Three Gold Coins

by Josephine Moon

  Matteo and Henrik had pulled up chairs and sat facing Samuel. Henrik sat with his legs crossed, a loose tendril of blond hair shifting in the slight breeze that circulated the room, his gaze intense as it held Samuel’s. The conversation must have been going well, because Matteo looked pleased (or was that relieved, she wondered), Henrik was smiling, and Samuel looked more optimistic than she’d seen him since they’d met. She guessed that he’d be happy to have another goat attendant around and not to have to rely solely on the inexperienced Australian badante.

  Lara placed the tray carefully on the small table between the men. Samuel gave no thanks and made no obvious indication that he’d seen or appreciated her flowers. She retreated, but not too far, perching on the piano stool and feigning interest in the sheet music that sat nearby.

  The happy chatter continued and Samuel’s face softened into something approaching a smile. Lara was truly pleased. She could help with Samuel’s physical needs, but it was clear as day that he needed more. He needed family. Maybe his daughter was right that he should move to England to be with her.

  ‘Grazie,’ Matteo said, lifting his tiny coffee. Henrik took his and wrinkled his nose as he brought it to his lips, but sipped it anyway. Perhaps he was more of a milky latte man.

  Then they all raised their cups to each other in salutation and threw them back, Henrik perhaps a little too quickly. He tried to cover up his splutter but his watering eyes gave him away. Poor Henrik; she could recognise a fellow klutz a mile away.

  A deal seemed to have been reached.

  ‘Mm,’ Matteo murmured. ‘Lara, you make good coffee.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling a blush inching its way up her neck.

  ‘Samuel s-s-s-said you need to go into Florence to…d-d-drop off your car?’

  ‘Yes, this afternoon after I’ve finished here. I’ll need to find a bus back. Do you know of any that might come this way?’

  ‘I c-c-can follow you and bring you back. I’m heading that way to visit my mamma,’ Matteo said, casting an eye at Samuel.

  Lara did a quick family tree in her head. Matteo’s mother must be Samuel’s niece. That meant that either her mother or father would be Samuel’s wife’s sibling.

  ‘Really? That would be so great,’ she said, both relieved that she wouldn’t have to work out the bus routes and excited at the idea of spending time alone in the car with Matteo.

  But then she remembered the supermodel who had interrupted their milking session.

  Still, she’d like to get to know Matteo better and she’d certainly like to find out more about Samuel’s family and why he was so isolated now.

  ‘That would be fantastic, thank you,’ she said. ‘I finish here at one o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ Matteo said.

  13

  Lara and Dave

  Five months after they met, Lara and Dave moved in together into a two-bedroom townhouse that allowed one small pet, and wasted no time in discussing whether it should be a cat or a dog. Lara put forth her case.

  ‘I’ve never had a dog,’ she said. ‘It’s my life’s dream.’

  They were sitting on Dave’s two-seater leather lounge. As he was older than her and had been living on his own for a number of years, he had managed to acquire everything needed to set up a place. So he’d moved it all into the new place and she hadn’t had to do anything more than bring her clothes and books, a few knick-knacks and some pictures to hang on the wall. It didn’t matter that it felt like his home, not hers. They would collect new things together over time, and then it would be theirs.

  ‘I know, honey,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘But you and I are gone throughout the day, so no one would be here to look after it. It would end up barking all day and then the neighbours would complain and then we might have to move out or rehome the dog.’

  ‘That’s true,’ she said, defeated, laying her head back against the bright red and blue Peruvian rug she’d brought with her, which was lying over the back of the lounge.

  ‘Cats are quiet and don’t need so much company.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll get a cat.’

  Together, they chose a two-year-old moggy from the shelter where they’d volunteered. The adoption coordinator was so happy when she handed Pepper over.

  ‘What a great love story,’ she said, watching Lara snuggle Pepper against her chest, kissing him on the head. ‘You met here and now you’re in a relationship and taking home your first baby.’

  ‘Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Dave said, scratching Pepper under the chin, a look of adoration on his face. He’d told Lara he wanted kids, sure, but not yet. She was still young and he was working hard in the clinic and studying to become a doctor. So he’d asked her to go on the pill early in their relationship, and handed it to her every day at seven in the morning, along with the other medications that kept her brain straight.

  The coordinator laughed. ‘Look at you two—you’ll be back for more.’

  Pepper was a black and white ‘tuxedo’ cat, with a white chin, chest and paw tips. His whiskers were so long they reminded Lara of a seal’s. From the moment they brought him home, he made himself comfortable. He walked around the whole ground floor, then climbed the stairs carefully, the tip of his tail twitching, to assess each room upstairs before finally settling into the middle of their bed.

  Lara lay down with him, the sound of his purring like music to her ears. She rubbed his fine ears carefully. ‘I love him so much already,’ she said. Dave was watching her. ‘I can’t believe I ever thought we should have a dog.’

  ‘He’s perfect,’ Dave said, and joined them on the bed. The three of them lay there, soaking up the moment of being a little family for the first time.

  Lara and Dave spent two days showering Pepper with love and toys. Dave popped out to get a lasagne for dinner and came back with little balls with bells, catnip-spiced cloth mice, and a ball of string. Pepper immediately jumped down off the bed and began to play.

  ‘You are so great,’ Lara said, hugging Dave tightly, laying her head along his collarbone. ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said. Then he kissed her. Then he pushed her gently to the bed and claimed her mouth and her breasts and her body, his passion all-consuming, till she lost all sense of herself and just became his.

  They skipped dinner and stayed in bed, while Pepper explored the shoes in the wardrobe, making himself a little nest. Every time Lara tried to get up, Dave pulled her back till she gave in to him. She’d never felt so needed and desired. She lay in his arms all night thinking what a wonderful turn her life had taken, after so many hard years with her father when she was young, and then many more hard years trying to keep up with her schoolwork and maintain friendships, hiding the shame of being not right.

  In the early days of their relationship, Lara had mustered up the courage to tell Dave about her mental illness and about the things it did to her—the long depressions, the irrational behaviours, the all-night study fests, her obsessions, the wrist-scratching and insomnia.

  He’d listened carefully, then kissed her on each temple. ‘I love your brain,’ he said. She’d scoffed, but he’d taken her firmly by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. ‘No, I’m serious. You are different, yes, but this is what I do for a living. Clearly I love people like you.’

  She finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, which always left her dopey and incoherent the next day. And it was from this state of deep unconsciousness that Dave woke her.

  ‘Lara, wake up.’ He was shaking her gently.

  ‘Huh? What’s up?’

  His eyebrows were pinched with worry. Alarmingly, his eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s Pepper. He’s gone.’

  ‘What?’ She bolted up from the bed. ‘What do you mean? He was just here, last night, playing.’

  ‘Oh honey, I’m so sorry.’ He wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘You must not have quite closed the back door last night when you went
out to fetch your shoes.’

  ‘No, I did, I always shut it properly. I double-checked and triple-checked.’

  ‘When I went down this morning to make you a coffee, it was open. I can’t find Pepper anywhere. You mustn’t have caught the latch properly and he must have opened it somehow and run off. They say to make sure you lock cats inside for weeks before you let them out—’

  ‘But I didn’t—’ She was up now, naked, scrambling for clothes.

  ‘—because they always try to go home.’

  ‘Shit. Shit! We have to find him. He could get hit by a car or something.’

  ‘I’m onto it,’ he said, holding out his hands in a steady on fashion. ‘I’ve already called the shelter and told them to look out for him because he might be heading back there.’

  ‘Oh God, I can’t believe this.’ Lara started to cry, panic, guilt, horror and disbelief all fighting to take charge. Why was she so fucking hopeless?! ‘I closed the door, I’m sure of it.’

  Dave moved to her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. ‘It’s okay. We’ll find him. You mustn’t blame yourself. It was an accident. I know you didn’t mean to do it.’

  Lara was sobbing now, hysterical. Pepper was her cat. She already loved him to the moon and back. She was so stupid. She felt her mind unstitching, preparing for a huge fall, already sensing what she would one day know for sure. Pepper was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

  14

  Lara

  When Matteo returned to escort her to Florence, he’d changed his clothes. Suddenly, the kind-of-sloppy-but-adorable farm boy had shapeshifted into a smooth estate manager. His smartly cut white shirt was made of some natural fibre—bamboo, perhaps—and fitted him perfectly, while his khaki pants had clearly been professionally tailored to sit at just the right length above his shoes.

  ‘H-hi,’ Lara said, suddenly developing a stutter of her own.

  ‘Ciao,’ he said, smiling beatifically at her, removing his sunglasses to reveal a cheeky glint in his eye. She suspected he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.

  She was glad now that she had made the effort to clean up too. She wore a bright blue v-necked cotton dress with a gentle fifties inspiration, giving shape to her breasts, the skirt flowing out around her. Not that her breasts needed any more emphasis, but she’d found that it was simply easier to dress for them than to try to hide them.

  Henrik, accompanying Matteo, had also changed. He’d adopted dark denim overalls over a checked shirt and even had a straw hat. With his fair hair and heavy boots, he closely resembled an attractive scarecrow.

  ‘Ciao,’ she greeted him.

  ‘Ciao,’ he replied, then headed off in the direction of the goats, who were tethered under the olive trees.

  She’d left Samuel with plenty of prepared food and made sure he had everything he might need, reminding him to call her if he got into trouble. He said he would milk the goats with Henrik this afternoon, and seemed somewhat relieved that she was leaving the house for a bit and giving him back his space.

  Lara followed Matteo into Florence, rolled into the car park of the rental office and cut the ignition, thrilled she’d managed to get the car back without any mishaps. She dropped the keys in the return box then climbed into the passenger seat of Matteo’s two-seater truck, the door emitting a loud squeak as she closed it.

  ‘So,’ he said, pulling out onto the road to head back towards Fiotti-in-Chianti, ‘where would you like to go n-n-now?’

  ‘I was thinking of exploring the village. Everything’s happened so quickly since I arrived. I haven’t had a chance to go yet, and I don’t even know what’s there. I’ll need to do some grocery shopping for me and for Samuel soon, but I’ll take his car back on Monday to do that.’

  She checked off lists in her head to work out if there was anything urgent to do. There was one thing.

  ‘I really need some chocolate,’ she said, laughing, a touch embarrassed to say it out loud.

  Matteo smiled and nodded. ‘Chocolate is important. I c-c-can drop you at a shop in Fiotti,’ he said. ‘It will make you happy, I’m sure.’

  ‘Grazie.’

  There was a short silence, then, ‘Or I could sh-sh-show you around town? Give you a guided tour?’ He looked at her sideways, just quickly, then changed gears as they headed up a hill past rows of vines.

  Her heart actually fluttered. Was he suggesting a date? It couldn’t be. Surely he was just being kind, Samuel’s great-nephew who was taking an international visitor under his wing.

  ‘I would love that,’ she finally said.

  Matteo smiled again and wound down the window, which she gathered was his truck’s version of air conditioning.

  ‘I would like to pick up some chicken to make Samuel something nice. I saw a recipe online for a creamy Tuscan chicken dish.’ She paused. ‘It’s probably not really and truly Tuscan at all, but it looked good. I’m hoping it might cheer him up a bit.’

  ‘It sounds good to me,’ Matteo said, shifting the truck’s gears with a clunk. ‘I am almost never organised enough to c-c-cook for myself. I have mostly lived alone since moving f-f-from my university flat. I pretty much live on antipasti, something I can eat fast.’

  She noted two things. One, that he lived alone, and two, that she had to stop herself from inviting him to join her and Samuel for dinner.

  ‘I think it’s always easier to cook for and take care of others rather than yourself,’ she said, ‘and I’m glad I’ve got this opportunity to help Samuel. It makes me feel good.’

  ‘He is very strong,’ Matteo said. ‘I wish the rest of the family could see that.’

  ‘Where is his family? Why is he alone? Aside from you, of course.’

  ‘He has a daughter, Giovanna, but she lives in London with her husband, Marco. They moved because their daughter, Lily, got a music scholarship over there. But they stayed there after she finished and now she travels the world playing piano.’

  ‘Talented woman.’

  Matteo nodded. ‘She is amazing. Her brother, Antonio, lives in America.’

  ‘Does Samuel have any other children?’

  ‘Sì—Gaetano. But he and his wife followed Giovanna and Marco to England because their daughter, Aimee, is very close to Lily. And I think also because there were some problems in the family. So they all built their life there.’

  ‘That’s sad,’ she said.

  ‘I think some families are just travellers. Living on the goat farm, I see so many travellers come through. It is easier these days with internet and phone.’

  A strong, hot wind blew into the vehicle and lifted her curls. Lara pulled an elastic tie from her wrist and wrestled her hair into a loopy bun at the nape of her neck. The roar of the wind took the pressure off having to attempt any witty conversation and, content for now with the information from Matteo, she leaned back to enjoy the views from the winding, uphill road. They passed red-roofed villas; and rectangular stone apartment blocks with dark green shutters, tiny strings of washing lines between the window edges—maybe a metre wide—with tea towels or socks blowing in the wind, window boxes with brightly coloured flowers, and teeny balconies with potted olive trees; in every direction she saw blue, grey and green rolling hills.

  In Fiotti, they wandered the narrow streets lined with threestorey apartment blocks with the yellow rendered walls typical of the area, many with shops on the ground floor. Lara knew the region was famous for its terracotta, and the rusty red bricks paved the footpaths. Large plant pots stood with flashy green pines at doorways to flats and cafes.

  The shop Lara wanted, the one with the chocolate, was called a bottega, which essentially meant a shop but with the connotation of the shopkeeper being a master at what they did, according to Matteo. It had wicker baskets overflowing with chocolate. Its domed concrete ceiling had been painted with a night skyscape, a moon and stars, and paint had flaked away, leaving patches of grey showing through. It should have been messy, but was someh
ow romantically artistic. Shiny tins of tea sat in rows, bottles of wine lay in pyramids near wooden barrels, hessian bags of coffee adorned the walls and huge jars of lollies glinted under the ceiling lights. Lara felt sure this store could satisfy any wicked craving she might have. She left with enough chocolate for two weeks, she hoped.

  Next they stood at a caffè bar, where Matteo ordered them both a coffee and exchanged a few pleasantries in Italian with the cashier. The silver-haired barista was quick, and before Lara could take in the red chairs at the empty tables and pastries in the cabinet, coffees appeared in front of them.

  ‘Grazie,’ she said.

  She was struck by the way Matteo tenderly held his coffee cup, bringing it to his cheek. ‘Why do you do that?’ she asked.

  ‘To test the temperature, to see if it is ready,’ he said casually, appearing not at all offended by her query.

  Lara stared at him, completely speechless. The way he handled his coffee…it was so sensual and so different to the way Dave had handled his.

  She finished her drink quickly, wanting to move on from this place and the memories it was triggering.

  A gelateria caught her attention with its rainbow of seductive-looking flavours. Matteo must have seen the look on her face.

  ‘Would you like a gelato?’ he asked, one hand reaching for his wallet.

  ‘I really would. But I’ll get it,’ she said, waving his hand away. He’d already bought her the coffee.

  ‘I’ll have one…’ he paused while a series of tics took over his neck and face, ‘too,’ he finished, pulling out a ten-euro note.

  ‘Grazie,’ she said, trying to calm her heart. This felt like a date. And okay, she was thirty-one and not a teenager, but she also hadn’t dated or slept with anyone since…