by T A Williams
Apart from anything else, he was a very handsome man; even the most beautiful woman in the world had made a play for him this weekend. For all she knew, there could be several girlfriends stashed away all over Europe. Maybe even in the Czech Republic if he had spent so much time over there. In fact, she only had his word for it that his sudden departure tonight had been to see his uncle. It might be another woman – although the repetition of the word ospedale in their telephone conversation had tended to lend support to the story he had given her. The more she thought about it, however, the more she worried that she really didn’t know much about him at all.
And then there was the physical side of things. His tiny kiss a few minutes earlier, electrifying as it had been, was the closest they had come to any form of real intimacy. She was reminded of one particular man, an executive from a rival production company, from her past. She had met him at a Hollywood party and had immediately found him attractive. He had asked her out and they had spent several pleasant evenings together as a result. And then he had taken her back to his apartment and his bed and the whole thing had blown up in her face. Within seconds of feeling his hands on her body she had realised that there was something wrong. Although she was hard put to identify exactly why, it had been patently clear that she and he were physically incompatible. Everything had felt wrong and she had mumbled a vague apology and left.
What if the same were to happen between her and Mark? Six thousand miles would be a hell of a long way for him to travel to find himself kicked out of her bed. She stared out over the lights of Gubbio and racked her brains. What to do? She was still mulling it over, quite some time later, when she returned to the villa and handed the, by now, sleepy Labrador over to Claudio.
Up in her room, she set her alarm. Erasmus and Katya had indicated their intention of leaving as soon after sunrise as possible and she wanted to see them off. A quick check on Google had indicated dawn, on what was almost the longest day of the year, at five thirty. Even so, it took her a long time before she finally dozed off that night and when she woke up in pitch darkness at five o’clock, she felt jaded and weary. By the time she had pulled on shorts and a T-shirt she was feeling a bit brighter and the grey light of day was creeping through the curtains.
Downstairs, she found Erasmus and Katya already in the lobby. Erasmus was dressed quite normally and soberly – although shoes might have helped complete his ensemble. Emma accompanied them out to the car park and waved them off. As they disappeared down the drive, she glanced towards the old stable yard and noticed that Mark’s car was absent. Presumably he had spent the night at the hospital.
She went back inside and asked if anybody minded if she took the dog for a walk. The porter at the front desk was only too pleased – presumably this might have otherwise been his task – and he went off to fetch her. Carmen arrived looking bright and breezy and delighted to go for a walk. Emma thought about taking her down to the pool for a swim but decided it was better not to get her wet. Wet dog isn’t the most appealing of aromas to find in a luxury hotel. Instead, they headed uphill through the trees along the track that the joggers used. Since arriving here, Emma had ducked out of the regular morning runs and she really didn’t feel like doing more than walking this early on a Monday morning.
She and the dog had been climbing steadily for almost twenty minutes when she heard pounding footsteps approaching from behind and turned to see Ethan and Sinclair racing up the hill towards her. Ethan was sweating profusely and had clearly been putting in a lot of effort, while Sinclair looked relatively unruffled. Emma remembered that he had been a world-class athlete in his twenties and was reminded of the rigorous exercise regime Ethan and other Hollywood stars had to endure in order to stay in trim. An early morning run was just a warm-up, and she knew he often spent as much as three or four hours a day in the gym. As they approached, Ethan slowed to walking pace alongside her.
‘Hi, there, English. You’re out early.’
‘Hi, guys. Going far?’
Ethan nodded. ‘We’re doing three circuits this morning. I ate too much yesterday. Gotta stay in shape.’ He grinned at her. ‘Otherwise you’ll start looking at other men.’
She grinned back. ‘You know I only have eyes for you, Ethan.’
‘Me and a certain someone? Right?’
Emma felt the colour rush to her cheeks, but she had very few secrets from Ethan. ‘That certain someone’s been at the hospital all night. His uncle’s had a stroke.’
‘Sorry to hear that. So that only leaves you, what, three or four nights to seal the deal before you jet off back to the US of A?’ He laughed as her blushes deepened. ‘Good luck for tonight.’
Doing her best to sound nonchalant, Emma tried to put him on the spot, but all it did was to broaden his grin even further. ‘How about you? Have a good night?’
‘Good? It was amazing.’ He glanced at Sinclair. ‘Come to think of it, Sinc, I must have burnt off a good few calories in bed. Maybe I can have another piece of cake for breakfast.’
Emma rolled her eyes at his response. ‘What time’s your flight?’
This time Sinclair answered. ‘Scheduled for 0900. We’re flying to London to drop Laney off and then on to Helsinki. Tomorrow we fly back to LA.’
‘So, leave here at eight?’ She checked her watch. It was still only just after six.
‘Great. That gives us time for the three circuits. See you later, Emma.’ Ethan blew her a kiss and set off up the hill again at a sprint. Sinclair fell easily into step beside him as if he was just walking down to the shops for a newspaper.
By the time eight o’clock came round, there was still no sign of Mark, so she sent him a text.
Hope all is well. Going to airport for 0900. Should be back at villa by ten latest.
She got a reply almost immediately.
Uncle doing well. Aunt less well. Could I join you guys in Bologna tonight? So sorry.
Emma texted straight back to tell him to take his time, although she knew she was going to miss seeing him all day. What, she asked herself, was it going to be like when she flew back to the States? Parking that thought for now, she supervised getting Laney into the car and dragging Marylou away from the breakfast buffet.
When they got to the airport, Laney air-kissed Emma and boarded the aircraft while Marylou stowed their luggage and Ethan’s bags in the hold of the aircraft without breaking into a sweat. Emma gave Ethan a big hug and kissed him on the cheeks. Just before he broke away, he whispered into her ear.
‘He’s a good guy, Emma, a really good guy.’ As he climbed the steps into the plane he turned back and waved. ‘And a lucky one. See you, English.’
Chapter 20
Even without Mark, it turned out to be a most enjoyable day. After thanking Claudio and his staff for a terrific weekend and saying goodbye to Carmen with considerable regret, Emma climbed into the back seat of the car and left Marina and Rich in the front. They drove back down into the valley and across to the charming little town of Gubbio, spending most of the morning climbing up and down the narrow streets; some so steep they deteriorated into flights of steps.
The palace, the Palazzo dei Consoli, in the square she had seen from across the valley was even more beautiful close-up, built of cream-coloured stone and with crenellations indicating its defensive origins. The square itself was paved with red bricks in the same herringbone pattern they had seen in Tuscany and she felt sure Erasmus would love getting some aerial shots of this. Needless to say, she added this suggestion to her list.
Emma remembered that Mark had said that Graziella, his ancestor, might have had a hand in designing this spectacular building back in the fourteenth century. The fact that he could trace his ancestry back over almost seven centuries brought home to her yet again just how impossible it would be for her to expect him to leave this wonderful, atmospheric part of Italy, his family’s home for hundreds upon hundreds of years, just for her sake. She took a load of photos, but the sheer historical beauty of
the place reminded her more and more of the impossibility of their relationship ever having a happy ending. Besides, she asked herself yet again, what relationship?
From Gubbio, they headed north, crossing the Apennines. Marina deliberately chose the cross-country route on narrow, winding roads and they traversed ridge after ridge of tree-clad hills, passing through one medieval gem after another: tiny villages boasting delightful Romanesque churches, remote hillsides dotted with spectacular villas surrounded by a variety of trees, and ancient fortresses and defensive towers on almost every outcrop. Clearly, hundreds of years ago, Umbria had been a dangerous place.
As they came down from the mountains onto the much flatter land that Marina told them now extended almost unbroken as far north as Venice, the scenery became more open and more bland, although the towns through which they passed were still beautiful in their own way. Cesena’s historic heart was delightful, as was Forlì with its massive fortress, but they didn’t spend much time sightseeing and Emma didn’t take many photos. In Dreaming of Italy, Emily and Robert, now growing ever closer, would have travelled up from Florence to Bologna by train and wouldn’t have come as far east as this. Still, after visiting and admiring the amazingly well-preserved castle at Dozza, with its chilling bottle dungeon into which hapless prisoners were once dropped to rot to death, they finally reached Bologna, their destination for the night, around mid-afternoon.
As they drove into the city, Emma received a message from Mark telling her his uncle was getting better and his aunt was finally calming down. Other family members had now arrived and so he was getting the train to Bologna, hoping to arrive at six o’clock.
The hotel was in the very middle of the centro storico, not far from a pair of gravity-defying brick-built towers that rose up impossibly high on such narrow bases. The façade of the hotel belied the stunning antique interior with amazing vaulted ceilings covered in murals, and floors clad in marble. As Marina went off to park the car, Emma and Rich stood at the main entrance, underneath the arched portico that circled the square, and soaked up the atmosphere. Emma was impressed.
‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting this. The centre of Bologna’s very grand – sort of like a larger version of Lucca. We’ve got to get it into the movie.’ She took a series of photos; impressed to see that the numbers of tourists here were substantially lower than they had been in Tuscany. It looked as though it would be easier for a film crew to shoot here than in big-name places like Pisa and she was already adding Bologna to her list when Rich asked her a question that immediately returned her mind to more personal matters.
‘Emma, do you mind if I ask you something? Are you and Mark dating?’
She felt her cheeks flush as she searched for an honest response. Finally she said the only thing she could say.
‘Of course I don’t mind, Rich. The simple answer is no.’
‘But you’d like it to happen?’
‘Rich, there are lots of things I’d like to see happen, starting with a solution to global warming or my winning the lottery.’ She was doing her best to sound blasé, but he wasn’t buying it.
‘I’ve seen you two together, Emma. He likes you a lot and I can see that you like him too. Surely you want to get together with him.’
Emma sighed deeply and gave in. ‘All right, I would, I think, but we all know it wouldn’t go anywhere. Or, rather, I’m going back to the US and he’s staying here. Where can it go?’
‘We’re not going back to the States until Thursday. A lot can happen in three days.’
‘Of course, but what then? No, Rich, it’s better like this. I know I like him a lot. I like Italy a lot too, but I know I can’t take it back to LA with me.’ She decided to go on the offensive. ‘And what about you and Marina? What’s going to happen there?’
He nodded slowly. ‘That’s kinda why I asked about you and Mark. I thought you might have some great plan that she and I could copy.’
‘Great plan? You’re joking. I haven’t got a clue what’s happening now, let alone what might happen in three days’ time, three weeks’ time or even three months’ time. It’s all in the lap of the gods.’
They spotted Marina crossing the square towards them. Rich turned back towards Emma and gave her a wry smile. ‘Looks like we’re all in the same boat.’
Emma smiled back at him. ‘Without a paddle…’
‘If anybody can figure it out, it’s you, boss.’
‘Some hope.’
The hotel rooms were as gorgeous as the entrance. Emma’s room even had a little terrace with two chairs and a table on it and she allowed herself a few moments to fantasise about sitting out here with Mark at her side, gazing over the red-tiled roofs of Bologna’s centro storico, the skyline punctuated by spires and towers. After a bit, the mirage slowly dissolved and she went back inside to take a shower. Maybe, she told herself sternly, she should follow Ethan’s example and make it a cold one.
At just after six, as Emma was sitting at a table outside the front of the hotel under the portico, a taxi drew up and Mark jumped out. As she spotted him, her heart jumped in unison. She gave him a wave.
‘Mark, hi. Over here.’
He hurried across to her. ‘Hi, Emma. Look, massive apologies once more. I hope I didn’t leave you in the lurch.’
‘You look hot. Sit down and have a beer. And no, you didn’t leave us in the lurch. Don’t worry.’ She waved to the waiter who came across at once. Mark took a seat and ordered a cold beer. Sitting down alongside her, their backs to the wall, he stretched his legs and wiped his brow.
‘It’s hotter here than it was in Umbria.’ He went on to tell her all about his uncle who was responding well to treatment, while his wife, Mark’s aunt, was now finally beginning to get over the initial shock. ‘Anyway, I’m here now. What did I miss?’
She filled him in on the day’s events, desperately wanting to turn the conversation to more personal matters, but before she could steer him in that direction Rich and Marina appeared and sat down with them. Emma was always pleased to see them but if they had decided on this occasion to go for a stroll on their own she would have been even more pleased. Instead, they ordered drinks and settled down to discuss the itinerary for the next day which, Emma knew only too well, would be their penultimate day on the road. As ever, Marina was on the case.
‘We could maybe spend a couple of hours tomorrow morning taking a good look around Bologna and then head north to Ferrara and then Padua. They’re both lovely cities, but less well known than Venice and Pisa. I used to live in Padua so I should be able to show you a few places that are off the beaten track.’
This all sounded great to Emma, although her number one priority at the moment was trying to engineer a bit of one-to-one time with Mark so as to do what Erasmus had recommended and tell him how she felt. Annoyingly, the others appeared perfectly happy to sit and chat until sunset and they started thinking about dinner. Mark dashed off to check in and have a shower and Emma very nearly went with him, but bottled out at the last moment. So it was that they were all together at eight o’clock as they walked through the still warm streets in search of a restaurant, with Emma fretting silently.
Dinner was good, but nothing like as good as the food they had enjoyed over the weekend. Marina and Mark told her that Bologna and the flat lands to the north of here were famous for pasta and, of course, she knew the most iconic of all pasta dishes was spaghetti bolognese. Mark was quick to point out that this wasn’t strictly accurate.
‘Rocco, our chef at the villa, told me the locals here would never dream of putting spaghetti with their bolognese sauce. They think thin pasta doesn’t collect the full flavour of the meaty sauce and they prefer something chunkier like tagliatelle, or even pappardelle.’ He grinned at them. ‘Sorry to sound a bit nerdy.’
Rich immediately opted to try the local speciality to see whether it matched up to the American version while Emma limited herself to a chicken salad. She was feeling unusually nervous, still determined to
tell Mark how she felt, even though she was ever more convinced that they were on a hiding to nothing.
At the end of the meal, after a powerful espresso, she finally managed to get him alone. Rich and Marina headed off to bed while she and Mark decided to take a stroll around the old town centre. It was still very warm and she felt decidedly sticky, but this might also have been nerves. They walked in silence for some minutes, heading away from the main square and into a maze of narrow streets. It was as they were walking down a deserted lane, little more than a back alley, that she finally heard him start to tell her what she had been hoping to hear for so long.
‘Emma, this past week’s been the most wonderful week I’ve spent in years.’
‘We’ve been to some wonderful places.’
‘Yes, but I’m not talking about the places. The reason it’s been so amazing is because of you.’
Emma caught her breath, conscious that he was maybe reaching some sort of epiphany. She didn’t say a word, but just reached over and caught hold of his arm with both her hands, leaning closer to him as he continued.
‘I’ve had a tough few years.’ He hesitated and she could tell he was struggling to find the right words. ‘Mentally and physically, they haven’t been easy.’ She heard him take a deep breath. ‘My whole life’s changed beyond all recognition and it’s taken me a long, long time to get my head round it.’
As he spoke, a figure appeared, coming towards them down the narrow lane and she pressed herself tighter against Mark to allow him to pass. But he didn’t pass. He stopped, right in front of them, blocking their way, and she felt Mark tense. The man was about the same height as Mark and thickset. His long, straggly hair was unkempt, his eyes wild and his expression menacing. A bolt of fear suddenly ran through Emma and she shrank back.
‘Sono senza soldi. Dovete aiutarmi.’ His voice was low and hoarse, his attitude confrontational, as he told them he had no money and they had to help him. No please, no thank you. This wasn’t a request; it was an order. Emma reached for her purse, but as she pulled it out of her bag, the man’s hand suddenly snaked out and caught hold of it, tearing it roughly from her grip. Instinctively, she tried to grab it back, but as she did so, there was a movement in the shadows beside them and a second man emerged and, to her horror, he was brandishing a vicious-looking knife.