What Happens in Tuscany...

by T A Williams

  Rosina shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear, but I sent him off with a flea in his ear, to be honest. I just assumed he was another one of those horrible men who have been peeing on the fig tree by the gate.’ In spite of the circumstances, Katie smiled at the image. Beside her, Rosina wrung her hands in frustration. ‘Oh dear, oh dear.’ She wrinkled her brow but couldn’t come up with any clues as to Martin’s whereabouts.

  Katie thought desperately about the best course of action. An idea occurred to her. ‘Rosina, did he have a bag with him? I mean a suitcase or holdall or a rucksack?’ Rosina shook her head. ‘So, that means he must have left them somewhere. He’s probably checked into a hotel here or in Florence.’ Frustratingly, she couldn’t remember his number and had no way of contacting him with this new SIM card, unless… She reached for her phone and called her mother.

  ‘Hi, mum, it’s me. Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Yes, really, I’m fine. Listen, mum, I lost my phone a few days ago. Well, that means I’ve lost all my contacts, all the phone numbers that were on my phone. No, it’s all right, I took out insurance before I left home. Anyway, listen, I don’t suppose you’ve got Jenny’s number there, have you?’

  Her mother’s reply came as a massive relief.

  ‘Jenny? Well, yes, as a matter of fact I have. She’s been phoning, trying to get in contact with you for about three days now, I do hope nothing terrible has happened. What on earth’s going on?’

  Very quickly, Katie gave her mother an edited version of her relationship with Martin and his supposed arrival here in Tuscany. Her mother sounded relieved.

  ‘Oh, is that what it’s all about? Your father and I have been quite worried.’

  Although Katie seriously doubted whether her father would have looked up from his research into the Battle of the Somme long enough to register the drama unfolding around him, she reassured her mother once more. She took down Jenny’s number and gave her mum the new, temporary Italian number of her own phone. Then she spent a frustrating five minutes telling her all about her trip to the seaside, the paparazzi and the weather before she was finally able to get away from her. She immediately called Jenny, who answered straight away.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Jen, it’s me, Katie.’

  ‘Oh, thank God. I’ve been searching all over for you. I phoned your mum…’

  ‘I know. She told me. It’s about Martin, isn’t it? He’s come over here? Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, and he can’t get hold of you. He’s been calling and calling.’

  ‘Why the hell has he come over here?’ The words were out before she could stop herself. Jenny picked up on them immediately.

  ‘You sound as if you don’t want him over there.’

  Katie was doing her best to marshal her thoughts. Just what did she think about Martin coming to see her? After a few seconds’ hesitation, she had a go at explaining. ‘No, it’ll be nice to see him. It’s just that he’s England, he’s my other life, my former life. I’m in Tuscany now and things are different.’

  ‘How different? Are you different?’ This was a tricky one to answer.

  ‘Of course not. I’m still me. It’s just the language, the people, the villa, life here with Vicky and the others…’

  ‘And who are these others? Is there another Martin by any chance?’

  ‘No, there’s not. At least, not really…’

  Jenny pounced. ‘Let’s see if I’ve got this right. You’re telling me you maybe, sort of, might just have found yourself a replacement for Martin over there in Tuscany. Is that right? But because you’re still hung up on the whole Dean business and the whole career thing, you’re going to let this one flail around on the end of the hook like poor Martin? Is that what you’re telling me?’

  ‘No, Jen, it’s not like that.’ Katie stopped, unsure just what it was like. ‘Listen, there is a man, but he’s taken. But that’s not it. I really think my future lies over here. If I hook up with Martin, that’ll never happen. It’s like I told you before; it’ll be the school run and the dinner parties and all that sensible, settled family life stuff. I don’t want that; at least, not yet. Anyway, why on earth has he come over here? Doesn’t that seem a bit needy to you?’

  ‘Of course it’s needy, Katie. But he can’t help it. The man’s potty about you.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Nice one, Katie. Where were you when Shakespeare was casting around for inspiration for his plays? How does it go? “But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.” In your version Romeo’s soliloquy would be followed by Juliet’s voice from on high, “Oh, shit, it’s Romeo.” I wouldn’t try for a career as a playwright if I were you, Katie.’

  ‘Bugger off, Jen.’ Katie laughed in spite of herself. ‘Anyway, I’d better ring him, if you can give me his number. I’ll be gentle with him, I promise.’

  Katie went on to give Jenny a brief account of the paparazzi interlude, her lost phone and how she and Victoria had had to go into hiding. She managed to avoid any mention of Paul Taylor. Once she had satisfied Jenny’s thirst for information, she took down Martin’s number and the name of the hotel where he was staying. More importantly, she discovered the hotel wasn’t in Florence, but much closer to the villa, in the little town across the river, less than five minutes’ drive away. She thanked her profusely and rang off. As she dialled Martin’s number, she glanced across at Rosina.

  ‘I think I’ve found him, Rosina.’ She saw the relief on her face.

  ‘Yes, hello.’

  She recognised his voice straight away.

  ‘Oh, Martin, it’s you. I’m so sorry. My phone got stolen and we’ve had to go into hiding and…’

  ‘It’s all right, Katie. It’s just great to hear your voice. Where are you?’

  ‘Where are you? I can come to you. I’ve got a car.’

  ‘So’ve I. I’m in a place called Trattoria Due Cinghiali in Signa.’ His pronunciation wasn’t the greatest, but she recognised the name. ‘I’m just about to order dinner, but I can cancel that and…’

  ‘I know it. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  ‘But I can…’

  ‘Five minutes.’

  She stuffed the phone back in her pocket, gave Rosina a brief précis of what had happened and then rushed back out to the car. The dog wagged his tail but made sure he didn’t venture out into the rain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Their meal at the traditional old Tuscan restaurant was predictably excellent. When Katie arrived she found Martin waiting at the door, his arms outstretched. In spite of her reservations, it was very good to see him and she hugged him tightly. Then they spent over an hour just talking, before the hovering waiter compelled them to order. Martin was looking as handsome as she remembered and she enjoyed his company. He apologised for appearing so unexpectedly.

  ‘I’m starting the new job on the first of September and I had a couple of weeks’ holiday owed to me from my old job. They preferred me to take time off rather than pay me the extra, so I thought I’d give Italy a try. My sister works at the British Embassy in Rome and I’m going down there to see her, but, seeing as you were here, I knew I just had to come.’ An expression of concern crossed his face. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I’m not trying to crowd you, honest.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ She sat back and took a good look at him. The bruising on his face had now gone and, apart from the angle of his nose, he looked fit and healthy once more. He also looked very good. She noticed a woman about her age on a nearby table checking him out repeatedly, even though she was there with her boyfriend or husband. That felt rather good.

  Martin managed to chomp his way through a whole Florentine steak the size of a telephone directory, but Katie disappointed the waiter by just ordering some grilled lamb chops. Even so, the quantity was enormous. By the time he finally dropped his fork back onto his plate and wiped his mouth on his napkin, both of them felt full. Too full even to manage a dess
ert. Instead they ordered coffee and sat back to recover.

  ‘It’s really, really wonderful to see you, Katie. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find you. When I couldn’t get in touch with you, and then when the old bat at the villa sent me packing, I thought I’d blown it completely.’

  ‘Rosina said she thought you were one of the paparazzi.’

  ‘Well, she chased me off with a broom. If the old Labrador hadn’t been licking my hand all the time she would probably have set him on me.’

  Katie laughed, in spite of herself. ‘I can imagine the scene.’

  ‘So, are you glad I came over to see you?’

  ‘What do you think?’ She did her best to sound keen. It had been a surreal evening. First there had been her surprise to find he had come all the way to Italy to see her. No sooner had she got over the shock of seeing him than she found herself desperately trying to work out just how pleased she really was. His question had been a long time coming, but she still hadn’t managed to formulate an answer that convinced her, let alone one capable of convincing him. He looked across the table at her, a smile on his face.

  ‘I don’t know. I certainly hope you are. As for me, I’ve been counting the minutes.’

  ‘Well, of course I’m glad you’ve come.’ She shifted slightly in her seat, her stomach full to bursting. She surreptitiously massaged her abdomen under the table. ‘I’m just so sorry you weren’t able to contact me before because of my bloody phone being stolen.’

  ‘Would you have told me not to come?’ He was looking worried now. She gave him a broad smile and reached over to take his hand.

  ‘Of course not. I’m glad you’ve come.’ She took a good look at him. He was an intelligent, handsome man with a great body. And there was no doubt he was deeply into her. What was not to like? And yet, somehow she knew she wasn’t as happy to see him as she might have been a few weeks before. What had changed since her arrival in Italy? Was it the place, or was it something else? Or was it someone else? Her head was spinning. It had all happened too fast. She needed to do some serious thinking.

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven. She made a quick decision. ‘Listen, Martin, I’ve got to get back to the villa. If Vicky gets home and doesn’t find me there, after all the aggro we’ve had over the last week, she might freak out.’ She knew full well that this wasn’t true. In all probability, if Vicky’s master plan worked out, she wouldn’t be coming home that night at all. At worst, Vicky would call her on the phone, but it was a handy excuse. Unsurprisingly, he looked disappointed.

  ‘I understand. When will I see you again?’

  ‘You say you’re staying at the station hotel?’ He nodded. ‘Well, why don’t I come down tomorrow morning and pick you up? Say, ten o’clock?’

  He beckoned the waiter over and, in spite of her protests, paid the bill. Together they made their way to the door and walked out into the night. The rain had stopped and the night sky was studded with stars. The arrival of the rain had lowered the temperature and had reduced the humidity. It had turned into a beautiful night. She stood beside her car and breathed the fresh air gratefully while he came up behind her. His arms curled round her and she felt his body press against hers. He bent towards her and kissed her softly on the neck. She nuzzled against him.

  ‘Sorry if I’m a bit dozy. It’s just the surprise of seeing you.’ She turned her face towards him and caught his eye. ‘Good surprise, nice surprise; I’m just a bit overwhelmed and I’ve eaten too much. In fact I’ve eaten so much I’ve got stomach ache.’ She rubbed her stomach, not just for effect. She reached forward and kissed him properly on the lips. When they separated she held his face in her hands and answered his question. ‘Yes, I’m very glad to see you, Martin.’

  She climbed into the car and drove back across the bridge over the river Arno and up the road to the villa. There was no sign of paparazzi at the Chalker-Pyne villa and the unmade road, although very muddy and sticky, hadn’t been washed away by the water.

  As she passed Paul Taylor’s house she couldn’t help noticing a white Fiat, similar to the one she was driving, parked alongside the old Land Rover. She couldn’t see any lights on in the house, although the principal rooms looked towards the rear. She seemed to remember that car, or one like it, being there the other day as well. Of course, she told herself as she splashed up the road, the very reason she had asked for a Fiat was so as to blend in with the millions of others all over the roads of Italy. That white car could belong to almost anybody, from Fritz aka Franco the bodybuilder to Paul’s man Donatello It didn’t have to be Loretta’s. She shook herself physically as well as mentally. Besides, what did that matter to her? Martin was here now, if she wanted him. What she had to work out before the next day was whether she did, in fact, want him. Somehow she knew she wasn’t going to get much sleep that night as she mulled over this conundrum. She snorted to herself as she pulled up at the opera singer’s villa.

  She drove in through the gates and up the drive, half expecting to find the house in darkness and Vicky’s bedroom empty until the morning. Certainly, Katie could think of few more suitable men than Tom for Vicky to choose to kick start her sex life. The words of Vicky’s original advert in The Lady came to mind. He certainly qualified as “of good family”. Just how acquiescent he might turn out to be was anybody’s guess. As it was, she turned the corner and discovered she could, if she so wished, ask him that herself. His car was parked outside the villa and the lights were on in the kitchen. What this meant with regard to Vicky’s nascent sex life would no doubt emerge in due course. She locked the car and made her way to the door.

  ‘And just what time do you call this?’ Vicky pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘We’ve been sitting up worrying about you.’ The fact that she was sitting on Tom’s lap at the time with a silly smile on her face and her clothing in disarray rather took the sting out of the words. Katie closed the door behind her and headed for the kettle.

  ‘I’m busting for a cup of tea. Any takers?’

  ‘No thanks, but I’ll give you a hand.’ Vicky wriggled off Tom’s lap and set about restoring some semblance of order to her clothing. Katie couldn’t help noticing that her bra had disappeared in the course of the evening. She gave a little smile; Vicky’s initiation into the big wide world was clearly gaining momentum. Vicky caught her eye.

  ‘What are you grinning about?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m just a naturally happy person.’ She glanced at Tom who was blushing like a schoolgirl. He looked so guilty, she almost giggled. The impression of a teenager caught in the act became even stronger. ‘Tea, Tom?’

  ‘Not for me, thanks, Katie.’

  The kettle boiled and Katie poured water onto a tea bag. Beside her, Vicky kept up a happy chatter. Clearly, things were going well. It suddenly occurred to Katie that her presence in the kitchen had interrupted proceedings. Not wishing to be a killjoy, she splashed some milk into the mug and removed the teabag. While doing so, she lowered her head until her mouth was close to Vicky’s ear. ‘Buona fortuna!’ She grinned and left them to it.

  As expected, she found it very hard to get off to sleep. The intermittent pain in her stomach was partly responsible, but she knew that the problem stemmed from her brain. Martin’s sudden arrival had upset the comfortable balance of her life in this lovely part of the world. Forgetting about Paul Taylor for a moment (and that was easier said than done), things were really going very well indeed. This afternoon’s brief conversation in the Florence Academy of English Studies had cheered her greatly. When Vicky decided she would no longer need Katie’s services, it was looking very much as though employment would not be too difficult to find. This would allow her to stay on in Tuscany where the place, the people, the weather, the food…everything appealed more and more as the days went by.

  And that brought her back to the two men who had lodged themselves in her mind. She felt annoyed with herself, having been totally convinced, as recently as a few weeks ago, that involv
ement with any man was not what she wanted. And now here she was, lying in bed, unable to sleep for thinking of not one, but two men.

  She was roused from her doze by the sound of a car door closing, followed a few seconds later by the noise of it driving off. She glanced at the clock. It was just after half past midnight. She seemed to remember coming up to bed at half past eleven. If Tom was leaving so soon, what did this signify? She found out very soon.

  ‘Katie.’ It was a stage whisper from outside her door. ‘Are you still awake?’

  ‘Yes, Vicky, come in.’ The door opened. Katie sat up in bed and switched on the bedside light. One look at Victoria told her all was not well. She waved her across. ‘Here, come and sit down and tell me all about it.’ Vicky tottered across the room and collapsed onto the side of the bed. Her face was puffy and she had been crying. In fact, upon closer inspection, Katie saw that she was still crying.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’ She located a packet of tissues on the bedside table and passed them across to the little figure slumped on the bed.

  It took a minute or two before Vicky was in a fit state to start talking.

  ‘You know I said I thought this would be the night?’ Katie nodded, but Vicky was staring down at the damp tissue in her hands and didn’t notice. It didn’t matter. She was looking more than a little self-conscious as she started her confession, but her confidence grew as the story progressed. ‘You see, I’d pretty much decided. Tom’s a lovely man, I fancy him immensely and he’s going home tomorrow, so there would be no need for any embarrassing follow-up if things didn’t go too well.’

  Katie nodded. In losing your virginity, like so much in life, careful planning can be very beneficial. It just doesn’t happen that way too often. ‘But…things didn’t go so well?’