You Had Me at Merlot

by Lisa Dickenson

  My plan was to go through the TripAdvisor reviews for You Had Me at Merlot Holidays and make a note of everything people liked and didn’t like, and see if there was anything workable.

  Crikey, these biscotti were good. I read the first review, a glowing recommendation from an elderly woman from Oklahoma, who not only had a great time, but mentioned that she kissed not one but two men. I felt my heart flutter with pride when Jamie’s name jumped out at me from the page: I don’t remember if he’s a gardener or what, but that kid Jamie is one hell of a looker!

  There was nothing the woman didn’t like, but I noted down that she seemed particularly keen on the authentic Italian food. Maybe we could advertise that more. I say ‘we’; I mean ‘they’. I didn’t live here yet.

  The next couple of reviews were from men, both fairly happy customers bar one of them complaining that his friend had more free wine in his room than he did.

  The fourth review was by another man, who was indifferent about the whole holiday. He stated that he’d had a nice time, but no romance had been formed. He ended the review with a slightly snide comment, which I read several times over: One can’t help but wonder if the son of the owners is a hindrance rather than an asset. It’s a demoralising thing to pay for a holiday like this only to find you’re competing with the charms of a so-called ‘Italian Stallion’.

  Who’d called Jamie an Italian Stallion? I felt bad for him, this personal attack on the internet for all to see.

  One review caught my eye. It was one line. Thanks Jamie, for making this trip unforgettable ;) What did that mean?

  I scrolled down the page. There were an awful lot of mentions of Jamie from women: If you need some real romance, bypass the tourists, ladies, and spend a little quality time with Jamie and I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone, I just went along with a group of girlfriends, but then out came their son. …

  My mouth dried, the coffee sat untouched. I read review after review, all here in black and white, focusing on and re-reading anything which nodded towards Jamie. I felt like I was snooping, but I couldn’t look away.

  J made the trip for me.

  I honestly didn’t think holiday romance was even possible until I met someone. Not a traveller, but the man who makes the wine.

  One word: Jamie.

  My friends all met people they’ve stayed in touch with on this vacation, but I think I hit the jackpot with Sofia and Sebastian’s son, Jamie. We got on immediately, love really IS in the air at Bella Notte. And yes, I got my money’s worth …

  I couldn’t believe it. I must be getting the wrong end of the stick. But I couldn’t help feeling queasy. Was this the real Jamie? I wasn’t just another notch on the client-based bedpost … was I? It couldn’t be that Jamie was just You Had Me at Merlot’s unique selling point, to be rolled out to their most jaded of customers … could he?

  And then I saw the photo. It topped a one-paragraph review titled Time of my Life, and showed a pretty woman beaming at the camera, sun-rays pouring in from the left. The vineyard stretched out behind her. It was the perfect photo to advertise why you should want to come to Bella Notte to find your one true love. Because wrapped around her, holding her close and kissing her cheek like they were on honeymoon, was Jamie.

  I opened the review, and read it with trepidation.

  How could I not give this place five stars? It did everything it promised, and more. I met a man, J, who I’ll never forget. Though I don’t deserve him, he made me forget about any worries or nerves I had and gave me the best weeks of my life. There’s no greater place than Italy for amore, and Bella Notte is as romantic as they come. You Had Me at Merlot had me at hello. I hope that one day I’ll go back – I miss my seat by the stained-glass window. R xxx

  That window – the window that was inside Jamie’s house. There was no doubt that ‘R’ and he had had a thing together. I knew it was in the past – everyone has a past – but I couldn’t help feeling empty, exposed and betrayed. I thought he ‘didn’t mix with the guests’. I thought he wasn’t interested in the You Had Me at Merlot side of things. But it seemed to me that he’d been pretty involved all along.

  I made the photo larger, their faces filling the screen. They looked so happy, and I hated this girl for it. I hated all these women. Because they’d opened my eyes to how false this whole thing was, right when I’d needed to believe in something.

  I didn’t hear someone entering the lounge behind me. Not until a suitcase thudded to the floor and the smell of coconut shampoo wafted over my shoulder.

  ‘Hey, that’s my review!’

  My breathing slowed. I didn’t want to look around because this couldn’t be happening. But how could I not? And there she was, ‘R’, leaning over me looking at the computer like the photograph come to life. Her hair was shorter, and she was a little less tanned, but the smile was the same – full of happiness, excitement, hope.

  She stepped back and picked up her suitcase again. ‘I love that photo. It was the best day. Don’t suppose you’ve seen Jamie around, have you?’

  Part Four

  ‘Um …’ I shut my eyes and rubbed my forehead with both hands. My brain was struggling to keep up, to know how to defuse this surreal situation. To understand how this girl – who a moment ago was a rival inside a computer screen, but who was now here in real life – fitted into the puzzle of me and Jamie. To know if I should tell her where he was, or take her to him, or get rid of her now. Maybe she’d be gone when I opened my eyes.

  Unfortunately not.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry. Parla inglese?’ she asked, again flashing me the smile that caused me to ache when I thought of how Jamie might feel when he saw it.

  ‘Yes.’ I tried to bide my time by slowly shutting down the computer, shuffling about and making small talk. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘No thanks, I’m just ready to crash out, take a shower.’

  ‘Shall I find Sofia, then, and ask if there’s a room available?’ I knew the answer, and I was torturing myself by making her say it.

  ‘No, that’s okay. I’ve got somewhere.’

  ‘With a shower?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I couldn’t let her leave the room. If she went to Jamie’s house she’d be naked in his shower. ‘So … What brings you here?’

  ‘I’ve been looking at that photo too and, well, as you see there’s a very good, tall, hunky reason why I came back.’

  ‘You both look … very pleased with yourselves,’ I rasped.

  ‘We were. I can’t wait to see him again. I’m Rachel.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Elle.’

  ‘Do you work here?’

  ‘No, I’m a guest.’ I wanted to tell her I was also Jamie’s new girlfriend. But those reviews had left a black cloud of worry in my Italian sky. Did I still count as a girlfriend if every couple of weeks he was meeting new partners? Would the end of the holiday be the end of us? Perhaps he wooed every woman into girlfriend status, in which case I was out.

  ‘Oh okay, you probably don’t know much about Jamie then. No problem, I’ll just head straight to his house and wait for him there if he’s out working.’

  She turned towards the door and I stood helplessly, watching her go. I needed to be there, I needed to see his reaction when he saw her.

  ‘Wait!’ I ran out of the house after her, squinting in the bright sunlight. She looked at me with a slightly strained smile. ‘I think I know where he is.’

  ‘Fantastic.’ I made us walk at an excruciatingly slow pace from outhouse to outhouse, all of which I knew he wouldn’t be in. She was obviously wearing a carefully chosen reunion outfit, and all this trekking, while lugging her suitcase, was definitely wearing her patience thin. Eventually she plonked down her suitcase. ‘You know what: I’m going to go to his house directly.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m grateful for your help, but I’ve travelled a long way and I really just want to s
ee my man now.’

  She picked up her suitcase and started off down the hill, making a beeline for Jamie’s. I ran after her. ‘He’s your man?’ I said, with more bitterness than I’d intended.

  ‘Yep.’ She wasn’t stopping.

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘It’s been a while; we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.’

  ‘But how do you know he’ll want to see you?’

  ‘Um, okay, I can find my own way from here, thank you.’

  I ran past her and blocked her path, standing between her and her happiness. ‘Look, there’s something—’

  ‘Elle?’ I heard Jamie call out across the vineyard, and I turned. There he was, my man, or so I’d thought, under the Tuscan sun, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair a mess and smiling at me with happy tenderness. I felt a lump in my throat. It wasn’t about us any more, it was about her and those other women; I should never have got involved.

  He tilted his head and we gazed at one another for a moment. I think it would be the last time he looked at me like that, and the last time anyone might look at me like that for another long time. This romance stuff was too hard.

  With a shaking breath I stepped to the side, and I watched as his expression flickered from happiness to confusion to realisation, and then to shock as Rachel dropped her suitcase and pelted past me, throwing herself into Jamie’s arms.

  He never took his eyes off me.

  But he didn’t stop her.

  ‘I’m back, baby,’ Rachel was saying, pressing against him and kissing his cheek. Her suitcase tipped over and knocked me hard on the ankle, but I didn’t flinch.

  Jamie extracted himself and dragged his eyes from my face to hers. ‘What … how come?’

  ‘Because you asked me to come back, and I missed you.’ She snuggled against him, holding her face up to his for a kiss but he held her away, staring at his hands upon her arms as if she were the last thing in the world he’d expected to hold. He looked at me, utterly torn.

  ‘Do you want to go inside? I’ll bring in your things,’ he said to her, and she trotted happily down to his house.

  I kicked the suitcase towards Jamie as he approached.

  ‘Elle—’

  ‘Surprise delivery! Look who showed up.’

  ‘She’s an ex-girlfriend.’

  ‘Yeah, you seem to have a lot of those.’

  ‘Huh?’ He tried to take my hand but I balled it into a fist.

  ‘Not that having ex-girlfriends matters, but lying to me about it – how do you think I feel?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’ve read the reviews on TripAdvisor, and it sounds like you got a new girlfriend with every batch of guests. “If you need romance, spend a little quality time with Jamie.” “I got my money’s worth with Jamie.” “I miss my seat by the fucking stained-glass window.”’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘You can’t tell me it’s not true, when one of them is now standing in your house. Probably taking her clothes off as we speak. In your house.’ Where we’d been.

  ‘But I don’t know why she’s here,’ he whispered, his voice shaking. He tried again to hold my hands and this time I let him, waiting and hoping for a better explanation, but nothing came.

  I snatched back my hands. ‘Maybe you better find out. Look, last night was obviously a big mistake – you clearly have some unfinished business.’

  ‘I don’t. I haven’t seen her in a long time.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you stop her, or tell her who I was, or anything other than sending her into your home?’ He had no answer; he just looked towards the house pathetically. It was clear now, and unmistakable. He’d made his decision, and I was the one he needed to ask to leave. I nodded and backed away. ‘I’m taking it back, everything. Go ahead, go to her, you’re free.’

  ‘Elle, wait. I don’t understand how I should be feeling right now. I don’t know what to say. Do you want to come inside with me?’

  ‘No.’ Although maybe that would have been a good idea. I wanted to hear his side, but right now I was smarting with shame and humiliation.

  ‘How can you be so cold?’

  ‘How can you make me think you like me? I’m just part of a silly game.’

  I turned my back on his protests and walked back up the hill, pleading with myself not to look back. At the very top I couldn’t fight it any more and turned, hoping to still see him watching me. He’d gone; presumably he was in there with her now. Why hadn’t he followed me? What was wrong with me?

  Finding love was as pointless as I’d thought. And my dream job had turned out to be just that – a dream – and dreams are as pointless as love, because they’re all just smokescreens for reality. I walked back into the main house, where all was still quiet. I guessed everyone else was still off pretending they would have fancied each other this much if they’d met in the real world, and hadn’t simply been forced together by alcohol.

  ‘Hi, baby,’ said a voice from the corner. I looked over to see George sitting in a window seat with an expensive-looking laptop in front of him.

  I resisted the urge to snap at him; he didn’t deserve it, however foul my mood. ‘Hi. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you out on the activity?’

  ‘I had a little work problem to sort out, shouldn’t take long. What about you? What are you doing?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I really didn’t. I certainly wasn’t about to look at any more TripAdvisor gems – I didn’t want Bella Notte to go under, but I think I’d given them enough of my free help.

  ‘You look sad, baby. Where’s Jamie?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ With Rachel, reuniting, speaking Italian nothings to her. I hoped she could smell me on him. I hoped she stopped to question if he’d been with anyone else. I hoped that a niggle of doubt had crept in, and she couldn’t look at him without wondering.

  George, watching all this play out on my face, eventually closed his laptop and beckoned me over, but I shook my head and stayed where I was.

  ‘Baby, I’m an old man and I told you about my dead wife. You can’t not come and talk to me now: it’s against the laws of polite society.’

  ‘You’re not old. You’re not even retired.’

  ‘When you own your own company I’m not sure you ever really retire.’

  I sat down next to him and stared glumly out the window. ‘Do you like owning your own company?’

  ‘What’s not to like?’

  ‘Constantly working.’

  ‘But if you love it, it’s your life.’

  ‘Only if you’re at the top, though, I guess.’

  ‘I think my employees are pretty happy.’

  ‘Well. All good things come to an end.’

  ‘Okay, this isn’t you; who’s this miserable, jaded girl? I wouldn’t have the hots for you if you were really like this.’

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe this is the real me. Maybe being miserable would suit me, like a silent-movie star.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘You’re bullshit.’

  ‘I think you should join me in a little contraband and get whatever’s bothering you off your chest.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  George glanced around the empty room and then pulled from his laptop case a small bottle of limoncello and a shot glass. ‘Sometimes you just gotta drink something that isn’t wine, you know?’

  I chuckled, and accepted a shot of the syrupy, highlighter-yellow liquid. It burned my mouth but slid down like an elixir. George refilled the glass and drank it himself, then filled it a third time and pushed the glass back to me.

  ‘You’re not too bad, George.’

  ‘High praise indeed.’

  ‘I mean, I feel I know way more than I should about your penis, but I think beneath all that bravado there’s a good soul.’

  ‘Well, if you want to know more about the little sergeant, you know where he’ll be. But for now, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? Did that
kid do something to hurt you?’

  ‘I really don’t know what’s going on, but Jamie’s girlfriend apparently just showed up, and I think I’m just one in a long string of them. Maybe I’m better off now.’

  ‘There’s a girlfriend?’

  ‘An ex-girlfriend, apparently, but she’s here and with him now, and he wasn’t exactly pushing her back into a taxi.’

  ‘Where does that leave you?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Do you want me to kill him? I’ve got friends, you know. I can jet them straight over here.’

  I gulped the fiery limoncello. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think hiring a hit-man is the best option. I just want to be away from here, and away from London, and away from everyone I know.’

  ‘Donna told me about your job – it sounds like a real class act.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I didn’t think she was opening up to many people. And I didn’t know you two were really friends.’

  ‘I have a lot of respect for that girl. She didn’t deserve that treatment, and neither do you.’

  ‘But where do I go from here?’

  ‘I don’t know. Does your career start and end with one company?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then screw ’em. Take some time out.’

  I rubbed my face with vigour, unintentionally pulling out four eyelashes. ‘I’m a bit of a lost lamb right now, sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise; that’s okay. Can I plant a little idea in your head?’

  ‘Why not?’

  George fiddled with the limoncello glass, his leathery hands shaking slightly, but whether it was with age, nerves, or ODing on Viagra I wasn’t sure. ‘Why don’t you come and spend the summer with me, in Florida?’

  ‘George, I—’

  ‘I know, I know, you don’t want to sleep with me and I wouldn’t ask you to. But it might be good for you, and I’d sure like the company. You’d make an old man pretty happy.’