by T A Williams
The dog skidded to a halt in front of her, mouth open, revealing his intimidating set of teeth. Looking further along his body, though, Bee couldn’t miss the fact that Romeo’s tail was wagging furiously. He definitely looked pleased to see her. Hesitantly, she held out one hand, knuckles first, and he rubbed his face against it, giving little happy canine grunts as he did so. Reassured, she scratched his ears and within seconds he sank down and rolled over onto his back, all four legs in the air, tail still wagging. Bee was very impressed, both with him and with herself.
‘Buongiorno, Romeo, how’re you today?’
The dog didn’t seem to object to the mixture of languages and wagged his tail so hard, the whole rear portion of his body wagged with it.
She pulled out a tissue and dabbed at the pink wine stain on her shorts, looking down at the dog with mock severity.
‘Look what you made me do, dog.’
He made no reaction to this remark, but her next question definitely got his full attention.
‘Would you like a bit of salami sandwich?’
As she spoke, she reached into her backpack and brought out the plastic bag containing the food. The dog immediately rolled back over onto his front, tongue hanging out, and it looked very much as if he nodded. Clearly, to a Labrador, this had been a rhetorical question. Romeo was definitely in no doubt that he would like a bit of sandwich, if not the whole thing.
Bee broke off a big bit of bread and salami and handed it to the dog who took it very gently from her fingers. As she watched him wolf it down – it barely touched the sides – she looked around to see if his master was with him, but even though she called out, there was so sign of any other humans. Evidently, Romeo was out for a walk by himself and she couldn’t help a little twinge of disappointment that she wasn’t going to see the handsome Luke.
She finished the salami sandwich under the unblinking gaze of the Labrador and subsequently discovered that this particular dog also like sponge cake, and even apricots. In fact, she seriously questioned whether there was anything he wasn’t prepared to eat. By the end of the meal, he was lying at her side, his nose resting on her thigh, and she found she didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, she realised she rather liked the fact that she wasn’t all alone after all.
When she decided it was time to return home, the dog trotted happily along with her, occasionally running off into the trees or vines to bark at some real or imagined animal, but he always came back to her and his presence was reassuring.
She got back to the villa feeling hot and tired, but secretly rather proud of herself that she had managed to navigate the vines and woods without getting lost or attacked by wild animals, and the dog followed her in through the back door. There was a bowl full of water ready for him and she saw him drink gratefully, splashing a considerable amount of it over the kitchen floor as he did so. She removed her sunhat and scarf, ran her fingers across her head, and followed the dog’s example, helping herself to a glass of cold mineral water from the fridge and drinking it all in one go. But not so messily.
She was just swilling the glass under the tap when she heard footsteps outside and saw the dog sit up, head cocked, listening intently. She reached for her scarf, but barely had time to remove it from her pocket. By now Romeo’s tail had started wagging, thumping as it hit the floor. The back door opened and Umberto came in.
‘Good afternoon, Umberto. How are you?’ She returned the scarf to her pocket.
He didn’t bat an eyelid as his eyes alighted upon her scarred head. ‘Fine, thank you. I see the dog’s deserted me for somebody younger and prettier.’ He gave her a grin. ‘I don’t blame him. Have the two of you been for a walk?’
Bee told him where she had been and how the dog had suddenly materialised out of the trees. Umberto wasn’t surprised.
‘He spends most of his time down by the river at this time of year. I can’t say I blame him. It must be really hot underneath all that fur.’ He scratched the dog’s head with one hand. With the other, he produced something from a drawer.
‘Here, Bee, you might find it useful.’
It was a very old and very detailed map of the valley, showing field boundaries, contour lines, paths and tracks. The date on it was 1903. Bee thanked him warmly and resolved to use it to guide her on walks around the estate.
He looked pleased. Turning back to the door again, he bade her farewell. ‘I’m off to take a look at the vines down by the river.’
Unsurprisingly, the dog trotted off with him, no doubt looking forward to going for a swim.
Chapter 6
A week later Gayle came to visit them one last time before flying back to LA with the rest of the crew and she commented on how fit and healthy Bee was already looking as a result of the regular walks in the fresh air she had been taking. Bee agreed that she was feeling good and that her sore thigh was now pretty much back to normal. Gayle disappeared upstairs and spent a quarter of an hour with Mimi before emerging once more with an expression of relief on her face. Taking Bee by the arm, she led her out into the garden and round to the opposite end of the villa from the film star’s room. When she deemed they were sufficiently far away not to need to whisper, she told Bee what had transpired during her brief conversation with Mimi.
‘It sounds as though she’s given up on the idea of a lawsuit for negligence. Mind you, she’s still not too happy.’ She caught Bee’s eye and grinned. ‘Somehow I don’t think anybody at Pan World will be getting Christmas cards from her this year. But she’s calming down. I don’t know if it’s your influence or this gorgeous place, but she’s definitely sounding and looking a bit more relaxed than she was.’
‘It can’t be my influence. I’ve barely spoken to her all week. She hasn’t come out of her room as far as I’ve seen, and the most communication we’ve had has been through her door when I bring her a cup of tea.’
‘Well, whatever it is, I reckon it’s working. I’m off back to the States later on today, but do stay in touch.’ She tapped Bee’s arm. ‘I was thinking. If you like, I could spread the word that there’s this red-hot historical expert looking for a job. You never know…’
Bee beamed at her. ‘Gayle, that would be amazing. Please do. There are precious few lecturing positions in my field on offer at home in the UK at the moment and the more I think about it, the idea of going back to my old job appeals less and less.’
‘Didn’t you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, I enjoy the teaching and the research. It’s the fact that Professor Touchy-Feely got off with barely a rap on the knuckles that sticks in my craw.’
‘Couldn’t you take the lot of them to an industrial tribunal? Or go to the police? That’s what I’d have done.’
‘That’s not me, Gayle. I’m terrified of anything like that. Can you imagine me standing up and describing how I felt when he stuck his hand up my dress? I’d die of embarrassment.’
Gayle looked sceptical. ‘I’d have him hanging up by his heels… or his balls.’
‘Yes, but you’re you, Gayle. You’re a whole lot tougher than I am.’
‘Don’t do yourself down, Bee. You’re tough, all right. The way you’ve come through this whole accident business has been impressive. Anyway, like I say, I’ll spread the word about you. You never know…’
When the time came for Gayle to leave, Bee thanked her again and was sorry to see her go, but she didn’t feel abandoned. She was definitely beginning to become acclimatised to her home in the country.
However, the fact that life in the country could be substantially different from city life was brought home to her only a few days after Gayle’s visit. Bee had hand-washed some delicates the previous evening and hung them outside on the line by the kitchen door to dry overnight. When she went out mid-morning to bring her things back in, she got a big surprise. As she stepped out of the back door, she realised that she wasn’t alone and she stopped dead. Standing by the washing line was a large brown and white goat with the collar of her rather nice r
eal silk blouse in its mouth. This was one of her favourites and, annoyingly, the goat was doing its best to tug it down from the line.
Her first thought was that goats in the flesh were a hell of a sight bigger than her distant memories of goats in the children’s section of London Zoo. Her second was that the light blue blouse in this one’s mouth had been bought for her by Jamie two years earlier in a Parisian boutique, and it hadn’t been cheap. She hurried back into the villa for reinforcements, but there was no sign of Umberto or his wife so she went back out again and stood there for a few moments, eyes fixed on the goat, watching its jaws rhythmically chewing at the delicate fabric, before natural indignation kicked in. She clapped her hands and shouted as firmly as she could.
‘Leave that alone, goat! Bugger off back to where you came from!’
She paused and then, for the avoidance of doubt, repeated herself in Italian.
The goat showed no sign of comprehension or of wanting to leave her clothing alone. She clapped her hands again, before nervously taking a couple of tentative steps towards it. A glance downwards revealed that this was very definitely a male goat and, somehow, this made the invasion of her privacy even greater. She also noticed a couple of sharp-looking horns on his head. His expression had by now moved from stubborn to confrontational and her resolve deserted her. Not wishing to discover how a toreador feels when he drops his cape, she retreated into the kitchen and took refuge behind the half-closed door.
Undaunted, the goat gave a final tug and dislodged the blouse from the line, sending the clothes pegs flying. He then turned and trotted off towards the gate in the far corner of the garden, bearing his trophy in his mouth. Bee waited until he disappeared and then slipped back outside and hastily collected the surviving clothes from the line. Then she went over to ensure that the gate was firmly barricaded, reflecting that the old saying about locking the stable door after the horse had bolted was no doubt based on fact.
A bit later on, after checking her emails, she decided to put on her sunhat and set out for another walk. The fact that this might give her the chance to see Luke again was something that didn’t escape her. It had been a week since she and he had talked and she knew she missed his company. It was overcast this morning, but dry and still very warm, so she decided to go for a longish walk, following some of the paths on the map Umberto had given her. Seeing as she had gone up the valley the previous day, she decided to go the other way this time. As she came back downstairs, she thought she had better report the presence of a marauding ruminant in the garden and went through to the kitchen. Inside, she now found Umberto, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. The table was covered in shopping bags. As he saw her, he pushed back his chair and started to get to his feet, but Bee hastened to reassure him.
‘Please don’t get up, Umberto. I’m just going for a walk and I thought I’d better let you know that there’s a big brown and white goat on the loose. I found it in the back garden.’
Umberto looked unsurprised. ‘That would be Berlusconi. He’s a real escape artist. He should be in the field down by the river with the others, but he’s always getting out. Luckily, like his namesake, he’s quite a one for the ladies, so he always goes back.’
‘Well, he also likes silk. I found him trying to eat the clothes on the line.’
‘That’s Berlusconi. I’m so sorry, I should have warned you about him. Ines and I have been out doing the shopping and I’m afraid I didn’t check the gate. If it makes you feel better, he ate a pair of my trousers a while ago.’
‘He really ate them?’ Any lingering hopes Bee might have harboured of maybe getting her French blouse back evaporated.
‘Ines managed to get one leg back from him, but the rest just went down his throat.’
Bee decided there was nothing to be gained from asking what state the trousers had been in when they emerged, assuming they had emerged. Instead, she changed the subject.
‘Anyway, Umberto, I wondered if Romeo might like to come with me again. We’ve been walking together a good few times now and I really like his company. Is he here?’
‘Not here, but I wouldn’t mind betting he’s not far away. He’ll have heard us come back in the car and he’ll be round for his mid-morning snack any time now. Wait a minute.’ He rose to his feet and went over to the back door. Slipping two fingers between his lips, he gave a piercing whistle and then stood back to wait.
It didn’t take long.
Less than a minute later, Romeo appeared, tail wagging furiously. This time Bee found she didn’t feel in any way intimidated by him and she managed to stroke his head and ruffle his ears without any qualms.
‘He never says no to a walk.’ Umberto dissuaded the happy dog from jumping all over both of them. ‘Well, you’ve got a lovely day for it, not too hot. So, where are you thinking of going today?’
‘Last time I went for a longish walk, I went up the valley, so today I thought I’d head down the valley. How does that sound to you?’
‘Good idea. You can’t go wrong – specially with Romeo as your guide. Turn up left once you reach the barns at the Grifoncella and you can circle back through the vines and the woods. Romeo knows the way.’
Bee wondered if he really did, or if she would end up lost in woods full of dangerous animals, but her mind was made up and she nodded.
‘That sounds perfect, Umberto. Thank you. And I’ve got your map with me anyway.’
The dog appeared to enjoy these walks and she definitely liked the feeling of companionship she got from walking with him. Although he was a big dog, with a fine set of gleaming white teeth, she could sense that he presented no threat to her. Indeed, she found herself stopping to stroke him on numerous occasions. She was definitely making excellent progress as far as her fear of dogs was concerned. As far as her actress companion was concerned, however, the same could not be said. As she had told Gayle, she had barely exchanged a handful of words since arriving at the villa and most of these had been through the door of Miss Robertson’s room. Bee felt sure it would do the actress a lot of good to come for walks with her and the dog but, so far, her efforts to get her out had fallen on deaf ears. Still, she thought to herself, better the company of a happy dog than a grumpy actress.
The strada bianca was well maintained, although from time to time there were ruts made by massive tractor tyres. As she walked, she looked around, breathing deeply, relishing the clean country air and the relative cool of the morning. It was peaceful and almost completely quiet, apart from the sound of her new trainers crunching on the hard, dry surface of the track, but she was beginning to get used to the silence by now and it was no longer so scary. In fact, if she listened hard, she realised that what she had interpreted as silence was in fact full of a multitude of little sounds. In the background she could hear the twittering of birds, the buzzing of bees in search of nectar, and the almost imperceptible sighing of the breeze in the vine leaves. She found herself feeling remarkably relaxed. The sense of loneliness she had felt when she had first arrived here in the valley was definitely waning, and the company of the big dog was definitely helping.
The Grifoncella was made of weathered old brick with a sun-bleached red tiled roof. It was less grand than the villa and a good bit smaller, but she took an immediate liking to it. There was a rambling rose climbing across the front of the house and there was also one of the most massive and luxuriant wisteria vines she had ever seen. The scent of the flowers was heady and she stopped and savoured it. The garden was alive with bees, busily dipping into the blooms for pollen. Big yellow and orange butterflies fluttered from blossom to blossom and shimmering blue-green dragonflies zipped about. It was an idyllic spot.
Bee toyed with the idea of knocking on the door and saying hello to Luke, but an almost teenage sense of angst held her back. He knew where she was staying, after all, and he hadn’t made any move to come to the villa to see her, so it was pretty clear he was keeping his distance – for whatever reason. And
, of course, she reflected with a sigh, the reason might be her damaged face. This wasn’t a happy thought and she did her best to banish it.
She set off again to look for the path leading up the hill. Just after the barn, a narrow path led away to the left and Romeo set off up it without being told. Umberto had been right when he had said the dog knew his way around.
The path climbed steadily and, as it did so, it narrowed considerably. On one side were the serried ranks of the vines and on the other a gulley with the remnants of a tiny stream trickling down it. From the width of the gulley, she could see that this most probably became a roaring torrent at the height of the rains, but certainly not now. The path was bordered by wild flowers and thorny bushes. Bee in her shorts had to take care as she squeezed past the biggest of these. Romeo the dog had no such qualms. By now she was getting used to the sight of lizards rushing for cover as she passed, and with Romeo in the lead, she felt much more confident that any bigger reptiles, particularly those without legs, would also be frightened off before she stumbled upon them.
She soon found herself in thick woodland and the path wound on up through a confused mixture of fir trees, bushes and bigger, deciduous trees. The ground was studded with occasional clumps of wild flowers and, as she climbed higher, she started seeing mushrooms. She was no expert, but the bright red ones with white spots looked – and no doubt were – deadly poisonous. Foraging for food, she decided, would definitely have to wait until she was accompanied by somebody who knew what was or wasn’t likely to kill her. The irony of surviving a serious head wound, only to be struck down by a humble mushroom, didn’t escape her.
She finally emerged from the trees onto a bare patch of hilltop. On her map, this place was marked with a fan-shaped symbol and the significance of this was immediately evident.
The panorama before her was indeed worthy of a special symbol on the map. She sat back on a big boulder and rubbed her thigh, more out of habit than necessity. It was barely aching at all after what had been a fairly hard climb, and she felt relieved and encouraged. It was now over a month since the accident and this part of her, at least, appeared to be pretty much back to normal. As for her face, she could see that it was also improving day by day, although she knew there was still a long way to go and no way of knowing what the final result would look like.