourite shows, weekends away at cute pubs in the countryside.’
‘So what happened?’ asked Dylan, his jaw set rigid as he prepared himself for what had obviously not ended happily ever after.
‘I can hardly believe it was me who did this but…’
By now Phoebe had started to wring her hands so aggressively that Izzie had to slide her palm into hers to calm her, offering an encouraging smile.
‘Tell us what happened?’
‘Nathan asked me to lend him some money. He spun some story about one of his relatives who lived in Buenos Aires being seriously ill and that he really needed to visit her before the inevitable happened. Of course, I agreed straight away and gave him my debit card to pay for his flight. I even went to see him off at Heathrow!’
‘And?’
‘I never saw him again.’
‘Bastard! Sorry, Jennie. So, he didn’t pay you back?’
Phoebe didn’t answer Dylan’s question for a long time, simply allowed her eyes to rest on his face.
‘What?’
‘It’s worse than that.’
‘How can it be worse!’
‘Nathan had my bank account details and he completely wiped me out of every penny I had – he took thousands.’
‘Oh, my God! Did you report him to the police?’
‘Of course I did, but it turned out that he’d used a false name, and all the stuff he’d told me about where he was from, where he went to uni, details about his family and friends, none of it was true.’
‘Oh, Phoebe, that’s just awful! I’m so sorry,’ said Izzie, handing Phoebe a spare paper napkin to dry her eyes, trying to imagine what it must have been like for her to find out she’d been the target of such a cruel scam. ‘But what’s all this got to do with your promotion?’
‘Of course, I had to tell Giles what had happened, and he was really supportive, helping me to deal with the police, and the bank. My parents were livid. In fact, I’m glad Nathan had left the country or I think my father would have hunted him down and dragged him kicking and screaming to the nearest prison.’
‘So…’
‘As I said, Giles was supportive, but one of the other partners, Andrew Stainsworth, who was championing his own candidate, said I was a gullible idiot and that I couldn’t be trusted as a partner in a law firm if I could be conned out of so much money so easily. He intimated that the same thing could happen to a client!’
‘That’s despicable!’ declared Dylan, whose face had filled with colour in indignation. His eyes flashed with restrained anger and he was clearly struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. ‘Do lawyers have a trade union they can complain to?’
Phoebe laughed, but there was no joy in her voice. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Giles shot him down straight away, but the seed was sown. They had the board meeting yesterday and the vote did not go my way.’
‘That’s not fair…’
‘I might not have got the position anyway. Harriet is an extremely competent solicitor who’s had a couple of very successful cases in the Court of Appeal this year. But I admit I’m devastated – it’s just another blow on top of everything else, that’s all.’
‘Well, perhaps it’s time you jumped off that corporate treadmill and started to chase your musical dreams instead,’ suggested Dylan, taking Phoebe’s other hand into his and meeting her gaze.
‘Dylan…’
Izzie suddenly realised that she was surplus to requirements, so she joined Jennie in slipping quietly out of the studio, leaving Dylan to help Phoebe pick up the pieces of her shattered career and mould her life into something different.
Chapter Eighteen
The limonaia, Villa Limoncello
Colour: Sherbet lemon
‘That was another delicious lunch, Izzie.’
‘Thank you, but today’s feast is all down to Carlotta and her friend Vincenzo, who happens to be a committed locavore.’
‘What sort of religion is that? I’ve never heard of it,’ said Sofia, cramming the last piece of her cantucci into her mouth and licking the ends of her fingers with exaggerated delight.
Izzie laughed. ‘Vincenzo’s mantra is that as much of our food as possible should be sourced in the local area. He’s an expert forager – the mushrooms and asparagus and all the herbs in that risotto came from fields within a kilometre of San Vivaldo, and the apricots used in the tart you had for dessert were collected in summer from the trees over by the tennis court and preserved in bottles, like the cherries and the gooseberries.’
‘I think I’d struggle to adopt that lifestyle at home,’ said Nick, rubbing his well-padded stomach in satisfaction. ‘Although Sarah is keen on recycling and reducing our plastic consumption, and we don’t eat as much red meat as we used to either – so I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention that huge T-bone steak I had at the trattoria last night when we get back home.’
‘Your secret is safe with us,’ laughed Phoebe, the dark smudges beneath her eyes that had been a permanent feature when she’d arrived at the villa now almost unnoticeable. Her eyes sparkled and Izzie thought she looked five years younger and certainly one hundred per cent happier. She wondered if she and Dylan had kissed in the studio and made a note to tell Carlotta there might be another success story to add to her ever-lengthening list.
‘Thanks, Phoebe, I appreciate that!’
Izzie knew she wasn’t mistaken when she saw the spectre of guilt stalk across Nick’s face, and in that moment she realised that Nick had known about Phoebe’s relationship problems and in some way used his knowledge to ensure she didn’t skip rehearsals despite her heavy work schedule. There was something ironic in him now asking Phoebe to keep his steak-eating crime to herself, and it was testament to her new-found acceptance of her situation that she’d agreed so willingly.
‘Okay, if everyone’s had their fill, I want a full dress rehearsal down in the studio in one hour.’ A groan of complaint reverberated around the dining room and Nick rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his expression. ‘And if everything goes well, I’ll let you finish an hour early to get ready for our expedition to San Gimignano this evening.’
‘Yay!’ cried Sofia, celebrating their good fortune by reaching for another one of Izzie’s gingerbread snowmen. ‘I’m really excited about going to San Gimignano. My friend Archie is so jealous – apparently Assassin’s Creed was filmed there so he wants me to take lots of photographs for him.’
‘I don’t think I’ve heard of that film,’ said Jennie, gathering together their empt
y plates and carrying them towards the kitchen.
‘That’s because it’s a video game,’ laughed Dylan.
‘Oh, right. However, I feel I should point out that I think the town is more famous for its medieval architecture and its gelato! Come on, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can leave on our trip.’
‘It’s okay, Jennie, you can leave the tidying up with me.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t mind helping.’
Jennie caught a glimpse of Nick’s raised eyebrows and relented. ‘Okay, thanks, see you later.’
‘If everyone could be on the terrace for six o’clock, that would be great. I’ve organised taxis so no one has to drive.’
The group disappeared down the garden path towards the studio, Dylan and Phoebe talking about the world of live music and song-writing, Jennie asking Nick about his previous trip to San Gimignano, and a surprisingly subdued Sofia following on behind looking like a lost lamb. It was becoming ever clearer to Izzie that Sofia would do anything to avoid being alone with Nick, although he was completely oblivious to it, living as he did in a parallel world filled with operettas and arias and musical theatre.
Izzie exhaled a long sigh of relief. Why on earth had she thought running courses in the gorgeous Tuscan countryside where every day would be filled with creative endeavour coupled with a generous dose of animated chatter, friendship and laughter – not to mention delicious patisserie – would be easy? Throw together a group of friends away from their natural habitat and any kind of drama could ensue!
She craved the sound of a friendly voice and she knew exactly what she had to do. She headed back into the kitchen, grabbed her phone and made her way to the limonaia, its welcoming fragrance sparking joy as soon as she entered its glass-encased embrace.