From Italy With Love

by Jules Wake

  She sighed. ‘And he’s given it to me. It’s not just the car. My eyes have been opened during this trip. There’s so much I could do. Sell the house. Go to Uni. Try to get a job with something to do with wine.’

  ‘That sounds exciting. Miles said you had an amazing palate.’

  ‘Probably because he brought me up on Chateauneuf du Pape. It’s spoilt me for anything else.’ Something that had been idling at the back of her mind popped into the forefront, unleashing a stream of conscious thought ,which made her blurt out, ‘The Comte has invited me back to spend some time with him, learning more about how the wine is made.’

  Ron raised an eyebrow and took his time before he opened his mouth to comment on her sudden random statement, as if he’d pondered the possibilities.

  ‘Will you go?’

  Laurie paused. At the time the Comte made the offer, she hadn’t even considered it. ‘Yes, I think I probably will.’

  It was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass by.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s something else I need to tell you. You probably don’t need to worry about selling your house.’

  The length of his pause made her suspicious. What did he mean? She glanced over at him.

  ‘Miles has left you the remainder of his estate.’

  The engine roared in protest as she mismanaged a gear change and dropped from fourth to second.

  Chapter 29

  Cam shoved his things into the canvas bag. By the time he’d cadged a lift back to the hotel, Laurie and Ron had departed for the airport and he was in time to see the car being boxed up to be freighted back to England.

  He tormented himself by standing and watching the Ferrari being loaded into the container, revisiting images of Laurie at the wheel, her hair mussed by the wind, her face alight with joy; that moment he spotted the car in Bormio and realised she’d made it and the overwhelming relief when she’d turned up here. The clang of the doors of the container interrupted his reverie, and he looked up to see them close tight, shutting the car into the dark.

  For the first time in his life, he had no idea of what he was going to do next. There were jobs out there, at least three messages on his phone offering employment, but he didn’t fancy any of them. He had five hundred grand burning a hole in his pocket. He could go anywhere, do anything and he had no desire to do a darn thing.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and found an unfamiliar edge. He pulled out the worn postcard, picked up a lifetime ago when Laurie had abandoned him. Laurie had chosen it in the tabac next to the hotel, having disdained the hotel selection, which she’d deemed too cheesy. How a postcard was anything but cheesy he didn’t know. He tapped the postcard thoughtfully against his cheek and then strode into the hotel with renewed purpose. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

  They’d arrived back to Heathrow’s grey skies a week ago to be picked up by a driver thankfully organised by Ron. Laurie wouldn’t have been able to cope with public transport. The events of those few weeks had caught up with her during the flight home and by the time they got into the taxi for the hour and a half drive, she’d a killer headache befitting of the emotionally induced hangover. All she’d wanted to do was get home, although the thought was ruined by the knowledge that once at home, she’d have to face Robert again.

  When the car had pulled up outside her terraced home, Laurie looked at it anew. The house looked tired, as if old people lived there instead of two young people who should be at the peak of their lives. She’d made no move to get out.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ asked Ron as they sat in the back of the car.

  She nodded. ‘Just a bit reluctant to go in. I … don’t know what Robert will do. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go. I feel bad kicking him out … especially …’ she thought of Merryview. At least she had somewhere else to go, although it wasn’t home … yet.

  ‘I can arrange it, if you like.’ She wondered for a moment if Ron had read her mind. It had been so tempting. Just to run away. Horribly appealing. Let Robert come, take his things away. Leave in his own time. She wouldn’t have to face him again. It seemed so cowardly; she’d shared her life with him for the last two years and now she just wanted him gone.

  Instead she’d said, even though every nerve screamed against it, ‘No, I’ll stay here. I need to sort things out with Robert.’

  ‘There will be a lot of paperwork relating to Miles’ will. There’s a lot going through probate at the moment and you need to sign things. Why don’t you give my secretary a ring and arrange an appointment for next week? But if you need anything in the meantime, you will call me, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Promise?’ Ron gave her a stern look.

  ‘I will, honest. Thank you.’ She leaned over and kissed his papery cheek. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ll see you next week.’

  She unlocked the front door, waved Ron off. The chill in the air struck her. Coming home had been a big mistake. She stood rooted by the door, the cold of the metal letter box at her hip. The dark hallway with its dated lino flooring seemed a million times smaller and pokier than she remembered. The pictures lining the walls were coated in dust and when she looked at them, not one held any significance. They were just pictures.

  In the lounge the table of pictures looked accusingly at her. None of them had been updated in years. The one of her dad had bleached with age and sunlight. The weak light did the drab room no favours. Everything about it looked ordinary. She thought of the Comte’s cosy salon, how Marie had filled it with cushions and knick-knacks. Her sewing basket, china thimbles and antique scissors. Nothing in this room gave any clues about the inhabitants of the house. It was as if the house had been encapsulated when her dad died and she’d done nothing with it ever since. It mirrored her lack of emotional development in recent years. She surveyed the room grimly. Well that was all about to change. She’d learn to live here before she did anything about Merryview. Make this home first.

  In two days, she managed to make a huge dent in her savings, although with Miles’ money she need never worry again. Thanks to Ikea, her lounge now looked more contemporary, with new furniture, a lick of paint as well as lots of brightly coloured cushions and throws, pretty lamps and framed postcards everywhere. Lugging that little lot back from Bletchley on the bus had been quite a challenge but she was delighted with the results. Hanging the brightly coloured postcards in groups gave her a huge sense of satisfaction, although something stirred at the back of her mind.

  Even though Merryview would be hers, moving in straight away didn’t feel right, even to avoid Robert. It would have been swapping one shelter for another … she needed to stay here and make it her home.

  And a home for Siena should she ever want one. With freshly painted pale grey walls, white bedding and grey and silver cushions, Laurie was rather pleased with how her sister’s room had turned out. Siena had shown her delight with a flurry of effusive texts and booked a flight to visit for a weekend at the end of August.

  Robert turned up on Saturday. Even though she’d been expecting him, her heart banged uncomfortably against her ribs when the knock on the door came.

  ‘Hello Robert.’

  ‘Laurie.’

  ‘I’ve got all your things ready.’ She’d packed his clothes neatly into suitcases and boxed up all the CDs and DVDs. It seemed easier to give them all to him, rather than risk him picking a fight over ownership. A clean break was all she wanted.

  Robert smiled grimly. ‘You think it’s that easy just to chuck me out.’

  He didn’t scare her, she told herself. ‘It’s my house.’

  ‘Yes but we’ve been living here together as common law partners.’

  ‘That’s just a myth, it doesn’t exist in law.’

  ‘Sure about that, are you? Not what my solicitor is saying.’

  She smiled. He had just given himself away. Living with someone gave you a certain insight. Robert wouldn’t consult a solicitor in a million years. If he
’d just come in and said he hadn’t got anywhere to go or would she give him time to find somewhere else, she might have suggested he stay in the spare room.

  ‘Robert you don’t have a leg to stand on. We shared the bills but you didn’t make any other contribution.’

  ‘I think I deserve some kind of compensation. In lieu of notice period. Landlords can’t get rid of tenants just like that.’

  ‘Is that all it comes down to? Money? We lived together. You wanted to get married.’

  ‘Well you seem to have money to burn if you turn down half a mill.’ An agonised expression contorted his face. ‘How could you?’ he moaned. ‘It’s criminal. You should contest the will. Your uncle was barking. That car is worth a fortune.’

  He would never understand. And she didn’t think she could ever explain it to him.

  ‘I really am sorry Robert. It was just the right thing to do and … I know what Miles wanted me to do.’

  ‘He’s dead; he’s not going to care.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not.’

  Puzzlement filled Robert’s face. ‘You’ve changed. My mother was right. You didn’t know that, did you? She didn’t want us to get married. Kept warning me against it.’

  No wonder he’d been so keen for a quickie ceremony in the registry office and only after Miles had died.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake. You’ll regret it.’

  He didn’t have the grace to look sad about it. She might as well have just taken away his favourite toy.

  ‘Robert I’m sorry. But it really is over. I’ve packed all your things but if there’s anything I’ve forgotten let me know.’ She was trying to be nice but it was hard. ‘I’ll leave you to it, can you leave the keys?’

  Turning her back on him felt risky, she could almost feel his pent up anger about to burst out but she didn’t want to stand over him as he collected everything up. She headed into the kitchen and stood looking out of the window at the neat garden. It hadn’t all been bad and she was as much to blame for accepting the status quo.

  Robert came into the kitchen a little while later and stood awkwardly.

  ‘That’s that then. Hope you’re proud of yourself.’

  ‘Of course I’m not proud that it’s ending like this,’ she rounded on him. ‘I feel sad and disappointed.’

  ‘Really?’ He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘You could still stop it. Sell the car. We could buy a house. Start a family. We wouldn’t have to work. You could do whatever you wanted. Not look for another crappy job like the one at the library. We were good together, Laurie. We can be again. I can forgive you for having an affair. Loads of people do. I can see that you were dazzled by him.’

  She shook her head, grateful that he didn’t know about the rest of Miles’ inheritance. He’d never leave. He still didn’t get it. ‘I can’t go back.’

  ‘You mean you won’t.’ He slammed his fist against the door making her jump.

  It would have been easy to say sorry again but she’d done enough of that.

  ‘No, I won’t.’ She turned her back on him and looked out the window again, so that he wouldn’t see the tears that began to spill down her cheeks. Being cruel didn’t come naturally but with Robert there could be no half measure.

  She heard the door slam and then began to cry in earnest.

  Decorating the lounge and Siena’s room had started a small storm and now she wanted to make this house her home. Confirmation of her redundancy had come while she was away, so she was officially finished at the library and with time to fill, she started making various enquiries about wine courses and jobs in the industry, in between planning the redecoration of the rest of the house.

  Ron called sooner than she expected, although his message wasn’t very encouraging. ‘Laurie, we have a problem. Please can you come and see me as soon as possible.’ His urgent tone had her worried and it didn’t help that when she called him back, his secretary created a slot for her that afternoon and she sounded equally anxious. What could have rattled them so much?

  The large map of Europe on the wall was now surrounded by familiar looking postcards. She crossed to take a closer look, smiling as she did, feeling rather proud. There was her route. The postcard she’d bought on the Champs Elysées for an extortionate amount, the pretty scene of Honfleur right at the start of the journey, the perilous hair-pins of Bormio, a pretty mountain village on the N35 and one of the Comte’s postcards from his winery. She tracked the highlighted route, taking a quick dive into the spill of memories. She could almost feel the warmth of the sun, hear the roar of the Ferrari and smell Cam’s verbena aftershave.

  Her throat closed and she swallowed, determined to ignore the twinge of grief that shot through her. It took too much effort to fight the memories and she let herself slip back, muscular thighs clad in tatty jeans alongside her in the car, the mischievous twinkle in the sea green eyes and the mobile mouth so quick to smile. She almost bowed under with the physical ache. She missed him.

  Lemon verbena still teased the air and she closed her eyes, wishing the scent wasn’t so evocative. She could almost imagine he was here.

  Staring hard at the map she tried to steady herself. She couldn’t fall apart in front of Ron. She traced the route again. There were positives. Lots of positives, she had to hang on to those. Her mouth twisted in rueful amusement. How could she ever forget Cam’s face when she’d driven off and left him in …?

  The breath caught in her throat. Holy shit! In her mind’s eye she could see his amused disbelief that she wouldn’t leave him and on the table … the postcard she was meant to post. The pin on the map with its string led to a blank patch on the wall.

  Shit, shit, shit. Ron had been quite explicit. To prove she’d completed the journey she had to send a postcard from every designated point.

  Heaving air into her lungs suddenly seemed impossible and then it was too much. Her ribcage worked frantically and her breathing pattern tied itself in knots. Panic started to rise and she blinked hard.

  No wonder Ron wanted to see her.

  Damn. After everything she’d forfeited the car. And lost Cam – not that having him was ever likely. Maybe if she had sold him the car, they might have stayed friends.

  ‘Laurie,’ Ron’s worried face appeared from his office. ‘Glad you could come. Sorry to have alarmed you but I think we might be all right.’

  ‘Really?’ She followed him into his office. The smell of lemon verbena was stronger here. Her skin prickled and she looked round, half hoping that Cam might appear from behind the door.

  She sank into the chair leaden with the weight of defeat, wishing she could turn the clock back. She would have let Cam have the car. He deserved it far more than she did. He’d had life-long love of the Ferrari. She’d just had a week.

  Ah well it was all about to be taken away.

  ‘Robert has been stirring up trouble. But,’ Ron looked slightly less grave, ‘there might be a solution, although I’m not very happy about it.’

  She sat up straighter. ‘Robert?’ Where did he come into things? He couldn’t possibly know about the missing postcard unless Cam had told him.

  The room swam for a moment and she closed her eyes trying to get some relief form the rush of thoughts filling her head. No, that just wasn’t possible. Cam might be pissed off that she didn’t put the car up for sale, but he wasn’t vindictive. She knew him well enough to know that. He might have slept with her to get the car but he’d never made any promises.

  ‘Robert has gone to the police.’ Ron shook his head in a dear-dear-dear fashion. ‘He really is a most unpleasant young man.’

  ‘Do the police need to be involved? I mean I guess I just hand the car back. Is it a criminal offence?’

  ‘Unfortunately the police do rather take a dim view of driving without a licence.’

  ‘What?’ Laurie couldn’t keep up.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but your erstwhile young friend has taken it upon himself to avail the police of the informa
tion that you were driving in Europe without a full licence.’

  She sagged with relief. ‘Not the car then?’

  ‘The car? Well if you get a driving ban you won’t be able to drive it. You could lose your licence for up to six months.’

  ‘I thought …’ she paused. No point lying now, Ron would notice eventually. ‘There’s a postcard missing.’

  Ron beamed. ‘I wasn’t worried about that, the vagaries of Italian post mean they’ve been arriving in a most peculiar order. The last one arrived today. But about this driving offence.’

  Laurie jumped to her feet, feeling as if she might burst. Fireworks erupted in her stomach, starburst of joy fizzing through her. ‘Can I see the postcard?’

  ‘What?’ The elderly solicitor looked at her over his glasses. ‘We do seem to be at cross purposes today.’

  ‘Please Ron,’ she bit her lip, fearful that she’d got her hopes up.

  All the time he rifled through his desk, she wanted to shout he loves me, he loves me not.

  At last he handed over the card, considerably the worse for wear, folded and creased as if it had been in a pocket for some time. She flipped it over. On the back in a flowing scrawl Cam’s writing simply said, ‘Enjoy the car, you deserve it. Love Cam x’

  She collapsed into the fabric tub chair clutching the card, her hands shaking. She lifted tear-filled eyes to Ron.

  ‘I need you to draw up some papers for me.’

  Chapter 30

  Even a week after getting home, following the journey back from Italy that had taken forever, he still felt shattered. His shoulder hadn’t recovered from the hell of driving a Fiat 500 over the Stelvio Pass not once but twice in a week. If he ever saw one of the wind-up cars again, it would be too soon.

  The conversation with Nick hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as the accusing look in Laurie’s eyes. Cam’s mind seemed to be stuck in some never-ending TV loop where he kept replaying various scenes of his time with Laurie. It didn’t seem possible to get through a day without an image of her smile, the toss of her honey ponytail or her hands on the steering wheel seeping into his head and leaving a residue of longing. How could those brief flashes cause such acute pain?