Under a Siena Sun (Escape to Tuscany Book 1)

by T A Williams

  Inside, she found Bruno waiting for her with a welcoming smile on his face. He accompanied her along a series of corridors to the office of Virginia’s father, Professor Michelangelo Gualtieri Della Torre, the founder and owner of the Siena Clinic.

  He was probably well into his seventies, but he still had a healthy head of hair, albeit steel grey, and his eyes were bright and shrewd. He greeted Lucy with a broad smile and soon put her at her ease as he asked her a number of insightful questions about her background and her recent experience with MSF. It turned out he knew Dr Brown in London very well and he had been impressed by the glowing reference she had provided this morning. As Lucy relaxed in his company, she took a distinct liking to him. This came as a relief as, in spite of Dr Brown’s words, she had been fearful that he might have turned out to be just a money-grabbing ogre. Such was quite evidently not the case.

  They talked for the best part of an hour before she shook hands with him and told him she would be very happy to accept the position, starting in two weeks’ time so she could complete her prescribed course of R&R first. After joining them in a cup of Twinings English Afternoon Tea and a little piece of super-sweet panforte to celebrate her appointment, she turned the conversation to her recent patient.

  ‘And how’s our tennis player? Has he got over his gunshot wound?’

  Professor Gualtieri nodded. ‘It’s all healing very well. Between Bruno and yourself, you did a great job. Thank you again for your help with that, Doctor Young. We appreciated it massively. He was up and walking the very next day. He discharged himself and went back to his home and he’s been off any form of painkillers for almost a week now.’

  ‘That’s excellent news. Do please give him my best wishes next time he comes in.’

  Bruno checked something on his clipboard. ‘If you like, you can tell him yourself and take a look at the wound. He comes in three times a week for physio sessions and he’s upstairs now.’

  Lucy shook hands with Professor Gualtieri and followed Bruno to the lift. As they reached it, he gave her an apologetic smile. ‘Virginia’s away today so I’m afraid I have to get back to something urgent, but if you take the lift up to the third floor, you’ll find the physio department. I’ll call to tell them you’re coming to see David.’

  The huge stainless-steel lift, built to accommodate a patient in a bed, took its time getting up to the third floor and when the doors hissed open, there was a woman in a stylish blue tunic already waiting to greet Lucy. She had evidently been well primed by Bruno.

  ‘Good afternoon, Doctor Young. My name’s Louisa Verdi. I work in the rehabilitation department. If you’d like to follow me…’

  They shook hands and as they made their way down a wide corridor, Lucy took the opportunity to sound her out about the tennis champion.

  ‘How’s Mr Lorenzo doing?’

  The physio gave that same shrug that Lucy had noted from Bruno. ‘Physically pretty good. He’s a very fit man, as you would expect, and his injury doesn’t stop him walking, driving, doing most things normal people do on a daily basis. The problem is that he isn’t a normal person. Unfortunately, Doctor Saeed and Doctor Lanslebourg say his knee problems mean he’ll be out of competitive tennis for at least another year or two, quite probably forever, and that’s taken its toll on him emotionally.’

  Lucy’s ears pricked up. The name she had mentioned was far from common, even in France. ‘Dr Lanslebourg? I don’t suppose that’s Doctor Charles Lanslebourg, by any chance? Tall French guy, blond hair, good-looking.’

  The physio shot her a quick sideways grin. ‘Very good-looking. Yes, that’s him. So you know him?’

  ‘I know him.’ Lucy was genuinely staggered. The world of medicine was a small one, but even so… ‘He and I were both in Médecins Sans Frontières together in Greece four years ago.’

  ‘So you must know him well.’

  Lucy definitely knew Charles Lanslebourg well. Although their free time in Lesbos had been limited, she and he had hooked up, and there had been a time when she had been pretty sure she was falling in love with him. Then there had been that unforgettable night when she caught him with one of the nurses and she had requested an immediate transfer to a different continent. She hadn’t spoken to him since.

  ‘Yes, I know him well, or at least I did.’ Suddenly her dream job was looking far less inviting. ‘Is he here this afternoon?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t usually work on Fridays. He’ll be in on Monday though. Would you like me to tell him you send your regards?’

  There had been a time when a black mamba in a box would have been all Lucy would have wanted to send him, but four years had passed and the hurt had diminished, so she just shook her head. ‘That’s okay, thanks. I’ll tell him myself when I see him.’

  ‘David’s in here.’

  Lucy noted the use of his first name. Clearly, the tennis champion was a familiar face around here. Louisa opened the door and ushered Lucy inside. David Lorenzo was sitting on a weights bench, wearing just a pair of black spandex training shorts. He was facing away from her, hands gripping a steel bar above his head, so she had a moment to study him before walking across to his side. As Louisa had said, he looked very fit. There wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on him and as he pulled and released the bar above his head, lifting a staggeringly heavy load of weights each time, it was clear that his upper body was every bit as muscular as his powerful legs.

  Quite unexpectedly Lucy felt a spark of what could only be explained as attraction at the sight of his naked back. It had been drummed into her from her very first year as a medical student that involvement with a patient was one of the cardinal sins for any doctor. This feeling of attraction was instantly followed by a wave of annoyance – at herself. Apart from being forbidden fruit because of her Hippocratic oath, he also undoubtedly came from a completely alien world of riches and celebrity, exactly the world of excess and wealth she had so feared when considering accepting this job. She told herself in no uncertain terms that she would do well to think of this man as just a patient. Period.

  She walked over to him and positioned herself by his injured side, pleased to see the entry and exit wounds now well on the way to healing up and no longer needing to be dressed. He was sweating profusely and pushing himself hard, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted, and she counted twelve reps before he finally released the bar and stretched. As he did so, he opened his eyes and saw her. To her surprise, considering he must have been in shock when they had met before, he not only recognised her, but also remembered her name.

  ‘Dr Young. Come to check up on me?’

  As before, there was little or no warmth in his voice. Still, he wasn’t the first grumpy patient she had come across, so she just smiled sweetly.

  ‘I had an appointment with Professor Gualtieri Della Torre and I thought I’d come and see for myself how you were doing.’

  ‘And now you’ve seen.’

  His tone was dismissive and, in spite of her best intentions, she felt a surge of annoyance that she managed, with effort, to control.

  ‘And now I’ve seen, and I’m pleased everything’s healing up nicely. Does it cause you any discomfort?’

  He shook his head, but made no response. Feeling that it would be best if she left him to it, she turned for the door, pausing only to wish him well. Once again she was met with sullen silence.

  She murmured a few choice words under her breath as she closed the door behind her, reflecting that he was doing a very good job of helping her suppress that initial spark of attraction she had felt for him. Yes, he had a great body and a handsome face, but what lay within appeared to be anything but appealing. Besides, a grumpy tennis player was the least of her worries now. Her problems would begin when she met up with Charles Lanslebourg again.

  Chapter 6

  The following day she decided to start looking for somewhere to live. Daniela’s mum insisted that she continue to stay with them but Lucy didn’t want to impose any more, so she drov
e into Siena and headed for an estate agency she had seen near Daniela’s place of work to see what was available. Although she needed a rental property in the first instance, she now realised that her dream of having her own place, a fixed point after years as a nomad, could hopefully come to fruition.

  The man who greeted her was very helpful as she explained her situation and the sort of thing she was hoping to find.

  ‘I’m just starting a new job at the Siena Clinic – you know, the Villa delle Ginestre.’ She paused to check that she saw recognition in his eyes. ‘I’d like somewhere within, say, a fifteen- or twenty-minutes’ drive from there if possible. It doesn’t need to be very big and I don’t want anywhere flashy – somewhere old would be fantastic. Ultimately I’d like to buy, but for now I need somewhere to rent until I find the right place.’

  He nodded a couple of times as he thought it through before coming to a conclusion. ‘I think I may have just what you want. It’s an old farm cottage on the edge of a big estate in a village called Castelnuovo Superiore. It’s a lovely spot and it’s no more than fifteen minutes from the Villa delle Ginestre. It’s been immaculately refurbished from head to toe and it’s available to rent immediately. The thing is, though, I’m pretty sure the owner’s also keen to sell. Just give me a moment to check and, if it appeals to you and the price is right, you could move in as a tenant until the sale goes through and then it’ll be yours.’

  After a few seconds on the computer, he gave a satisfied grunt.

  ‘That’s right: rental or sale. Here, take a look. See what you think.’

  He turned the screen towards her and she found herself looking at half a dozen photos of a charming old brick cottage. She didn’t hesitate.

  ‘That looks perfect. When can I see it?’

  ‘How would three o’clock this afternoon suit you?

  As she left the agency and came out into the narrow street, she heard somebody call her name and turned to find a familiar, though not terribly welcome, face. It was Daniela’s journalist colleague, Tommy. She hadn’t seen him since the wedding and he appeared delighted to bump into her. She was less delighted, but didn’t let it show. He did work with her best friend after all.

  He immediately insisted upon taking her to the bar across the street for a coffee and she couldn’t think of a convincing reason to say no. As she sipped her little cup of powerful espresso coffee macchiato with the addition of a drop of cold milk, she told him about the house she was going to view this afternoon. When he heard the name of the village, he nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘I know Castelnuovo Superiore well. My aunt and uncle live there and I often go to see them. It’s a super little place. Let me know if you decide to take the house and I can introduce you to the locals. They’re all very friendly… at least most of them.’

  They chatted over their coffees and this only confirmed her impression that, as at the wedding, he had got her firmly in his sights. He wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but he just wasn’t her type. At the end, when she stood up to leave, he asked her if she would like to come out for dinner with him some time and she prevaricated, saying she would be very busy getting everything sorted out over the next couple of weeks. She hoped he would get the message without her having to spell it out for him.

  * * *

  The old house was on the edge of a pretty little village and, to her relief, it wasn’t completely isolated in the middle of nowhere. Castelnuovo Superiore even had a general store and a bar/restaurant. The village was situated partway up one of the hills to the west of Siena and all around were olive groves and vineyards, interspersed with clumps of trees and scrub. Bright yellow broom bushes – the ginestre that gave their name to her future place of work – were in flower, and the scent was all-pervading as the man from the agency drove her up the winding road with the car windows open. Tommy had been right about it being lovely. The views that stretched out before them were stunning.

  The house was quite simply gorgeous and Lucy fell in love with it as soon as she set eyes on it. It wasn’t grand or ostentatious. It had apparently been built at the end of the eighteenth century and it had clearly once been the home of a farm worker and his family. It looked pleasingly modest but comfortable, and that suited her perfectly. Her parents had never been very well off, and funding her long years of medical studies had been a struggle for all of them, and she had always instinctively avoided ostentation – be it with regard to accommodation or, indeed, men. Thinking back on it, that was one of the things that had always bothered her about Charles, and after their split-up she had vowed to go for plain, simple men in future.

  Like so many of the properties in this area, this cottage was built of old bricks and had arched doorways, while dusty louvred shutters hung at the windows. The roof was tiled with sun-scorched curved red pantiles and the top floor opened onto a covered loggia supported by brick pillars which would provide shade and allow the breeze to blow through, just like Daniela’s mum’s house.

  Inside, it was immaculate. Whoever had been responsible for the restoration had done a wonderful job and hadn’t spared any expense. The floors had been retiled using antique – or at least antique-looking – terracotta, and the hefty timbers supporting the ceilings had been sandblasted to return them to their original appearance. The kitchen had granite worktops and a fabulous bank of built-in cupboards and appliances. A picture window in the far end wall looked out over the hills. It was superb and she thanked Federico, the man from the agency, warmly.

  ‘What a place! Are you sure you’ve got the price right?’

  He grinned at her and nodded. ‘A bit cheaper than London maybe?’

  She grinned back. ‘A bit? A house like this in or around London would cost three, four times as much. And the rent would be astronomical. It’s unbelievable.’

  Upstairs there were two good-sized bedrooms, each with its own en-suite bathroom, and a landing from where a door led out to the loggia. The views from outside on the covered terrace were spectacular. From here she was looking straight out over row upon row of gnarled old olive trees that clothed the curves of the hillside and disappeared down towards the valley below. She did a quick count and found she could only see five other buildings dotted among the trees and vines. Siena, she knew, was in the next valley, along with the autostrada. Here the only noise she could hear was the tweeting of little birds and the rumble of a distant tractor some way away in the fields. Best of all, she reckoned it was barely five or six kilometres in a straight line from here to work, although the winding roads to get there would probably add up to almost double that distance. Even so, it was going to be a very easy, and very scenic, commute.

  The house was empty so she knew she would have to buy everything and furnish it herself, but this really appealed to her. After years of living in rented property and sleeping and eating on other people’s furniture, it would be wonderful to be able to make a fresh start. She breathed deeply. Her escape to Tuscany was really taking shape.

  Outside to the rear there was a small garden that backed onto the estate to which it had originally belonged, and the backdrop of olive trees, cypresses and lines of vines reinforced the rural feel of the place. The garden was little more than a mass of straggly weeds and she could tell that she would have her work cut out for her in that department, but this didn’t intimidate her either. With a garden to create and tend, and knowing she would be living in one of the most historically interesting parts of Italy, she would have more than enough to fill her free time. And there was even a bare patch of soil alongside the back door just crying out for a rambling rose bush. It was perfect.

  ‘Why are they selling a gorgeous place like this? It’s not on the San Andreas fault or anything, is it?’

  The house agent shook his head. ‘Most of Tuscany’s designated a seismic region, particularly as you get closer to the Apennines, and there are little quakes around Siena from time to time, but there hasn’t been a serious earthquake in this area for ages. Just think
of the centre of Siena – the buildings around Piazza del Campo have been standing for six hundred years. The way I look at it, as long as the Torre del Mangia stays upright, there shouldn’t be too much to worry about. No, I believe the vendor’s selling this place because he’s got all he needs with the villa.’ He pointed up the hill. ‘That’s the Villa Castelnuovo up there. I’ve never seen it, but I’m told it’s beautiful.’

  Lucy followed the line of cypress trees marking the driveway as it curled up the hillside until she could just make out a broad red-tiled roof barely visible above the tops of a little copse of more cypresses and umbrella pines about half a mile away. Not as big as the Siena Clinic villa, it was still a sizeable place, with a little tower sticking out of the centre of the roof in classic Tuscan style. She had no doubt a house like that would be worth many millions; definitely the sort of ostentatious place where she would never feel comfortable. Still, she thought to herself with a satisfied grin, as long as they were happy to sell her this little cottage, she would be well pleased.

  They drove back to agency where she wasted no time in signing the rental agreement and paying the deposit. They also discussed making an offer to buy the property and she decided to take the plunge. The place had just felt so right. They agreed a figure and she crossed her fingers under the table as Federico emailed it through to the vendor’s solicitor.

  While waiting for a decision, Federico gave her all sorts of useful information about opening a bank account, arranging a mortgage and getting fixed up with all the complicated paperwork involved with settling in Italy. He also gave her some excellent advice about a number of antique shops and regular markets in and around Siena where he told her she should be able to find furniture at a fraction of the original price.

  She was still scribbling the information down when the phone rang. He gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. They had accepted her offer.