by T A Williams
‘Sei una stella. Grazie.’ She didn’t understand all the words, but she got the last one all right.
‘Anything for you, Gianni baby.’ She squeezed his hand, gave him a big smile and went back to work. After she had left, Giancarlo translated her response. Beppe grunted.
‘Well, Gianni baby, let’s see what she comes up with. Now, how about another pint of beer?’ He pushed the empty glass towards Giancarlo. ‘And a packet of peanuts as well.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t like English beer.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers. If it’s a choice between beer or what they call red wine here, I’ll go with the beer.’ He lowered his voice as he whispered to Giancarlo in confidence. ‘To be honest, I’m coming round to quite liking this stuff they call beeter.’
‘From the fact that this will be your fifth pint of bitter this evening, I had already worked that out.’ Giancarlo got up and went into the bar. Beppe stretched his legs and eased his belt. Somehow, his stomach didn’t seem to be getting any smaller.
Chapter 16
Samantha told herself afterwards it was only because she was trying to put off returning to the flat to have it out with Neil that she went to the Wobbly Wheel that evening. The fact that she went there at the exact same time that she had seen James Courtney a few days before was sheer coincidence. In consequence, his appearance about five minutes after she got there came as a total surprise, or at least that was what she told herself. She was sitting at a little table in the corner and he didn’t notice her. Even without seeing his face, she would have recognised him from the way he walked. She found she was very pleased to see him. She was not, however, so pleased to see the very attractive woman who came in with him. The fact that the woman rested her hand affectionately on his shoulder as he ordered drinks was similarly unwelcome. Sam found herself snorting into her Pinot.
He and the girl remained at the bar, their backs turned towards the room, while Sam found herself surreptitiously running her hands through her hair and checking her buttons in case he turned round. She gave herself a stern talking-to. Here she was, still in one relationship; all right, hanging on by her fingernails for just a few more minutes, but still in it and even so, she was checking out another man. And a man accompanied by another woman. She spoke to herself sternly. I’m just interested in him as a fellow academic. I’m just interested in him as a fellow…
Her phone whistled and she saw she had a text. It was from her friend at the lab who had agreed to do the preliminary test on the bone found by Henry the dog. The good news was that it was quite clearly very old and, as such, of no interest to the police. This meant that Ann would not have to worry about being visited by the authorities – and it opened the way for a dig, if she could be persuaded to risk exposing her whereabouts to the public. Sam decided she should phone her with the news. The fact that the girl alongside James Courtney chose that very moment to reach up and kiss him tenderly on the ear convinced Sam that the phone call would be best made outside. She swallowed the rest of her wine far too fast and erupted into a fit of coughing and choking. She was vaguely aware of James Courtney and the girl turning towards her as she stumbled out through the door, blushing like a schoolgirl.
She hurried off down the street until she was out of sight of the pub. By this time her coughing fit had subsided and her cheeks were no longer burning. She stopped beside a lamp post, pulled out her phone and took a few deep breaths. She stared up at the reddening sky above her and did her best to analyse her feelings. In a moment of honest insight, she realised that the overriding emotion she had felt back there in the pub had been jealousy. She was jealous of the affection being displayed by James Courtney’s annoyingly good-looking companion. Why that should be the case was not totally clear to her. She snorted again and did her best to dismiss the Cambridge man from her mind, but it wasn’t easy, particularly as the spot on her arm where he had held her as he removed the thorn the other night chose this precise moment to start tingling. She resisted the urge to touch it, but it took will power.
Sharply returning her attention to her phone, she scrolled through until she found Ann’s phone number. She dialled and Ann answered almost immediately.
‘Yes?’
‘Hi, Ann. It’s Samantha.’
‘Hello Samantha.’ Ann sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her. ‘What’s new?’
Sam gave her the good news about the bone. She ended with the words, ‘He told me his gut feeling was that it is at least five hundred years old, maybe more, but they’ll run the full range of tests. So, it looks very likely we’re onto something really old there. Don’t forget my offer.’
There was a pause before Sam heard the words she was waiting to hear. ‘You know, Sam, I think we should do the dig. Your colleagues would be prepared to respect my privacy, wouldn’t they?’
Sam assured her she had nothing to worry about and Ann told her she would sleep on it. As Sam put her phone away she reflected that maybe Becky was going to get the chance to spend time on a millionaire’s island after all, even if the millionaire in question was female, rather than male.
She dropped the phone back into her bag and glanced at her watch. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to talk to Neil. She walked home more slowly than usual, reaching the flat at just before seven. Theoretically Neil didn’t have any sports commitments that night so she expected to find him at home. All the way she had been rehearsing what she would say to him. In essence it would be, ‘Neil, we need to split up.’ As she put the key into the lock, she took a deep breath and gritted her teeth.
She walked in and closed the door behind her. The living room was empty. The flat was so small that the only other places he could be were the bathroom, the bedroom or the tiny second bedroom that was jammed full of all their junk.
‘Neil, are you there?’
There was no response and her immediate reaction was a feeling of relief. She checked the other rooms just to be sure, but he definitely wasn’t there. Then she walked back into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Just as she sat down, she heard the familiar scratching at the window.
‘Hello, cat. Feeling hungry?’
She leant over and opened the window to let the cat in. Unusually, he didn’t head for his food bowl, but came straight over, compelling her to sit down at the table so he could settle on her lap, purring noisily. She was surprised and pleased at this rare sign of affection. It was, she reflected grimly, the only sign of affection she was likely to get in this flat. Then as she stroked the cat, she noticed a piece of paper propped up against the brown sauce bottle. She reached for it.
Sam. It’s not working, is it? Best if we end it. I’ve found a place to crash. I’ll come round for my stuff one of these days. Neil.
She read it two or three times, just to be sure, and then sat back, trying to analyse her feelings. Certainly, nobody could accuse Neil of excess verbosity. She realised that she felt two overriding emotions. First was a feeling of relief that the decision had been made. Second was annoyance that he had said it first. Just then, her phone rang.
‘Hi, Sam.’ It was Becky.
‘Oh, yeah, hi Becs.’
‘You all right? You sound like you’ve been punched.’
‘I feel as if I have been, sort of. I’ve just got home and found a note from Neil, dumping me.’
‘Doing what?’
‘He’s gone. He says it’s best to end it and he’s found somewhere else to live.’
‘Fucking hell…’
There was a pause while both of them reflected on events. Becky was the first to speak. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ There was silence at the end of the line so she tried again. ‘That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
‘Well… yes.’
‘But…?’
What Samantha wanted to say was, but I wanted to be the one to dump him, not the other way round, but she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she took a deep breath and agreed with Becky. ‘No but
s; you’re right. This is the result I wanted. It doesn’t matter who got there first. At least it’s all over and nobody blew a fuse.’
‘Sam, have you got a couple of clean wine glasses there? I’ll be round with a bottle in twenty minutes.’
‘It’s all right, Becs…’ But the line had gone dead.
Becky arrived less than half an hour later, bearing two bottles of Prosecco, by which time Sam had been able to rationalise a bit better just what was going through her head. She had also been able to do most of the washing up. This valuable displacement activity had had the twin benefits of helping her think things through and, at the same time, produce two clean wine glasses. Becky wasted no time in filling them both.
‘You all right, Sam?’ She sounded really concerned.
Sam held up her glass and clinked it against her friend’s. ‘I’m all right, Becs. I should have done it weeks ago, you know.’ Just then her phone rang again. This time it was her mum’s name on the caller ID. She picked it up and grimaced across the table at Becky. ‘Hi Mum.’
As she related the events of the last half hour, she was very pleased to hear her mother sounding unusually upbeat. So, far from depressing her further, the news seemed to be acting in a positive way. Of course, they both knew she still had a long way to go, but the change in tone was very heartening. By the time she rang off, Sam was feeling a lot better about things. She dropped the phone on the table and took another mouthful of wine. ‘Like I said, Becs, I’m all right. And, by the sound of it, so’s Mum.’
They drank most of the Prosecco between them and what had started as a wake ended as a celebration.
Chapter 17
Samantha and Becky looked up as Virginia came into the lab. She was smiling broadly and they could both see that something must have happened to put the smile on her face. Neither of them had been smiling much up till this point, as a result of having drunk far too much Prosecco the night before. Nevertheless, Samantha had been able to get a lot of stuff off her chest. As a result, she had finally gone to bed and slept remarkably well, the ensuing hangover a small price to pay.
‘Hi Virginia, you look as if you’ve just won the lottery.’ Secretly, Sam was pretty sure what the good news was going to be, but she waited for Virginia to confirm it. She fluttered her eyelids at her supervisor. ‘If you have, you will remember your friends now, won’t you?’
‘Oh, go on, Virginia, just a few quid, please.’ Becky held out her cupped hands and kowtowed.
‘This is better than money, girls. Look what I found in my inbox this morning!’ Virginia dug out her tablet and passed it across. ‘And I’d pretty much given up hope after that letter from the Swiss lawyers. It must have been that bone that changed their minds.’ Samantha had brought her the bone on her return from Tregossick earlier in the week, before sending it to the lab for analysis, but hadn’t revealed any more than the fact that she had been rescued by people on the island. Ann’s identity remained her secret.
As the two girls set about reading the email, Ryan came in. Seeing them in a huddle, he set down his bag and came over to join them, peering over their shoulders.
‘Wow! Bingo!’ Becky reached the bottom of the email first. ‘So it looks like we’re going to get access. Isn’t that amazing? Mind you, it does sound a bit mysterious. All that business about confidentiality and privacy.’
‘No, it was bound to come with something like that.’ Virginia wasn’t surprised at all. ‘It’s like we said, Rock Island has to have been bought by a multi-millionaire. I can fully understand why they want to keep themselves to themselves.’
Sam made no comment, delighted at the prospect of the dig, but determined to keep her knowledge of Ann’s identity a secret as she had promised.
‘Check out the email address.’ Becky had been doing a bit of sleuthing. ‘See, it reads [email protected]. Who do we know that’s famous and called Griffiths?’ Sam grinned to herself and made no comment.
‘Don’t be silly.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘That’s bound to be an alias. I mean, you can hardly expect him to sign it georgeclooney@, would you?’
‘You don’t really think it is George Clooney, do you?’ Becky shot an accusing glance at Samantha. ‘I really think I might have to invest in some new underwear if it is.’ Behind her, Ryan shook his head in despair. Samantha subjected her to a stern look.
‘Shame on you. Don’t you know Clooney’s married now, Becs?’
‘There’s always hope…’ Becky wasn’t the sort of girl to give up easily.
‘Anyway, they want me to come down and take a look at the site of the find. Maybe as soon as tomorrow, weather permitting.’ Virginia looked around. ‘Any volunteers to accompany me?’ The other three chorused, ‘me, me, me’. In the end Virginia chose Samantha, mainly because she had been there before, but also because she was less impressionable than Becky. ‘If it is George Clooney, the last thing I want is for one of my colleagues to leap on him and tear his clothes off.’ She paused for effect. ‘As head of department, I feel that should be my privilege.’
Half an hour later, Sam got an email from Mr Griffiths. This time it had a more personal message. Ann had business in Exeter that day and she wondered if Sam would like to join her for lunch. Sam wasted no time in replying that she would love to see her again.
At half past twelve, Mr Griffiths was waiting outside the door to the History building as agreed. The sun was shining out of a clear blue sky and it was surprisingly hot for England. He gave Sam a friendly smile and accompanied her across to an unremarkable silver car in the car park. He opened the rear door and Sam saw Ann sitting inside.
‘Hi, Samantha. Do jump in.’
Sam joined her on the back seat. As the door closed behind her, Ann glanced round to see if the coast was clear and then gratefully removed her black wig. She shook her head and ran her fingers though her long blonde hair. ‘That’s better. It’s so bloody hot under that thing.’
Sam felt a touch on the back of her head and turned to find Henry the Labrador looking very pleased to see her from the boot. She scratched his ears as Mr Griffiths came round and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Ann reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’m absolutely boiling. I wonder if you could open the roof for a few minutes, Mr Griffiths.’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, would you mind awfully if I called you something other than Mr Griffiths, at least for now? It sounds so very old school.’
He turned back towards them as the roof slid smoothly open. ‘Call me whatever you wish, Miss Cartwright. My first name is Freddie, if you prefer.’
‘Freddie, that’s much better.’ Ann settled into the seat and removed her sunglasses. Behind them, the Labrador’s head peered over at them and she reached back to scratch him under the chin. He grunted with pleasure. ‘So, what now, Freddie? Where do you suggest we go for lunch?’
‘I’m entirely at your disposal, Miss Cartwright.’
‘And another thing, Freddie, do you think you could bring yourself to call me Ann? At least while we’re out here in the real world.’
‘Whatever you wish… Ann.’ Sam smiled as he was forced to relax his formal ways. She leant forward as he started the engine. ‘Would you mind awfully if I called you Freddie as well?’
‘By all means, Miss… Samantha.’ Sam patted him on the shoulder.
‘That’s the way, Freddie. Call me Samantha, or Sam.’
Together they decided to visit Dartmoor National Park and give Henry the chance of a good walk before making their way back to Exeter to drop Sam home. As Freddie drove, Sam and Ann chatted and Sam found she was getting on surprisingly well with her, multi-millionaire or not. It took less than an hour to get right into the middle of Dartmoor and the weather stayed fine and clear. The views from the high points of the moor were spectacular, all the way down to the sea in the distance. Narrow tracks, made by sheep, ponies and ramblers, snaked in between bright patches of yellow gorse and warm purple clumps of heather. The hills themselves
, although tiny by international standards, were bare and windswept and it was easy to imagine how forbidding they might be in winter.
Ann and Sam sat back, admired the views and chatted, involving Freddie in the conversation. Reserved at first, he gradually loosened up and before long he was responding to their questions quite naturally. At their suggestion, he stopped in a little moorland village and, while Ann and Sam waited in the car, he went out and bought water and sandwiches. Or rather, he bought sandwiches for Samantha and himself and, on Ann’s instructions, an apple and a pear for her. Sam wasn’t surprised. Ann had told her much about her exercise and dietary regime, which was unforgiving. Thoughtfully, Freddie also bought a large bone-shaped biscuit for the dog. They ate them high on a hill scattered with granite boulders, sheltered by a wind-sculpted tor, looking back down towards the coast. Dartmoor ponies roamed nearby and skylarks sang high above them. It was a delightful spot and a perfect day.
‘You know something, this is just about the first time I’ve been out in the open, undisguised, for ages.’ Sam could see that Ann was enjoying her rare day out. ‘I went to see my mum for a week before coming here and I had to spend the whole time in that bloody black wig. It was so hot!’
‘Celebrity has its attractions, but I’m sure it can have drawbacks. Still, it must feel good to know that you’ve made a success of your life.’ Freddie was sitting back against a smooth rock on the other side of Ann, and it looked to Sam as if he was enjoying the day out just as much as his employer. She took a closer look at the two of them. It was clear that they got on very well together. He was probably at least sixty, old enough to be Ann’s father. Ever since Ann had made the remark about having studied biology at school twenty-five years earlier, Sam had been revising her idea of Ann’s age. In all probability she had to be at least forty, maybe older, though she looked ten years younger than that.
After finishing his lunch, Freddie excused himself and walked off to investigate a stone cross on the next hilltop. Ann watched him go. ‘That was very tactful of him. He’s a lovely man, you know.’