The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘Yes, he was very moved. You see, like so many material things the value is not in the paint but in what the paint represents. To Gaetano it represented his childhood. A time when he was happy. Before his father died, before he was engulfed by unhappiness, before his life went so horribly wrong. The memories attached to the painting were what held value for him.’

  ‘He must have been so pleased with you.’

  ‘He was pleased with me,’ said Gracie and she knitted her fingers together and dropped her gaze into the black hole they made. ‘And yet, that painting was what would eventually ruin everything. Everything we had. Because of that painting I lost him.’

  Anastasia put her hand on her grandmother’s and gazed at her in distress. ‘How did you lose him?’

  Gracie sighed and pulled her hands away. ‘We should go and change for dinner.’

  ‘But I want to hear the rest of the story. It’s so sad!’

  ‘You know it has to end sadly, otherwise I would not have married your grandfather and had your mother.’

  ‘But I want to know how it ends.’

  ‘And you will. But we must leave it now. Look, they’re already down on the terrace, eating crostini! We don’t want to miss those delicious crostini!’

  Anastasia looked disappointed. ‘I’d rather sit here with you,’ she said.

  Gracie was touched. ‘And I with you,’ she replied truthfully. ‘We can come again tomorrow and I will tell you what happened next.’ Though that part of the story would be a painful one to tell.

  Carina was surprised when her mother and Anastasia appeared out of the darkness, having not even changed. ‘Where have you two been?’ she asked, elegant in a white dress and gold belt, her hair pinned in an up-do.

  ‘We’ve been watching the sunset,’ said Anastasia.

  ‘The sun went down ages ago!’ said Carina, feeling a little jealous that she hadn’t been included.

  ‘We got talking,’ Gracie explained. ‘Anastasia is very good, humouring her old grandmother.’

  ‘I’m not humouring you, Granny. I like listening to your stories.’ Carina frowned. She wondered what stories of her mother’s could be so fascinating to a seventeen-year-old. ‘Come on, Granny. What are you going to wear tonight? I think I’ll wear my bubble-gum-pink dress. Will you come and tell me what you think?’

  Carina watched the two of them disappear inside, leaving her feeling put out. It reminded her of school when the cool girls had ganged up and excluded her from their games. In this case, she only had herself to blame; after all, she hadn’t taken the trouble with either of them. She’d spent the last three days with Lauren and Madeleine and going for long walks on her own into the countryside. She tried to convince herself that she should be pleased that her daughter had taken her mother off her hands. This was Gracie’s week and Anastasia was making it special for her. Yet, she didn’t feel pleased. She felt ignored. There was something about Anastasia’s delight at having her grandmother to herself which annoyed Carina. It was almost wilful, as if the girl was engineering a bond just to make her feel bad. Didn’t Carina feel guilty enough about spending so much time in the office and not giving her daughter the attention she needed without Anastasia rubbing her nose in it? There was always the possibility that Anastasia genuinely enjoyed listening to her grandmother’s stories, but Carina doubted that. What on earth could she have to say to entertain a teenager? Descriptions of the dances held in the church hall in the 1960s? Carina did not imagine her mother had ever done anything remotely exciting.

  Yet without having to worry about her mother Carina was free to do as she pleased. She could sit in the sun and talk to Madeleine and Lauren, who were becoming firm friends. She could go out walking. She could, if she wanted to, do some work. But she didn’t want to. She was becoming detached from what was going on in London. She had thought it would be a terrible wrench to be away from the office and her clients and yet it wasn’t. It wasn’t a wrench at all. It was as if the Universe had conspired to lure her away just to show her what life was like without her mobile phone and constant communication with her personal assistant, and been very successful.

  As she joined the other guests on the terrace Madeleine appeared in a white silk blouse and trousers with shiny gold jewellery jangling on her wrists, ears and around her neck. ‘How was your walk?’ Carina asked.

  ‘Early evening is the best time to go,’ said Madeleine, whose cheeks were glowing from both sun and exercise. ‘I relish my daily stroll. It makes me feel so alive but at the same time exhausted!’ She went to the table and helped herself to a glass of wine and a crostini. ‘This revives me,’ she added, sipping the wine. ‘The end to a perfect day.’

  Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte were dressed in miniskirts, strappy sandals and sparkly tops. They had repainted their nails on both hands and feet and were fully made-up as if off to a nightclub. Carina did not imagine there to be a single nightclub in Colladoro, but she was obviously wrong. ‘Ilaria has told us there’s a club by the sea in a place called . . .’ Wendy looked to her friends for help. ‘What is it called, Bee?’

  ‘Mare something . . .’ Brigitte replied.

  Tiff laughed and waved her cigarette. ‘Does it matter? The name won’t mean anything. We have a taxi coming at ten. We thought it would be fun to have a proper night out.’

  ‘While the cats are away,’ said Wendy, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes.

  ‘You’re all welcome to come if you like,’ Brigitte suggested. ‘The more the merrier.’

  Carina wondered what Rufus would think of her going off to a nightclub without him. Somehow she didn’t think he’d mind. But she declined anyway. ‘The sun really takes it out of me,’ she explained.

  When Anastasia and Gracie appeared, the group were already making their way slowly to the table, escorted by Ilaria and the large shaggy dog who had decided to join them. Gracie was wearing the necklace Anastasia had given her and a green cardigan over her dress. She went straight to the dog and patted it. ‘What is he called?’ she asked Ilaria.

  ‘Bernardo,’ Ilaria replied. ‘He belongs to Count Bassanelli.’

  Carina, now beside them, took the opportunity to ask about their elusive host. ‘Might we meet Count Bassanelli?’ she asked. Gracie stopped breathing.

  ‘The count is a very shy man,’ said Ilaria, and Gracie sensed a change in the woman’s demeanour, like air that grows cold with the prospect of rain. ‘He keeps himself to himself.’

  Carina sensed nothing. ‘That’s such a shame,’ she said as Gracie took a breath. ‘Though, it is strange not to be welcomed by our host.’

  The smile did not waver on Ilaria’s face, but her eyes betrayed a certain resolve. ‘He just wants his guests to make his home their home,’ she added.

  ‘My business is in public relations and I can tell you, if he came and met his guests, and charmed them, it would do wonders for the success of this place.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think he needs to do that, Carina. We are fully booked all summer,’ Ilaria replied smoothly. Then, sensing Carina’s disappointment and not wanting to indulge it, she changed the subject. ‘The necklace your granddaughter gave you is lovely, Gracie.’

  Carina spun round. ‘Anastasia gave you a necklace?’ she said.

  Gracie ran her fingers over the beads. ‘Yes, she did,’ she replied softly. ‘So sweet of her.’

  Carina felt even more put out. ‘Where did she buy it?’

  ‘In the town,’ Gracie replied.

  ‘There’s a lovely little boutique in Colladoro that sells necklaces and bracelets in every colour,’ Ilaria rejoined. ‘You should go and have a look, Carina. They are not expensive.’

  ‘Anastasia has never bought me anything,’ said Carina. Then she laughed cheerlessly to show that she wasn’t really offended. ‘But that’s no surprise. She’s cross with me most of the time.’

  Ilaria looked at her with sympathy. ‘Teenagers are always cross with their mothers. But Italy will change that. You will see.�
�� She spoke in a tone that suggested she had seen such changes occur hundreds of times yet never tired of it. ‘You are eating pasta now, no?’ she said to Carina. ‘You see, Italy changes people from the inside out, which is the best way to be changed. Now, how shall we sit?’ And she proceeded to place everyone around the table, taking care to mix it up so they all got to know each other.

  Anastasia was seated between Wendy and Alex, which pleased her because she found Wendy hilarious and was growing increasingly fond of Alex. She looked at her watch and shivered in anticipation of the pleasure to come later, when she met Giovanni in the pool house. She glanced across at her mother, who was seated between Rex and Brigitte, and wondered what she would say if she knew she had lost her virginity to an Italian she’d only known for a handful of hours. The thought made her smile. She put her water glass to her lips to hide it. Then she shifted her gaze to her grandmother, who was talking to Rex, and decided that she, more than anyone else Anastasia knew, would understand. She’d never have imagined that her grandmother, who had seemed so timid and ordinary, yes, ordinary, would have lived such an extraordinary life. Watching her now, talking animatedly with the silver fox, the idea was not, after all, such a strange one. Gracie’s eyes were caught by the flickering glow of the candles and shone prettily, and her smile, which came readily now, had a sweetness in it that was very attractive. Since arriving in Italy she had grown in stature. She was no longer a woman who was easily ignored. There was something about her that caught the eye. Rex had certainly noticed, Anastasia thought. She wondered whether old people in their late sixties were too ancient for romance, or whether the silver fox might have a go. That thought delighted her and she smiled again, only this time her glass was not big enough to hide it.

  ‘What are you grinning at?’ Alex asked, finding her amusement infectious and grinning too.

  ‘I wonder whether Rex and my grandmother are about to have a little romance,’ she said in a low voice.

  Alex looked at them across the table. ‘I wouldn’t rule it out. They’re both single. Both around the same age, and they clearly like each other.’

  ‘I hope so. Just think, Granny might bring more than Mamma Bernadetta’s recipes back to England.’

  ‘It would be very appropriate. After all, we are in the most romantic country in the world,’ he said and his gaze rested heavily upon her.

  Anastasia thought of Giovanni and sighed as another shiver of anticipated pleasure rippled over her skin. ‘Oh, it is. So romantic!’

  ‘If you’re looking for a little romance, you should come clubbing with us tonight,’ Wendy, who had heard the tail-end of their conversation, cut in. ‘What do you say? Are you on?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Anastasia replied, a knowing smile hovering about her lips. ‘I have all the entertainment I need right here.’

  Wendy caught Alex’s eye and raised an eyebrow suggestively. ‘Good for you,’ she said and took a swig of Mamma Bernadetta’s home-made wine. ‘As for us married girls, we’re off to do a little window shopping. No harm in looking if there’s no obligation to buy.’

  Carina found herself alone with her thoughts as Brigitte was talking to Wendy, and Rex was giving all his attention to her mother. She was cross with herself for minding about the necklace. After all, Gracie was Anastasia’s grandmother so why shouldn’t she buy her a gift? But in spite of the logic her resentment niggled. She felt cheated somehow and yet she couldn’t work out why. She swept her eyes over the table. Everyone was having fun. Anastasia was giggling with Alex, their heads together like a couple of conspirators; Gracie was being charmed by Rex; Brigitte and Wendy were having so much fun they were actually talking over one another and laughing uproariously (and a little drunkenly), Madeleine and Lauren were conversing quietly and down the other end Ilaria was telling an enraptured Tiff a story about a big Hollywood star who had taken the castle over for an entire ten days for a Hen week. Carina wondered grudgingly whether the count had deigned to put in an appearance for her.

  Later, after she had changed for bed and Anastasia had gone swimming with Alex, she called Rufus to complain. ‘Darling, you’ve never put Anastasia first,’ he said bluntly, and a little unkindly, Carina thought, as she was already feeling sorry for herself. ‘You can’t drop your phone and your focus on the office and expect her to be grateful. It’ll take time. Just spend some time with her. I can assure you she’s longing for you to.’

  ‘But she’s in a constant clinch with Mum.’

  ‘Because Gracie’s giving her her attention.’

  ‘She has nothing else to do,’ Carina cut in sourly.

  ‘And what do you have to do out there?’

  ‘I’ve been on lovely long walks.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s so beautiful.’

  ‘While everyone else has been bonding, you’ve been wandering off on your own.’

  ‘You’re making it sound sad, but it’s not sad at all. I’ve been experiencing an awakening. I think we should retire here one day.’ The thought of settling in some quiet Tuscan crook lifted her spirits.

  ‘Let’s live that long first,’ said Rufus.

  ‘I’ve just realised that I’ve been on a treadmill for years.’

  ‘Hallelujah!’

  She laughed. ‘I’m not saying I’m going to jump off, but I might slow it down a bit.’

  He sighed. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

  There was a long pause. She could hear him breathing down the line. He yawned and she imagined him in bed with his reading glasses on and his magazine in his hands and suddenly felt a pang of longing. ‘I wish you were here,’ she said, surprised that she meant it. ‘I feel left out with Mum and Anastasia behaving like a pair of schoolgirls.’

  ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,’ he said, which was so typically pragmatic of him that she laughed again. ‘Look, darling. It’s great that you’ve seen the light about work, or something of it, at least, but you now have to put as much energy into your relationships as you did into your business.’ It was only after she’d hung up that she realised he wasn’t just talking about Gracie and Anastasia, but about himself. She climbed into bed and hugged her pillow. What was it about this place, she asked herself, that made her feel so unbalanced? It was as if Mamma Bernadetta’s home-made olive oil was pouring into her emotional joints and loosening all her hinges. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

  In the barn a short distance from Colladoro, Anastasia lay in Giovanni’s arms, revelling in her new sense of womanhood. Everything about her romance with him was beautiful; from his tanned, athletic body, his long black eyelashes and sensual mouth, to the candles that turned the hay in the barn to gold. Every sentence he spoke was like a melody, holding within each graceful syllable the power to subjugate her. His deft hands, rough from gardening, yet tender on her skin, took her to great heights of pleasure, and during these moments of ecstasy she believed she loved him as much as any heroine has ever loved her hero.

  Chapter 16

  Badley Compton

  Flappy Scott-Booth loved nothing more than a funeral, and this funeral was exactly the kind she loved the most. For one, the deceased was not a close relative or friend but someone for whom she could put on a grand display of grief without actually feeling anything at all. Secondly, the deceased had no living relatives (that anybody knew of) and yet was a beloved member of the Badley Compton community, hence the responsibility for the occasion fell onto her broad and certain shoulders, as the most senior member of the town. Thirdly, and arguably not as important as the other two, Harry Pratt had chosen to pass away in April so the garden was bursting forth with flowers and fresh green leaves and ready to be shown off to its best advantage. There was only one snag and that was the absence of her most reliable organiser, Gracie Burton.

  Seated in her immaculate drawing room, clad in a black shift dress and short black cashmere cardigan, Flappy presided over the meeting in her usual assertive manner. She fixed th
e other women with her sharp and unforgiving gaze and challenged them to pull the event together in no less than ten days. ‘Ladies, this is going to push us all to the limit, not least because of the heavy hearts we carry inside us.’ She put her long manicured fingers to the diamond brooch pinned strategically above her heart and gave a mournful sigh. ‘Forgive me, I’ve been hit very hard by Harry’s death. He was a dear, dear man.’ The four women looked at each other in bewilderment, not knowing what to say. It was always surprising (and a little embarrassing) when Flappy’s stiff upper lip wobbled. ‘He was cherished by everyone in our community,’ she went on in a trembling voice. ‘Therefore, it is up to us to give him the send-off he so rightly deserves.’ Again, the steely blue gaze, resting on each woman individually. ‘It’s a case of all hands on deck.’

  Madge put up her hand. ‘May I?’

  Flappy could tell by the subversive expression on Madge’s face that she was going to be contrary. ‘You may,’ Flappy replied, tensing her jaw.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait until Gracie is back? I mean, Harry’s not going to go anywhere, is he, and Gracie is so good at this sort of event.’

  ‘I’m sure we can manage without Gracie,’ Flappy said, trying not to think of Gracie in beautiful, sunny Tuscany. The fact that she had gone, in spite of Flappy’s endeavours to dissuade her, had stunned her, and Flappy hadn’t yet got over it. She felt personally slighted, as if Gracie’s leaving had been an outrageous act of subversion. And she hadn’t even had the decency to inform her. One minute she was here in Badley Compton and the next she wasn’t. Without so much as a word. Flappy had had to hear it from Esther, who had agreed to look after her dogs. ‘As inconsiderate as she is,’ said Flappy, pursing her lips. ‘We are more than capable, are we not?’

  Madge looked unconvinced. ‘Well, for example, when Judith Craddock passed away Gracie organised the service sheets. I’m not even sure where she got them from.’

  Flappy didn’t want to be bothered with details. She just wanted to give everyone their tasks and then leave them to get on with it. Before she had time to reply Mabel put up her hand. ‘You really don’t need to put up your hand,’ said Flappy.