The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  Carina caught up with Anastasia as she headed up the stairs. ‘Darling, what happened?’ she asked. But Anastasia strode on purposefully without replying. Carina waited until they were alone in their room to press her further.

  As soon as the door was closed Anastasia began to sob. Carina’s heart flooded with compassion and, as she moved to embrace her, she was pretty sure she knew what had inspired the tears. She drew her into her arms and squeezed her tightly. Anastasia stiffened for a moment and her arms dangled by her sides as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Then slowly and a little hesitantly she wound them round her mother’s body. Anastasia was taller than her mother and neither of them could remember the last time they had embraced – it was usually Rufus who was ready with the hug – but it didn’t feel odd. It didn’t feel odd at all.

  At last the sobbing quietened and Anastasia was ready to confide in her mother. They sat side by side on the bed as Anastasia shared the story of her brief romance. ‘You’re not going to like this but . . .’ was how she had started. However, to her surprise, Carina didn’t judge her or show any disapproval. She listened without interrupting as the details emerged, cautiously at first and then with greater confidence and fluidity. All the while Anastasia was speaking Carina was thinking of Gracie and remembering her advice.

  ‘I was a fool to be taken in by him,’ Anastasia said forlornly.

  ‘No, you weren’t, darling,’ Carina reassured her. ‘He’s handsome and exotic. Lots of girls enjoy romances with foreign men. I would say it’s an important part of life, falling in love and having one’s heart broken.’

  ‘Is it?’ Anastasia wasn’t so sure.

  ‘You had fun, didn’t you?’

  ‘At the time, yes.’

  ‘Then don’t let what you’ve since discovered ruin the good times you’ve enjoyed.’

  ‘I gave him my virginity, Mum!’

  ‘Well, you had to give it to someone, sometime, didn’t you? I assume he was kind?’

  Anastasia managed a chuckle. ‘By that you mean was he good in bed?’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘But I’ll answer anyway. He was gorgeous!’ Anastasia’s eyes gleamed.

  ‘Then it was worth it. Better to give yourself to someone who knows what he’s doing than to someone who fumbles around awkwardly and gets everything wrong. I wish my first time had been like yours.’

  ‘Who was your first time?’

  ‘A boy called Tony Drake. I was sixteen. Don’t tell Mum!’

  ‘Was he a local boy?’

  ‘Yes, I went to school with him. I didn’t really fancy him. I was just grateful that he fancied me. I suppose I wanted to grow up, too. I was longing to be a woman and to make my own way in the world. But it was a real fumble and only lasted a second. I think what you’ve had with Giovanni is ideal.’

  ‘But how could he . . . with Madeleine?’

  ‘She’s a beautiful woman. He’s got good taste!’

  Anastasia screwed up her nose. ‘She’s old.’

  ‘I bet she knows a trick or two, though.’ They both laughed and Anastasia began to feel a little better.

  Suddenly Anastasia was seized by the desire to share Gracie’s story. She didn’t feel it was fair to exclude her mother. After all, the three of them had come to Italy together, it was only right that they shared the experience – the whole experience – and besides, Anastasia’s theories about the count needed a second opinion and time was running out. Tomorrow was their last full day.

  ‘I need to tell you something else,’ Anastasia began. She faltered a moment, uncomfortable with the thought of divulging something that her grandmother had asked her to keep to herself.

  ‘What else is there?’

  ‘It’s not about me, it’s about Granny.’

  Carina blanched. ‘She’s not ill, is she?’

  ‘No, she’s fine.’

  ‘I just had a horrid thought—’

  ‘She’s fine, Mum. It’s something else.’

  ‘Tell me?’

  ‘It’s a whopping secret and you must promise not to let on that I’ve told you.’

  Carina was a little put out that Gracie hadn’t told her herself. ‘Well, what is it?’

  Anastasia took a breath. I’m not betraying Granny. I’m helping her find the love of her life. ‘Did you know that Granny came to Italy at thirteen and lived with her uncle at that ruined house we saw the other day, until she was twenty-three?’

  Carina stared at her as if she was speaking a different language. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Anastasia gasped. She put a hand to her mouth and stared back at her mother. ‘God! You really didn’t know!’

  Carina stared back at her daughter in bewilderment. ‘Are you telling me that my mother lived here? In Colladoro?’

  ‘Yes, at La Colomba, the ruined villa we visited.’

  Carina got to her feet. ‘That’s extraordinary!’

  Anastasia was secretly excited to be revealing her grandmother’s astonishing past. ‘Her uncle Hans brought her out here from London to teach her how to restore paintings.’

  ‘I didn’t even know she could paint.’

  ‘Well, she was an exceptionally good painter, Mum. After five years of restoring art he told her he wanted her to do something else.’

  ‘Oh, God. I dread to think what that was!’

  ‘Forgery.’

  ‘Forgery? My mother was a forger? Good God, whatever next!’

  ‘She wasn’t just a forger. She was a brilliant forger, as was Hans.’

  Carina sat down again. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’

  ‘She speaks fluent Italian, you know.’

  Carina narrowed her eyes. ‘Okay, so she didn’t pick Colladoro randomly out of a magazine. Who knows, perhaps there wasn’t an article in a magazine at all. But she came here on purpose. But why, after what, forty-four years?’

  ‘She loved a man called Gaetano.’

  ‘Hey, wait a minute! Wasn’t Ilaria talking about a Gaetano Montefosco today?’

  ‘Too old. That was this count’s grandfather. I think the man might be the count himself.’

  ‘No, it can’t be. She hasn’t mentioned him or shown any desire to see him. If he was the great love of her life then she would have gone and talked to him the very first day.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Anastasia agreed, disappointed. ‘She’s shown no interest in him at all.’

  ‘So why has she come then?’

  ‘Not to revisit La Colomba because she hasn’t left the castle grounds once.’

  ‘No. And why has she told you and not me?’

  ‘Because you’ll get upset?’

  ‘Do I look upset?’

  ‘You did for a minute.’

  ‘A minute. I’m not upset now, am I?’

  ‘She hasn’t told me the rest of the story yet.’

  ‘Is there more?’

  ‘Of course, because she left Italy and Gaetano, and went back to London. The rest you know. She must have met Grandpa, married him and hidden her past.’

  ‘Why hide it?’

  ‘Because she was a forger, which is a criminal, Mum.’

  Carina shook her head. ‘It doesn’t add up, Anastasia. She could have hidden that part but been honest about living in Italy and speaking Italian. When I was a girl I remember her speaking Dutch to her mother, which I never understood, of course. But then my grandmother died when I was about twelve and apart from a brother who lived in London and who we never saw, that was the last I knew of her family. She never mentioned an uncle. It makes no sense at all.’

  ‘You’re right. It doesn’t. I think I need to hear the rest of the story.’

  ‘We have to get her away from Rex then. I’ll see to that after dinner. Leave him to me. You take Granny off on your own and ask to hear more.’

  ‘Do you think she wants to find Gaetano, but is too scared to?’

  ‘Maybe. That’s why you need to dig a little deeper and discover
where he lived so we can find him for her, if, indeed, she wants to find him.’

  ‘You don’t mind that she loved someone else besides your father?’

  Carina shrugged. ‘Oh, I know she loved Dad. They were very happy together. She didn’t run off to Italy the minute he died, did she? Anyway, I can hear Mum saying that there are many different ways of loving. She probably loved them both. Life is complicated. You realise that as you get older. But you’re going to do a little detective work and then you’re going to come and tell me and we’re going to decide what to do next.’

  ‘We leave the day after tomorrow,’ said Anastasia anxiously.

  ‘Which is why you have to extract the rest of her story tonight.’

  Anastasia wriggled with excitement. ‘Okay, I’m on a mission. I won’t fail. I think I’m going to have to come clean though, at some stage, and tell her I’ve told you.’

  ‘Leave that to me. I’ll know when the time is right.’ Carina smiled proudly at her daughter. ‘You’ve done the right thing, darling. She’ll thank you in the end.’

  ‘She’ll thank us,’ Anastasia added, then a little nervously, ‘I hope.’

  Mamma Bernadetta and Ilaria lingered in the doorway that led to the kitchen and watched the group assembling on the terrace for wine and crostini. Every week new guests arrived from different parts of the world, brought like seeds on a loving wind to flower in the Italian sun, and yet Mamma Bernadetta and Ilaria never grew tired of watching them bloom. Every person was different, opening in their own unique way and in varying degrees. Only the very few remained the same. But how these buds had flowered, they thought, taking pride from the magical effects of Mamma Bernadetta’s recipes and this enchanting place. Ilaria folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. ‘Rex did not notice Gracie on the first night. She was like a dry flower crying out for water and yet too afraid to ask for it,’ she said.

  ‘But look how pretty she is now,’ said Mamma Bernadetta, watching Gracie smile. ‘Rex cannot take his eyes off her. Out of all the guests she has transformed the most. I did not think her particularly special, but I have learned that she is a woman with depth.’ Mamma Bernadetta put her pudgy hand to her expansive bosom. ‘I can feel it, Ilaria. One must never judge the quality of wine by its label.’

  ‘But I don’t think she is interested in Rex,’ said Ilaria with a frown. ‘I don’t know why. They laugh together and walk round the gardens together and they are the only two people of their age here, and yet, I sense her interest lies elsewhere and my sensing is usually right.’

  ‘She is a widow, Ilaria, and I know what it is to carry loss, for I carry Umberto’s within me and always will, God rest his soul. It is like a stone in one’s heart that is always rubbing.’ She pressed her hand to her bosom again. ‘Perhaps Rex will cushion the stone and stop the chafing.’

  ‘That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ Ilaria agreed. ‘Ah, here come Carina and Anastasia. It fills me with joy to watch these two,’ she said. ‘It took them a while to look beyond their phone screens and notice the beauty around them, but they did and look how happy they are.’

  ‘Beauty is always here,’ said Mamma Bernadetta wisely. ‘Ready to awaken the spirit, waiting patiently to be noticed, to be allowed to do its job.’

  ‘Carina and Anastasia were ripe for transformation. They just needed a little help.’

  ‘The week is not yet over,’ Mamma Bernadetta said, waddling back into the kitchen. ‘There is still much to be done.’

  ‘Yes, our job is not finished. We have to mend a broken heart . . .’

  ‘Giovanni has not broken her heart. He has introduced it to love and only bruised it,’ Mamma Bernadetta said, bristling like a cat in defence of her grandson.

  Ilaria was less indulgent of her nephew’s antics. ‘You should have a word with him, Mamma.’

  ‘One must not interfere with nature, Ilaria. You can only observe and let it play out. Remember, everything has a purpose. Nothing happens in isolation. There is always a cause and an effect,’ Mamma Bernadetta added, vigorously moving her hands for emphasis. ‘We jump from experience to experience and take what we have learned with us. That is wisdom.’

  ‘Yes, but really, you ought to have a word with Giovanni.’

  ‘I’m not having a word with anyone. My grandson is part of the magic here and he is flowering too.’

  ‘Mamma, I think Giovanni flowered a long time ago,’ said Ilaria, her disapproval turning to amusement.

  ‘Every woman needs a Giovanni at some stage in their lives. It is important to live!’

  ‘And Giovanni?’

  Mamma Bernadetta shrugged with the nonchalance of an old woman who accepts that life is an education for the advancement of the soul. ‘He will have his heart broken and then he too will learn about love.’

  Ilaria seated the group around the table, making sure that Anastasia sat next to Alex and that Rex took the place beside Gracie. She put Madeleine as far away from Anastasia as possible, but as she observed Anastasia talking to Alex the girl did not appear to be suffering from a broken heart at all. There was an intensity about her tonight, a fiery determination in every look and gesture, as if something more important was occupying her thoughts. Ilaria noticed too how she kept glancing at her mother, who in turn acknowledged her glances with barely perceptible nods. They were like a pair of conspirators and Ilaria wondered what they were up to. Then she became aware of both women’s eyes sliding towards Gracie and Rex. Did they want to encourage the old fox or discourage him, Ilaria wondered, putting the glass to her lips and savouring the fruity taste of her own wine. By the animated look on Rex’s face, he was firing himself up to make his feelings known. After all, tomorrow was the last day; if he didn’t do it soon he would never get the chance.

  It was during dessert that the conversation evolved into a general one and the subject of snakes raised its slippery head. ‘Anastasia, tell everyone what you saw this afternoon on the tennis court,’ said Lauren.

  ‘A handsome Italian, I hope,’ said Wendy.

  Brigitte gave a throaty laugh. ‘Hmm, I might play some tennis, after all.’

  ‘I saw a snake,’ said Anastasia.

  ‘She claimed it was as big as a cow,’ Alex added, grinning at her.

  ‘That is one hell of a big snake,’ said Rex. ‘Are you sure it wasn’t a stick?’

  ‘Okay, so it wasn’t really the size of a cow,’ Anastasia admitted. She didn’t dare look at Madeleine, but she could see her looking at her in her peripheral vision.

  ‘A snake?’ Ilaria cut in. ‘We only have small grass snakes here and they don’t bite.’ The scene that Anastasia had witnessed through the cloudy window of the tennis pavilion now materialised in a horrible vision and she felt her face grow hot.

  ‘A snake? Did someone just say they’d seen a snake? You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Brigitte squealed. ‘Where?’

  ‘On the tennis court,’ Alex informed her.

  ‘Then I’m going to stay up here,’ Brigitte added, taking another gulp of wine.

  ‘Did you kill it?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I’d have killed it,’ said Tiff. ‘I’m an expert at killing cockroaches and you know how impossible they are to kill.’

  ‘I ran away,’ said Anastasia quietly.

  Lauren turned to Madeleine. ‘Have you seen any snakes on your walks?’

  ‘The size of cows,’ Alex interrupted. Anastasia elbowed him hard.

  Madeleine shook her head. ‘But I am not afraid of snakes,’ she said coolly.

  ‘I was rather looking forward to a game of tennis,’ said Alex. ‘But no one can play with a cow on the court.’

  Anastasia would normally have lost her sense of humour at this point, and Carina fully expected her to do so, but to her surprise she didn’t. Instead, she laughed with him. There was something irresistible about Alex’s teasing. It was impossible to be cross with him. Carina was reminded of Rufus and how his refusal to take her seriously always infuriated her, and y
et, seeing her daughter laugh at herself made her wonder whether the secret of happiness lay in taking oneself lightly.

  Anastasia now looked at Madeleine. The older woman looked straight back at her. She showed no sign of guilt or shame or even apprehension at having perhaps been caught in flagrante with Giovanni. Anastasia imagined that she wouldn’t even care, for Giovanni was only a diversion for her; a pleasurable way to pass the long afternoons. She gave Madeleine a small smile and Madeleine hesitated a second before smiling back. It was too dark for Anastasia to notice the shift in Madeleine’s gaze as her intelligent mind now made sense of the situation.

  When dinner was over Anastasia went straight to her grandmother. She put her hand on her shoulder and bent down to whisper in her ear. ‘Granny, can we finish the story now?’

  ‘You’re not going to take your grandmother away, are you?’ said Rex and although his tone was light his aggravation bristled beneath it.

  ‘I’m in the middle of telling Anastasia a story and she wants to know how it ends,’ Gracie told him.

  ‘It’s not a thousand and one nights, I hope,’ said Rex.

  Gracie laughed. ‘No, it very definitely has an end.’

  ‘I’d like to hear it, Gracie.’

  Gracie was about to push herself from her chair when Madeleine appeared. ‘Anastasia, can I have a word.’

  Rex smiled. ‘Madeleine to my rescue. Thank you, ma’am, for giving me more time.’ He turned back to Gracie. ‘I sure like talking to you, Gracie,’ he said and his smile grew tender and his eyes softened and his attention settled on her face like the warm glow of a fire.

  Gracie was not unaware of Rex’s interest. At first she had thought she must be mistaken, after all, he did flirt with all the girls. But then it became too blatant to dismiss. She was flattered by it, of course. It had been decades since a man had shown interest in her, and he was attractive, there was no denying that. However, her heart was already taken, and had, in truth, been so since that moment in Colladoro when she had first laid eyes on Tancredi. ‘Rex,’ she said and something in her manner made him frown.

  ‘Don’t say another word, Gracie. Let me just talk to you and enjoy your company without the shadow of rejection. I like you and I know you like me. We’re friends. You’re a wise woman and I know you can see through me like I’m made of glass. We have one more day in this beautiful place and I want to spend it with you. So, tell me a story. Any story. You can even make it up. I just want to listen to you.’