Under a Tuscan Sky

by Karen Aldous

  It was just gone seven-thirty when she woke. The skin on her arms felt cool from lying on the top of the bed in just a T-shirt and her phone was still in the palm of her hand where she had begun a new list: ‘Questions for Bella’, before falling asleep. At least she had a few, she thought, grateful that she was a little organized just in case.

  Dashing from the bed to a hot shower and to make herself semi-respectable with the few items to hand, she put on a little lipstick and a touch of eye pencil from her handbag, then after attempting to brush her hair with her tangle teezer, she took the lift down to the restaurant.

  After greeting her with a slight bow, the waiter led her to a table among several couples smartly dressed and suitably groomed for the evening. Self-conscious of her dirty day clothes and minimalist appearance, she asked he position her in the corner; she wanted to be seated as inconspicuously as possible. Respecting her wishes, he took her to a quiet spot where she placed her handbag – for company – on another chair.

  After ordering a carafe of water and a small glass of local white wine, she studied the guest menu, then the à la carte. There were some amazing options on the à la carte but, not wishing to hang around too long and wishing she had ordered room service, she stayed with the fixed menu. It was likely to be quicker too, she thought, peering around her for something to nibble.

  ‘Ah,’ she sighed, grabbing her chest as she instantly recognized the figure walking into the restaurant. He stopped briefly to talk to the maitre d’. Had he spoken to Bella? she wondered. What would Bella have said? What had she done to deserve his attention? He was a gorgeous-looking man, physically very fit, presumably reasonably wealthy, attributes that virtually guaranteed capturing any woman’s heart, so why was he bothering to come all this way to help her, especially knowing she was dating Alberto? Who, she looked at her watch, she really meant to ring around eight o’clock.

  She picked up her phone from her bag and checked her messages. There was one from Alberto. She texted him back explaining she would ring him after dinner. As she was momentarily distracted by the waiter placing a tiny dish of green lusciously large green olives in front of her, which she immediately dipped into, Hugh came towards her with a beer in his hand and laid his other hand on the back of the empty chair the other side of her.

  ‘Do you mind if we eat together?’

  ‘Not at all. I was just going to order from the fixed menu,’ she said stabbing an olive and popping it into her mouth. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘I’ll order some more. I think we both need some serious gluttony after today,’ he said catching the waiter’s attention. ‘Let me treat you tonight. You need a bit of TLC.’

  ‘Honestly, no. I should be treating you. I know I told you I didn’t need any help, but I’m really glad you’re here. I was completely frazzled earlier but you soon calmed me down.’

  ‘Let me.’

  ‘Thank you, you are very kind,’ she said, anxious to know if he had any news from her sister. Holding her breath and fearing the worst, she asked, ‘Oh, did you manage to get hold of Bella?’

  Chapter 21

  Hugh’s eyes veered close. ‘I was just going to say, besides, you’ll be needing to conserve all your energy and resources. Bella is eager to come and see you tomorrow morning.’

  She glared back at him and bit her bottom lip. ‘Right. Oh, jeez. What did she say?’

  ‘We didn’t speak for long. She was putting the baby to bed. She said that she had been waiting for your mother to return to give her the third degree. She’s devastated.’

  ‘My mum hasn’t returned?’

  ‘No, but that’s exactly what I said. Apparently, your mother goes into hiding and on one of her “binges” when she’s stressed about things. I didn’t get the impression Bella was terribly worried. Like you, Bella says she has a long list of questions to ask her, and you. She asked for your mobile, but respected the fact that I would rather you share those details with her yourself. She sounds a nice person, so I wouldn’t beat yourself up worrying about meeting her.’

  ‘Phew, that’s a relief. Oh, I wonder if she will bring her brother?’

  ‘She didn’t mention him. I would take this one step at a time. It’s been a lot to take in. You probably need to take it all in before you can think rationally. Let the emotion of it all settle.’

  ‘I’ll need to come back in a couple of years then.’

  Hugh guffawed and finished the beer in the bottom of his glass. ‘Hopefully it won’t take that long, but aren’t you excited that you have a brother and sister?’

  Olivia scrunched her palms by her chest. ‘I really am. I … I imagine they’re close though, being twins too. I mean, we won’t have shared any history, so I’m not going to build my hopes up. Take Chiara, for example, we go back to the day we started school. We’ve stayed close ever since and we have so many memories of doing things together, sharing things, helping each other, sometimes arguing. It’s like unconditional love. We shared secrets and family language and culture; she has an Italian father and grandparents who visited her more than she visited them, but she came with me all the time when I was younger. We were like sisters. I’m never going to have that with them.’

  ‘But you may find you have similarities – having the same genes. I remember my mother’s sisters often sent me the same birthday cards each year. One lives in Bath, the other in Suffolk. I asked my mum if they conferred and she laughed. I’m sure you’ll find some common ground.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Olivia took a sip of the Chianti she’d ordered. ‘As long as I don’t turn into a lush like my mum.’

  They both laughed, then Olivia looked into his eyes, chewing her lip, growing stern.

  ‘So, seriously, the one thing I need to ask her is what she’d been told about the farm. My mum must have given both her and Landi – I think his name is – a reason as to why they hadn’t inherited it. God only knows what that could be. I’ll need to go and see the solicitor when I get back to Tuscany too, block any process he may have started. I’m completely lost.’

  Going to bite her lip again, she quickly corrected her posture and pushed her shoulders back. ‘One thing I can’t do is forgive. I can’t even imagine myself speaking to my mother again. Nonna may have hid the truth from me, but I imagine it was reluctantly. I’m sure she never forgave my mum for separating us. I would like to believe that too. It must have been so difficult for her – Nonno and Gabriella and Nico too. What a strain on everyone.’

  Hugh nodded his head gently as he listened. ‘I expect there’s a lot going on in that pretty head of yours at this moment in time.’

  ‘Yes, you can say that again. And, unfortunately, you’ve had to listen to me rattle on. You’re such a patient listener.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad I can offer something. I now see I probably seemed intrusive. Again, I apologize. I’m not trying to interfere, I promise.’

  ‘Please, don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re here.’ Olivia watched as his eyes steered away towards the door.

  ‘Oh, great, food,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, and would you like some wine? I’ve already got a bottle; we’ll just ask for another glass.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  The waiter delivered two plates of antipasto and grabbed another glass from a neighbouring table at Olivia’s request. They tucked into their food like hungry wolves.

  ‘Hugh, do you mind me asking why you’re helping me?’

  Licking the corners of his mouth after munching a slice of pastrami, Hugh said, ‘It’s simple really. I like you and wanted to help. More precisely, to protect you. I don’t know, I saw you were upset after seeing the photos. You’re obviously much stronger than I thought, but I remember what it was like grappling with everything when I first used to come here. It wasn’t easy trying to find your way around in a foreign country, the driving particularly, reading the signs, driving on the other side of the road. I don’t think I had the satnav then.’ />
  He paused for a few moments, squinting. ‘No, only well-worn maps, Post-it notes on the dashboard with the next major destination and road number on – which inevitably dropped off!’ He smiled at the memory. ‘I love Italy and my confidence has grown now, but I wish I’d had someone to help me back then. And, of course, you’ve had this huge emotional shock. I suppose, I couldn’t let you deal with it all alone.’

  ‘Oh, God. When I think, well, I couldn’t believe it. My mind was struggling. It’s funny, I always wondered if my mamma was hiding something. Chiara and I often discuss it. We thought Mamma may have remarried and didn’t want her new partner to know about me. It didn’t occur to me that she was hiding my own flesh and blood from me.’

  ‘I was shocked too if I’m honest. It triggered a time when I struggled myself.’

  Feeling quite choked and guilty that he seemed so genuine and caring, she softened her shoulders and pulled out a tissue from her bag. ‘That’s so endearing,’ she sniffed.

  Hugh gave the biggest grin. ‘Now I feel like the biggest jerk.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish. I was the jerk. Anyway, I’ll forgive if you can. How come you are still here?’

  He tilted his head and licked his lips. ‘Well, being an opportunist jerk, I thought I’d call in on a contact whilst I was heading this way, so you need not harbour all the guilt. She has a small shop here in town, but I’m going to her warehouse, just on the outskirts, to look at something of interest. You may have unwittingly done me a great favour. We’ll wait and see on that score. But like you, I couldn’t face the drive back tonight.’

  ‘Excellent, well fingers crossed.’ Olivia held up both hands with crossed fingers. ‘I don’t feel quite so bad now.’ Her eyes tracked a waitress weaving through the tables and arriving beside her with the next course.

  ‘Grazie,’ they both said in unison.

  Olivia dug into her meal. Chateaubriand pork. ‘So, tell me more about you. I don’t know much about you. How long have you been in the antiques business?’

  He looked up. ‘Ooh, about ten years. I did short trips at first, maybe one or two markets in a weekend to hunt or purchase a specific item for a client. It was a bloody nightmare to begin with, driving in a strange place, strange signs, learning where you can and can’t park, understanding the language, customs, laws, the people. It took time.’

  ‘I agree. There’s so much to learn about another country. I’ve picked up bit over the years but not much considering how many times I’ve been here. But that’s such a cool job. Have you always been an antique dealer?’

  ‘I suppose. I was an amateur when I was young – did it part-time when I was at uni. Then I got asked to do talks.’

  ‘An antique expert? What on TV? I don’t recognize your name. Mind you I don’t know many.’

  ‘Yes, Jamie Hews. It rolled off the tongue better than Hugh St. James.’

  ‘Oh, I have heard of you. I’ve not really followed the programmes. That’s brilliant. Two amazing talents to have.’

  ‘I don’t do so much TV. I still do talks, and I have books. Once you have an audience, it becomes easier. I still write, then do a tour every year.’

  ‘Jesus, how do fit everything in?’

  ‘The more places I visit, the more material I collect. People too, they fascinate me.’

  ‘Oh really. A people expert too.’

  Hugh leaned forward on his elbows. ‘Not an expert, more like fitting the character to its surroundings, especially historically. When I find an interesting piece, say a snuffbox, a pipe, a brooch, a chair, I love to guess what the character was like. An old chair. I like to imagine the person or the ancestor sitting in it. A bit quirky I know. It’s a bit like a book cover; sometimes they have a scene with an empty chair. It’s fascinating to explore who or what that empty space represents.’

  Olivia smiled. ‘That’s so true.’

  ‘You are a fascinating character study. I could get some mileage.’

  Olivia glared at him for a second. ‘What?’

  ‘I thought that would rattle you, but really, you’d be surprised. Everyone is quirky.’

  ‘Oh dear. It’s time I went to bed. The thought of being analysed scares me.’

  ‘Have you ever had one of those caricatures drawn of you?’

  ‘No, I’ve seen friends have it done though. And my English grandparents had one. I think it was done at a seaside resort.’

  ‘It’s amazing what the artist picks out. I have one with a severely large jaw. The guy told me it was a table, strong and dependable.’

  She looked at his face. ‘Strong, not overly large though. Oh my God, so I wonder what feature a caricaturist would develop from my face. What do you think?’

  Hugh laughed. ‘No. I can’t say; I’ll get a slap. You’ll get offended.’

  ‘No I won’t. It’s fascinating. Tell me?’

  ‘Seriously. You sure? My imagination can go into overdrive.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘OK. A small but beautiful mouth. Pursed lips. I’ve got you tagged as … let’s say the classic cassone. They’re so much more beautiful. So, you are the abandoned bridal chest, which has been neglected, locked up and the key thrown away. Firstly, I try to find your key, so I must to ask you, or peel and poke about, like I would a nearby shelf and gradually find it. You’re uncomfortable and fearful of what may emerge. I have to break into you, either using a code or unlocking you somehow.

  ‘You try to throw me off scent or resist, but then I get you open, rummage through. Again, I unsettle you as I go through those contents. I may find one thing, or several but, whatever that item, like Pandora’s box, I’ve now discovered a secret about you. For example, notes you’ve made, a journal recording a break-up. It tells me you push people who love you away to prevent yourself being hurt, so you then lock yourself up to protect yourself.’

  Olivia subconsciously clawed her neck. How close he was to reading her. She had always stayed guarded, or locked. It was better, she thought, to protect yourself from being hurt or unloved. That way no one else could abandon you. Maybe she’d been wrong.

  Hugh scanned the room. ‘OK. A vintage bottle for example. An intriguing item: its colour, shape, its label, a crack in the glass, a chip – its flaws. The crack being a rift in the family, the label its status, the chip, being most prominent, is its fear. The buried emotion. The cartoonist brings this to the surface to humanize it.

  ‘You must have watched the Disney film Beauty and the Beast – Lumiere the candlestick, Cogsworth the clock, Mrs Potts the teapot, and Chip the cup et cetera. They all have failings, they are all vulnerable – but they come alive by living. How they do things, what challenges they take. Ask yourself, where is living and happy if you’re an object, inanimate, or locked in a bridal chest abandoned on the floor? You might be adorned, admired, sitting on a shelf for all to see, but you have no essence.’

  Olivia swallowed, finding herself wanting that essence, that soul. She wanted to be alive. But how?

  ‘Yes, I get it. I’m with you. Yes those characters are hilarious, and you’re right: the cartoons are genius. I’ve seen the film. Gosh I missed so much in my literature class. My passion was with the sciences.’

  Hugh banged his fist on his heart. ‘It’s all here, not from a class. And I think I got more human engagement from studying comedians, not literature. I studied art history at uni. I’m sure you have skills in your work, those books that help you perfect the vocation, but you have this and this.’ He pressed his chest and gut. ‘What do you do, by the way?’

  Chapter 22

  Olivia found herself relaxing, but totally absorbed. Hugh was fascinating and had plenty of amusing things to keep her mind off the day. ‘I’m an osteopath,’ Olivia said, finishing the last bit of salad of the next course.

  Hugh tapped the table. ‘Do you know, I had you down as a fixer-upper. Osteopath. That’s quite a skill.’

  ‘Does everyone fit so neatly into a b
ox?’

  Hugh stuck up his hand, like a schoolboy. ‘I confess, I do have a labelling system for everything. Everything has a personality and purpose in my eyes.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we each have our own methods, and seek insightful inspiration from those in our field. I’m quite methodical; rarely employ my heart or my gut instinct. I studied biology and psychology before osteopathy, but you’re right: I do find, away from the technical stuff, there’s so much more to learn from other fields. I like reading about approaching things holistically and reading from experts who have practised and written about it.’

  ‘Then you should practise this for yourself. Get out there and experience it. You will learn far more and be more in touch with your purpose. Do you find your career helps you cope with your inner alignment?’ He paused and placed his index finger on his top lip. ‘What I mean is, do you think that you chose your particular career to enable you to search for answers within yourself?’

  Olivia circled her eyes and wondered at the point of his question. ‘Not consciously, no. My friend Chiara and I wanted to study together. The career adviser at school thought that with the subjects we had chosen, which were identical, we should apply to the local school of osteopathy, which we did. There was no more thought than that. It paid well and we could study together. Why do you ask?’

  Hugh rubbed his chin. ‘I’m just curious. Maybe I should commission an empirical study to prove or disprove my theory. I think many of us do. I think I did. What sparked this discussion was when you said you didn’t like the thought of being analysed. I immediately pictured the locked box. Well, so that you don’t feel all intimidated, in my file, I wear a mask. I’ve used comedy as a coping mechanism just as you hid the key to your chest.’

  Olivia laughed and sipped the last of her wine. ‘I wonder what Freud would make of you.’

  ‘Probably lock his door. Actually, I must have caught your verbal vomit; I haven’t stopped. You must be getting sick of me.’