by Emily Hudson
‘Nothing with egg or seafood.’ She bellowed after me as I headed towards the door, slowly but surely the Carole King I knew was coming back to life.
It had not been half an hour when I returned with a Bourbon steak and caramelised onion sandwich, loaded with enough meat to put the bark back in the Rottweiler, apparently, it wasn’t needed.
‘What took you so long?’ A fully made up Carole opened the door, shocked at the transformation I held up her wrapped sub. ‘Let’s eat them at the office, I’ve wasted enough time today.’ I nodded, she’d obviously got an appointment and if her transformation was anything to go by, whoever was advising her they were going to be worth every penny.
We walked to the office in relative silence, Carole clearly preoccupied. Opening the door for her, she grasped my hand, ‘Thank you Lucy.’ I nodded, pursing my lips in silent acknowledgement of her gratitude, in her own way she had been there for me after Will. Work hadn’t solved any of my problems, but it had at least occupied me.
True to form, Carole’s game face resumed as she marched passed the workstations, voices dropped to a hush.
‘Tess, Georgia, you’ll have those things for me by the close of play.’ Jumping to attention the pair nodded. Following behind, I smiled; I had to take my hat off to her, she was one hell of a woman.
Shrugging ourselves out of our coats, we set to, demolishing our lunch.
‘You’re going to love this new project, it might be just what you need.’ She said as I was in midst of a mouthful but she continued before I could ask what she meant. ‘The initial event is not our usual but if we pull it off successfully, which I have no doubt you will, there are a number of training conferences and workshops up and down the country you’ll also be responsible for.’ Conferences were nothing new but I was intrigued, ‘What do you mean by not our usual?’ I questioned.
‘A birthday party.’
Seriously someone wants to hire our services to pull off a party was my initial thought. ‘And you didn’t suggest a party planner?’
Well I did, but Mr Hepworth was adamant that he wanted you to manage the account.’
Mr Hepworth? ‘Not a name I’m familiar with.’ I said aloud as I racked my brains. ‘Well you’ve obviously impressed him, he’s flying you out, business class to his private island off the coast of Sardinia, its the venue for the party. He’s requested you be there for a week to locally source the entertainment, catering and decorations. Then you will be flown back out, prior to the event itself.’
Sounds awesome, what’s the catch? ‘Please tell me it’s not a sweet sixteen.’ I couldn’t think of anything worse.
‘All other details will be made available on your arrival, he’s asked and paid handsomely for this to demand our immediate attention. The party is in June and he has requested you fly out on Wednesday. I’ll reassign the rest of your schedule.’
So, that’s it then, obviously, I would have little say in this matter. ‘The travel details are contained within this email I’m forwarding to you now, just need you to reply with a few API details a.s.a.p.’
‘You said you thought this would be good for me, what did you mean?’
‘Oh, honey, I know I’ve been a bitch lately but even I can see you need to get away from this place and where better than an Italian island with a rich man. Enjoy the sunshine.’
Having forwarded the relevant information and my projects transferred to my colleagues, it was real; the day after tomorrow I’d be off. Reading the details, I am to be flown to Sardinia and transferred by boat to the island. Having typed in Isola Mariana, the online map took me straight to the north-east coast of Sardinia, I could see an island that appeared to have a rocky outcrop on one side the other a small marina and sandy coves, it looked positively picturesque. The satellite image pixilated the buildings, it suggested there were a couple but it was hard to tell, most of the island was given over to greenery. Alarm bells started to ring in my head, who was this Mr Hepworth, he could be anyone, murderer, rapist, he wants me there for week, suddenly twitchy, I started my internet searches, coming up short, Mr Hepworth apparently closely guarded his privacy. There was only one thing for it…
‘Alicia Huntington.’ Was the prompt and somewhat abrupt answer I received.
‘Hey, talk sexy to me, I’ve missed you.’ I joked knowing she would recognise my voice.
‘Hey you.’ Her voice instantly softened. ‘Thank you for the beautiful welcome home, the champagne and flowers were so thoughtful but you didn’t need to.’
I didn’t need to? ‘My best friend just came home from honeymoon to the home she let me crash in for two weeks, it was the least I could do. Anyway, my reason for calling…’
‘Yes’ she interrupted, ‘I’m really sorry Luce, the mews has already been rented out, the lease was signed before the wedding, a couple will be moving in at the end of the week. You’re free to take up squatter’s rights anytime, you know that, right?’
Yep I did, I wouldn’t, I tried not to show my disappointment. ‘Oh, no worries, no, my reason for phoning is I’m off on secondment to Sardinia, some guy wants me to arrange a party for him; anyway I can’t find anything out about him on the internet and I’m just worried; he could be anyone. I was hoping you could sweet talk Ethan into doing some digging for me.’
‘Yeah, yeah, sure, give me the details but you know nobody advertises the fact they’re an axe murderer.’ I knew I was probably worrying about nothing, I mean I met with clients every-day, just not on their private islands thousands of miles away from home. ‘Look, even if nothing comes up can you just phone me each day to check I haven’t been carved up into little pieces and turned into fish food.’ After listening to Lucy convince me I was being melodramatic and promise to phone me later, I turned my attention to the weather forecast. Suitability pleased, it showed the mid to low twenties; right, time to start plotting my attire.
Chapter Eleven
Well I don’t mind admitting that it had been a harrowing few days. Watching Kitty slip away from us would forever be etched on my soul but the act of going through her belongings was heart wrenching. Livvy had returned to Paris for a few weeks in preparation for her permanent move back to the UK. I offered her Kitty’s place but she promised me her workplace were offering a great relocation package. I understood her reasons for declining, she probably wanted a trendy apartment somewhere; somewhere she wasn’t expecting to see Kitty’s mischievous face around every corner.
Alone and currently considering my future, aka unemployed, I started the distressing task of sorting through Kitty’s estate, freezing bank accounts and the like. Kitty was no less shrewd with all her financial affairs as she had been in all other aspects of her life. Her organisation of shares, ISAs and bank accounts made the task far less daunting. Never one to spend excessively, her frugal nature had amassed into a small fortune; which didn’t surprise me. What I didn’t expect to find were the notes; since finding out she was not long for the world she had taken the opportunity to write down what she didn’t have time to say. ‘Get this painting valued, possibly worth something.’ My favourite - ‘It might look hideous but I saw one just like it on the antiques roadshow, get it valued!’ It is amazing how much stuff we accumulate in a lifetime, even one that’s cut short. I’d started boxing up Kitty’s jewellery for Livvy when I remembered what she said about the safe. “My jewellery I’d like Livvy to have, all except one piece, you’ll find it in the safe.” The sole contents of the safe a box and yet another note.
The mere fact you are reading this means I’m now up here, looking down at you; believe me if I can I’m watching on with pride. I also take it that you laid me to rest with my Patrick. Patrick was the finest man I could have ever wished to know, you reminded me of him at times. Kind and steadfast if a little headstrong at times but that’s by the by. You asked me if I had been wooed? Yes! No big grand gestures but I was never in doubt, that there was only one man for me. So, when he asked me, what else I could say but yes. I want yo
u to find that kind of happiness, the reason that keeps a smile on your face. When the time comes, if you feel it appropriate, use the contents of this box. For the strength of love that this ring represents has grown with every passing day, even death can’t diminish it.
Think of me and smile,
Kitty.
The letter confirmed my suspicions, with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I took a moment before I opened the small antique leather box. Could I imagine the day I got down on one knee? Would Lucy be the one? Not knowing what to expect I opened it cautiously, another smaller piece of paper fell out to reveal an exquisite, timeless, diamond solitaire engagement ring. Picking up the sepia tinged receipt, it read; c.1930 1Ct Diamond and Platinum Solitaire. It was perfect, I gave a silent, thank you as I closed the box and wiped my eyes. Now all I had to do was carry out my plan, ‘wooing’ my woman.
Chapter Twelve
Double checking the travel arrangements; I freaked out for the nth time, who’d have thought it, me, Miss Unflappable. First it was cramming everything I needed into just the one case, then it was the fact I hadn’t noticed an airport or airline on the flight schedule, just the flight times. I knew I was being silly; Licia had confirmed it having got Ethan to check my mysterious new client out and although I hadn’t managed to talk to her, her message was clear.
No arrest warrants, clean licence, not on the sex offenders register, best credit rating I’ve seen. You’ll be fine, enjoy the island.
My tension levels continued to mount as I paced the floor of my hovel, waiting for the private hire to take me to who knows where. There was no doubt I was a little jumpy since Licia’s hen do; I hadn’t really appreciated until then how vulnerable I could be in certain situations. My fears went out the window as I peered up to see the sleekness of a Bentley slowly pull up outside. I was wrestling my case through my swollen front door as a suited chauffeur introduced himself.
‘Miss Crawford, I’m Rosen, may I take your case?’
By the time, I had scaled the treacherous steps to the pavement, my luggage had been safely deposited and Rosen was waiting by an open passenger door. Stowed away in the luxury of the Bentley, I relaxed back into the comfort of the leather. Settling back into a daydream, Rosen’s voice brought me back to the here and now.
‘Traffic is clear, we’ll be at the airport within the hour.’
I nodded, ‘Um, Rosen, which airport are we headed towards?’
His eyes briefly glanced back at me in the mirror. ‘Biggin Hill, Miss. Your charter will be ready and waiting for your arrival.’ Holy hell, this was a first, was I really going on a private jet?
I knew this world was out there, but I never thought I would be the one sampling it. There was no escaping the opulence as I boarded the plane. I tried to refrain from dropping my jaw as the co-pilot showed me the features prior to take off but, it is safe to say, as we started to taxi ready for our departure, I privately shared some OMG moments as I looked around at the luxury. The flight was over before I knew it, it had taken around two hours to reach our destination of Olbia in Sardinia.
Upon landing I was quickly and efficiently whisked through the airport by the concierge service and handed, personally, to another awaiting chauffeur. A man, obviously devilishly handsome in his day, he was dressed head to toe in black, his skin the colour of worn leather with greying hair; he introduced himself as ‘Franco or Frank if you prefer,’ he beamed, revealing his British accent as he took my case. Leading us out to a bright red Fiat 500 we were soon off and heading towards the coast. It wasn’t hard to warm to Frank; his friendly manner soon had my mind at rest; sensing I wasn’t headed off to impending danger or my imminent death, I relaxed.
Frank enthused about the island as he drove, sharing how he had ended up in Sardinia. A backpacking trip some twenty-five years ago, he had fallen in love and neither finished his travels nor returned to the UK. He went on to explain that he lived on the island too. For the most part, he tended his small holding and kept an eye on the big house but ‘whenever the family return, I make the preparations to ensure they have all they need; which reminds me, I didn’t have any information on your dietary requirements. Do you mind if we stop off at the market? We can pick up anything you fancy.’
The rows of stallholders was a feast for the senses, a bustling hive of activity, fish, cheese, honey, you name it and the fruit and vegetables, the colours so vibrant. It was obvious Frank was headed to a particular vendor as he made his way past numerous stalls. ‘Miss Crawford, may I introduce you to my daughter Sofia.’ Sofia had just finished handing some change back to her last customer.
‘Papy.’ Sofia stepped forward, ‘Miss Crawford.’ she said taking my hand warmly. ‘Lucy, please.’ I urged.
‘Welcome to Sardinia, this is your first time, No?’ I nodded.
‘Yes it is and this our first port of call.’ Sofia smiled but didn’t continue as she batted Frank away from the tomatoes he was picking at. Clutching a bag she placed a few in a bag.
‘Is there anything you particularly fancy?’ He asked. Without a word, Sofia had caught my eye, Asparagus. Mmmm, my favourite! Adding them to the bag, Frank delighted in telling me that it grew on the island wild and he’d happily show me where.
‘You’ll let me help you with lunch Frank?’ The man looked decidedly uncomfortable; had rumour of my inability to cook travelled so far? From the contents of the bag, I was hedging my bets on a salad, even I couldn’t mess that up!
‘No Mr…Hepworth would not like that.’ I coughed in disbelief, as too did Sofia. Unbelievable, who was this man? He’s requested me by name, had flown me in a private jet, arranged a driver and a hire car for me, allowed me to stay in his private residence on his very own island and now would apparently frown upon me lifting a finger.
‘Well, I won’t tell him if you don’t!’ I winked.
The corners of Frank’s mouth turned up, ‘I do believe, I like you already Lucy; enjoy your stay.’ Sofia said handing over the bags full of produce.
‘Ciao!’ Frank uttered before we strolled back to the car.
I was settling back enjoying the scenery when we pulled into a marina. This appeared to be the Super Yacht parking for the Mediterranean. Row after row of exclusive, state of the art vessels. It was a little comedown I have to admit, when Frank, helped me into the smallest craft in sight, albeit a beautiful slipper launch. Easing the launch away from our mooring, Franco glided us out of the marina. Heading north, we soon slipped around the headland. It didn’t take long for our destination to come into view. A large island lined with trees; as we drew closer I could see a defined path that weaved down from the property, to the jetty. Frank was brimming with pride, as he circled the island, showing off the sandy coves and expertly navigating the rockier outcrops until the jetty returned back into sight and he leapt out, tethering us to the mooring. Reaching out, clasping my hand, he helped me out of the boat, before leading me up the steep path. The blurred satellite images certainly didn’t do the island any justice, it was idyllic.
Climbing the winding rocky path was quite the task in this heat. Frank refused to let me lift a finger, leaving me to enjoy the contorted beauty of the juniper trees that lay either side of the path, interspersed with pretty oleander bushes. As we reached the top, the trees thinned revealing the first real sight of the Villa.
‘Sublime!’ I stopped, stunned.
‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ Frank added.
I took a step back, admiring everything in front of me. The facade of the villa was a mixture of rough pink and grey locally hewn stone with smooth white render that was brought to life with the bright contrast of the fuchsia pink of the bougainvillea trailing up the side of the walls. It was a stunning venue for a party, I’d call it ideal if it weren’t for the slight issue of logistics, noting that getting equipment here would take quite some effort.
Frank led the way, opening the wide front door; I’d assumed the property would be in a traditional style i
nside; it was anything but. The entrance hall made quite the impact, well the imposing staircase that swept down either side did. Looking up to the balustrade and balcony above, I imagining myself in the flowing dress descending it; Frank brought me out of my fairy tale as he placed my suitcase down. Leaving him with just the bags from the market, he led me straight through an archway. As we passed beneath the staircase, I scolded my daydreaming, who was I kidding anyway, I’d probably trip on the first step and break a leg or two. If I thought the entrance was impressive the next room was simply breath-taking. The kitchen was state of the art, everything gleamed but what set it apart was the wall of glass revealing the terrace, pool and gardens. Phenomenal! Somewhat ironic standing here, virtually homeless I couldn’t help but wonder how many more jobs I could take that involved staying in places like this? Could I travel round the world housesitting?
‘You must want to freshen up after your journey, why don’t I show you to your room and I’ll get started on lunch.’ Truth be told, Sardinia in May had taken me a little by surprise and after the walk up the hill, I did have a certain ‘glow’ as my mother would have called it. ‘When do you expect Mr Hepworth?’ I asked reminding myself this was business. It wasn’t like I was going to get carried away and put a bikini on and dive straight into the pool. No, that was just what I wanted to do.
‘His flight doesn’t get in until later, he asked you make yourself at home, he will be joining you for dinner.’ Picking up my suitcase he led me up the left side of the staircase; ‘Is there a one-way system?’ I jovially asked, sensing a degree of formality. His wry smile returned and with it a twinkle in his eye.
‘You are going to be a lot of fun Miss Lucy.’ smiling back.
‘Wouldn’t be any good at my job if I wasn’t.’ I retorted and it was true; well up until recently it was true. I’d always been the life and soul of the party. Still smiling, maybe I’m getting my mojo back?