Mediterranean Rescue

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘Well, I’ve done it now,’ said Claire.

  ‘Will you join us for lunch?’ Melanie went on enthusiastically. ‘We’re meeting up with Ted and May on the Renaissance Terrace.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Claire replied. ‘But I’m going for a swim first.’ There was an awkward little silence and as Melanie glanced at Dominic Claire realised they hadn’t been introduced. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘Melanie, this is Dominic Hansford—Dominic, Melanie Frazer.’ Turning to Melanie’s partner, she added, ‘This is Peter Hamilton.’

  As handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged Claire suddenly felt compelled to explain Dominic’s presence. ‘I met up with Dominic at the Trevi fountain,’ she said. ‘We realised we were staying here at the same hotel and he told me about tomorrow’s excursion.’

  Leaving her fellow guests chatting, Claire escaped and sped off to her room, taking the lift to the third floor. For some reason her spirits seemed to have lifted since she had left the hotel that morning. It must, she thought as she changed into her bikini and piled her honey-blonde hair onto the top of her head, be the experience of the Trevi or the prospect of the following day’s excursion to Assisi that had done it.

  She enjoyed her swim, completing several laps of the hotel’s pool before returning to her room to shower and change into cropped cotton trousers and a pink top for lunch. It was as she finished drying her hair she remembered that she should have made a phone call earlier that morning but because she had left the hotel so early had postponed it.

  Taking her mobile phone from her bag, she dialled a number. A male voice answered on the fourth ring. ‘Mike?’ she said. ‘Hello, it’s me.’

  ‘Claire? Hello, darling. How’s it going?’

  ‘It’s wonderful, Mike,’ she replied. ‘It really is. I do wish you could have come.’

  ‘Yes, I wish I could as well.’ His sigh was audible. ‘But there it is. It couldn’t be helped. Where have you been this morning?’

  ‘I walked to the Spanish Steps from the hotel,’ she replied, ‘and then I went on to the Trevi fountain. It was magnificent, Mike—if only you could have been with me. I threw my coins in, one for luck and a second that apparently ensures my return to Rome.’

  ‘I thought you were going to phone this morning,’ he said. She caught an edge to his voice and quite suddenly could picture his expression perfectly.

  ‘Yes, I know, I meant to,’ she said quickly, ‘but it was rather early when I left the hotel,’ she explained.

  ‘Emma thought you were going to phone—she was disappointed, she thought you might have wished her luck for her exam.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I’m sorry,’ Claire replied. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, won’t you, Mike? Is it over now? Have you heard from her?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘I’m going on an excursion tomorrow, Mike,’ she said, deliberately changing the subject, ‘to Assisi. I’m really looking forward to it. Several others from the hotel are going—Melanie and Peter, remember, the couple I told you about? And Ted and May Williams—they are a retired couple from Eastbourne who are celebrating their golden wedding anniversary and they are absolute dears…’

  ‘Well, I hope you have a good time,’ said Mike, cutting her short, ‘but I’d better go now in case Emma is trying to get through.’

  ‘Oh, yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Well, I’ll ring again tomorrow, then. Bye, Mike.’

  ‘Bye, Claire. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too,’ she said, but the connection had broken and she doubted he’d even heard her.

  She sat for a while staring at the phone and thinking about Mike, but it wasn’t until she was on the point of leaving her room that she realised that in talking to Mike about her fellow guests she had omitted to mention Dominic Hansford. It hadn’t been deliberate, she told herself. In fact, she may well have spoken of him, especially given the fact that Dominic was a doctor and that Mike would in all probability be interested in the work he did. It had simply been that Mike hadn’t given her the chance, had cut her off before she’d been able to elaborate on those whom she’d befriended whilst exploring Rome. She’d tell him the next time she spoke to him, of course she would. After all, there was no reason why she shouldn’t. Dominic was simply another guest, nothing more, nothing less. The fact that they were both in the medical profession had come as a pleasant surprise but it didn’t mean anything.

  And the fact that there had been an instant attraction between them—did that not mean anything either? she asked herself as she hurried down to lunch. Of course it didn’t, she told herself firmly. Her affections lay elsewhere which hardly left her free to pursue any fanciful notions she might have had in that direction.

  Nevertheless, in spite of her analysis of her acquaintance with Dominic, when she reached the hotel dining room Claire couldn’t help a sudden, swift little surge of pleasure when she saw that he had been included in Melanie Frazer’s lunch party.

  A siesta followed the very pleasant, relaxed lunch, after which Claire, Dominic, Melanie and Peter, and Ted and May embarked on a stroll to the Piazza Navona where they sat beside the fountains, drinking Italian wine and watching the world go by.

  ‘You will all join us for a celebration drink on our wedding anniversary, won’t you?’ said May after a while.

  ‘Of course we will.’ Melanie replied for them all. ‘Fifty years of marriage—that’s a wonderful achievement, isn’t it, Peter?’ she turned to her partner.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded in agreement, ‘it is, and something which I fear will become something of a rarity in years to come if the current divorce rate is anything to go by.’

  ‘That’s if couples even bother to get married in the first place,’ observed Ted drily. As his wife kicked him under the table, after glancing frantically at Melanie and Peter, he looked startled then added hastily, ‘Sorry, present company excepted, of course.’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ sighed Melanie. ‘But I’m working on it.’ She threw Peter a glance and he raised his eyes heavenwards.

  ‘Marriage may not be such a rarity as you think,’ said Dominic suddenly, and maybe because he had been mainly silent until then, everyone looked at him. ‘That young couple that sit in the window in the hotel dining room,’ he said, and when everyone nodded, confirming that they knew whom he meant, he went on. ‘They are married—in fact, they are on their honeymoon.’

  ‘Really?’ Claire turned to him while the others all expressed surprise. ‘How do you know? Did they tell you?’

  Dominic shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I saw them arrive—their room is just along the corridor from mine. He carried her over the threshold and they left a trail of confetti behind them—I think it fell out of the brim of her hat.’

  ‘So romance isn’t dead after all!’ exclaimed Melanie as the others all laughed.

  ‘Well, not in Italy it isn’t,’ said May.

  ‘Mind you,’ Melanie went on after a moment, ‘I couldn’t say the same for that other couple, Diane and Russell Hodges.’ She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder, and the others instinctively found themselves leaning forward. ‘She told me,’ Melanie went on, ‘that this holiday is a last-ditch attempt to save their marriage.’

  Claire suddenly felt uncomfortable and sat back in her chair, not at all sure that Melanie should have divulged this information to the rest of them. It hadn’t seemed to occur to Melanie that she may had been told this in confidence.

  And it was there, while they were all getting to know each other a little better and under cover of the chatter from the others and the noises in the piazza, that Dominic asked Claire the inevitable question.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said casually, leaning forward in his chair so that only she could hear, ‘is there a Mr Schofield?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘I’m not married.’ She paused and looked up at him through her lashes. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Good Lord, no,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been in one place long enough to settle down.�
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  ‘I see.’ Suddenly she was pleased, which was crazy because it really shouldn’t make any difference to her whether Dominic was married or not.

  ‘So,’ he said softly, ‘you’re fancy-free?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ she said carefully. ‘You asked me if there was a Mr Schofield and I said there wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone in my life.’

  ‘So is there?’ he asked. ‘Someone in your life, I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘actually, there is.’ She was unable to look at him as she said it.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Mike Naylor—he’s a partner in the practice where I work.’

  ‘Not the partner who is stressed out?’ Dominic raised his eyebrows.

  ‘No, not that partner.’ Claire smiled.

  ‘More to the point,’ he went on, ‘what is he exactly?’

  Claire frowned. ‘I’ve just told you, he’s a doctor.’

  ‘I know,’ Dominic replied. ‘What I meant was, what is he to you—he isn’t your husband, so is he your fiancé, your boyfriend or maybe he’s your live-in lover?’

  ‘No,’ Claire shook her head, aware of the depth of interest in Dominic’s dark eyes as he waited for her reply, ‘we don’t live together yet, and neither are we engaged…’

  ‘So your boyfriend, then?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ She considered for a moment. ‘I suppose you would call him that.’

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’ There was amusement in his eyes now and a smile played around his mouth.

  He had a nice mouth, she thought, his finely shaped lips having more than a hint of sensuality about them. ‘I guess I just don’t think of him as that, that’s all,’ she said with a little shrug.

  ‘So how do you think of him?’ He was probing now, gently teasing, and she knew it.

  ‘I don’t think I want to answer that question,’ she replied lightly. Then, in an effort to change the subject, she said, ‘But what about you? You say you aren’t married, but isn’t there anyone important in your life?’

  His eyes darkened slightly. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not at the present time.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’ It was her turn now to tease.

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  ‘Well, you’re young and successful, you live a high-powered and exciting life. I would have thought you’d have been fighting women off.’ She didn’t mention the fact of his devastating good looks but in her mind that was another reason for surprise at his single status.

  ‘I should be so lucky.’ He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t work that way. Women don’t seem to like the fact that I’m not in the same place for any length of time.’

  Claire had no chance to comment further for Melanie suddenly leaned forward. ‘What do you do, Dominic?’ she said, breaking into their conversation, and Claire realised the topic had changed from marriage to jobs.

  His hesitation before answering may have been imperceptible to anyone else but Claire noticed it. ‘I work for various charities,’ he replied, ‘helping to set up their organisations overseas, that sort of thing.’

  His answer seemed to satisfy Melanie, but later, as they strolled back through the side streets for dinner at their hotel and Claire found Dominic at her side, she said softly, ‘Why didn’t you tell them what you really do?’

  ‘Because if I do I will find that someone invariably wants a second opinion on some long-standing condition,’ he replied simply.

  ‘But you told me when I asked,’ Claire replied.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I know. But you were different, and I knew that.’

  For some obscure reason his reply gave her a warm glow inside.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘MAY I join you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Barely waiting for Claire’s answer, Dominic lowered himself into the seat alongside her. It was the following morning and after a very early breakfast the group from the hotel had made their way into the piazza where they were picked up by a coach which was already half-full with guests from other hotels in the vicinity who were all making the trip to Assisi. Melanie and Peter were settling themselves across the gangway while Ted and May were in the seats immediately behind.

  ‘Aye, aye,’ muttered Peter, just loud enough for those around him to hear, ‘here come the honeymooners—didn’t think they would be gracing us with their company at this ungodly hour.’ They all watched, smiling as the young couple, whose names Claire had learnt in the bar the night before were Rob and Nicola Moore, climbed the steps of the coach and collapsed into the nearest seats as if the exertion was all too much for them. They were followed by Diane and Russell Hodges, who pushed their way to the rear of the coach to sit with those from other hotels rather than ones from their own party. Diane, dressed in jeans and a bright orange top, was tight-lipped while beneath the brim of his sunhat Russell wore his usual morose expression.

  ‘Looks like those two have wasted their money,’ observed Peter.

  ‘Shh!’ said Melanie. ‘They’ll hear you.’

  ‘They can’t hear me,’ said Peter. ‘I thought you said this trip was intended to put their marriage right,’ he added after a moment.

  ‘That’s what she told me,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Well, it isn’t working, is it?’ Peter leaned across the aisle towards Dominic. ‘Whatever it is he’s done, she’s not going to give an inch.’

  ‘Give them time,’ said Dominic. ‘Let Italy work its magic.’

  The guide that day was a young Italian woman who introduced herself as Luisa and told them that their driver, with his black curls and laughing dark eyes, was Guiseppe. He turned and greeted them merrily in Italian, and as his passengers murmured a reply Claire noticed that hanging from the driving mirror was a crucifix on a chain and a rosary of black beads.

  Rome was only just coming to life as they left the piazza. On one corner a flower seller was filling the shelves of her stall with masses of blooms—vivid swathes of colour against the sienna tones of the buildings—while at the café on the opposite corner the proprietor was setting out his tables and chairs beneath a striped awning. Through the open window of the coach Claire caught the unmistakable aroma of rich dark coffee, and as they turned into the main road they passed two black-garbed priests hurrying through the almost deserted streets.

  ‘I don’t think I know another city where ancient and modern seem to merge so subtly,’ said Dominic as they sped through the streets of Rome. ‘On the one hand are the remains of that once glorious civilisation and on the other the buildings and shops of the modern world with their designer labels and expensive goods.’

  They left the city to a cacophony of bells from the many churches and cathedrals calling the faithful to early morning mass, and as they headed for the hills that surround Rome the sun was penetrating the early mist like a huge lemon orb in a sky of pale turquoise.

  ‘We didn’t have your storm,’ observed Claire as they settled down in their seats for the journey ahead.

  ‘No,’ Dominic agreed. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You still think we might?’

  ‘Maybe. Possibly.’ He shrugged.

  ‘But it’s a lovely morning,’ she protested. ‘It’s so still—look, there’s not a breath of wind.’

  ‘I know,’ he agreed then added, ‘It’s going to be hot.’

  ‘I’ve brought my sunhat,’ said Claire, ‘and sun cream. I don’t want to burn—I started to yesterday.’

  ‘You’ve covered up a bit today—very sensible.’ He glanced at her ankle-length cotton skirt and white top then at her long hair, which she had tied back with a lilaccoloured chiffon scarf.

  ‘It wasn’t only being sensible,’ said Claire, feeling her cheeks grow warm under his scrutiny. ‘I’ve found that some buildings, particularly the churches, won’t allow entry if you’re wearing shorts or if women have bare shoulders.’

  ‘So I believe.’ Dominic nodded and she stole a sideways glan
ce at him. Today he was wearing a pair of cream chinos and a red shirt, a striking a contrast to his dark eyes and hair.

  They fell silent for a time, the city behind them now as they travelled through acres of olive groves and vineyards and into the vast rolling expanse of the Umbrian countryside. After a while Luisa brought coffee or fruit juice and tiny almond-flavoured biscuits, and as they sipped and nibbled she pointed out landmarks and explained local history and points of interest. She went on to tell them that they would be visiting a hilltop village where they would stop for light refreshment before travelling on to a monastery and museum high in the hills before reaching their final destination of Assisi, the birthplace of Saint Francis, where they would have lunch and spend a few hours.

  ‘Tell me about your doctor,’ said Dominic suddenly, as Luisa switched off her microphone and the sound of her voice was replaced by a softly played recording of a Puccini aria.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ Claire threw him a startled glance.

  ‘Well, for a start, what is he thinking of, letting you come here alone?’

  ‘I’m quite capable of travelling alone,’ she protested indignantly.

  ‘I don’t doubt that,’ he replied swiftly. ‘In fact, I’m sure you are. But I have to say if I was him I wouldn’t have been too happy at letting you loose among all these Italian Romeos—to say nothing of predatory English tourists,’ he added drily.

  ‘Do you include yourself in that?’ she asked lightly.

  He grinned. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘So could I be at risk in your company?’ She threw him an amused glance.

  ‘You could well be. A lovely young woman like you…’ He trailed off, the sentence unfinished. ‘But, seriously, why isn’t he with you?’ His smile disappeared, to be replaced by a puzzled frown. ‘First time Rome is an experience to be shared—especially by lovers.’

  ‘I’m sure you are right.’ She sighed. ‘And that was the way it was supposed to have been. Mike was originally coming with me but at the last minute something happened and he had to pull out. Rather than cancel my ticket as well, I decided to come alone.’