From Italy With Love

by Jules Wake

  ‘Want an ice cream?’ he called over his shoulder.

  With his collar length hair blowing in the breeze, the loping stripes of the long lean legs and that altogether tight bum, he looked like some modern day knight ready to take on his next challenge.

  And she had to stop this silly nonsense. This was a business partnership to get her to Maranello. He was not her romantic hero and never would be. She still had a fiancé waiting at home for her, if she wanted him. Robert’s image came to her. Solid, dependable, reliable. Everything, she thought she’d wanted. Now she wasn’t sure. He’d be home now, she could bet on it, washing the car on the drive, skimming the Saturday Mail, getting his kit ready for tomorrow’s match, shopping at Sainsbury’s and choosing the Hot Pepperoni pizza because she was away. And still upset with her for not wanting to get married. How was he going to take it, if she announced she didn’t want to live together anymore? She thought of this morning’s text.

  Missing you so much. Marry me? x

  Lifting her hand, she rubbed at the band of tension across her forehead. That would be one uncomfortable conversation but she’d made up her mind. Robert would blow a gasket.

  In technicolour hindsight they’d moved in together far too quickly. She’d been too lost in her grief to make any sensible decisions. Robert had just sort of taken over. It was her own fault, she’d let him.

  Don’t think about it. That was what she was going to do. Determined to push Robert to the back of her mind, she looked around. With her new haircut, new clothes and sense of lightness of being, she could almost imagine she was another person. Cam was leaning against the car waiting for her, holding two ice creams. She smiled. Behind him there was a patchwork of colour, the dark leafy green of the forest, the sandy walls of the town’s mediaeval walls and the long length of bridge crossing the silver lights of the river where the sunlight danced upon the water. It felt like being on holiday, with the warmth of the sunshine on her hair, face and bare arms and the slight scent of pine from the trees lining the valley below. It was tempting to call Cam over and suggest they stay longer, finish their ice creams, buy a second coffee and sit on the low wall to take in the view and while away the rest of the day.

  Half of her rebelled against this sudden whimsical desire to be spontaneous, pointing out it was nothing more than procrastination.

  Her mouth firmed, lips tightening and she let out an exasperated sigh. Better to get this over with. If he wasn’t already dead, she could quite happily have strangled Miles … bloody meddling. What had he hoped to achieve sending her on this detour? Surely he must have realised it was the equivalent of casting her into an emotional hell.

  Watching the expressions contorting her face was quite fascinating. Since they’d got on the road this morning, Laurie looked a like a fierce warrior, girding her loins ready to go into battle. Did she have any idea how expressive her face was? So often her face showed exactly what she thought. It had already mirrored the view that he was some womanizing dilettante, which he probably was if he analysed his love life in her terms. Thing was all those women were sophisticates who knew exactly what they were getting into. She was a curious mix, keeping everything in and not saying much about how she felt and then in another way, so unfettered in the way her emotions shone out of her eyes. Reading her was so easy.

  Something had happened in Paris. She’d seemed to come to life. Last night, they’d stayed overnight in Troyes, where she’d been utterly entranced by its tall, medieval timber-framed town houses. Dinner together had been fun and ever so slightly flirty. Maintaining this fun, light companionship would be perfect, sealing a sort of friendship. Driving the car, she almost sizzled from the buzz she got from handling it along the wide country roads. It amused him watching her in the driving seat, her wide mouth curved in that slow secret smile and the upright posture, like a proud empress in front of her subjects, she adopted whenever she got behind the wheel.

  Since they’d stopped for coffee today, it felt as the clock had been turned back. Something was definitely bugging her. Her mouth kept tightening as if in the grip of an unpleasant thought and she carried the strain in her jaw-line, noticeable in the slight angle in which it was thrust forward. Someone who hadn’t sat next to her for forty-eight hours on the trot might not have noticed it, but he could feel the waves of tension radiating from her in the close quarters of the car.

  The girl that had emerged during his sickness bout was retreating beneath the shell again. She even looked different. Her hair up in a sharp neat ponytail, not a single loose curl. The prickly hedgehog had its spines raised again.

  As she slid behind the wheel, she slumped for a second, and he thought he saw her mouth curve downwards. He ignored his instinct not to say anything.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She looked at him and he saw a bleakness in her eyes that he’d not seen before. It echoed some complication and yet she seemed so uncomplicated.

  ‘No … Yes. I’m fine.’ She shook her head and then as if stiffening her resolve, she sat up straight, rammed the key in the ignition and started the car up. As she revved the engine just a tad too much, he thought he heard her mutter.

  ‘Let’s do this.’

  The two hour journey passed in silence. He studied maps, looking at where the next leg of the journey would take them before they headed up to Switzerland and then on to Italy, not wanting to intrude on whatever was eating Lauren. She drove with an increasingly grim twist to her mouth.

  At last the sat nav indicated that it was time to pull off the main road and Laurie followed the unemotional instructions as the roads got smaller and smaller until they pulled up outside a gated entrance.

  An intercom on the side of the gate pillar alerted someone to their presence and the large black gates swung open, eerily quiet as if pulled by invisible magical threads. Laurie paused the car at the threshold of the drive, her knuckles white.

  He laid a hand on her hand gripping the gear stick and gave it a quick squeeze, hoping to offer some moral support. Whatever was bothering her, she didn’t want to talk about it.

  The drive took them right up to a courtyard area, off which led the wing of a small country house. The courtyard was packed with other cars, BMWs, Mercedes, Range Rovers as well as the odd Maserati and Lamborghini. He eyed the latter with interest, wondering if he might know anyone here. There was obviously quite a party gathered which was a shame because Laurie probably needed to spend some time with her mother. He was intrigued by her cool attitude and could only think it was nerves because she hadn’t seen her in a while. It was odd that she hadn’t come over for her brother’s funeral.

  Laurie parked with her usual economic efficiency.

  ‘Nicely done,’ he said.

  She flashed him a quick grateful grin and for a moment they were comfortable with each other again. ‘Sorry I’m a bit tense. I don’t see my Mum or …’ she paused, ‘very often.’

  Something in the way she said it sparked a warning bell in his head piquing his curiosity. ‘How often?’

  She looked guarded for a moment. ‘Once in the last three years. For lunch in London. Just after my dad died. I’ve never been here to this house or stayed with her.’

  Trying to hide his surprise he said, ‘Well Miles obviously thought it would be a good idea. Maybe it’s time you saw her. She must miss you.’ He couldn’t think of a day that Sylvie hadn’t been on the phone to her mother. His own mother never complained he didn’t visit often enough, but she always made it clear when he did how delighted she was to see him.

  ‘I doubt it.’ She’d turned her head and was looking out of the passenger window. He couldn’t gauge anything from her expression or her voice. It was as if a steam roller had been along to level away all trace of emotion, flattening it into nothing.

  Finally she turned to face him. ‘Weird huh?’ she observed staring into his eyes as if trying to read his reaction. Hers broadcast guilt, defiance and sadness wrapped up in one confusing package. Laurie norma
lly seemed so together, level-headed and normal. Now she seemed cowed.

  As they got out of the car, he grabbed the bags from the boot and swung his free arm around her shoulder, pulling her head towards his and giving her quick brief kiss on top of her head. ‘Let’s do this.’

  His hand snaked to the back of her head. ‘And this.’ With a quick tug he pulled the band from her ponytail, letting her new layered hair spill out of its tight confines. ‘That’s better, makes you look more relaxed and not about to storm the castle.’

  There was the briefest pause and then she gave him a quick barely-there hug. ‘Thanks Cam.’

  She picked up the pace and marched to the door, her chin lifted again. He smiled, she still looked like she was storming a castle. You had to hand it to her, she had plenty of guts. Whatever challenge came up, she took it head on. She never shirked a duty or a chore. Honourable, honest. That was Laurie. Perfect for him. When it came to selling the car, everything told him she’d sell it to him. He really should tell her about the deal Miles had made with him but something held him back. At first he’d been nursing a grudge and it had irked him that she assumed he was being paid to take her across Europe, like some bloody mercenary. That wasn’t him and she’d jumped to conclusions.

  Now he understood her better, a woman with her own deep-seated principles and someone to admire. He needed to tell her about the terms of Miles’ will and how he stood to benefit with regard to the Ferrari. As soon as they left here, he’d tell her.

  He found himself studying her as she raised a hand to pull hard and decisively on the old fashioned bell pull beside the double wooden doors. Ramrod straight, she stood dead centre in the doorway holding her ground.

  ‘Good afternoon.’

  Good afternoon, I’m Lauren Browne, I’m here to see my mother.’

  The black-suited butler quirked his eyebrow but it was the only sign that she’d discomfited him. ‘Please come in, I will let Madame Harvieu know you are here.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘Lauren, darling, at last you’re here.’ Her mother came tap-tapping down the marble-tiled hall towards them, looking exactly like she had last time Laurie had seen her. Immaculately groomed in black trousers, heels, a silk blouse and that perfectly smooth youthful complexion highlighted with the barest touches of expensive make-up.

  ‘Hi … Mum.’ As her mother grasped her and kissed her, French style on both cheeks, Laurie wasn’t quite sure where to put her arms. Hugging her mother seemed wrong.

  ‘And look at you, don’t you just look fabulous. You’ve finally learned a bit of dress sense.’

  What did you say to that? Thank you?

  ‘That colour suits you. It’s so wonderful to see you, I can’t imagine why it’s been so long.’

  Because you live the other side of France and I live in England, thought Laurie, grinding her teeth to hold the comment back. And you were always too busy. Not even here five minutes and she felt childish and resentful.

  ‘Good journey? Looking after the car, I hope.’ Her mother accompanied the words with a coy smile.

  Laurie tensed. She hadn’t forgotten that the car would be forfeited to her mother if she didn’t reach the end of the journey. How much did her mother know?

  ‘The journey was fine thanks. How are you? How’s Siena?’

  ‘And Harry?’ her mother added, her eyes narrowing.

  ‘Sorry … and Harry.’ Oh for God’s sake she barely knew the man. She wished she had the guts to say what she really thought. Why did her mother persist in the idea that he was in any way relevant to her? Laurie wanted to know about Siena.

  ‘Just pop your bags down there. Jackson will take them up to your room.’ While she was saying this Laurie could see her mother giving her another once over and wished she’d stopped to put a bit of make up on and brush her hair. Even in her new clothes, with her new hairdo, she felt like a mongrel next to a pedigree.

  ‘Laurie’s obviously not going to introduce us. I’m her mother, Celeste.’ Laurie wanted to punch something. How did her mother always do it? Make her feel wrong-footed.

  ‘I’m so sorry Cam, how rude of me.’ Laurie gave him her sweetest smile. ‘I should have introduced you. Cam, this is my mother, Celeste Harvieu. Mum this is Cam.’

  Her mother’s nostrils flared, the only sign that Laurie’s petty point-scoring had hit the target. Rising above Laurie’s needling, she didn’t ask him who he was but she obviously approved of his good looks because she greeted him with a satisfied, cat-licked-the-cream smile. ‘Hello, Cam. Lovely to meet you. Welcome. Come through, we were just about to have tea.’ She gestured down the hall to Cam and as he took the lead, she gave Lauren a knowing look.

  ‘All man isn’t he? Not what I’d have expected you to have in tow at all,’ she murmured, eyeing Cam thoughtfully before shooting an assessing look at Lauren as if to say there must be more to you than meets the eye.

  Lauren wanted to sink through the floor at her mother’s blatant remarks. It was her own fault she guessed for not introducing him properly and there seemed little point correcting the assumption that Cam was her lover. It would lead to having to explain the situation, which she didn’t want to go into. It was too personal. She shared as little as possible with her mother, mainly because her mother wasn’t that interested in her. Her attention span ran to nought percent of short.

  To his credit, Cam’s face remained impressively impassive in the wake of the undercurrent between the two women.

  The large salon into which they were ushered immediately reminded Laurie of a stately home. Small, impractical period furniture was arranged around the focal point of the room, a cherub festooned onyx and marble mantelpiece. Laurie stepped forward gingerly feeling over-large and clumsy among the delicate furniture. She wasn’t sure if she should sit on anything or just stand. Nothing in the room suggested it was ever used for anything other than show. Even the fine china tea service laid out on the coffee table looked too fragile to use. Cam’s thumbs probably wouldn’t even fit into the tiny cup handles.

  ‘Do sit down. Now Cam, would you like a cup of tea or would you prefer something a bit stronger?’

  ‘Tea’s fine, thank you.’

  ‘Laurie?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Well you’ve timed your visit perfectly. We’ve got a full house at the moment.’ She flashed a smile at Cameron. ‘It’s that time of year, we have so many visitors popping in on their way down to Cannes. It’s lucky we had a spare room for you. Shame you weren’t here last week. Georges Claudine was here with Elisabet Jennings … you know the film director? She’s his leading lady. And just last month we had Nick Faldo and Sam Torrance to dinner when Harry played in a pro-celebrity tournament.’ She gave a light-hearted girlish laugh. ‘Not of course that Harry’s a proper celebrity or anything but you know …’

  With a change of tack like a hawk dropping on to its pray, she asked, ‘So what is happening with the car? Mr Leversedge was rather circumspect.’ Her face tautened in disapproval, making her cheekbones slightly shiny as if the skin was too tight over the bones. ‘He’s always been curt and rude. I’ve no idea what his problem is.’

  ‘Really?’ Laurie hammed up her surprised look. ‘He’s been an absolute sweetie to me.’

  Celeste completely ignored the comment and poured herself another cup of tea. ‘So? The car? All old misery guts would tell me was that you were driving it to Italy.’ Laurie shot a quick look at Cam, wishing she’d forewarned him not to say anything about their real mission. She knew that the subject of Miles’ legacy would be broached at some point but she was hoping that she could delay it as long as possible.

  ‘Miles wanted it driven one last time across Europe and asked me to do it.’

  ‘He always was a sentimental old fool. Harry will be livid. Putting more miles on the clock on a car as valuable as that. It’s ludicrous.’

  Laurie bristled. What business was it of Harry’s?

  ‘And where do you come in, Cam
?’

  ‘I’m … I’m a mechanic, I guess you’d say.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eye’s narrowed and she turned to Laurie with a worried frown. ‘You do realise, Laurie, it’s an extremely valuable car.’

  Laurie smiled down into her tea at Cam’s sudden overwhelming interest in his own drink. Laurie wanted to laugh − only it wasn’t funny, it was embarrassing.

  ‘He’s being modest, he’s not just a mechanic. He … he … well it’s to do with classic cars.’

  ‘Oh, one of Miles’ protégées, why didn’t you say? Did you know my brother? Which reminds me Laurie, how did the funeral go? I would have liked to have gone but it was Paris Fashion week and I just didn’t think I could have fitted it all in.’ She laughed girlishly again and said to Cameron, ‘It’s not as if Miles would have noticed.’

  Cam’s face was shuttered and Laurie could read very little from the polite mask he’d adopted.

  ‘Were all the wives there? Bet they were wondering which one of them would get the house. Has the will gone to probate yet? I’ve not heard anything yet and the solicitor was very cagey but then the post out here is shocking.’ She stared hard at Laurie, her dark eyes suddenly beady and acquisitive. ‘Or is that perhaps why you’re here? Delivering messages … from beyond the grave.’

  Laurie felt cold for a moment. They’d not even been here half an hour.

  ‘So who did get the house?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘No one? Are you sure? Someone must have got it?’ her mother’s voice was shrill with dismay.

  Laurie shrugged. ‘No one knows about the house. It’s tied up in some special trust that the solicitor is administering.’

  ‘And what about the car?’

  Laurie felt the blood rush to her face and her stomach coil in embarrassment. Damn this was the moment she’d have to fess up about the car; she shot a quick glance at Cam. His face was unreadable.

  ‘I … er … don’t know. The GT250 …’