The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  Anastasia put on her apron at once. She tied her hair into a ponytail and sat down, toying with her phone. Carina lingered outside with hers, speaking to her assistant, while Gracie took the stool beside her granddaughter. Everyone slowly took their places and Gracie saw that Rex chose the stool beside her. She gave him a small smile. ‘Well, isn’t this fun?’ he said. ‘I mean, these women are a pair of characters, don’t you think?’

  Gracie looked at Ilaria who was talking to a short, rotund old lady in a black dress who was undoubtedly her mother, Mamma Bernadetta. Her black stockings had gathered in rings at her thick ankles and she was wearing a pair of old leather lace-up shoes. With her grey hair pulled back into a bun she might have looked severe had it not been for her eyes, which were small, chestnut brown and twinkling with humour. ‘They’re the best examples of Italian women,’ Gracie answered. ‘They’re as warm as sun-ripened olives.’

  Rex laughed and looked at her curiously, as if he had only just noticed her. ‘You’re right,’ he said, nodding enthusiastically. ‘They really are as warm as sun-ripened olives.’

  ‘Good morning, class,’ said Ilaria, silencing the conversations in the room. As she began to speak Carina crept in and took the free stool at the end of the row, beside Lauren. ‘I would like to introduce you to my mother, Mamma Bernadetta.’ The old lady nodded but she didn’t smile. Gracie sensed her shyness at once. Mamma Bernadetta turned to her daughter and her face softened. Ilaria continued. ‘My mother claims not to speak English,’ she informed them. ‘But it is amazing how she understands when I say something that she does not like. For example, mic-rowave . . .’ At that moment Mamma Bernadetta’s face came alive and she slapped her right hand on her forearm and raised her left in a gesture of fury. She muttered something in Italian that no one understood except Gracie, who began to laugh. Mamma Bernadetta caught her eye and the tiniest, almost imperceptible smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. ‘So, Mamma cooks while I tell you what she is doing and you write down everything you want to remember. These are her recipes. You will not find them in cookery books. They are full of her little secrets because she has been cooking since she was a small girl. She has never measured any of the ingredients, so we have had to work out the amounts for your notes by looking at her hands. Mamma Bernadetta measures everything by feel, but you cannot take her hands home with you.’ Everyone laughed. Ilaria’s humour and ebullience were infectious. ‘We are going to cook lunch every day. A starter, a main course and a dessert and then you are going to enjoy the feast. We do not restrain ourselves when it comes to food or wine. Life must be enjoyed. People who do not enjoy food do not enjoy life.’ Carina did not agree with that last statement and resolved to pick at her food and push it around her plate. She did not want to return to London as round as Mamma Bernadetta and Ilaria.

  And so the lesson began. As Mamma Bernadetta made the tomato and basil sauce, Ilaria entertained them with a running commentary. ‘Tomato in oil sounds like a wedding, a happy sound,’ she said exuberantly. ‘Put ripe cherry tomatoes in to sweeten, but don’t bother them by stirring. Leave them to get to know each other. They are honeymooning.’ She grinned broadly as her guests laughed at her jokes. Gracie wrote notes. Carina listened and Anastasia doodled. Ilaria reminded them that everything they would eat here at the Castello came from the gardens. ‘Even the wine,’ she said with a grin, winking at Rex. ‘We make our own wine and it is delicious. During the break take a good look around the gardens and enjoy yourselves. This is more than a cookery school. This is a school of the soul. The beauty here will enrich it, if you let it.’ Anastasia lifted her eyes off her doodles and saw that Ilaria was staring directly at her.

  In the half-hour break Carina took the opportunity to sit in the shade with a cup of coffee and make some calls. Anastasia found herself exploring the castle grounds with her grandmother. She didn’t really know her grandmother but the fact that Gracie had chosen to come to this magnificent place raised her in Anastasia’s estimation. The castle was romantic, the weather glorious and Alex provided entertainment and the possibility of a flirtation. What was there not to like? ‘Let’s go and find the animals,’ Gracie suggested and Anastasia agreed with enthusiasm.

  ‘I’d like to see the pigs,’ she said. ‘I can post some photos on Facebook.’ Gracie didn’t know what that meant so she made no comment. They walked down a narrow path that meandered through the wild grasses until they reached the vegetable garden. Olive trees shimmered in the breeze, their grey leaves rustling gently. Rosemary, thyme and sage gave off a splendid aroma as they grew warm in the sun and neat rows of lettuces, radishes and other vegetables were planted in tidy plots. Butterflies fluttered about the lavender and fat bees bumbled from flower to flower, drunk on beauty too, Gracie thought happily. At last they came upon the animals. There were chickens, geese and an enormous turkey. When Anastasia saw the pigs she clapped her hands with excitement. ‘Look, Granny. Aren’t they cool!’ Without a care, she climbed into the pen and began stroking them. They were very friendly pigs, Gracie mused, considering they would eventually land on a plate. Gracie rested her arms on the fence and watched her granddaughter who had suddenly transformed from a sulky teenager into a joyful young woman. ‘I’m going to call this one Gus,’ Anastasia announced, as Gus grunted in agreement. ‘And this little piglet is Snorter. This one will be Captain Pugsy, because he’s very big and important-looking. Now, now, Snorter, my flip-flops are not for lunch!’ She was playing so contentedly she didn’t notice the young man, perhaps a brother of Carlo, Gracie thought, who was clearing out the rabbit hutches a little way off and watching her furtively. Gracie noticed him. He was as handsome as a movie star.

  ‘Your granddaughter has beaten me to the pigs,’ said a voice beside Gracie. She turned to see Alex standing next to her, dwarfing her with his lofty height. Anastasia looked up from the pigs and grinned. ‘I’m glad they’re not eating you,’ he said.

  ‘They’re adorable! Come and stroke them. They’re so friendly.’ Alex did not wait for further encouragement. He jumped over the gate with the ease of a natural athlete and Anastasia began to introduce him to the pigs, which were now her pigs. Gracie wondered whether she should leave the young people to their fun. They wouldn’t want her watching them, she knew. She made to walk away but Anastasia started talking to her.

  ‘Granny, what do you think Mum would say if I decided to buy a piglet?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think she’d object to the piglet, but when it grew into a pig it might be less welcome,’ said Gracie, edging away.

  ‘I wish I lived in the countryside, then I could have one.’

  ‘How about a rabbit?’ Alex suggested, wandering towards the hutches.

  ‘Come on, Granny. Come and see the rabbits.’ Gracie was flattered that Anastasia should want her company and walked round the pig pen to where the Italian was working among the hutches. The rabbits were free to hop about an enclosure and it was into this patch of grass that Alex and Anastasia now entered. They crouched down and began to play with them. The surly Italian watched from a distance, but Anastasia didn’t notice him.

  Anastasia warmed to Alex. She found that, with the animals to give her something to talk about, her shyness evaporated. She was keen for her grandmother to remain so that she wasn’t left alone with him, however. That would have been awkward. But with Gracie there she felt confident.

  ‘I must say, I didn’t expect to find someone my age here. I thought they’d all be old, like Mom,’ said Alex with a grin.

  ‘Or like Granny,’ Anastasia replied, lowering her voice.

  ‘I filled in for Mom’s friend. How did you get here?’

  ‘Because Mum didn’t want to let Granny come on her own. Mum couldn’t very well ditch me. Though, if she’d had the chance she would have. She’s a workaholic. I’m an only child – and an inconvenience,’ she added, enjoying the sympathetic look that he offered readily. ‘I’m usually ditched in the holidays because Mum can’t get away from
the office. Or Dad steps in. I’m not an inconvenience to him.’

  ‘Then it’s good that you’re spending some time here with your Mom,’ said Alex.

  Anastasia looked horrified. ‘If you think we’re going to bond over cookery lessons, think again.’

  ‘You may be pleasantly surprised. Places like this, I mean, magical places, have a funny way of directing your focus onto the things that are really important.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Friends, family . . .’ He smiled playfully. ‘Food!’

  ‘My mother doesn’t like food.’

  ‘Then she’s missing one of life’s greatest pleasures!’

  ‘I’m not,’ Anastasia replied with a grin.

  ‘Me neither,’ he agreed.

  Gracie was surprised when Rex began conversing with her again. He had discovered a medieval round tower at the back of the castle, and was very excited about it. It stood within the castle walls, on a small hill. Had it not been for the giant cedar tree behind it, it would have had the most spectacular views of the valley. ‘I took the liberty of going inside,’ he told her, lowering his voice. ‘I wasn’t sure I was allowed in, but as there was no one around to stop me, I snuck inside like a thief. It’s an artist’s studio. I didn’t know the count was a painter, and quite a good one too.’

  Gracie couldn’t tell him how she knew the tower. How she knew every inch of it. She couldn’t tell him how fast her heart was racing now at the very mention of it. So, she just smiled enigmatically which encouraged him to continue. ‘I’m going to explore the place after lunch,’ he told her, giving her a wink, drawing her into his confidence. ‘After all, we’ve been encouraged to treat the place like home, right?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Gracie. She longed to wander round too, but she wasn’t sure she wanted company when she summoned the courage to do it. Italy was having a strange effect on her, in spite of her years she didn’t feel old at all. Regardless of how she looked on the outside, inside, the girl she had once been was beginning to awaken.

  At last it was lunchtime. Anastasia was so hungry she was feeling a little faint. She sat next to Alex with Gracie on her other side. Her mother sat opposite, next to Lauren. The two had clearly bonded over their eating habits, Anastasia thought. Why they avoided the most delicious foods, she couldn’t imagine, especially as Wendy, Tiff, Brigitte and Madeleine were all eating bread with olive oil and lots of it. But then something miraculous happened. Ilaria noticed that Carina had not put any pasta onto her plate. ‘At the Castello we always start with pasta,’ she had told them and she clearly wasn’t going to stand for anyone not eating it. She stood behind Carina and leaned over her shoulder. ‘Why you don’t eat the spaghetti?’ she asked quietly, but the whole table heard and the conversations stopped.

  ‘I’m not good with carbs,’ Carina replied with a blush.

  ‘Nonsense. Everyone is good with carbs. Avoiding a whole food group is like living half a life. Living half a life is like being half a person. And being half a person means that I could eat you and no one would notice.’ Laugher filled the awkward silence and Carina felt a little foolish. ‘We are in Italy. The land of plenty. Don’t hold back. Let yourself go. Savour the flavours. Let them transform you. Let them take you to paradise. Try a little, at least, for Mamma Bernadetta.’

  With every eye upon her Carina was in no position to refuse. Besides, Ilaria had made a pretty persuasive argument. It did seem trivial to be in this magnificent place, learning how to cook the most delicious food, yet not eating it. Gingerly, Carina wound a little onto her fork. The smell of garlic reached her nose and made her mouth water even before the sauce passed her lips. Then, when it did, an explosion of flavour burst onto her tongue, flooding her senses with an almost indecent feeling of bliss. She let the flood of pleasure wash over her. It careered through her body, awaking senses dulled by monotonous, tasteless food and years of denial, and the strangest thing of all was that it made her want to laugh.

  ‘Delicious, no?’ said Ilaria, watching Carina’s cheeks flush now with delight. ‘There is nothing bad about pasta. You see, your body is coming alive with the glorious taste. God gave Italy the most beautiful climate, the most succulent food, the world’s best art and architecture and a people who are warm and generous like the sun. So, enjoy His bounty, Carina.’ She swept her twinkling eyes over the amused faces of the other guests. ‘We won’t talk about the dishonest politicians. God did not give Italy those. We gave them to Italy and what a mess we made. But eat, enjoy, and taste a little wine. You can then sleep in the sun afterwards. That is good for your body too.’

  ‘Oh, Lauren, you have to try this!’ Carina whispered as Lauren reluctantly dipped her fork into the spaghetti. ‘I’m going to grow fat out here, I can see it,’ she added. Then she laughed – a laugh that spouted from somewhere deep inside her and took her as much by surprise as it did Gracie and Anastasia, who looked at each other in bewilderment. ‘But I don’t think I’m going to care!’

  Lauren put her fork into her mouth and experienced the same explosion of pleasure that Carina had. She closed her eyes and moaned, as if she, too, had been secretly longing for someone to bully her into ending the years of self-denial.

  Ilaria smiled with satisfaction. It was always a joy to see the first falling away of old skin as her pupils began their gradual and unavoidable metamorphosis, which was Castello Montefosco’s most precious gift.

  After lunch Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte decided to lie in the sun on the top terrace. They changed into the tiniest bikinis, smothered their bodies in suntan oil and gossiped and smoked until their eyes grew heavy and the alcohol lured them into a pleasant doze. Rex invited Gracie to join him for a wander around the castle grounds, which she felt unable to refuse. Lauren and Madeleine chose a couple of chairs on one of the lower terraces and chatted over cups of coffee, while Alex and Anastasia went in search of the swimming pool.

  Carina switched off her telephone. Eating a whole plate of pasta had resulted in a strange kind of domino effect which now extended to her telephone. She didn’t just switch it off, she left it in her bedroom. Never had she been without it by choice. The few times it had been mislaid or broken had caused her the most monumental panic, but now, albeit still a challenge, it did not affect her in the way she had expected. It gave her a pleasing sense of freedom. A mischievous kind of satisfaction. She hurried out of her room as quickly as she could before she changed her mind.

  Down the path she went, but not towards the vegetable garden. This particular path led in the direction of olive groves and vines, and she was all alone. Blissfully alone. Alone as she hadn’t been in such a long time. Without her telephone to hijack her attention she was able to appreciate her surroundings. It was as if she was seeing the splendour of the countryside for the very first time. She breathed in the sugar-scented air, listened to the chirping of crickets and the twittering of birds, and felt the warm sunshine on her face. Her spirits soared and her heart melted like ice cream in the heat and spread into every corner of her chest. She felt happy. So happy that she had to sit on the grassy slope and savour it so that this wonderful feeling might last a little longer. In that moment of ecstasy her mind wandered into fantasy. She imagined she had left her frenetic London life behind and lived here among umbrella pines and olive groves. She imagined a simple life where the days were long and time was only evident in the slow movement of the sun as it made its way nonchalantly across the sky. Her happiness gave her a sudden sense of perspective, like cloud that opens briefly to give a glimpse of blue sky, and she wondered why she had spent so many years rushing around, ignoring the important things. She’d become so focused on her work, her clients, her strategies and her networking that she’d lost sight of Rufus and Anastasia who were far more important. She had lost sight of her mother too. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but it had and she felt ashamed. Gazing out over the soft Tuscan countryside she was made aware of a hardness inside her. She didn’t want to be like this. Sh
e didn’t want to be a hard person who was always running around being busy and missing the simple pleasures of life like spaghetti bolognese.

  Sitting there on the hillside Carina made a pact with herself. It would start right here, right now. She would email the office and inform them that she wasn’t to be disturbed until she returned. She would switch off her phone. Right off. The idea gave her a shiver of wicked excitement, as if she were a schoolgirl again, flouting the rules. But she was the boss and the rules had been created by her. She could do whatever she wanted. She inhaled deeply and felt the tightness in her shoulders begin to relax. She noticed a couple of old men on horseback plodding slowly along a distant track and their unhurried pace made her sigh with longing. London seemed very far away.

  Rex had invited Gracie to join him in such a polite and gallant way that she felt it would be rude to refuse. Besides, she was flattered. She wasn’t used to strangers noticing her, least of all taking trouble with her. So she set off with him to explore the castle grounds, drawn by the irresistible pull of nostalgia.

  On the western side a wide stretch of terracing ran the entire length of the castle. On the first terrace a long table was placed beneath a canopy of trellising woven with vines where baby grapes were beginning to bud. Gracie remembered that table crowded with people. She remembered the spread of prosciutto and pecorino cheese. She remembered the wine, the laughter and how she tried to follow the conversations in Italian. She shook her head to dispel the memories and followed Rex to the second terrace which faced a low, crenellated wall in a semicircular shape. Here the trio of Manchester ladies were now quietly enjoying a siesta on sun loungers. Gracie put her hand on her chest and continued up the wide steps which ascended behind the dozing women. To the right was a chapel, to the left a side door into the castle. Gracie knew that this led into a library. She could feel the cool darkness of that room as if she were standing in it. But Rex was not so interested in the inside of the castle. He climbed the steps and followed the terracing round to the back. There, positioned on the rise of ground, was the medieval tower.