Dreaming of Verona: An enchanting, feel-good holiday romance

by T A Williams

  Alex just nodded vaguely while Suzie took another spoonful of ice cream for moral support.

  ‘But I’m sure you’re right, Alex. It’s not a conversation to be had on the phone. You need to have it out with him face to face. For now, over these next ten days while he’s in America, if he contacts you, I think you should just be nice and friendly like you always have been with him. If he brings up what happened last night, just apologise for how it ended and try to avoid getting his hopes up too much. Keep it cordial, but stay vague. Do you think you can do that?’

  ‘I can try.’ Alex looked up from her ice cream. ‘The thing is, I know James and I just know he’ll come straight back here as soon as he gets back from the States. In fact, he might even cut short his stay over there and come back sooner.’ Her voice began to rise in panic and Suzie was quick to leap in and pour oil on troubled waters.

  ‘Hang on there. When’s the wedding? He can hardly come back before that.’

  ‘On Saturday.’

  ‘Today’s Monday so you know you’ve got at least all this week before he might turn up here. That’s bags of time for you to rest and recuperate and work out exactly what you’re going to say to him. Now eat your ice cream before it melts and then let’s go and look for Juliet’s House. We can do the Arena tomorrow. It’s too hot for walking around in the open. At least here in this maze of streets we can find some shade.’

  Juliet’s House was absolutely heaving with tourists. The road outside and below the famous balcony was packed, and the walls of the covered area were solid with graffiti, presumably declarations of undying love left there in the same way that people sometimes carve their initials in the trunk of a tree to immortalise their existence. Suzie felt a little shiver of disapproval and found herself in danger of becoming very nerdy. She took Alex by the arm and dragged her to one side, pointing up at Juliet’s balcony.

  ‘Although Verona town council do their best to conceal the truth, there’s something these people either don’t know or, if they do, it doesn’t bother them. There isn’t an ounce of proof that Romeo and Juliet ever existed, nor that Shakespeare ever visited here. The origins of the play are most probably in a long, rambling poem that surfaced in England in the middle of the sixteenth century, and much of that was borrowed from a couple of earlier Italian works of fiction. In the play, there’s no mention of a balcony – remember the line, “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks”? No balcony, just a window, and I can tell you for a fact that the balcony up there isn’t even original. It was tacked onto the building back in, I think, the Thirties, for the sake of the tourists.’

  Alex looked round at her and grinned. ‘Calm down, Professor. Everybody’ll be able to hear your outraged academic tone and you’ll get us lynched. So what if they never existed? So what if it’s a phoney balcony? It doesn’t alter the fact that it’s become a romantic Mecca. I was reading on the train the other day that the city has to employ a team of secretaries to answer all the love letters left for Juliet. Let the people have their dreams. If I wasn’t trying to avoid a relationship at the moment, I’d probably write something myself.’

  Suzie smiled back at her. ‘All right, all right, I promise I’ll be good, but just let me say this. Even the house doesn’t work. In the play, Romeo is hiding in the garden below Juliet’s window, not in the middle of the bloody street!’

  ‘So what? It’s the principle of it that counts. He loved her so deeply, he was prepared to kill himself when he thought she was dead. And she loved him so much she did the same when she found his body. That’s some pretty powerful love, Suzanne, my friend.’

  * * *

  That evening, as Suzie was waiting in the lobby for Alex to come down from her room, she cast her eyes over the collection of leaflets and brochures on the information desk, anxious not to miss anything while they were here in this wonderful old city. Among the adverts for historic buildings, museums and concerts, one pamphlet caught her eye. It was for a private academy offering art courses. As Suzie turned it over in her fingers it occurred to her that this might be the perfect way to take Alex’s mind off her worries about James. As far as she could see, the courses were short, one-week affairs at this time of year, with full academic year diploma courses starting early next month. The place was here in central Verona and it all looked very nice, but she didn’t want to suggest something to Alex that might turn out to be a rip-off. She needed somebody knowledgeable about art to tell her whether it was any good or not.

  There was, of course, just such a person.

  Realising that this was the perfect excuse for calling him, she dug out Michael’s visiting card and went out onto the pavement in front of the hotel, returning the greeting from the uniformed doorman as she did so. She leant against the hotel wall, still warm from the day’s sunshine, dialled his Italian mobile phone number and waited, feeling unusually nervous. He answered almost immediately and she couldn’t ignore the little spark of pleasure that buzzed through her at the sound of his voice.

  ‘Si, pronto.’ His accent was so perfect, for a moment she thought she might have got the wrong man.

  ‘Michael? It’s Suzie. You know, we met in…’

  ‘Suzie, how lovely to hear from you. Where are you?’

  Suzie told him where they were staying and heard him whistle.

  ‘Blimey, Alex likes the good life, doesn’t she? That’s supposed to be one of the hundred best hotels in the world.’

  ‘It’s lovely all right, but listen, Michael, you said to call you if we needed help. It’s nothing drastic, but I need your advice as an artist.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  Suzie told him about Alex’s interest in art and how she had been unable to pursue it until now. She mentioned the leaflet she had found in the lobby and asked him what he thought of the idea. His reply was enthusiastic.

  ‘The Academy’s very, very good. They offer high-level courses, but inevitably, they’re picky about who they accept. A lot of it’ll depend on how good she is.’ There was a brief pause while he considered the best course of action and when he continued, Suzie felt a little surge of excitement. ‘Listen, how about this? We could meet up and I could take a look at what Alex is capable of producing. Maybe she’s got some photos of stuff she’s already done and I could get her to draw or paint a few bits and pieces for me. If I think she’s got what it takes, I could have a word with a few people I know at the Academy and see whether they could squeeze her in. Their courses aren’t cheap, but I don’t suppose that would be a problem for her. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that would be wonderful. Thank you so much. To be honest, I haven’t mentioned this to her yet as I didn’t want to disappoint her if you had told me the place was no good. Let me talk it over with her this evening and call you back. Would that be convenient? You’re not going to be tied up or anything?’

  ‘Call me any time, and Suzie, it would be good to see you again.’ She felt her cheeks colour as she picked up the unmistakable emphasis. ‘I’m pretty free tomorrow or Wednesday if it suits. Let me know.’

  Suzie thanked him warmly and there was no getting away from it – she hoped Alex would go for it, and not just for the sake of her artistic ambitions.

  Alex leapt at it.

  The two of them sat down at a table among the magnificent plants and trees in the courtyard of the hotel and ordered glasses of Prosecco. Remembering what the professor had said, Suzie specified that the Prosecco should be from Valdobbiadene and saw the waiter give a nod of approval. As Suzie started to lay out her proposal and Michael’s offer, she saw the gloom on her friend’s face swept away by a burgeoning wave of optimism. Within a matter of minutes, Alex was pleading with her to call him back and set it up. Suzie didn’t need any persuading.

  ‘Michael. Hi, it’s me again. Alex thinks it’s a fabulous idea and she says thank you so much for offering to help.’

  ‘Terrific. Listen, I’ve been thinking. I reckon the best thing is for me to collect the two
of you and bring you out to my studio. It’s barely half an hour from Verona and it’s quiet and peaceful. All the materials are here and we won’t be disturbed. If you’re free tomorrow, I could pick you up at, say, nine o’clock, or is that too early? You’re not going out clubbing tonight or anything?’

  ‘Very much the opposite. An early night for both of us, I’m sure. Thank you so much, Michael. Alex is really looking forward to it.’

  As she returned the phone to her bag, Alex gave her a grin. ‘I notice you said “Alex is looking forward to it”, not you. That’s no way to get your man, you know.’

  Inevitably this set Suzie off on another of her attacks of the blushes before she could pull herself together and explain.

  ‘You’ve seen him, Alex, he’s still grieving. I don’t think for a moment he’s got any interest in doing anything for us except giving you a hand with your art. No, we may be in the home town of Romeo and Juliet, but I don’t think we’re talking romance.’ She glanced up at Alex. ‘Besides, I know my limitations.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Look at him, Alex. He’s obviously talented, he’s successful, he’s amazingly good-looking. Would he really be interested in somebody like me?’

  ‘There are moments, Suzanne Cartwright, when I feel tempted to repeat my Prosecco-throwing trick on you. Take a look in the mirror, would you? You’re tall, you’re very attractive, your hair looks really good – and if you ever felt like discovering a thing called make-up, you could look stunning. And, even more important for a man like Michael, you’ve got a brain.’ She reached across the table and tapped the back of Suzie’s hand with her fingers. ‘And you’re a good person, and I really mean that.’

  This did little to calm Suzie’s blushes so she sought solace in alcohol – always a risky business. In this case, it involved swallowing half a glass of Prosecco in one and erupting into a fit of hiccups as a result. However, by the time she had recovered enough to see straight and breathe again, she had got over her embarrassment – at least for now.

  ‘Time for dinner?’

  They left the hotel and walked up to the massive space that is Piazza Bra. A line of restaurants stretched out before them, the buildings a colourful mixture of pinks, yellows and sun-bleached ochre. Tourists thronged the area and there was a real lively atmosphere as they strolled around. Battered bikes rattled past carrying an amazing mix of humanity, from elegant ladies and formally dressed gentlemen to students, children and even a pair of nuns. After the storm the previous day the weather had returned to clear, cloudless skies and, although the air temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, it was still very comfortable to sit outside under an awning, with the unmistakable mass of the Roman Arena right before their eyes.

  Alex opted for a risotto to settle her stomach while Suzie chose what the menu referred to as insalata Veronese. This turned out to be a massive plate of mixed salad with slices of ham, speck, various salami, walnuts, chestnuts, olives and cheese. Accompanied by the lovely local bread and a bottle of slightly fizzy local white wine, it made an excellent meal.

  As they ate, they chatted and Suzie thought she should explain the interesting name of the square.

  ‘In case you were wondering, Bra in Italian is a place name. The article of clothing is a reggiseno, so the name of this piazza doesn’t strike the Italians as funny, although I’m sure it gives the tourists a giggle.’

  ‘Although I couldn’t help noticing a lingerie shop on the corner as we arrived in the square.’ Alex was definitely giggling.

  Suzie was delighted to see her looking and sounding much more cheerful now. They chatted readily and after a while Suzie asked her what work she did back at the manor house. She knew they opened parts of it to the public in the summer months and she wondered if Alex was involved. The answer was a bit depressing.

  ‘I don’t do much, to be honest. Father and Rafe take care of virtually everything and they certainly make all the decisions. My degree in Ecology doesn’t get used at all. It was a total waste of time.’ She looked up from her risotto. ‘I suppose the truth is that I’m just treading water, really. If I disappeared, nobody would miss me.’

  ‘Don’t say that. I’m sure you do important stuff.’

  All she got in reply was a little shake of the head and her heart went out, once more, to this unhappy girl who was the living proof that money doesn’t buy happiness.

  Chapter 11

  Next morning they emerged from the hotel into the street at five to nine to meet Michael. Although they were deliberately early, he was already there, waiting for them in his car, and he gave them a wave and jumped out to open the doors as soon as he saw them. Before Suzie could do anything, Alex jumped into the back seat and slammed the door, meaning that Suzie was left with the seat alongside Michael. As her door closed, he hurried round and slipped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and moved off immediately, glancing round at them with an apologetic smile as he did so.

  ‘Sorry for the rush, but the local police are on the prowl. This whole area’s a no-waiting zone and the fines are punitive. Anyway, hello to you both. It’s really good to see you again. What’ve you been up to since we last met in Venice?’

  As he concentrated on navigating his way through the streets of the old centre, some little wider than the car itself, Suzie surreptitiously studied him. He was wearing shorts and the sight of his muscular legs close by her was rather stimulating, as were his strong forearms, clad in soft brown hair and protruding from a well-worn T-shirt. As much for a displacement activity as anything else, she launched into a description of what they had done during the last few days of their stay in Venice and then went on to tell him about the weekend at James’s villa. When they mentioned the lake, his interest appeared to increase. When Suzie told him the name of the little village next to the villa where she had bought the whisky, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Little did we know it, but we were neighbours. I also live in Bardolino, barely a kilometre or so further along the lake from where you were. In fact, I even know the villa where you were staying.’ He grinned. ‘It’s a small world.’

  They retraced the route they already knew and subsequently even found themselves driving past the entrance to James’s villa. As Michael had said, only a minute or so later he turned off and they climbed up a narrow winding road for another couple of minutes as the houses thinned out and they found themselves surrounded by olive trees and rows of meticulously trained vines. At a corner, he swung through an open gateway into a courtyard and stopped.

  ‘Here we are. Welcome to the Old Stables, La Vecchia Scuderia. The house isn’t very big but what sold it for me was the barn. You’ll see, it makes a magnificent studio – although it’s bloody freezing in winter.’

  ‘How lovely.’ Alex climbed out of the car and looked around appreciatively. Suzie joined her and they gazed at the view. The rows of vines behind the house sloped away right down to the houses by the lakeside and the broad panorama across the water to the mountains beyond was even more spectacular from up here than from James’s villa. ‘How long have you lived here, Michael?’

  ‘We bought it seven years ago, but it took well over two years to get all the permits and then to get the work done. It was almost derelict when we bought it and it needed a hell of a lot done to it. I did some of it myself, but even so we had the builders here for nearly a year. Anyway, do come in.’

  Suzie couldn’t miss his repeated use of the pronoun ‘we’ but she made no comment. She intended being as tactful as possible and taking her time when it came to the mention of his wife and the accident. He led them into the house and they could immediately see that it had once been a stable. The walls of the surprisingly large open-plan room were bare stone and there were even fan-shaped metal baskets – now containing dried flowers – bolted to the walls where the fodder for the horses would once have been. The floors were newly tiled although the beams supporting the ceiling were clearly ancient. Over to one
side was a very modern kitchen area with a massive farmhouse table, while further along were armchairs and a long sofa. It was a delightful place and Suzie instantly fell in love with it. Unlike the grandeur of James’s villa, this place felt like a home.

  ‘So do you live here all the time or do you get back to the UK much?’ Suzie went over to a huge glazed archway at the end and peered out. The whole lake was laid out before them. ‘It’s such a beautiful place. If I owned it, I’d spend my whole life here.’

  ‘That was the plan.’ He supplied no explanation and, again, Suzie didn’t press matters. ‘I must admit I’ve spent most of my time here in Italy over the past few years. Not that I don’t like England, but this is a pretty nice place. Now, can I offer you a coffee, a cappuccino or some tea? I’ve got real English tea if you want it. My mother still sends me food parcels every now and then.’

  As he filled the kettle to make the tea he glanced back over his shoulder at Alex. ‘Have you got any photos of your work you can show me, Alex, or are we going to have to start from scratch?’

  She pulled out her iPad. ‘Give me a minute. I’ll see what I’ve got on here.’

  As she was doing that, Suzie caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and an enormous grey cat appeared from the hall and jumped languidly onto the worktop beside Michael.

  ‘No, cat, get off. Go and say hello to the nice ladies.’ He lifted the monstrous beast easily and set it down on the floor. Giving him a scornful look, it immediately jumped onto the table and sauntered across to where Alex was swiping her screen.

  ‘Wow, that’s one hell of a big cat.’ Alex was impressed. ‘What do you feed it?’

  ‘Surprisingly little, but he’s got at least another household or two on the go, and so I bet he gets half a dozen meals a day. He’s not even our cat. He just pitches up when he feels like it. He belongs to the people down the hill from here. When we first saw him a few years back, he was a scrawny little thing. Just look at him now.’