A Little Piece of Paradise: A sweeping story of sisterhood, secrets and romance (Love from Italy Book 1)

by T A Williams

  ‘I know it’s still early, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast and if I don’t get something to eat soon I’ll fall over. I think I’ll treat myself to dinner in the restaurant across the piazza. Do you feel like coming? Hopefully they’ll allow Jeeves in. I don’t really want to leave him in a strange house all on his own straightaway. Apart from anything else, he’ll probably bark the place down if he gets left behind.’

  ‘I’ll join you. I’m hungry too. Definitely a good idea.’ Sophie was pleased to hear Rachel sounding perkier than before. Hopefully this was a good sign. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to take Jeeves, although if you did have to leave him, inside those thick stone walls nobody’s likely to be disturbed.’

  ‘Apart from the resident ghosts, Rach.’ Sophie reflected that this was the first time in six years that she had referred to her sister by the abbreviated form of her name she used to use.

  ‘Don’t even joke about ghosts. The place gives me the creeps enough as it is.’ Rachel shuddered.

  There was a welcome surprise in store for them as they came up past the side of the house. There, surrounded by a meticulously pruned hedge and protected by an enormous and clearly very ancient fig tree, was a swimming pool and, even more surprisingly, it was full of crystal clear, inviting water, ready for immediate use. Somebody must have readied it for them.

  It was then that Sophie had a momentary lapse: instead of doing what she should have done – reaching for Jeeves’s collar – she turned towards her sister to say something and that was all it took. In that split second, the water-loving Labrador set off at a gallop and flung himself bodily into the pool, sending up a plume of water as he disappeared beneath the surface, only to emerge seconds later with a broad canine smile on his face.

  ‘Oh, God, Jeeves…!’

  Sophie glanced across at her sister who erupted into fits of laughter as she watched Jeeves doggy-paddling happily around, snuffling to himself.

  ‘Your face, Soph! It’s a picture.’

  ‘Bugger! You know what this means? We now have a smelly wet dog. Any self-respecting restaurant won’t let us through the door I’m afraid.’

  Sophie located the oldest towel she could find in the house and did her best to rub the worst of the water off the Labrador, but he was still very damp and decidedly whiffy as they went out of the gates and across the piazza to the Vecchio Ristoro. She was delighted to see that there were tables and chairs set up in front of the restaurant and, although it was fairly crowded, to her relief they were able to find a table to one side where her far from sweet-smelling dog wouldn’t put anybody off their dinner.

  There wasn’t a written menu. The friendly elderly lady who came out to show them to their seats simply asked if they wanted the menù gastronomico or the menù normale. Sophie knew she was hungry, but she was also very conscious that she was short of cash. Until she discovered just what her uncle had meant by saying he had left them enough money to live in ‘comfortable style’, she opted for the normal menu just to be on the safe side, as did Rachel – and they didn’t regret it. They didn’t order any drinks, but a minute later the lady emerged carrying a carafe of red wine and a bottle of mineral water, along with a basket of lovely fresh-smelling ciabatta bread and a couple of packets of breadsticks. She deposited them on the table, gave a little bow and left them to it.

  ‘Wine, Rach?’ Sophie picked up the carafe.

  ‘Definitely. I think I’m going to need a fair bit of Dutch courage before spending the night in there.’ Rachel pointed towards the castle gates. ‘I never thought I believed in ghosts, but now I’m not so sure. Let’s face it, if they do exist, something tells me they’d live in a place like that.’

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ Instinctively Sophie knew she needed to offer encouragement to her little sister. ‘All you have to do is to think about our American neighbour and that’ll stop you worrying.’

  A smile spread across Rachel’s face. ‘You’re right. I bet he’d come and protect us. Nothing beats a knight in shining armour… unless he takes it off, of course…’ Her voice dissolved into a dreamy sigh.

  Sophie was delighted to hear her sister sounding cheerful and decided this might be the right moment for them to start talking. She just needed to think how to break the ice. As a displacement activity, she picked up one of the little packets of breadsticks, tore off the top and slid them out onto the tablecloth. Two seconds later a damp dog’s nose materialised at her side and plonked itself on her thigh. Hastily, she handed him a breadstick and saw him disappear under the table again. In the meantime, Rachel surprised her by launching into her tale without needing to be prompted.

  ‘You probably want to know what I’ve been doing with myself for the past six years.’

  Sophie took a big mouthful of wine and swallowed it without tasting it. ‘I’d love to hear whatever you feel like telling me.’ What she really wanted to know was why Rachel had dropped out of the final year of her degree course at Exeter University.

  ‘Do you remember Manuel?’

  ‘Vaguely. Didn’t I meet him at that Christmas party? Wasn’t he the one with the pigtail?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. He was at Exeter doing an English language course. He’s from Puerto Rico and I decided to go off with him when he went back home.’

  ‘But why? You were only a few months away from finishing your degree?’

  ‘It’s complicated, a combination of things. I’ll tell you about it some other time.’ Clearly this was not the time but Sophie didn’t press her. The important thing for now was that her sister had started talking. ‘I liked Manuel a lot, or at least I thought I did. We flew to Puerto Rico where he had told me he had a luxury yacht. The plan was to sail off into the sunset together and see the world.’ From the downturn at the corners of her mouth, it was clear things hadn’t gone according to plan.

  ‘How much of the world did you see?’

  ‘Not a lot. The luxury yacht turned out to be an ancient wooden thirty-footer held together by little more than faith and hope. We were only sailing for a couple of months altogether and I’d almost gone crazy, cooped up with him in the sticky heat, surrounded by sharks so we couldn’t even go for a swim to cool down. Some luxury cruise it turned out to be! Somehow we managed to get as far as Georgetown in Guyana before the yacht gave up the ghost. Along with it went my relationship with Manuel.’

  ‘So what did you do then?’

  ‘With the last of my savings I bought myself a one-way ticket to Florida. By this time, I was broke, so I thought I’d find a job so as to save enough to get myself a plane ticket back to the UK. I got a job working illegally at first and then realised that I enjoyed living in the US. I worked for almost two years in a pizzeria in downtown Orlando before I finally managed to find myself a real job that paid a half decent wage, and applied for a Green Card.’ She reached for her wineglass and took a sip. ‘When mum died at the end of my first year in Florida, I was stuck. I’d been barely scraping by, just about managing to make ends meet, but I didn’t have the money to fly home for the funeral. Besides, even if I had done, I would never have been allowed back into the US again. It’s only now that I’ve got all my papers in order that I’m free to travel out and in.’

  Sophie was about to respond when their antipasti arrived – and there was a lot to choose from. There were slices of huge tomatoes topped with pieces of succulent fresh soft mozzarella and basil leaves, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. Alongside these were tiny fillets of anchovies and a cold seafood salad of baby octopus, mussels and clams. There was a wooden board loaded with different types of salami, from small spicy ones to large slices of what looked like mortadella laced with pistachio nuts. Unexpectedly there was also a piping-hot omelette whose bright yellow colour pointed to it having been made with real free range eggs – quite probably produced by the same hens she had heard when she first arrived. Sophie glanced across the table at her sister.

  ‘Thank the Lord we didn’t go for the menù gastronomico.’r />
  It was excellent and as she ate, Sophie did a lot of thinking. She now knew where her sister had gone after leaving Exeter, but she still didn’t know why she had taken this drastic step only a few months before graduating. No doubt Rachel would tell her more as they began to feel more comfortable together. However, this didn’t alter the fact that their mother had received her terminal diagnosis only a few months after Rachel had left and yet she hadn’t returned to see her. The story of being broke rang true but was unacceptable. One way or another, in Sophie’s eyes, her sister should have begged, borrowed or stolen the money to fly home to be at her mother’s side. There was no doubt that Uncle George would have happily flown her over, but presumably her stubborn pride had prevented her from asking.

  Instead, the physical and emotional burden of supporting their mother right through her illness until her last days had been left to Sophie alone, and she knew it would be a long time before she could forgive her sister – if ever. Part of her felt ready to explode with all the pent-up frustration she had been storing up for the last six years but she managed to control herself. They had to sleep under the same roof for another ninety-one nights and it made no sense to antagonise her touchy sister, so she concentrated on her meal and tried not to think about it too hard.

  The food helped a lot. The next courses were equally superb. First there was a local speciality called farinata. Sophie had never come across this before and had to ask what it was. It turned out to be thin yellow pancakes made from chickpea flour, served hot, torn roughly into odd-shaped chunks, and they tasted delicious. These were followed by a heap of char-grilled prawns and a mixed salad. Sophie feared she wouldn’t have room for a little panna cotta at the end, but somehow managed, and it was divine. It was an exceptional meal and when the bill arrived, she was very pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn’t cost much more than her pizza and salad in France the previous night. She was all set to pay the whole thing, in spite of her money worries, but Rachel insisted on paying her half and was amazed that, unlike in the States, they didn’t have to add on a huge service charge.

  They were sipping their little espresso coffees before heading back to the castle when they heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Harvard Dan emerge from the interior of the restaurant with a beautiful dark-haired woman at his side. When he recognised them, his face broke into a broad smile.

  ‘Hi, again. Enjoy your meal?’

  Choking back her surprise and a twinge of what might even have been disappointment at the sight of the other woman, Sophie answered.

  ‘One of the best meals I’ve ever had. If I carry on like this for three months I’ll need a crane to get me out of here.’

  He gave them a little wave and bade them goodnight. As he and his lady friend strolled off, Sophie heard her sister’s voice.

  ‘Bugger!’

  ‘Bugger, indeed.’

  Chapter 4

  Sophie slept remarkably well that night, but only after a shaky start. Somebody – presumably Signora Morandi – had prepared two rooms for them side-by-side at the rear of the castle on the first floor and to Sophie’s surprise both rooms had en suite bathrooms which had quite obviously been created, or at least modernised, recently. The water was hot, the rooms immaculate, her huge king-size bed superbly comfortable and the towels and bed linen soft and luxurious. There was also ample space for her to put Jeeves’s bed below the open window without fear of tripping over it. Altogether, it was like a top-class hotel – which allowed pets.

  The trouble started twenty minutes after she turned the light out. She was lying there in the remarkably bright moonlight, mulling over the events of the day before drifting off to sleep, when she heard what sounded like shuffling footsteps outside in the corridor. She had closed her door just in case Jeeves decided to go for a midnight stroll, but she hadn’t locked it and now she rather wished she had. She listened more closely and then suddenly heard a sinister creak of floorboards outside the door. Her eyes opened wide and she sat up in bed, all manner of scary thoughts rushing through her head. She, like her sister, had never believed in ghosts, but she found herself having serious doubts about that now here in this spooky location. The creak came again and she glanced across at Jeeves who was still fast asleep in his basket clearly illuminated by the moonlight. Slightly reassured by his lack of interest in supernatural phenomena, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed across to the door in her bare feet. After a few seconds’ pause to summon up her courage, she turned the handle silently and pulled the door towards her so she could peer through the gap.

  Her first reaction was one of relief as she saw nothing but shadows. Heartened by this she opened the door wider, stepping out into the corridor and looking around apprehensively. Then, to her horror, she was confronted by a vision and her hand shot to her mouth in disbelief. Illuminated by a shaft of moonlight, a figure in white appeared before her and she took a sudden step back, banging her bruised elbow against the door frame as she did so. This made her squeak with pain and the figure turned towards her.

  It was Rachel in her nightie.

  ‘For crying out loud, Rach, you frightened the crap out of me.’ Nursing her aching elbow, Sophie reached back into her room with her fingers, feeling unsuccessfully for the light switch. In spite of the pain, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief that the midnight apparition did not after all have a supernatural origin. She did her best to sound untroubled. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘That creaking noise… did you hear it?’

  Suddenly there was another creak – this time from the room behind Sophie and she glanced round to see Jeeves raise his head from his basket and gave a cursory thump of the tail at the sight of his mistress wandering about. The sound of the creaking wicker was one that Sophie recognised and with which she was familiar, but to her sister it must have been the last straw. Rachel squealed and jumped back in concern – fortunately without banging her own elbow. Sophie was stunned into immobility for a few moments before being attacked by a fit of the giggles. As she stood there, shaking with laughter, she heard her sister’s voice.

  ‘It’s not funny, Soph.’ The old familiar petulant tone was all too recognisable.

  ‘Not to you, maybe. Take a look – there’s nothing here but a sleepy Labrador.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we all make mistakes.’ There was ample moonlight in the corridor for Sophie to see her sister’s face. It was as pale as her nightie. ‘I was scared, Soph. I was really, really scared.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly decided you do believe in ghosts?’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just… I was scared.’ The petulance had been replaced by a childlike helplessness. ‘It’s a spooky old place and we’re all alone.’

  Sophie did her best to offer some reassurance – just as she had done so many times when they were growing up together. ‘Don’t worry, Rach, we’ve got Jeeves to protect us. You know what they say about animals and ghosts? If they don’t feel there’s anything untoward, we don’t need to worry. To be honest, I was a bit scared myself, but he was snoring happily and he hasn’t even bothered to get out of his basket.’ Sensing a certain amount of residual fear still emanating from her sister, she made a suggestion. ‘Would you like him to come and sleep in your bedroom? Or if you want to stay with me tonight, it’s an enormous bed. There’s bags of room.’

  She saw her sister pull herself together and shake her head. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks. Goodnight.’ And she returned to her room.

  * * *

  Next morning Sophie was woken at just before seven by a cold wet nose poking her bare arm. She opened her eyes and glanced down to see a pair of big brown eyes staring up at her from the floor.

  ‘Good morning, Jeeves. Sleep well?’

  She gave his nose a scratch and his long pink tongue reached for her fingers. She slipped out of bed, pulled on some clothes and let herself out, doing her best to keep Jeeves from making too much noise in the corridor as he bounced around happily in ant
icipation of his walk. Hopefully Rachel was still asleep after an untroubled night.

  She went down to the kitchen and used the back door – a narrow but massively thick old wooden door studded with ancient square-headed nails – and locked it behind her, just in case. The key was about the size and weight of a banana and she reflected that back in the Middle Ages key rings had no doubt been a whole lot bigger and stronger than nowadays. Tucking it into the pocket of her shorts, she followed Jeeves out into the garden. She paused for a few moments beneath the pine trees, breathing in the scent of resin in the still comfortably cool morning air, and wondered which way to go. Of course there was ample space in the grounds for him to run to his heart’s content, but she rather liked the idea of seeing a bit more of the village so she led him round to the front – carefully avoiding going round the side with the pool. She heaved one of the gates open enough for them to be able to squeeze through, hoping that the grating noise wouldn’t disturb the neighbours – not that there really were any close neighbours to speak of.

  She and Jeeves walked across the square and into a narrow lane – little more than an alley really – where the only living thing they saw was a scrawny black and white cat that took one look at the big dog and leapt athletically about five or six times its own height onto a wall and disappeared. For his part, Jeeves appeared quite oblivious to it. The houses were made of stone, dating back centuries by the look of them, and no two were alike. Emerging from the narrow alley, Sophie started to see gardens with masses of scented bougainvillea, ranging in colour from deep purple to light pink, spreading luxuriantly over the walls, while palm trees punctuated the skyline. When the houses ended she was faced with a choice. The alley deteriorated into a rough track leading sharply downhill between an olive grove and a vineyard while a narrow path to the left promised to take them in the direction of the sea. She chose the path.