The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  Anastasia was not enthusiastic. ‘Okay,’ she replied. ‘But it’s only because you don’t want to come.’

  Gracie smiled at her granddaughter. ‘I think I’m past riding bicycles.’

  ‘Will you finish your story later? I’m desperate to hear how it ends.’

  Gracie wasn’t sure she could bear to speak about Tancredi after their disappointing meeting that morning. But she didn’t want to let Anastasia down. ‘Of course,’ she replied.

  Rex had taken a shine to Gracie. He talked to her at every opportunity, trying hard to engage her with his eyes and make her laugh with his wit. When she smiled or even chuckled he felt he had won something special. At various moments during the morning he was so keen for her attention that he whispered to her during Ilaria’s commentary, which Gracie found very annoying, not least because she felt it was rude to Ilaria who took such trouble to make the lessons interesting and fun. Gracie was unaware of her own ‘blossoming’ and found it bewildering that Rex should be so keen to spend time with her.

  But Gracie was slowly blossoming. The Gracie Burton of Badley Compton was but a bud of a winter passed, the flower that had opened in the Italian sun now revealed someone very different and unexpected; someone with a warm yet mysterious smile, a gentle yet wise gaze, a shy but bold personality; someone with radiance and appeal; someone with a quiet charisma. She turned to Rex, who was speaking while Ilaria was speaking, again, and rapped him on his hand with her pen. ‘Shhhh,’ she hissed. ‘Or you will go hungry when you return to California.’ Rex’s smile broadened, but he did as she asked and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the lesson.

  Halfway through, Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte shuffled into the class, apologising profusely. Anastasia caught Alex’s eye and giggled as the three women, clearly tired and hung-over, took their stools and lifted their clipboards. Wendy’s mascara was halfway down her face, Tiff’s short hair was standing on end and Brigitte did not remove her sunglasses. It was only at the end of the lesson that Anastasia realised why Brigitte had not removed her sunglasses, because she was asleep.

  After lunch Alex asked Anastasia whether she was going to go to the pool. She was about to say that she was (she could have done with the odd hour or two’s kip), but then she remembered what her grandmother had told her. ‘Mum, fancy that bike ride?’ she asked and Carina’s face flushed with such pleasure and surprise that Anastasia wished she had taken a photograph of it, so she could be reminded of her mother’s enthusiasm when they got back to London and life returned to normal.

  Gracie went to lie down. Rex was disappointed, as had she decided to go for a walk he could have accompanied her; a lie-down was as good as closing the door in his face. He resolved to find her later when she emerged. Madeleine and Lauren went to sunbathe while Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte passed out on the terrace in the sun, hoping to sleep off their hangovers.

  Carina and Anastasia set off on bicycles borrowed from the castle garage. The sun was high in the sky, catching the sequins on Anastasia’s silver-and-purple sandals and warming their backs as they freewheeled down the track towards the town. ‘Careful!’ Carina shouted as Anastasia whooped with delight and stuck out her brown legs. ‘You don’t know if a car is coming round the corner!’

  Anastasia ignored her and felt a rush of adrenalin as the bicycle whizzed at great speed down the winding lane. She was having so much fun that when they reached the town she insisted they continue out the other end, into the countryside. Carina, who was not as fit as her daughter, envisaged the climb back up and was about to persuade her daughter to go for a cup of coffee in a café instead, but before she could suggest it Anastasia was wheeling off again without a backwards glance. Carina had no choice but to follow.

  They met up again at the bottom of the hill where the road plateaued out, cutting through fields of red poppies and burgeoning crops. Anastasia glanced to the left where Giovanni’s farmhouse was hidden somewhere in those hills and felt her body respond with a shiver of excitement. She couldn’t wait for the day to be over and for the night to offer up its sensual pleasures. ‘Let’s explore,’ she said to her mother, whose cheeks were pink from the sunshine and exertion.

  ‘Ride on, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll follow your lead.’ But Anastasia slowed down to her mother’s pace and they rode side by side, chatting. If Carina had been worried about how to converse with her daughter she needn’t have wasted her time. The countryside gave them plenty to discuss and Carina was surprised that Anastasia noticed so much and that she was moved by what she saw. Soon they were commenting on the changing colours of the Tuscan landscape, the pretty farmhouses with their terracotta roofs and shutters, the fields of poppies, olive groves and vineyards with the ease of two people comfortable in each other’s company. Anastasia wasn’t sulky and Carina wasn’t bossy or dismissive. The loveliness of their surroundings brought out the best in their characters and for the first time in perhaps years they enjoyed being together.

  After a while Anastasia spotted what looked like a ruined villa up a long track, almost entirely hidden by trees. ‘What do you think that is?’ she asked, braking.

  Carina stopped bicycling and squinted in the sun. ‘Looks like an abandoned house.’

  ‘It looks gorgeous!’ Anastasia enthused. ‘Come on, let’s go and have a snoop.’

  Carina was reluctant. ‘Oh, I don’t think we should,’ she said. ‘It’s private property.’

  ‘But who’s going to know?’ she said. ‘Come on, Mum. Don’t be a scaredy-cat.’

  With that she began to cycle up the drive. It was more of a slope than she had anticipated and soon she had to dismount and walk the rest of the way. Her mother was following slowly behind, at a distance now, and Anastasia didn’t wait for her.

  With rising excitement, because Anastasia loved ruins, she realised that this once sumptuous villa had clearly been abandoned for decades. The gardens had overgrown and like a hairy green beast had started swallowing the building whole. The roof had fallen in and grass had seeded itself on the remaining tiles, growing haphazardly in patches of defiance. The walls were stained with mildew and rot, and the windows without their glass were open to the elements. Shutters hung on rusty hinges, some had fallen to the ground, disappearing into the belly of the hairy green beast. Propelled by the romance of it Anastasia threw her bike to the ground and wandered inside.

  There was no furniture. It looked as if the person who had left had taken everything with them, clearly intending never to come back. Rubble lay on the floor among other debris and animal droppings. Indeed, birds had found this quiet haven an ideal place to nest. It smelt of damp and decay. The staircase was still intact but Anastasia didn’t dare climb it in case she fell through the floor above. Nothing looked very sturdy.

  ‘Anastasia!’ It was her mother shouting to her from outside. ‘Are you in there?’

  ‘I’m here!’ Anastasia replied, not wanting to be deterred, or rushed.

  ‘I think we should leave.’

  ‘Another minute,’ she called back, making her way further into the building. Carina did not want to venture inside. Ruins were of little interest to her. She waited in the sunshine, hoping Anastasia wouldn’t be long. It was nearly time for tea and Carina was looking forward to a large glass of water and a cup of coffee.

  Anastasia reached a spacious, airy room at the back of the villa. Big windows would once have let in a lot of light but now they were cloudy with green mould and blocked by trees. Then something on the floor caught her eye. There was paint, rubbed into the grain of the remaining wood. Once she noticed a little she began to notice a lot. She saw a wooden door that was closed and went to open it. Unlike the other doors in the house which were wide open or missing, this door was hard to dislodge. She pushed. When it didn’t budge she leant on it with her full body weight and gave it a shove. It finally opened, reluctantly.

  Now her curiosity was seriously aroused. This was clearly an artist’s studio. There was an easel at the far end, beside th
e window, pots of brushes and trays of paints in tubes on a shelf. Of course everything was old and dusty. The few canvases that remained were blank, a pile of frames was stacked up against one wall, a chair stood in a shaft of light in the middle of the room. There was something strange about the chair and Anastasia couldn’t stop looking at it. It was all alone; a forlorn and abandoned chair, waiting for someone who never came.

  Anastasia sensed her mother’s impatience although she was too far away to hear her calling. She left the room and closed the door behind her. When she emerged into the light she took a deep breath. ‘Come on,’ said Carina. ‘I think it’s time for tea.’

  ‘Sure,’ Anastasia replied, picking up her bicycle. As she did so she noticed something beneath it. She bent down to take a closer look. Carina was already bicycling down the hill. Anastasia reached out and wiped away the grass with her hand. It was a stone sign. Moving her bicycle so she could get a better grip on it, she lifted it up. It weighed more than she expected. La . . . She gave it another wipe. The letters revealed themselves, carved into the stone. La Colomba. She caught her breath. It couldn’t be. Surely, it was too much of a coincidence. But she distinctly remembered her grandmother saying that the villa she had lived in as a young woman was called La Colomba. And hadn’t she worked in an artist’s studio? Anastasia’s heart began to beat wild and fast.

  ‘Darling!’ Carina’s tone was impatient now.

  ‘Coming!’ Anastasia picked up her bike and mounted.

  Perhaps it wasn’t such a surprise that Gracie had decided to come to Castello Montefosco after all.

  Chapter 19

  Hot and sweaty from her bike ride Anastasia nipped into her bedroom to change into her bikini and then headed down the path for a swim. No one was there. The pool was quiet, snuggled into the hillside, embraced by luscious shrubs and trees, and the water as still as glass, bathed in the soft light of late afternoon. She dropped her towel and dived in. The cool water instantly revived her. As she swam lengths she was grateful for the solitude as it enabled her to unravel her thoughts.

  The ruined villa she had stumbled upon was obviously the same villa in which Gracie had once lived. It was too much of a coincidence to be otherwise. But why was it a ruin? What had happened to Uncle Hans and Rutger? She imagined they would be in their eighties or nineties now, if they were alive. Had Gracie returned to find them, or perhaps to revisit La Colomba? On reflection, those options seemed unlikely. Anastasia wasn’t aware of her grandmother leaving the castle at all. She hadn’t even gone into town. She had shown no desire to go anywhere.

  It was possible, of course, that Gracie had seen the advert in the magazine and come back to relive her past, not specifically to find anybody. But that wasn’t a very plausible argument. Who lived a great love and then returned years later just to see the place? Maybe she had returned to find Gaetano, but again, it seemed improbable considering Gracie’s lack of interest in leaving the property. Anastasia wondered whether someone in town might know of a Gaetano, older, in his mid to late seventies, and upper class. Didn’t Gracie say they were from very different worlds?

  As she turned to start another lap she noticed Giovanni, standing with his hands on his hips at the opposite end of the pool. Relaxed in a pair of khaki trousers and polo shirt, his black hair flopping carelessly over his forehead, a smirk curling his lips, he made no secret of what he wanted to do to her. He watched her smile back. Instantly forgetting about La Colomba and her grandmother Anastasia swam her prettiest front crawl towards him. Glancing about to make sure no one saw them, he crouched down, took her wet face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. ‘Come,’ he said, standing up and walking to the pool house. Anastasia climbed out, grabbed her towel and followed. She had barely set foot in the dark room when she was pushed against the wall and kissed, this time ardently. Giovanni pressed his body against hers and wound his hands around her naked waist. Anastasia felt her whole being respond to his touch in shivers of pleasure. His hands slipped beneath her bikini top and began to gently tease her nipples with his thumbs. It did not startle her when he pulled down her bikini bottoms and lifted her leg to more easily enter her. The naughtiness of it excited her and she lifted the other leg and wrapped them both around his hips. He laughed and said something in Italian, and she laughed with him as they moved together like a strange creature pressed up against the wall. He whispered things into her ear between gasps and moans and the sound of his deep voice and that beautiful language aroused her until her whole body shuddered and flooded with a delectable warmth.

  ‘Ti amo, Anastasia,’ he said, when her feet touched the ground. He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes, a serious, melancholic look in his. ‘Ti amo, veramente, Anastasia.’ And she knew exactly what that meant.

  ‘And I love you too,’ she responded. ‘Veramente.’

  Carina found her mother at a small round table on the terrace, enjoying tea with Rex. She noticed her mother had revived a little since her siesta. The apples of her cheeks were pink again and Carina wondered whether that had anything to do with the gallant American. ‘Hello, dear,’ said Gracie when she saw her daughter. ‘What have you done with Anastasia?’

  ‘She’s gone for a swim but I need a coffee.’

  ‘You look like you’ve cycled up a mountain,’ said Rex.

  ‘I feel like I’ve cycled up a mountain.’ Carina laughed.

  ‘Where did you go?’ he asked.

  ‘Into the countryside.’ She gave her mother a meaningful look. ‘It was good to be just the two of us. We had a really lovely afternoon together.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Gracie.

  ‘It was fun to explore. Tuscany is so beautiful. I’d love to own a house here. A holiday house I could escape to for the whole summer.’

  ‘What’s stopping you?’ Rex asked with a grin, for his adventurous spirit had come to him of late and now anything seemed possible.

  ‘Money,’ said Carina with a shrug. ‘I wouldn’t just want any house, you see. I’d want a pretty one, a big one, and I imagine they’re dreadfully expensive.’ Gracie remembered what it was like to live here. To wake up each morning to a view that took her breath away. ‘I don’t think it’s possible to be unhappy here,’ Carina continued. ‘Truly, I think I’d be happy every day.’

  Gracie smiled, because she knew her daughter was wrong. She was only too aware of how unhappy it was possible to be.

  Rex chuckled. ‘I’m sure you grow accustomed to it and experience misery just like everyone else. It’s human nature to take things for granted after a while.’

  ‘I simply can’t imagine it. I think I’d wake up every morning and feel lucky.’ Carina swept her gaze over the hills, shaking her head at the wonder of it to show just how lucky she would feel.

  Rex looked at Gracie. ‘Where do you live, Gracie?’

  ‘In Devon by the sea and I have to agree with my daughter, I do feel lucky every morning when I look out of the window at the view. It’s not Tuscany, but it’s lovely too, in its own way.’

  ‘Ah, the sea.’

  ‘It changes every day. I love the mist in summer, the fog in winter, the way the light bounces off the water when the sun shines.’ Gracie remembered her home with affection, not dwelling on the loneliness she had left there. ‘I also love the drizzly days. They have their own beauty too.’

  ‘And you live in London, Carina. Do you get to go visit your mother?’ Rex asked.

  Carina watched Carlo place a little cup of coffee in front of her and wished she didn’t have to answer honestly. ‘I don’t get down to visit her nearly enough. I wish I did,’ she replied awkwardly, unable to look her mother in the eye.

  ‘She works very hard,’ Gracie intervened with a smile that betrayed nothing of the hurt. ‘She has her own company, you know. She set it all up and it’s very successful. I couldn’t be more proud of her.’

  Carina put her hand on top of her mother’s. If she had thought about it she might not have, but she didn’t t
hink, she just felt and responded to the feeling with a touch that surprised Gracie as much as it surprised her. ‘No, Mum, you’re very kind, but it’s because I’ve been so self-absorbed. I should have visited you more. Much more. I regret that now. I truly do. When we return to England I’m going to make sure we come down and see you straight away.’ She withdrew her hand. ‘As long as you don’t invite that ghastly Flappy friend of yours for dinner.’

  Gracie laughed. ‘She has a good heart,’ she said generously.

  ‘No, she doesn’t, she just wants the world to think she does.’

  It was just before dinner when Anastasia knocked on her grandmother’s door. ‘Come in,’ said Gracie, who had been dressed and ready for the past half-hour.

  Anastasia poked her head around the door. ‘Granny, can I talk to you about something?’

  Gracie was lying on the bed, attempting to read a novel but not taking in a single word. ‘Of course.’ She put the book to one side, and Gracie shuffled along, leaving space for Anastasia to sit down. She noticed her granddaughter’s glowing cheeks and shiny eyes and felt her excitement as if it were a tangible thing. ‘What are you so pleased about?’ she asked.

  Anastasia took a deep breath. ‘I have to share this with somebody and I think you are the only person who will really understand.’

  ‘You’re in love,’ Gracie guessed.

  ‘How do you know?’ Anastasia exclaimed.

  ‘Because I’ve been in love before and I know what it looks like.’ She patted her granddaughter’s hand. ‘I think Alex is a lovely young man.’

  Anastasia laughed. ‘It’s not Alex!’ she exclaimed.

  Now Gracie was confused. There was no one else. It certainly wasn’t Rex! ‘Then who is it?’

  ‘Giovanni.’ Anastasia whispered the word as if the walls might hear and tell her mother.