by T A Williams
‘It’s good to see the old place lived in. It was almost falling down before the builders started and they were here for four, five months, getting it back into shape.’
‘They’ve done a marvellous job. I love it.’
‘And I understand it’s your intention to buy it.’
‘That’s right. I can’t wait. And do you know the first thing I’m going to do? I’m going to plant a rambling rose outside the back door. Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always wanted a home with a rose around the door.’
She saw him smile. ‘Well, in that case, let me offer you one of mine. As well as the vines, I take care of the gardens up at the villa and I’ve got a number of roses that I’ve grown from cuttings. There’s a very unusual pink and white one with a wonderful scent that would be perfect for what you want. I’ve no idea of its name but it’s a vigorous climber and it’ll flower throughout the summer. Would you like that?’
‘I would love that. Thank you so much, Armando.’
As they drank their coffee, he told her what he could about the history of the place. The villa had been built three hundred years ago alongside the ruins of the original Castelnuovo. He couldn’t tell her much about the castle itself, seeing as it had been razed to the ground centuries earlier. From the size of the foundations, he said it was clear it must have been a building of some importance, but he knew no more than that, apart from the fact that it had given its name to the village and the villa. This only whetted Lucy’s appetite to visit the ruins even more, but clearly this wasn’t going to be allowed by its reclusive owner. She decided she would, at the very least, check it out on Google Earth, although it would have been better to see it in the flesh.
Armando finished his account with recent developments up at the villa. ‘The present owner bought the Villa Castelnuovo five years ago and he and his wife only moved in when the builders finally finished about three years ago.’ He lowered his voice although there was nobody in the vicinity to overhear. ‘He’s not been very well. That’s why he keeps himself to himself.’
‘What a pity. Still, hopefully, living in a beautiful place like this will help him get better.’
‘Fioretta and I do hope so. He’s a good man. It pains us to see him so unhappy.’
‘Is he from around these parts?’
Armando shook his head. ‘No, he’s not.’ He didn’t say where he was from and Lucy didn’t dig. It was clear he and his wife were keeping a low profile. At least Armando had said he was a good man. She certainly didn’t want to end up living next to a sleazy Russian oligarch or a drug baron on the run.
‘And Boris the dog; does he have free run of the place?’
‘Yes, and normally he’s very good. He either goes for longer walks with his master or he just wanders around the estate if he’s out on his own. It’s twenty-five hectares in total and that’s pretty big, after all. It’s just that his master has been away these last few days and I’ve been very busy so Boris hasn’t had his usual long walks.’
‘So he’s not your dog?’
‘No, he belongs to the master.’
Lucy wondered why her landlord’s wife hadn’t been able to give the dog his walks, but she decided it had nothing to do with her. ‘Well, if I see him wandering out on the road again, I’ll give you another call.’
‘Thank you, but hopefully he shouldn’t come all the way down here again. His master is due back home this afternoon so Boris can return to his normal routine.’
It sounded strange to Lucy to hear him referring to his master, rather than by the man’s name, and it reminded her of a Dracula movie she had once seen where the old butler had always referred to the vampire lying in the coffin in the crypt as the ‘master’. Hopefully she wasn’t living next to a vampire. There had been big bats in the Congo, but none of them addicted to human blood as far as she knew, and none of them dressed in a sinister black cloak. In spite of herself, she shivered.
Chapter 8
As it turned out, Lucy came within just a few feet of meeting the dog’s reclusive owner the very next morning, but at that point she was in no fit state to greet him properly.
It was another fine, sunny morning and she woke up feeling relaxed after the third night on the trot without any bad dreams. The weather forecast was warning of rain on the way later in the day so she decided to go for a long walk around the area to get her bearings before the ground got too sodden. She set out at ten, determined to do a circular tour around the perimeter of the Castelnuovo estate to see if she could at least get a glimpse of the remains of the ruined castle. The previous night she had checked it out on Google Earth and had located what looked like the rough outline of a rectangular shape in the trees alongside the sizeable red-roofed villa but, as both the shopkeeper and Armando had said, it was very overgrown and there was precious little of it left to see. Interestingly, there was a bright red luxury sports car visible parked outside the villa and that confirmed her conviction that the owners of a place like that must be of the rich and flashy variety. Still, if they kept themselves to themselves, so much the better.
She stuck a bottle of water and a banana in her bag, slung it over her shoulder and set out. The air was more humid today and she felt sure the TV weatherman had got it right. She walked up a steep, narrow path through the middle of a grove of gnarled old olive trees, their grey-green leaves covered in dust. As she did so, she reflected that everything around here looked extremely dry, in spite of it only being late May. No doubt the olives, vines and other crops could all do with the predicted rain and would enjoy a good soaking.
As she climbed, the view around her broadened until she was looking beyond the valley and across row after row of tree-clad hills in all directions. In the far distance she saw what might have been the towers of San Gimignano – one of the must-see places in Tuscany that she had visited several times as a girl. Even back in those days the little town had been crowded with tourists and she had no doubt that visitor numbers could only have increased with the passing of the years. Up here there was a little bit more breeze and she could well understand why the builders of first the castle and then the villa had chosen to come up this high. As she knew from experience, Tuscany could become swelteringly hot in the summer months and the breeze would have been very welcome indeed – particularly back in the days before air con.
She was roughly following a new-looking wire fence, taller than she was, that surrounded the Villa Castelnuovo estate. She wondered if this had been put up to keep out animals or humans, and decided it was probably both. Peering through the mesh from time to time, she was unable to catch even a distant glimpse of anything that might have been a ruined castle, and even the villa itself was well screened from sight by rows of vines, olive trees and woodland. Lucy shrugged off her disappointment. After all, the view in every other direction more than made up for it. As rain clouds began to bubble up, the landscape was dappled light and dark as the clouds moved across it. An ancient chapel on a distant hill was bathed in bright sunlight in stark contrast to the darker shades of the woods around it. This piecemeal illumination lent an almost magical air to the panorama before her and she found herself smiling.
After fifteen minutes of steady climb, she emerged onto a flatter bit of hillside where she knew the villa and the remains of the castle lay. The trees here were thicker and she followed a series of animal tracks through the woods, pleased that she didn’t need to worry about stepping on a deadly snake or being attacked by a ferocious carnivore – animal or human. Certainly Tuscany had its advantages compared to the Congo.
However, a few minutes later, as she was sitting on a fallen tree having a rest and nibbling her banana, she suddenly found that she was indeed confronted by a large carnivore – albeit not ferocious by any stretch of the imagination. She barely had time to turn her head towards the sound of something heavy crashing through the dry undergrowth in her direction when a big black shape emerged from the shadows and hurtled towards her. To her immense relief
it was a familiar face that greeted her.
‘Ciao, Boris. Fancy seeing you here.’
Boris the Labrador clearly recognised her as he bounded up and did his best to climb onto her lap, emitting happy little grunts and whines as he did so, his tail wagging furiously. After a struggle she managed to persuade him to get off her and sit down, but it took the bribe of a piece of banana. Needless to say, this disappeared down his throat in a flash. He licked his lips a few times, checked to see there wasn’t any more coming his way and then stretched out on his back at her feet, his tail sweeping the pine needles beneath him into a fan-shape.
She bent down and scratched the young dog’s tummy, wondering how he had managed to get through the fence. This gave her an idea. After finishing her banana – and giving him the last piece – she took a big swig from her water bottle and stood up. Boris leapt to his feet and beamed at her.
‘Right then, Boris, let’s see if we can find your way back home. Off you go, home!’ For the avoidance of doubt, she also added the translation: ‘A casa!’
She set off back in the direction from which the Labrador had come and he immediately took the lead, pausing only to mark his territory from time to time as he went along. It took only two or three minutes for her to spot how he had managed to get out. A tree had fallen across the fence, flattening one of the posts and bringing down the wire, producing a simple way of getting in and out of the estate. She stopped by the breach and stared into the shadows of the woods ahead of her, but without seeing anything but trees. A vestigial path disappeared into the undergrowth and Boris happily skipped over the flattened wire and disappeared into the trees. Presumably home – and the ruined castle – were down this way.
Lucy stood there for a few moments, debating whether to trespass or not. Much as she would have liked to see the castle, she decided not to risk it. It would be highly embarrassing to be caught wandering about on private property and this might even enrage the owner so much he might turf her out of her new house and refuse to sell it to her after all. There was no further noise from the dog, so presumably he had headed off home so, regretfully, she turned away and carried on around the perimeter.
As she walked, she gradually became aware that it would have been a good idea to go to the toilet before setting off. No sooner did she start thinking about it than the urge got stronger. She stopped by the fence and listened. All she could hear was the incessant buzzing of the bees and a very distant tractor. There was no indication of any other humans in her vicinity so she pushed her way into the middle of a thick clump of broom bushes covered in aromatic yellow flowers and pulled down her shorts.
She was in the middle of doing what she had to do when she suddenly became aware of the unmistakable sound of human footsteps approaching. She crouched there, hardly daring to breathe, feeling terribly exposed, and tried not to make a sound as somebody came past her, just on the other side of the wire fence.
Unfortunately, her presence had been registered. She heard the now familiar mix of grunts and whines that indicated that Boris knew it was his new best friend who gave him bread sticks and pieces of banana who was squatting in the bushes, blushing like a schoolgirl. She even heard scrabbling, presumably as the dog tried to get through the fence, but, to her infinite relief, the human footsteps continued to recede into the distance. Finally, there was a piercing whistle and she heard the dog bound off through the undergrowth to join his master. She gave a little sigh of relief and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. That had been close.
When she got back home later on she called Armando to tell him about the gap in the fence and he thanked her and told her the owner of the property had reported it himself only a matter of minutes earlier. As Lucy put the phone down, she reflected that it would have been highly embarrassing if her first encounter with her landlord had been with her pants around her ankles.
Just after lunchtime the rain started and it absolutely bucketed down continuously for four or five hours. Water came pouring off the rock-hard soil of the hillside onto the road and past her front door, four or five inches deep in places. Although she kept checking regularly, she was delighted to find that the house was well out of the way of the stream of water, and the new roof did a terrific job of keeping the elements at bay. Finally, just after six, the rain stopped, to be replaced by a symphony of drips all round, and within a very short space of time the water on the road had disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place.
She made herself a ham sandwich and picked up the history book she had found at the village shop. It was a hefty tome and, judging by the myriad footnotes, was meticulously researched. There was a detailed index at the back and she started there in the hope that this village or the old castle might be mentioned. Alas, there was no reference to Castelnuovo Superiore or the ruins, so she turned back to page one and started to read. She had barely got midway through the first chapter when she heard a car pull up outside and she peeked out to see who it might be. The car was a very smart silver Porsche and the driver was none other than Bruno.
Slipping a pencil into the book to save her place, she went over to open the door, wondering why Virginia wasn’t with him.
‘Ciao, Lucy. I came to wish you well in your new home.’ He handed her a bottle of cold champagne and leant forward to kiss her on the cheeks.
‘Ciao, Bruno. Thank you so much.’ She stepped aside and beckoned him in.
‘Wow, this is amazing!’ He looked around appreciatively and she felt a little thrill of satisfaction that he appeared to feel the same way about this lovely little house as she did.
She gave him a tour of the property, hurrying him past the bedrooms and out onto the loggia. It was pleasantly cool out here now after the rain, and the air was crystal clear. It was so clear, in fact, that for the first time she could make out the vague outline of the Apennines against the far distant horizon. She left him there and went down to the kitchen to bring up a couple of glasses and the bottle of champagne. He took it from her, opened it without fuss and filled the glasses.
‘So how’s it going, Lucy? Are you settled in?’
She took a seat opposite him and they chatted. He told her Virginia had gone off to Rome for a conference and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow so he was very much in charge of things at the clinic. He then came to what was probably the main reason for his visit.
‘I wanted to come and see you to find out if you knew you’re going to be working alongside Charles Lanslebourg. I only discovered today that you know each other.’
‘Yes, I had heard. It’s quite a coincidence. So he told you he knew me?’
‘Yes, this morning after our regular weekly meeting when it was announced that you were joining us. And you knew him well?’
‘Yes, four years ago in Greece, we worked together.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But there was more to it than that.’
‘He told me the two of you used to be an item. Is that right?’
She nodded. ‘For about six months.’ She looked up from her feet. ‘Until I found one of the nurses wrapped around him.’
‘Really? That’s not the way he tells it.’
‘Is that so? What does he say?’ Lucy listened intently.
‘He says you went off and left him for no reason. It broke his heart, apparently.’
‘If no reason means catching him stark naked on a beach at ten o’clock at night with a naked girl, then he’s right. Otherwise, he’s wrong, very wrong. I believe the Romans invented the expression “in flagrante” so, as an Italian, you can probably imagine the scene, I’m sure.’
Bruno nodded slowly. ‘That comes as no surprise. To be honest, we’ve been keeping an eye on him for a while now. He’s got a thing for nurses – and they seem to find him very attractive as well. Although it’s not against the clinic’s rules, Virginia’s father quite rightly frowns upon that sort of thing and woe betide Charles if he lays a finger on one of the patients.’
‘What’s
that old saying about the leopard never changing its spots?’ Lucy gave a little sigh and, to her consternation, Bruno suddenly asked her a tricky question.
‘Did he break your heart?’
She took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Pretty much; at least for a while.’ She pulled herself together and tried to sound as positive as she could. ‘But as it turned out, he did me a favour. Without him, I wouldn’t have gone to Africa, and that was an unforgettable time of my life. Thanks for coming here to tell me, Bruno, but I’ll cope. Don’t worry, I’m not going to borrow the tennis player’s gun and shoot him.’
‘That’s good to hear, but we wanted you to know that we know. If he gets on your nerves, come to me or Virginia. The last thing we want is to lose you. He’s very good at his job, but I wanted you to know that he’s under observation. Okay?’
‘Thanks, Bruno, that’s good to know. And, yes, he is damn good at his job, so I promise I’ll do my best to bury the hatchet – and not in the back of his skull.’
They continued chatting as the light began to fade. She refused a second glass of champagne, deciding to save some for the next day. As dusk fell, he stood up and looked at his watch.
‘Well, it’s been great talking to you, but I need to go. As Virginia’s gone off to the Rome conference, I need to do the rounds and check that all’s well.’
She accompanied him to the door, kissed him on the cheeks and watched as he returned to his very smart car and drove off. This evening’s visit had reassured her – if she had needed it – that she was going to find him a good person to work with at the clinic. The looming problem, of course, was that in only a few more days she would find herself confronted by her former lover and, in spite of what she had told Bruno, she knew it was going to be far from easy.
Chapter 9
Lucy’s first week at the Siena Clinic was… interesting.
She got there bright and early at seven thirty on Monday morning and found Bruno waiting for her. He gave her a tour of the hospital, introducing her to other members of staff and some of the patients. Such was her apprehension at the prospect of seeing Charles again, she barely registered that two of the patients were very well-known Hollywood stars – one male and one female – who had come in for surreptitious ‘nips and tucks’ at the hands of the cosmetic surgeons. Nor did the presence of a senior member of the British government here for much-needed liposuction do more than tickle her curiosity. Her whole being was consumed by the thought of Charles and what effect his reappearance in her life might have upon her.
