by Karen Aldous
‘And you have family here. Is it your mamma or papa who is Italian?’
‘My mother. She came back here when I was very young. She lives in … the mountains somewhere.’ It was embarrassing to acknowledge to a stranger she didn’t know the location of her mum’s home. ‘We stay at my nonna’s when we meet.’
‘So why didn’t you come with her? Why did you stay in London?’
Olivia was used to the question. ‘My mum was very young when I was born and Papa was killed in a motorbike accident soon after. She struggled I believe, and so I lived with Gran and Grandad – my papa’s parents in London. It must have been difficult for them losing a son. Gran missed him terribly.’
Her voice trailed off as she remembered her gran’s sad expression when she looked at his photo on the mantelpiece. They must have had so many hopes for him. It was only now she began to understand the grief they must have suffered.
‘Please don’t make yourself unhappy talking about your family. We can change the subject.’ Alberto raised his arm and reached out across her shoulders. ‘Come here.’ He pulled her to his chest, resting her head on his polo shirt.
She snuggled close, inhaling the familiar alluring fragrance, which reminded her of his kiss. ‘I’m fine, really. I get sad sometimes. I would have loved a large family like yours. I’m fortunate though – I was well cared for and provided for. They made sure I saw my mum and nonna and made the best of the situation.’
Alberto lifted Olivia’s chin and with his fingers, stroked it before brushing her lips with his. ‘They made you a beautiful person, Olivia,’ he said before pressing his lips firmly on hers, kissing her deeply and stirring her desire. ‘Let us enjoy the view before I take you home, unless …’ he squeezed her close ‘… you would like to come home with me?’
Chapter 8
She closed her eyes for a few moments. All her life she had dreaded those words, that commitment to give herself, because it was the next step: the expectation. She tried to quell those hideous episodes, like the first time she’d slept with Will after two weeks of dating.
He had driven them to a beautiful hotel in the Peak District for the weekend, which she’d thought terribly romantic, and when they’d held hands as they navigated along a rustic trail, he’d made her feel very special, and more so when they sat on the terrace sipping champagne and watching the gold-amber glow of the sun go down.
She’d felt an inner glow, an anticipation of what was to come – praying it would be better than anything previous. Between the sheets in the sumptuous four-poster bed, however, she recalled the moment, the moment his naked skin touched hers, the awkward fumbling that followed and cumbersome moves. It was such a disappointment, an anticlimax.
In contrast, her instinct with Alberto was so different; the anticipation verging on scorching, their touch so completely natural she could almost feel the chemical reaction in the air between them. The lustful sensations in her body urged her to want to kiss him, to touch him, to pleasure him and to be taken by him, a longing for once in her life, to encounter the pleasure of shared love.
‘I can’t think of anything better,’ she whispered, and before she knew it, Alberto whisked her away, and within minutes, they had walked back across the Ponte Vecchio, through cobbled streets, and up a few flights of stairs. She barely acknowledging her surroundings as he carried her over the threshold of his door and into his apartment. He placed her back on her feet and, within seconds, their lips met and their unleashed hands explored each other’s bodies.
After he’d pulled down the zip at the back of her dress, he let it drop to the floor. Olivia felt his warms hands and hot breath on her breasts and instinctively opened her legs, anticipating his fingers touching her thighs. She was not disappointed. Without any guidance, he slid his hand down her torso and hips to explore her.
Amazed at the pleasure, she reached for his trousers, undoing the belt and unzipping the fly. The hardness was ready. She heard herself gasp, ready and waiting, then as she squeezed him their lips surged together again and their bodies entwined and then at last he entered her, thrusting inside until they both climaxed.
***
Waking in his bed the following morning, she blinked, slightly disorientated, but her bones, her skin, her blood, and muscles filled her body with new, invigorated cells telling her brain her evening and their lovemaking had been perfect. This was what it was all about.
‘Good morning, my sleeping beauty,’ Alberto said softly as he watched over her. He immediately wrapped her in his arms, pulling her towards him, their naked bodies entangling once again.
‘Buongiorno,’ she murmured, seeking his lips. The touch of his hands sent ripples of lust pulsing through her skin and she found herself yearning again for him to be inside her, the memory of last night’s passion replaying mentally and physically. Alberto was becoming an addiction. She needed more of him. Their intimacy was effortless and he had truly aroused untapped sensations.
***
Still distracted and mentally foggy from those newly discovered passions with Alberto once she returned home, Olivia quickly showered and cleared out another bedroom before feeling hungry finally. She tottered with care, still feeling drunk on sex, along the gravel track and into the farm complex, the interior of which comprised narrow cobbled thoroughfares filled with newly refurbished, medieval stone cottages.
She likened it to a village hamlet with its small square courtyard and worker cottages, only each of the cottages were now converted to apartments of various sizes. Outside original front doors and shuttered windows of the low two-storey buildings were benches for guests to enjoy doses of sunshine among pots of bright scarlet geraniums. In the centre of the courtyard was a large oak table with enough chairs to seat two families.
It was a picture that always wrapped Olivia in a blanket of fluffy bunnies, even on the cooler days. It was as though orange embers glowed in a fire, inviting you to stay and keep warm. No guest could ever feel cold or unwelcome. There was always a chair, somewhere to rest, or sit and contemplate, or simply socialize with family and friends, or party even.
At the end of the courtyard was a large dining area with magnificent bi-fold glass doors, overlooking the spectacular vine-clad hills undulating on the other side. The dining area could seat a small wedding supper or other special occasion. The work that had been carried out in the last ten years since Nonna had obtained agritourist status for the estate was phenomenal.
Even if she was limited to thirty guests, the place had lost its shabby, overgrown, and disorganized farmyard appearance. Instead it now had a charming rustic tranquillity that was safe and clean, but still preserved the best of the past. Guests could stay in comfort and roam freely around the vineyards and the olive groves. When not visiting nearby attractions or cities, or on their return from a long day on their feet, they could relax in the courtyard or loggia by the pool and watch the sunset as they enjoyed Gabriella and Nico’s cooking.
Nonna may have been old, but she wasn’t stupid. From her humble family farm, Elena had the vision to make it a tourist paradise, with the help of her dedicated staff since her husband Angelo and Roz – her daughter – had long gone. She must have put so much trust in Gabriella and Nico.
The dependable Gabriella – dressed in utilitarian navy trousers, white blouse, and navy jacket – was in the guest reception office area. She was selecting a brochure from a purpose-built wooden tourist information rack, opening it, and handing it to her guest whilst simultaneously pointing to a map and explaining, in English, how easy they would find parking at the station.
‘Enjoy your day. Ciao,’ Gabriella told her guest with a crinkly smile and turned, looking directly at her. ‘Olivia, I only have to look at you to see you are well; you look beautiful.’
Embracing the older woman, who was now in her fifties, Olivia gave the customary air kisses to both cheeks. ‘Thank you, Gabriella, yes, I’m well – and I hope you and Nico are too?’
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‘Yes, we are. And I am happy to see you. You didn’t return home last night.’ She had a knowing glint as she gazed into Olivia’s eyes. ‘I believe it is a new lover who makes you happy.’ Streaks of grey-black hair fell on to Gabriella’s face as she sniggered, the hair covering the way her jowls distorted as she laughed. ‘Lui e molto bello. He is beautiful. What is his name?’
Olivia blushed. ‘Is it so obvious? It’s Alberto, but I have …’
‘He looks, tall, intelligent, handsome. A special man, I think. We haven’t seen much of you since you come to Italy. I see you go with him. I was tempted to ring but you are a grown woman, Olivia.’
Olivia knew Gabriella was fishing for more information. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy organizing Nonna’s things this morning and yes, my feet haven’t touched the ground. I’m not sure if it was love at first sight. I still have to pinch myself. We just clicked. He comes from a large family, who are from Florence. His name is Alberto Luciano and he designs and manufactures electric cars, which I think is so cool. I mean, he’s currently exploring the simplest recharging options and completely autonomous cars. All very eco and current – interesting.’
‘Mamma mia, you are lucky girl. Your nonna would be so proud.’ Gabriella squeezed her tightly. ‘There must be a big future for such cars.’
‘Yes, I’m very lucky, well …’ Her mouth curled. ‘The trouble is, I came here to clean. I only brought one dress. I’m running out of nice clothes already and need to buy some new ones. I feel like Cinderella compared to him. He is always smartly turned out and he has a nice apartment in a fashionable part of Florence.’
‘Dah, money not everything to him. He knows beauty when he sees it and if he expects you to be extravagant, then he isn’t the right man for you. But what do you need? How can I help?’
Olivia nodded in agreement. She would have to be content with her one dress. ‘Well, I don’t really need anything apart from food. I’ve not shopped but I’m sure you have something lovely tucked away. I do need a favour though and wondered if Nico could help me? I need to get the bridal chest to the furniture restorer in the morning and it’s so heavy. I need help lifting it into the car.’
Gabriella held up her hand, giving an assuring wave. ‘Yes, of course you need help with it. He will come back soon. I tell him.’
‘Thank you.’
Gabriella tilted her head eagerly with an inquisitive frown. ‘Did you find the key? How will they restore it without the key?’
‘Oh, no I didn’t, but if you do remember where it is, I’d be grateful.’ Olivia looked at her, one eyebrow raised in hope. ‘I don’t think it’s necessary for the restoration work as it’s mainly the front that’s damaged – where it’s been kicked, or hit with a broom, but I’m bursting to see what treasures Nonna kept locked away, you know, trinkets, heirlooms whatever. My other gran had a duelling pistol and two first-edition books of the crime writer John Bude hidden in an old suitcase.’
Gabriella gave an eager nod, which quickly turned to a blank stare. Olivia decided those things might not mean much to an Italian, but then Gabriella said, ‘OK, let’s sit out in the courtyard. I’ll bring some bruschetta. I am hungry too. Hopefully, we get some time to chat.’
Olivia sat by the large glass doors overlooking the now fruit-stripped vines, which were beginning to glow in autumnal hues. It looked so serene with the low sun streaming between the rows and leaves. She heard the phone ring in reception and wondered how Gabriella managed everything so amazingly well. A few minutes later, Gabriella returned with the plate of bruschetta, and a single glass of Chianti.
‘I’m so sorry, Olivia, I have guests who have got lost, but I think five minutes away. They come early. Please excuse me, and hope you eat well,’ she said placing the plate and wine in front of her and traipsing back across the courtyard and waving a hand.
‘Of course, such a shame but thank you. I need to get on too.’
***
Although closer than anticipated, Cesare’s yard had been difficult to find even with the satnav. Bright signs were not part of the landscape outside Tuscan homes or businesses even. Add the fact that she’d had to familiarize herself with Nico’s pickup truck, which he’d insisted she bring, as the cassone was too wide for her car. However, she hadn’t panicked and Olivia thought the journey had gone remarkably well.
Spotting a wood-carved plaque with the name ‘Cesare Restore’ just visible between crumbling stone walls and overgrown foliage, which she took to be the entrance, she’d braked and pulled in, not wanting to risk having to reverse the cumbersome vehicle out on the road.
Nico had been right: bringing his truck really was the only practical solution to carrying the load as her hire car was so small and the bridal chest too wide. And, she’d found to her surprise, the truck wasn’t so bad. A little higher than her car, yes, and wider, but she’d been lucky not to meet any oncoming traffic at the very narrow parts.
From the entrance the drive led her to a wide tarmac and gravelled courtyard containing three ramshackle, ivy-clad barns and a wire pen housing several chickens. Spying a bent figure hammering on a workbench just inside open barn doors, she parked a few feet away in front of a pile of scrap wood and what appeared to be a heap of iron hinges and handles.
This had to be the place, she thought as she got out of the car and trod tentatively towards the doors. The figure stepped into the light and Olivia saw the old man, possibly in his eighties she guessed, gauging the depth of crevices on his weatherworn face. He rolled his lips, rested a tool on the bench, and lifted his glasses to peer out towards her.
Scooping her hair around behind one ear, Olivia’s smile was hesitant as she spoke. ‘Ciao. Cesare?’
Cesare Nasino was exactly as Hugh described: way past his youth and certainly his physical peak. He was rather bent over. He limped towards her, away from his bench, revealing steel-capped boots and a grimy canvas apron partially concealing grubby brown corduroy trousers underneath and an unironed checked shirt. His clothing, she supposed, as he stood before her holding out his right hand with dirty fingernails, signalled personal neglect. She took his hand, trying to hide her distaste.
‘Si, Cesare,’ he said, grinning with gappy brown teeth but peering at the pickup and rubbing his forehead.
‘Olivia Montague.’ She poked her index finger into her collarbone, pointing to herself. ‘I’ve brought the bridal chest. The cassone.’ She took his hand and whilst it was firm, she flinched at its abrasive surface that scraped the soft skin of her palm. ‘The trouble is,’ she began, sizing him up and realizing exactly what Hugh meant, ‘it’s quite heavy. I think I’ve completely underestimated the situation. I’ll need to come back with someone to help lift it.’
She was sure Cesare was not going to take delivery of a chest neither of them could ever lift and she could only hope Nico could spare himself or one of the boys to come along. It wouldn’t take long. Retrieving his hand, Cesare mumbled something in Italian she didn’t understand and ambled back into the barn.
Unsure what to do, she sauntered behind him, peering into the barn. She watched as he disappeared into darkness. A waft of white spirit mixed with mustiness coiled up her nose. The front benches and workshop walls, she observed, were cluttered with a variety of metal tools, paints, oils, white spirit, and several clumps of rag.
Suddenly hearing the sound of metal crashing to the ground, she jumped and instantly saw Cesare coming towards her wheeling a red object. She turned around feeling as though she was trespassing and trod stealthily back towards the courtyard.
Outside the sun bounced off the tarmac and seconds later, Hugh’s wheels scrunched over it. She stared momentarily in disbelief, wondering how he’d managed to time it so well. Her mood lifting, she walked towards him as he stepped out of his car. Unlike Cesare, Hugh was clean-shaven and strikingly attractive in a white T-shirt and jeans. Olivia’s heart fluttered unexpectedly at the sight of him.
‘
Hi, you found it OK then?’ he said, marching to the back of his four-wheel drive and, opening the tailgate, signalled towards Nico’s Fiat truck. ‘Classy set of wheels.’
‘Yes, my new off-roader pickup. Do you like it?’ Olivia threw out her arm, opening her palm out as though she was a salesman showing off his wares. Then, ‘Boris,’ she squealed as the golden retriever bounced towards her from the back of Hugh’s car. ‘Hello, boy.’ Olivia knelt and hugged the dog’s neck. ‘Oh, you’re so soft and beautiful, or should I say handsome.’
‘Women say that to me all the time,’ Hugh taunted as he walked across to the pickup and pulled at a bungee securing the chest. ‘You did not lift that on your own?’
Leaning over and continuing to stroke Boris’s head, Olivia tilted her head. ‘Never underestimate a determined woman!’ She laughed and then gawked at him with wry amusement. ‘Actually, I had help from Nico, our farm manager. So, I admit, you were right: it is bloody heavy.’ Boris ran off to an area of long grass on one side of the barn. ‘So, have you come along to gloat? Is it satisfying to know Cesare and I would never have managed?’
Cesare appeared from the barn wheeling out a trolley.
‘It pleases me immensely to be right, m’lady.’ Hugh bowed then focused his eyes behind her and waved a hand. ‘Ciao, Cesare,’ he said patting the top of the chest. Turning back, he widened his eyes at her. ‘Mmm, well, joking apart, let’s hope we can get it lifted onto a bench for our friend ready to work on. Did you find a key?’
Grimacing back at him, she tightened her lips, trying not to laugh as she shook her head. ‘Afraid not. No.’ And, she had been keeping her eyes peeled as she had trawled through so many of Nonna’s things.
‘Ciao, Hugh.’ Cesare smiled displaying the tobacco-stained teeth again. ‘This good?’ he asked parking the trolley beside the back of the pickup, close to where they stood.