‘Will do, and better, thanks. Mum is still taking some heavy-weight pain medication and isn’t expecting to be discharged until early next week. Any movement is difficult at the moment and in a way I’m glad they are keeping her in for a while. Someone is going to come to the house to assess what we’ll need to make her comfortable and I’ve arranged for the nurse to be here for that meeting. You know me, I have no idea at all what an invalid is likely to need. Anyway, I won’t keep you and I hope you have something enjoyable planned for your last evening. Have you ventured into town?’
I know that Livvie would probably have hired a car and crammed in as much local sightseeing as possible.
‘Max has invited me to dinner and today I did get some glimpses of Castrovillari, but there wasn’t time to park and walk around. The heat is a little tiring and that’s probably why people tend to start work early and nap after lunch. I’ve never slept in the day before and it feels rather decadent.’
‘When in Rome, as they say,’ she laughs, no doubt thinking I’ve missed out on making the most of this trip. But I wouldn’t change one single moment of it.
‘I think I will leave a little bit of myself here when I leave,’ I confess.
‘Really?’
Why did I say that?
‘I mean, the people are so welcoming and friendly they make you feel instantly at home. It touches your heart.’
‘Well, just travel safely, Ellie. Keep all of your belongings close during that long stopover in Milan airport. There will be enough time to jump in a taxi and have a little tour around the city, but knowing you that’s unlikely to happen.’
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
‘You are joking, of course! I have my Kindle and I also want to re-read the notes I’ve made for you about the trip. I’m sure the time will fly.’
‘Well, enjoy your last supper.’ Her throaty laughter is the last thing I hear before the line disconnects.
Suddenly there’s a tap on the door and when I swing it open Max is standing there.
‘I have a little surprise planned for dinner later. I thought it would be nice to take you into town. I’ve talked my favourite restaurant into opening up early for us, so that afterwards we can have a little walk around. I promise to have you back here well before nine o’clock. Is that okay with you?’
I feel flustered and know my face is colouring up.
‘That’s very kind of you, Max. It sounds perfect.’
He nods, pleased by my response. ‘I’ll see you in reception at five-thirty, then.’
A sudden buzz of excitement creeps over me as I head off to shower and wash my hair. I’m not sure the dress I brought to wear tonight is quite right for a dinner for two. I’d assumed I’d be eating alone and wanted to look like a well-travelled woman abroad. Max is always smart-casual and I so wish I’d packed something a bit more, well, relaxed. Instead, when I slip on the silky, olive green wrap-around dress I feel a little over-dressed. However, the contrast against the slight hint of a tan I’ve acquired gives me a glow I didn’t have before and I will admit it is rather flattering. When I’m working it’s usually black trousers and tops, and when I’m at home I live in jeans.
I guess I’m just a little nervous at the thought of spending a few hours with Max. There isn’t much left to say that’s business-related, that we haven’t already covered. This is likely to get personal and I don’t know if I can handle that with an appropriate level of detachment.
I can’t help but admit that I feel drawn to him in some way, although I don’t want to be, and I’ve tried my best to fight it. And it’s not one-sided, because he’s told me things that you wouldn’t normally divulge to a mere business acquaintance. Explaining to me how important this visit is to the cooperative was dangerously honest of him. Not least because it isn’t just about the quality of the merchandise, but also about the long-term viability of the supply chain. In a way, the least I know about the troubles here, the better for them, surely? I think he trusts me and can sense the empathy I have for these people. But I am curious about his personal situation, as my intuition is picking up on a hurt that runs very deep. The question I have to ask myself is why that should matter to me at all, given the circumstances. Or why Max feels he can be so relaxed and open in my company.
Chapter 11
Trista is there when I walk down to meet Max. I’m surprised to see that he’s not as casually dressed as usual. He’s wearing a smart white-cotton shirt and dark-grey trousers. He’s so handsome, but his appeal is about much more than what the world can see. Beneath that he has a good heart. He smiles when he sees me and then turns to Trista, says about a dozen words before she raises her hand and nods in my direction. I notice she places her hand on his arm and gives it a gentle squeeze, before withdrawing it. As Max and I walk to the door I can feel her eyes on us, watching every step, and I suddenly feel very self-conscious. Does it upset her seeing Max with another woman? Reminding her that the person he should be walking out of the entrance to the villa with is her daughter.
Outside, Max appears unfazed and surprisingly relaxed. Once we set off a comfortable silence settles between us. Maybe I was over-thinking this and we can fill the time with idle chatter about the food and our surroundings. It’s kind of him to go out of his way so that I can see the town up close and experience one of the local restaurants.
When we park, Max informs me it isn’t far to the restaurant, which is called Il Giardino Di Ulivi. He doesn’t interpret but it’s easy enough to work out that it’s The Garden of Olives. As we walk along the streets the huge mountain range in the background is visible at every twist and turn. The wide swathes of forest and the many canyons are easily identifiable and for the first time I get a real sense of the scale involved. And yet it seems like a very natural contrast, rather than a stark and overbearing shadow over a town that is divided into the old and the new. We reach a crossroads and head up a windy little road, until Max stops and I realise we have arrived.
The building has three floors, the outside is an aged, pale-yellow colour and blends into the street quite nicely. This restaurant has been here for a long time. There is a tiny courtyard at the front, separated from the street by intricate railings and a beautiful pair of wrought-iron gates that look familiar. An image of Eduardo immediately springs into my head. It wouldn’t surprise me if Max is also a facilitator, putting people together for mutual benefit.
As we enter, the restaurant owner almost runs across to welcome Max and they hug, which surprises me, as it’s the first time I’ve witnessed Max doing anything other than shaking hands.
A torrent of Italian fills the air, which lasts for a couple of minutes. I look on in fascination. These two have history and Max is very happy to be here. They turn to look at me.
‘E si ha una bella compagna così per la cena!’
Max replies, then turns to me to add, ‘This is Luca and he says I have a beautiful companion for dinner.’
I feel myself going red and smile back, then quickly turn away to look around the empty restaurant. It’s mostly cream walls, with lots of exposed brick and rustic arches mounted on sturdy pillars. It’s bigger than I was expecting and the property extends way back. There is a large serving hatch, through which a glimpse of the kitchen can be seen.
Max indicates for me to follow Luca and he escorts us to a table in the far corner. I was rather hoping we’d have a table at the front of the restaurant, where there is a window from which it’s possible to see the mountain range. But Max looks very happy with Luca’s choice. Max and Luca both move forward to pull out a chair for me and they exchange a little laughter and bantering, before Max allows Luca to do the honours.
Luca leaves us to peruse the menu and to my dismay it’s all in Italian. I look up at Max and shrug my shoulders.
‘Don’t worry about it, it’s merely for show. Luca will bring us what he feels we will enjoy eating. You’ve certainly made an impression on him and now he’s going to show off a little. The
food is always excellent, so just keep nodding and smiling. I promise that you are in for a real treat.’
And he was right, as we sampled a whole range of dishes. From the mushroom antipasto with chillies, to the roast lamb and three cheeses dish, caciocavallo grilled with green tomato mostardo, served alongside ricotta and pecorino with apple confit.
Max describes every ingredient in detail and all I have to do is savour each mouthful. After the meal we idle over coffee, but by then other dinner guests begin arriving.
Suddenly, the strains of Puccini’s ‘Nessun Dorma’ fill the restaurant and for one moment Max closes his eyes.
When he opens them I can tell he wants to say something, but instead he clears his throat and looks away. As the aria continues and the music swells, it seems to tug at every emotion and I try not to let him see the unbidden tears it brings to my own eyes.
My heart seems to be saying ‘I know you. I’ve known you. I feel what you feel.’ Is it just the passion invoked by the music?
When I glance back at him, I see that Max is similarly moved and we continue to sit in silence, until the last note fades into nothingness. I notice we each have a hand lingering on the table, almost touching but not quite. Suddenly there is only the low buzz of background chatter to fill the silence and the spell is broken. Our eye contact is meaningful, our mouths say nothing. There’s an air of awkwardness and I find myself needing to fill the void.
‘I’ve heard it sung many times, but I have no idea how it translates. But that doesn’t really matter, does it?’ My voice is soft and almost apologetic.
Max’s sadness when he looks back at me makes me hold my breath for a few moments. I want to wrap my arms around him and share his pain.
‘No, you’re right. The music is so powerful, that the words are of little importance. In each of us it will, no doubt, draw out a different range of emotions depending upon the life we have lived. I’m afraid for me it serves to highlight the fragility of life.’
And what did I feel? Wrenching sadness, to be pulled away from this place as I face the journey home. I want to go back to my life and the ones I love, so why then do I feel so much a part of this too? Am I tied to this place by a previous life? Does that sort of thing really exist? The flood of questions is like an onslaught.
Max suddenly stands, offering his hand and I’m happy to take it. As we touch it feels so very natural and I know that’s wrong. I’m inches away from him and can feel the heat of his body. Our eyes meet for one brief second and then he leads me in the direction of the door, pausing only to wave to Luca. I follow suit, desperate to get out into the fresh air, because I feel so unsettled.
‘I’m sorry. I spoilt the ending to a wonderful meal and I simply wanted to express my appreciation. I hope you will forgive me.’
What do I do? Do I say yes and we head back in silence? What is my heart telling me to do? Can I shrug off someone else’s pain, when he’s so obviously crying out for help? Max mistakes my silence for simple acceptance of his apology. He indicates with his hand, to steer me in the opposite direction to the way we came.
‘Can we head back to the villa? Would you be too disappointed?’
He hesitates, his eyes searching my face.
‘I was going to take you to see the Castello Aragonese, which is number one on every tourist’s sightseeing list. Then on to meet Saint Julian, the patron saint of Castrovillari,’ he muses, the sparkle back in his voice.
‘Let’s go back and sip wine on the terrace. I would like you to tell me about Aletta.’
His eyes are firmly fixed on mine, but I don’t look away. A moment of understanding passes between us.
‘As you wish.’ Max turns on his heels and leads me back to the car.
Chapter 12
I twist the stem of the wine glass in front of me in my hands, nervously. In the candlelight, though, everything feels softer and subdued, less awkward. Settling back in my seat our eyes meet. Max raises his eyebrows and releases an involuntary sigh, then laughs at himself.
‘This has nothing at all to do with business, Max. Whatever you tell me will never be repeated.’
‘Do you believe in fate?’
‘Of course. Do you?’
He nods. ‘Yes, I always have done. This morning when you told me the good news I said God helps those who help themselves. What if the reason you’re here has two purposes? You’re a good listener and a person whose discretion I would trust without a doubt. And yet I hardly know you. Don’t you think that’s rather strange?’
He feels it too. This, whatever it is, isn’t purely down to my imagination playing tricks, or because I’m a long way from home and feeling – what, vulnerable? Unusually sensitive and emotional because I’m homesick?
‘What if Olivia was never meant to make this trip? Maybe everything really does happen for a reason.’ I can’t believe I’ve just whispered out loud the words that are in my head.
Max takes a mouthful of wine, savouring it before placing his glass back down onto the table. Then he rubs his hands over his eyes and lets out another sigh.
‘You feel it too, that inexplicable link between us. It was there from the moment you arrived, wasn’t it? You need to let me get my head around this. Everything is buried so deep it’s not easy to drag it back up. I’m on the edge and I think, for whatever reason, you sense that. I hope those around me can’t see the cracks, but they are very real. What if you tell me a little about yourself and your family first, while I gather my thoughts. I hardly know anything about you.’
It’s my turn to take a mouthful of wine before I begin, wondering where to start and what to say.
‘I found my soul mate, Josh, when I was only eighteen. He was a year older. I knew he was the one from the very first time I set eyes on him. Just like that.’ I snap my fingers to emphasise the way it was at the time. Instant and without warning. ‘We moved in together and married shortly afterwards. Life has had its ups and downs for sure. I miscarried our first baby, but we went on to have two wonderful daughters. Hettie is fifteen and Rosie is thirteen. I went back to work part-time for Olivia, who is also my best friend, when Rosie started school.
‘Our life together revolves around work and family. I’m a very private person, not something I would admit to many people aside from Livvie, as I affectionately call her. People think they know me, but they don’t. Only Josh. He knows me almost better than I know myself. He says I’m a worrier and he’s right, I am, because sometimes I care a little too much about the people with whom I come into contact.
‘My mother died a couple of years ago. I’m convinced it was of a broken heart after she discovered that my father was cheating on her. It turned out that he’d had a long-running affair and went on to marry his mistress, shortly after Mum died. We haven’t talked since. There, that’s more than most people I see every day at work know about me.’
Max looks relaxed, his face quite blank as he mulls over the quick analysis of my life.
‘It hurts when you care that much, doesn’t it?’
I nod, letting the silence indicate it’s now Max’s turn.
‘If I’m honest it was probably a one-sided love at first sight when I met Aletta, but at the time I was so convinced it was mutual. At last, my search was over. My first true love, or so it seemed. She was beautiful, intelligent and vibrant. We met in London. Aletta was on holiday and I was attending a seminar at the Royal Institute of British Architects.’
He pauses to take another sip of his wine.
‘You’re a qualified architect?’ It was the last thing I expected to hear.
‘Yes, and project manager. I was beginning to make a name for myself after completing a rather prestigious build in London. Aletta and I kept in constant touch and I found myself with time on my hands, so I flew out to Italy for a holiday. At the time her father was recovering from his first stroke and one thing led to another. Aletta begged me to stay for a while, to help the family, as things were a little chaotic. Just until h
e was a little stronger, she said. I asked why her Uncle Gianni didn’t step forward, but she said her father would never allow that. I thought it was some sort of feud between the brothers, but later found out Gianni had refused outright, saying he was out of his depth.
‘He’s my right-hand man now and I couldn’t manage without him, but he would never take over control. Being the decision-maker isn’t easy and it requires not just business acumen, but a mind that can quickly evaluate every situation. So I stayed and the months passed. Stefano and Trista started treating me like a son. It was a role I had no choice in accepting and I admit I was besotted with Aletta. After a while, though, I came to see that I could make a real difference here and it began to matter to me for a whole host of different reasons. I guess that’s something you and I have in common.’
He pauses, his eye drawn by a cluster of fireflies, as one by one the lights in the restaurant are turned off. The door to the reception area opens and Bella walks towards us across the terrace. She hands Max a key and gives a nod in my direction.
‘Sorry to interrupt. I’ve locked up and switched the reception phone through to Gianni. I’ll say goodnight and sleep well.’ She looks in my direction and gives me a smile, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind those eyes. I’m glad it’s only Bella who is on reception duty tonight. I wonder what Trista’s reaction would have been, seeing us sitting here in the semi-gloom chatting and drinking together, like old friends.
Max accepts the keys. ‘Thank you, Bella. You too.’
With fewer lights from the building, the stars above us are more noticeable. It feels magical, as if we are sitting here in a bubble and nothing else exists except for what we can see before us. I wonder whether Max will change his mind about revealing his story, using the interruption as an excuse.
‘Did you think Aletta was the one?’
He drags his hand through his hair, a strand of silver grey illuminated by the candlelight draws my eye. I feel as if I’ve known his face forever, that somehow it’s etched into my memory. The way it might feel if you don’t see someone for many, many years and suddenly your paths cross once more. Instant recognition.
The Secrets of Villa Rosso Page 7