by Jules Wake
‘No one by that name is registered here at the moment.’
He thought for a moment. Had she been and gone? No, not without Ron verifying that she’d indeed made it. Ron. That was it. She was supposed to phone him a day before she expected to arrive so he could fly out and meet them.
‘Has a Mr Ron Leversedge checked in?’
Her face brightened. ‘He’s not here yet but I took a reservation for him earlier today. He will be arriving the day after tomorrow.’
The day after? What the hell was going on? And where was Laurie? She should have been here by now. Bormio was only half a day’s drive away. How could he have got here before her, unless she got lost on the way; but not with the sat nav, surely?
Taking the keys, he went up to his room. At least Ron’s imminent arrival meant she’d been in touch with him – so the bloody woman was alive at least. He might get some sleep tonight. Now the main problem was getting to her before Ron did.
His shoulder hurt like crazy and all he wanted was a shower, a lie-down to get the kinks out of his back and to put a heat pack on it. The tiny hire car had been a pile of shite on wheels. Served him right for being so tight, although the choice at the car rental place had been limited. Coaxing a people carrier down the pass hadn’t been very appealing.
As he stripped off, he checked his phone again. Reception was patchy in the mountains. Even if Laurie had texted him, he might not have received it. The thought hadn’t stopped him checking a dozen times an hour. Where the hell was she?
He turned the shower on full and waited a moment before stepping in. The warm flow eased the headache pulsing at his temples. What if she’d been car-jacked? Kidnapped? Water cascaded down his aching back. That car was worth millions on the open market.
Only lucky bastards like him could hope to buy one at a fraction of its worth, providing she got it here in one piece.
He held his face up to the shower and let the jets hit full on, hoping it would wash away the insidious worry. She had to be somewhere.
No one who knew cars would try stealing the Ferrari. They’d know it would be virtually impossible to sell. High performance babes like that only got stolen to order and even then it would be impossible for an owner to pass it off as anything else. But idiots might try. Idiots who didn’t know its real worth. He closed his eyes. The sort who were desperate. Jacked up on drink or drugs. What would they do with Laurie?
Getting out of the shower, he towelled himself vigorously, taking his frustration out on his damp skin, leaving his shoulders almost raw.
Maybe he should contact the police. Report her missing? If she hadn’t checked in by nightfall, he would call the local police first thing in the morning. He hated this feeling of indecision.
She swirled the red wine around her mouth, savouring it. The half bottle had been expensive but worth it. The wine list looked so interesting it was tempting to stay here for a few days and work her way through it. Pushing her plate away to the side, she opened up the map. She’d decided to stay overnight in Bormio at the foot of the pass which was teeming with cyclists, campervans and other sports cars. There was a good natured, happy atmosphere about the place and at first it looked like she might not find a room because it was so busy. Luckily the quaint looking Hotel Cormori was far enough out of town to deter most tourists and provided safe parking in the enclosed private car park.
Warmed by the red wine and relaxed after a hard day’s driving, she dreamily considered the map. If she put her foot down and drove all day, she could be in Maranello tomorrow evening and then what? Home?
Suddenly the lukewarm summer of home seemed another life away and Italy felt vibrant, exciting and busy. Her entire life had been spent driving through without stopping to experience it properly. The heavy accents and singsong voices of Italy were familiar and yet unfamiliar, the rapid rise and fall of excitable words entrancing. The incomprehensible words on the signs around the hotel and the town were alien. In France she had enough knowledge of the language to recognise a fair proportion of the words; here everything seemed completely strange … and she loved it – the feeling of anonymity, the ability to look around this restaurant and be an observer.
Before her like a plate of delicacies, the map offered Lake Como, Lake Garda, Parma, Milan, Turin, even Venice. They were all there … just for the taking. There was nothing to stop her driving to any of them. She had the money sitting in her pocket. A ball of illicit pleasure burned in the pit of her stomach.
With a sudden grin she made up her mind. She could do whatever she wanted. Responsible to no one but herself; with a pang she thought of Cam.
Then she stomped hard on that thought. OK, she missed him which was all the more reason to ignore his phone calls and texts. He was out of bounds, Mr Never Never and he’d made it completely clear he was not Mr Commitment, or even Mr Vaguely- Interested-In-The-Short-Term. Stupid man. Did he think she was too dumb to realise that? It had been a given the minute she kissed him. She’d known the score, apparently he hadn’t.
Knackered by the drive and lulled into a warm haze of happiness by the excellent wine, she left the dining room and went straight up to her room to find her phone blinking furiously with a slew of new messages. It was tempting to ignore it.
Please just let me know you’re OK. I’m worried about you. Cam
Shit, he knew how to make her feel guilty. Now that she’d come through all those hair-pin bends, it was understandable why anyone might worry. Not that it had bothered him before. Pursing her lips, she hesitated but honesty made her admit she should let him know she was fine. Part of her wanted to crow that she’d made it to the other side of the Stelvio Pass and she was more than fine.
Quickly she texted,
Alive and well.
The message failed and she realised that she barely had a signal. Oh well, it would do Mr I’m-Not-The-Right-Man-For-You good to worry a bit longer. Show him she was quite capable of looking after herself.
Unable to help herself she flicked through the photos on her phone. The best one, him in white shirt and faded denims, black curls dancing across his cheekbone, made her pause. He’d been kind that day … he’d been kind every day.
Sighing she threw herself on the bed. Robert and she were over that was for sure. It wasn’t about being unfaithful … although that was bad enough. Everything had changed, thanks to Miles. Had he known what was hiding inside her? What she was capable of?
Now she thought back to the last time she’d seen him. Holding his hand at the hospice. It all made sense. He’d wanted her to see that although her mother had failed her, Laurie had failed herself by playing it safe. She’d missed out on so much because she’d been too scared to risk her emotions or challenge herself. Canny old Miles had seen it.
It was enough to put her off ever returning to England but tomorrow was a whole new day and she was off to Lake Garda.
Chapter 24
She took another bite of ice cream, enjoying the cold on her tongue and lifting her face to bask in the hot sunshine. Rich vanilla flavour swirled in her mouth as she walked along the path skirting the lake. No doubt about it, Riva Del Garda had to be one of the prettiest spots in Europe. Sunlight danced on tiny crested waves as the wind rippled across the water, like rhinestones winking joyfully.
It was the first time in her life she’d ever had the luxury of such solitude. In the last two days, she hadn’t felt lonely once. It was liberating to feel so happy in her own company. She’d never lived on her own. Robert had moved in as soon as her father had died. At the time, with grief a constant, Robert’s presence had helped. Looking back there’d never been a conscious decision that he should move in. Only now did it occur to her that something that important should have been considered. It just seemed to happen and then it became a fait accompli.
She stared out over the lake, watching tiny boats speed along the surface, zig-zagging to and fro like frantic ants in a hurry to go nowhere. Would she have settled down with him so quickly if Dad hadn’t died wh
en he did? Somehow she doubted it. Shading her eyes with one hand, she gazed out over the blue of the lake stretching beyond her vision. Mountains surrounded the picturesque resort like monolithic guardians charged with ensuring the peace and serenity of the inhabitants. Robert had been like those mountains, something solid to keep her anchored when her world crumbled and Dad’s death hit so hard. And like them he had remained solid and immoveable. A sense of regret pierced her, a spear of sharp awareness, prising the truth to the surface. She didn’t want immoveable any more. Life was waiting for her. She had so much living to do. And Miles in his cock-eyed way had seen that.
A shaft of sunlight broke past the shadow of the mountain, illuminating a brilliant patch of waterfront below, bringing colours and shapes in bright relief. She took it as a sign and turned back towards the hotel.
Booking another two nights felt horribly decadent, but that probably had more to do with the extortionate amount the hotel would cost each night. What was the point of coming to Lake Garda if you didn’t book into a hotel that overlooked the lake?
The hotel’s roof terrace offered such a wonderful, distracting view of the lake, she’d barely read a word since she’d arrived. Yesterday morning she’d had a deliciously long lie-in, until the brilliant sunshine had urged her to explore. Armed with a hotel packed lunch (she was getting used to the high life, before this it wouldn’t have occurred to her to ask for one to be made up) she’d left at ten and then spent a thoroughly enjoyable day, walking round the lake, exploring the town, stopping whenever she felt like it, for the tiny potent cups of espresso which she’d developed an addiction to. The caffeine hit had made her a bit buzzy, and she’d almost given in and phoned Cam to tell him where she was. Luckily she thought better of it.
Today the weather forecast had predicted a storm, so with a newly bought swimming costume, she booked herself in for a day at the hotel’s Spa. It was daft but she felt a little bit nervous. She’d never been to one before and the one in the hotel promised all sorts of treats. She’d booked the day’s beauty package which although eye-wateringly expensive offered the best value and helped her justify the huge cost. It promised a long list of treatments which included a manicure, pedicure, eyebrow shape and a ton of other things she’d never heard of, but didn’t like to ask. This was probably the sort of thing Celeste and Siena did all the time.
Thank heavens she had gone for the most expensive swimming costume, the Spa’s sophisticated stylish atmosphere put her in mind of a sleek black jaguar who at any moment could turn on her. It wouldn’t have tolerated a mere M&S costume that was for sure. Any moment now, an alarm could go off with a big neon arrow pointing at her lit up with the words, ‘Imposter’.
The pool looked like a mountain cave with its obsidian black tiles and underwater lights giving the water a haunting mystical quality. She had three-quarters of an hour to kill before she was booked in for the first treatment. Flipping on her back, listening to the lap of the water around her, she gazed up at the midnight blue ceiling covered in zodiac symbols picked out in gold leaf, tiny lights arranged in appropriate constellations. Where would Cam be now? She couldn’t help picture him here; sitting opposite on a table on the magical roof terrace upstairs, walking around the lake, all that long hair windswept and unruly, curls lashing his face, lying beside her on the crisp white linen sheets of the king-size bed in her room. She screwed up her eyes. Stop. Thinking. About. Cam.
She swam a couple of lengths, putting her all into a speedy crawl relishing the ache of her shoulders. Even as she hauled herself, arms shaking with the effort, a vision of Cam in briefs at the poolside popped into her head. Where would he be now? Waiting for her at Maranello? With Ron? She’d texted Ron, to tell him that she expected to be there in two days’ time. Looking at the map, she thought that a day of driving would get her there, so she had another one here. And she didn’t have to stay in Riva Del Garda, she could go off in her car and do some exploring on some of those hair-raising roads.
And now it was time for her first treatment. Wrapping herself in the thick, rich towelling dressing gown, she headed to the Spa reception for her appointment.
Laurie batted her new eyelashes at herself in the mirror and grinned at the effect. No more mascara. She liked the idea of that. And her nails, scarlet red, a colour she normally would have shied away from. Her toes were painted the same colour but with a little row of diamante along the perimeter of the cuticle. Eyebrows shaped. Skin exfoliated, moisturised, buffed and polished.
She felt like … not a new woman, but an absolutely knackered one. Who knew lying around all day could be so exhausting? She’d been primped and pampered by a team of young Italian women who spoke in husky broken English and looked as if they went through this daily regimen before breakfast.
Her eyes strayed to the clock. Six thirty and she was all dressed up. In honour of her shiny new nails, she’d put on the red jersey dress, ignoring the pang that Cam wasn’t here to see it. It hugged her figure, the light silky material swishing around her legs as she walked.
Too early for dinner. Snatching up her bag and stuffing her Kindle into it, she decided to go down to the bar.
Who’d have thought she’d end up in a bar overlooking a fabulous lake in brilliant sunshine with a Spritzer in hand and a book in the other? On her own!
She chose and ate her meal, occasionally glancing at her book but more often people-watching. Even after the meal, a Spaghetti Vongole with tiny juicy clams and a strawberry sorbet, she didn’t hurry from the table. She ordered a second white wine and took her time sipping it slowly and gazing out over the view. The exorbitant room rate was worth every euro just to sit and enjoy this view.
Should she stay another day? There was plenty to do. She could go on a boat trip or take a hiking trip to see the Alpine flowers. Tomorrow the weather forecast was much better and she’d take a walk up to the Venetian fortress, The Bastion, just above the town.
She was in no hurry to go anywhere just now. Uncle Miles would have approved.
Entering the hotel lobby, in search of a cold beer at the bar, he heard the English voice speaking loud and slow emphasizing consonants. ‘An. English girl. Driving. A Ferrari.’ He signalled driving with his hands.
Cam shook his head. Arse. Didn’t he realise Ferrari was an Italian word? Even if Cam hadn’t recognised him from the funeral, he’d have known who he was. Had Laurie contacted him? He sidled closer to try and listen in to the conversation.
‘Are. You. Sure. She’s. Not. He-re.’ His voice increased in volume. ‘Laurie. Browne. Can you check again?’
Cam strained to hear, his throat tightening. The pang in his stomach was probably hunger reminding him he ought to eat but he needed to hear Laurie was OK first.
The receptionist replied in flawless English and the definite bite made Cam smile for the first time in twenty-four hours.
‘Sir, the lady is definitely not here. I have already checked as another gentleman was asking for her as well. She has not checked in here and furthermore, she hasn’t reserved a room.’
Cam ducked his head, hoping she wouldn’t give him away. He didn’t want to have to confess to Robert that Laurie had gone AWOL. Not when he should have been looking after her. Looking after her instead of getting into her pants and messing with her life.
Robert’s shoulders slumped, reminding Cam of a sulky teenager, making him feel doubly guilty.
‘Great. So what am I supposed to do? She’s supposed to be here.’
The Italian girl’s face was impassive. ‘Did you want to book a room, sir?’
‘What? Me?’ Robert sounded annoyed. ‘No, the room’s for my girl-fr— fiancée.’
‘So you wish to reserve a room for her.’
‘Yes.’
‘So when will she be arriving and do you want a single room or a double.’
‘I don’t know when she’s arriving.’ Cam winced at Robert’s sarcastic tone. ‘But I can book for her now and I’ll stay in it ’til she arrives.
’
Cam almost laughed out loud.
‘Sir we can’t do that. If you are going to check in it will have to be in your name and we will need your passport and credit card details.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ snapped Robert, the tips of his ears turning red. ‘What if I’d made the reservation over the telephone in my fiancée’s name? The room would be booked in her name then, wouldn’t it?’
‘We would still need your card details.’
Robert shook his head. ‘I’m not handing that over.’
‘I’m sorry sir, but its policy for us to take your credit card details. We don’t charge anything on it until you check out.’
‘I don’t believe it. The room is for my girlfriend, that’s why I’m here. It’s not down to me to incur expenses on her behalf.’
Cam clenched his jaw. The dickhead. He felt his hands fist fighting the temptation to deck Robert. Surely Laurie didn’t put up with this crap?
The receptionist wasn’t taking any. Her mouth firmed. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, sounding about as unapologetic as it got, ‘That’s policy. I can get the manager for you if you’d like to discuss it further. Otherwise I can direct you to another hotel.’
Robert snorted rudely. Cam shook his head in embarrassment to be the same nationality. The idiot sounded like a horse.
He heard the slap of plastic on the wooden desk as Robert begrudgingly pulled something from his wallet. ‘So how much is the cheapest room you have?’
‘400 Euros per night for a double.’
‘400 Euros! You’re joking, right?’
The girl stared gravely at Robert, not budging an inch.
Sulkily he pushed his card over to hers, muttering. ‘Daylight bloody robbery.’
Which Cam thought was a bit a rich, considering the tight git had no intention of paying for the room. For a moment he hoped Laurie didn’t turn up.
He shook his head in disbelief and leaving Robert still muttering, he strode over to the bar and ordered a Peroni.