Everyone turned to look when we entered – not because we were the most beautiful creatures to grace the room with our presence but because, if we’re honest, everyone wanted to see everyone as quickly as possible to see if they should be on their radar. Although conversations didn’t stop I felt exposed, like when I have to give a presentation at work. The women, who on first glance ranged from a couple of girls in their mid-twenties through to a rosy-cheeked grey-haired lady, smiled and nodded as we caught their eyes. We saw each of them casting a quick eye over us, like opponents in battle, looking for our weaknesses and our flaws. But there was also a sense of stoic camaraderie. The men (I’d say mid-thirties and up) looked surprisingly bashful. I’d been expecting bravado and cockiness – maybe that would come later – because right now they all seemed amusingly out of their depth.
My mistake: the bravado and cockiness had just been sucked out of the room and into one man, who marched straight up to me, all chinos and tan, crinkled his eyes and said, ‘Missy, missy, missy – what a dress!’ He grabbed my hand and tried to twirl me, but I’ve never been twirled before and didn’t know what he was doing so our arms just went up in the air and bent awkwardly before we dropped them.
Laurie handed me a glass of red that she’d acquired from somewhere, and with a wink waltzed off.
‘Hello,’ I said to the man. He was looking me up and down and nodding.
‘You are beautiful. Badabing, badaboom!’
I can be pretty in good lighting, and I have an okay body, and okay hair, but let’s not pretend I’m ‘badabing, badaboom’ material. This man’s falseness was already putting me off. But he was trying to be nice, and I’d made nice with annoying corporate weirdos at work before, so I could handle this ageing Lothario.
‘Thank you. Where are you from?’
‘The Sunshine State – Florida, USA. Have you ever been?’
‘Not really. I’ve connected flights in Miami and I’ve done some East Coast but never got as far down as Florida to do it properly. I’d love to go.’
‘Oh, it’s beautiful, you’d fit right in.’ He was smooth. ‘That settles it then. Let’s end this holiday here and you come back with me. I don’t need to meet any other girls now I’ve seen you, baby.’
‘You don’t know anything about me yet. I might be a total psychopath.’
‘So might I.’
‘Well that wouldn’t surprise me all that much.’
‘You gotta take risks in life, baby.’ He tried to hold my hand again but I grabbed a passing appetiser, which turned out to be such a delicious mini bruschetta, with sweet, olive oil-soaked sun-blushed tomatoes and fresh basil leaves, that I nearly believed You Had Me at Merlot’s claim to be able to make people fall in love. Me + bruschetta 4EVA.
Oh yes, the American. ‘Let’s just move past the “baby” thing to begin with; would you like to know my name?’
‘Your name, your number, your breakfast of choice …’
‘Oh my God.’
‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m George; what do you go by?’
‘This is Bella Ella!’ cried Sebastian, appearing behind me and topping up my wine from a dark, dust-covered bottle that I imagined had sat in the Bella Notte wine cellar for years, ageing to perfection.
‘It’s actually Elle,’ I told George, before he also limpeted on to the nickname. I turned to Sebastian, thankful for the distraction. ‘This place is beautiful, I love the bedrooms.’
‘That’s good to hear. All decorated by my son.’
‘Your son?’
‘Yep, it’s a proper family business. Excuse me, Bella, I’d better just get the intros started.’ He walked to the centre of the room and tapped the side of his glass. A hush fell over everyone, and Sofia appeared in the doorway and danced her way over, slotting in under his arm like they were two parts of a puzzle.
‘Welcome, everyone,’ he grinned, ‘to Bella Notte vineyard, and your You Had Me at Merlot vacation. Everyone ready for romance?’ There were some awkward titters and one ‘woo-hoooo’ from one of the younger girls. Sebastian continued, ‘Glad to hear it. Now, the whole point of these holidays is for you to relax, drink some great wine – if we do say so ourselves – get to know some like-minded people and to open your hearts. For most of you I expect this’ll be your first vineyard stay, and for that reason we hope the setting, the activities and the booze will loosen you up and help new experiences become shared experiences. Bloody hell, that should have gone in the brochure.’ Sofia smiled up at him. ‘We think it’s too easy to get bogged down in real life, and work, and the closed little circle of people you meet up with to moan about work. And that’s why we wanted to bring people together in this beautiful slice of the Chianti countryside, to have some bloody fun!’
‘Stop saying “bloody”,’ scolded Sofia.
‘My potty-mouthed wife here is the one to blame for the activities she’s going to make you do over the next ten days. I’ll hand you over to her.’
‘Hello, everyone.’ Sofia’s beautiful face showed little sign of age, and though she was quieter than Sebastian one immediately warmed to her. I wanted to walk over and squeeze her, but that might have been the wine. ‘We have lots of fun things planned for the next ten days, but also lots of free time for you to spend on your own, or getting to know people. There are plenty of walks near by, and you are welcome to roam free around the vineyard. The building near the gate has a range of Vespas you may borrow, and our son Jamie can give you a lesson if needs be. We’ll put on cold breakfast and lunch buffets every day – you can come and go as you please – and a nightly dinner. Tomorrow morning we’ll all take a walking tour of the vineyard and cellars, and I’ll tell you a little more of what you’ll be drinking while you’re here, then we’ll have a wine tasting in the afternoon.’
There were murmurs of appreciation, and across the room Laurie caught my eye and raised her glass.
‘But it has a difference,’ said Sofia. The wine tasting will be blindfolded.’
This caused giggles, but all I could think was I’m not standing anywhere near George with a blindfold on.
‘Every night at dinner we’ll give you the plan for the next day, and you can decide if you want to take part or not. The things we have planned are romantic and sultry and heady and we hope to create many happy couples.’
‘Oh yeah!’ cried George, looking directly at me.
Sebastian boomed with laughter. ‘Steady there, Sofia love, these lot have already sloshed half the wine in their rooms – they won’t need much encouragement from you. Shall we go around, and everyone can say their name and a little about themselves?’
Communal groan.
George stepped forward, full on confidence. ‘I’m George, I’m from Florida, USA, and I came here because I wanted to know what European women were really like. And boy oh boy, am I impressed so far!’
The twenty-somethings linked arms and stepped into the middle next, giggling and conferring in hushed Bristolian accents.
‘I’m Vicky.’
‘And I’m Jane.’
‘And we’re here because we love wine.’
‘And we hate English boys.’
‘They’re all so stupid.’
‘And they all go on eighteen-to-thirty holidays to Ibiza, so we didn’t want to go there.’
‘And I like older men.’
‘And I like continental men. Is that the right word? Continental?’
‘Yeah, like continental breakfast.’
‘Cool.’
They scuttled off, and the older woman came into the centre of the room. ‘I’m Bridget, and I’m from Scotland, and I just wanted some sunshine where everyone wasn’t already couples, or there weren’t children around. I just want to talk to people when I go on holiday.’
She and I were going to be friends.
A shy-looking man of about our age went next. I noticed Laurie snap to attention, as if she’d spotted him across the room but hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet
and was curious who he was. I liked her like this: hopeful, energetic, optimistic.
‘Buonasera, I’m Marco.’ He did a little bow and then looked embarrassed. ‘I am actually a journalist for a travel magazine here in Italy and my editor wanted to do a piece on these, um, singles’ holidays. I won’t write about any of you, don’t worry. But also, I am single, and I don’t want to be any more, so I put my hand up and said, “Pick me, pick me!”’
Laurie was melting, utterly ready to pick Marco. She swooped in to the centre after him.
‘Hi, everyone, pleasure to meet you. I’m Laurie, and I’m here with my gorgeous best friend Elle, and back in London I’m an event photographer.’ She caught Marco’s eye and grinned, forming a media-types bond with him. ‘And I’m here because I’ve tried all sorts of dating – I’ve tried them all – and I’m just tired of it and ready to be finally swept off my feet.’
I was impressed – that was surprisingly honest. It was nice to feel you could be somewhere where you could actually lay your cards out and say what you wanted, rather than have to act cool.
‘I mean,’ continued Laurie, ‘I don’t mean to sound like I’ve been out with millions of guys, I’m not a lady of the night or anything HAHAHA – Elle, your turn.’
‘Okay. Um, I’m Elle, I’m also from the UK, of course …’ What to say, what to say? I nearly explained my job, but I stopped – I didn’t want to think about work. I didn’t want anyone to ask me about work. ‘I’m actually more here for the wine and the sunshine, and because I’ve never been to Italy before.’ I crinkled my nose and began to back out of the circle.
‘But she is single,’ declared Sebastian with a grin.
‘Yes I am, but I’m okay with that right now.’
When I got back to the edge of the circle, Sebastian leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘I need to talk to you at the end. I’ve had the most fantastic idea.’
One by one, the remaining people went up and introduced themselves, while the rest of us watched, nodded, smiled, laughed and grazed on crostini and pâté, and tiny Italian chocolates. There were probably twenty to thirty of us altogether, which must mean the bedrooms spilt away from the main house and into the outbuildings that dotted the vineyard.
Where was my man?
My man! What a cheek! First of all, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and second of all I am not here to find a man.
There, that was me told off.
The group broke up, and immediately the atmosphere relaxed, people moving around to get to know those they thought sounded interesting a little better. I was about to make a beeline for Bridget when Sebastian jumped in front of me.
‘Bella Ella.’
‘Sebastian. Thank you for saving me from George earlier.’
‘No problem. You just tell me to back off if you change your mind about him and don’t want saving.’
‘Ha ha, unlikely.’
‘I don’t know; I didn’t believe his “I want to see what European chicks are like” act. I think something else made him make the decision to come here.’ He leant in close. ‘And I’m going to find out. But first, I’ve been thinking about you and what you said. And I don’t think these men are right for you.’
‘You don’t?’ Good.
‘Well, they’re all looking for romance, but you’re not.’
‘Nope.’
‘You’re happily single.’
‘Yep.’
‘Miss Independent.’
‘That’s me.’
‘So if you won’t have them, and you won’t have me, I think you need to be introduced to someone else who claims to be happily single and seems to find being in love such a chore. My son.’
‘How’s that going to help anything?’
‘Because you’re both so bloody-minded that maybe stars will collide against your thick heads – JAMIE!’
And then my man – I mean the man – from the hallway slunk around the corner from the kitchen, glaring at his dad, wearing the same blue shirt and with a tea towel thrown over his shoulder. The other women turned like they’d heard a bang and gave him lusty stares, which he seemed to edge away from. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face, and when he saw me his scowl finally changed to a smile.
‘Hello again,’ he said.
‘Hellumunum.’ I’m not sure what I replied with.
‘You’ve met?’ asked Sebastian.
‘Briefly, in the hallway,’ said Jamie. ‘How’s your nose?’
‘Fine, thank you. How’s your hand and your, um …’ I waved at his pecs.
‘Look at this, you guys are like a house on fire.’ Sebastian took the tea towel from Jamie’s shoulder and ushered us closer together.
‘Dad.’ A slight blush tinted his olive skin.
‘Relax – she’s not here for romance. She doesn’t want you, she’s being wing-woman to her friend. You can both be grumps together.’ His eyes twinkled at me – dark eyes that were the same as his son’s – and off he scampered.
Jamie wasn’t here to try to find a girlfriend. It dawned on me that this was a good thing. Talking to anyone else would always feel laced with an agenda, whereas neither of us had one. Though my heart had protested with a little flap when Sebastian had told Jamie I didn’t want him.
‘I will try and introduce myself without causing you an injury. I’m Jamie,’ he said, in his light accent.
‘I’m Elle.’
‘Ahh, the “Bella Ella” my dad’s been talking about.’
‘Your dad is lovely, but kind of embarrassing!’ What had he been saying about me?
Jamie laughed and held up his hands. ‘You are preaching to the chair, sister.’ I smothered a chuckle. No one likes to be corrected all the time. And at the risk of sounding like a patronising idiot, his little mistakes were just a smidge attractive.
‘Listen, I’m sorry about earlier, with the corridor and the bashing.’ I placed my hand on his warm, hard chest briefly – just to demonstrate – and my heart lurched with a bloody hell, you fancy him! ‘It’s so quiet here you forget there are even other people around. I should watch where I’m going. No more zooming out of doors like I’m queen of the castle!’ I babbled.
‘It’s okay, I really didn’t mind. I shouldn’t really have been wandering about in the guest corridor anyway, I just remembered a bit of paintwork that had become chipped and was checking to see if it was very noticeable.’
‘Your dad said you decorated all the rooms; does that include the murals in the bathrooms and the corridors?’
‘Yep, do you like them?’
‘Yeah, they’re gorgeous, you’re like Michelangelo.’ And I was like a teenager swooning over a boyband member. But he looked really, genuinely pleased – maybe the guests are normally too enamoured with each other to notice his artwork – so I saw no harm in throwing a few compliments. ‘So you work here?’
‘Yes. Bella Notte will always be a family business. And while those two are matchmaking, I’m getting on with the wine.’
‘Ah, the important bit.’
He broke out into the biggest grin. ‘I think so. I can’t wait for you to try more of the selection.’
‘It was you I saw down in the vineyard when our taxi arrived earlier?’
‘Yes, that would have been me. I like your voice, where are you from?’
I like your face. ‘I live in London, have you been?’
‘No. One day.’
‘Well it’s amazing, but it’s also crowded and fumy and no one quite has the time to just relax. Being here is like being in a different world.’
‘Dad said you weren’t here for romance. You came on a singles’ holiday but you’re not single?’
‘No, I am single, really, really single. I’ve been single for years. It’s gone too far now, I don’t need someone coming in and learning all about my nasty habits, like—’ No, please shut up. ‘And how about you?’
‘No, no girlfriend.’
‘I guess you must have a lot of wome
n to choose from working here.’ He shot me a strange look, sort of weariness mixed with confusion. Well, I did just basically call him an opportunistic man-whore. Stupid Elle. ‘Not to suggest—’
‘No, I don’t actually have all that much to do with the guests. You won’t see me very much.’ He ran his hand through his hair, and I felt mighty jealous of that hand. ‘I have to go. Good luck while you’re here, I hope you get whatever you want out of it. It was really nice meeting you.’
He touched my arm lightly as he left and I wasn’t sure what had happened. I was convinced we’d had a connection, but he suddenly seemed sad. Hmm.
I wandered back over towards Laurie, feeling a little unsure of myself, but not really in the mood to meet anyone else that night and just wanting Jamie to come back so we could chat some more. But he was long gone down the dark corridor and probably back to his room, where he’d change into loose cotton pyjamas and no top, and lie on his bed alone, staring out through his open bedroom window at the stars, wondering what I was doing and whether I too had gone to bed to look at the stars …
‘Elle! Gentlemen, this is Elle.’ Laurie pulled me in close to her and glanced around the room. I could tell she was itching to find Marco before someone else got their claws into him. I was pulled out of my strange, very un-Elle-like fantasy. My aim was now to nod and smile and listen to Laurie and the two suitors who were clamouring for her attention, and big her up at opportune moments with vast quantities of ‘Laurie’s an expert this,’ and ‘Laurie is the best person to talk to about that.’ ‘Elle, this is Pierre and Jon. I was just telling them about my exhibition at the Portrait Gallery last year.’
I spluttered into my wine and she widened her eyes at me. The not-actually-lying plan was evidently out the window, then.
‘You say Victoria Beckham bought one of your photos?’ asked Pierre, entranced. Laurie side-eyed me.
‘Yes she did,’ I jumped in. ‘Well you know Vic – Spice Girls, Girl Power, et cetera. She’s very supportive of strong females and their work.’ The men were nodding with respect, and Laurie squeezed my hand.
You Had Me at Merlot Page 5