Gorgeous Reads for Christmas (Choc Lit)

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘They’ve probably changed their minds about coming.’ Nick’s voice was tinged with irritation. ‘Two lovebirds in an empty nest – they’ll be having a right old time in our absence. Shenanigans in the pool, at the very least.’

  Stephen and Clare glanced at each other and giggled.

  ‘I doubt that, Nick,’ Jenny said with a smile. She turned to Max, who was sitting next to her. ‘Shall we order now, Max? I’m not convinced about the shenanigans part, but it’s getting on a bit and Nick might be right about them deciding not to come. I think they’d have got here by now if they were intending to join us.’

  George shifted to a more comfortable position in his chair. ‘If I may say so, I agree with you, Jennifer. And like Stephen, I certainly feel ready to eat.’

  Nick laughed. ‘Be honest, Mr Rayburn. It’s the wine you can’t wait to tuck into.’

  ‘Tucking into the wine is not exactly the way in which I would have expressed it myself, dear boy, but indeed you are right in the sentiment: I am looking forward to sampling a very special grape this evening. Pleasant though this Prosecco is, it’s no more than a prelude to the main event.’

  ‘I’m quite hungry, too. More than that. If I’m honest, I could eat a horse,’ Clare said.

  Max smiled at her. ‘I think you’re unlikely to find that on the menu. But I hope something else will appeal to you.’

  ‘Ha, ha. What a wit you are, Uncle Max,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Why thank you, Stephen,’ Max said with exaggerated gratitude. ‘Your appreciation means a lot to me.’

  Jenny picked up her menu. ‘That decides it then. We’ll order now, and if the Andersons turn up later on, they can order for themselves. I don’t know why on earth they didn’t stay in Montefalco once they’d collected the car – it would have been so much more sensible. It’s not as if Howard drinks a lot. At least, he hasn’t this week.’

  George gave a sudden exclamation. ‘How slow of me. I’ve just realised that I might be able to benefit from Howard having a car.’ He beamed across the table at Jenny. ‘The vintner in Montefalco is going to bring a superior Sagrantino for me to taste tomorrow, one that will be considerably better than anything we have this evening.’

  She heard Nick snigger. Under the table, she kicked his foot. ‘Yes, I do remember,’ she said.

  ‘I’d been wondering how to get up here. I didn’t really want to ask if Carlo if he would bring me up in the minibus since this is a personal visit …’

  ‘Oh, but you should,’ Jenny cut in. ‘He’s there to help. And he’s on standby for anyone who wants to visit a local vineyard tomorrow afternoon, anyway.’

  ‘That’s very kind, dear lady. But Howard having a car solves the problem. I can’t imagine that he’d mind running me up to the piazza at some point. I can make my own way back. Going downhill is quite a different matter.’

  ‘I’m sure Howard would be delighted to help out, Mr Rayburn,’ Jenny said. ‘Ah, here comes the waiter with more bread and olives. Right, if we’re all ready, we’ll order now.’

  She ordered antipasti for the table and then they each ordered their main courses. Jenny looked around the table. ‘It’s a real shame that we aren’t all here. It’s the only dinner that we have out all week.’

  ‘I’m surprised that you didn’t pick tomorrow night for the final beanfeast, Friday being the last night and all,’ Nick remarked.

  ‘I was going to at first, but in the end I changed my mind.’

  ‘How come? Going out tomorrow would have brought the week to a rousing finale, I would have thought.’

  ‘That’s true. But in the end, I thought it better to leave tomorrow evening clear for any last-minute packing. Also, you might want an early night before you embark on a day with a lot of travelling. Not to mention that there’d be less risk of you having to travel with a hangover.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘You’ve got a point there,’ Nick said, grinning at George.

  ‘You can take it really easy tomorrow – paint, relax by the pool, read, do whatever you like. If you want, you can visit the vineyard in the afternoon, though I’d be careful how much tasting I did, if I were you. We’ll be having more wine with dinner tomorrow evening.’

  ‘You can be sure that I, too, shall exercise moderation,’ George remarked, dipping a piece of rustic bread into a mixture of oil and balsamic vinegar.

  Nick sniggered.

  ‘I’ll need to confirm the time that all of you have to leave for the airport on Saturday,’ she went on. ‘If I remember rightly, everyone’s leaving quite early, so it’d probably be wise to do most of the packing tomorrow. Apart from Paula and Howard, that is. They don’t have a flight to catch so they can take their time.’

  ‘You needn’t worry about their packing. It’s done. Or rather not undone,’ Clare said.

  Jenny laughed. ‘That sounds convoluted. What d’you mean?’

  ‘One of their cases is already packed, or rather not unpacked.’

  ‘How come you know that?’ Nick asked. ‘Have you been a naughty little nurse and been peeking into the honeymooners’ boudoir?’

  ‘Idiot.’ Clare pretended to throw a piece of bread at him. ‘No, I saw it when I was passing their room this morning, didn’t I? It was full to the brim and Paula was kneeling on it, trying to zip it up. I asked if she wanted any help, but she said she was fine. She said they’d only used the things in the other suitcase, but she’d had to open that one as they needed more toothpaste.’

  ‘I wish I’d already packed my suitcase, ready to go,’ Nick remarked. ‘I hate packing,’

  ‘It’s easier packing when you’re going home,’ Clare said. ‘You don’t have to think what to take with you like you do when you’re going away.’

  ‘Aha, here comes our antipasti,’ George said, as the waiter appeared, carrying two large round wooden boards. He picked up his napkin and tucked it into the neck of his shirt while the waiter placed the boards in the centre of the table, followed by a basket of fresh bread between the platters.

  ‘Ooh, look at that,’ Clare said, gazing at the food in front of them.

  ‘Yes, that does look quite delicious,’ George murmured. He leaned forward, his eyes shining as he gazed at the variety of cold cuts, cheeses and grilled vegetables on the board closest to him. He glanced across to the second board, which was filled with a variety of crostini and bruschette. ‘Yes, quite delicious,’ he repeated. ‘If it weren’t a cliché, I’d say that it all looks good enough to eat.’

  He smiled around the table in satisfaction.

  ‘Good enough to eat and good enough to paint,’ Nick added. ‘But preferably not in that order.’

  Max pointed to a small white pot at the side of one of the trays. ‘That’ll be honey. You eat it with the pecorino cheese and often with walnuts. It’s an Umbrian speciality. It makes a delicious starter – you should try it.’

  ‘How interesting,’ George said, and he helped himself to a couple of pieces of cheese. The others followed suit and also took some of the bread and antipasti.

  Jenny sat very still, staring at the table with unseeing eyes. Something was niggling away in the back of her mind and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  One of them had made a comment a few minutes earlier that had jarred, but it had slipped into the back of her mind, just out of reach, and she couldn’t get hold of it. If only she could bring it forward and see what it was. It was something that had struck her as strange when it had been said.

  ‘Come on, Jenny, help yourself. There won’t be anything left soon,’ Max said, his eyes warm upon her face. ‘Here, let me pass you the bruschette.’

  Smiling her thanks, she took the two nearest to her.

  ‘This prosciutto is really yummy,’ Clare said, happily. ‘But I’ve got a horrible feeling that I’ve been a pig and taken too much. If I eat everything on my plate, I’ll never have room for my spaghetti.’

  Stephen put his arm round her shoulder. ‘It’s a case
of your eyes being bigger than your stomach.’ He pulled her gently to him and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘And what lovely eyes they are. I could drown in them.’

  ‘Yuck.’ Nick rolled his eyes in mock disgust. ‘You could drown in someone’s eyes? Let me guess, you’re studying English …’

  ‘That’s it,’ Jenny cried out. ‘They’ve only got one suitcase!’

  They all stared at her in surprise.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you, dear lady,’ George said, leaning across and helping himself to another of the crostini.

  ‘Who’s only got one suitcase?’ Max asked.

  ‘They have – the Andersons. Don’t you remember, Nick? You and I were talking yesterday while we were waiting for everyone else to arrive, and then Paula and Howard joined us. They said that they had another week in Italy, and had packed light so they could fit all their luggage in the boot of the hired car.’

  Nick stared at her. ‘Well, yes, she did say something like that. I wouldn’t swear to the details, though. But why does it matter?’

  ‘It probably doesn’t. It’s just that if they do have only one case, it means that they’ve already packed it, although there’re almost two more days to go. That’s funny, don’t you think?’

  ‘So you think she was lying?’ Max asked, frowning.

  She shook her head. ‘There’s no reason to lie about something like that. There must be a simple explanation.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you what else is funny,’ Clare said, ‘I saw the corner of that hideous flowery thing she wore one evening sticking out of the suitcase. It didn’t really register at the time, but it does now. It means she was definitely lying about the case not being unpacked. And maybe she was lying about not speaking Italian. I’m sure the car hire man wasn’t speaking English – it’s the body language. I tried to kid myself that I was mistaken, but I wasn’t.’

  George wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘But, dear girl, there’s no reason why Paula and Howard would lie about speaking Italian or how many suitcases they had.’

  Max put down his knife and fork. ‘Actually, there is,’ he said slowly, ‘if you don’t want anyone to know that you’re familiar with an area and probably have friends and contacts there. Paula was very keen to see my paintings and virtually bulldozed me into showing her around …’

  ‘And she asked about your security.’ Jenny’s words fell out in a rush. ‘You told her about the shutter locks, and just after that, she was in the sitting room by herself while we went to look at that still life. At her suggestion. She could have easily disabled the most important locks in the time that she had. Oh, Max.’ Her hands flew to her mouth.

  ‘And then Howard kept us standing in the hall while he talked about the hire car,’ he added. ‘He was alone upstairs for some time, too.’

  The blood drained from Jenny’s face. ‘I know it’s virtually impossible to believe, but could they be thieves?’

  ‘It’s certainly looking that way, and I’m not going to take any chances,’ Max said grimly. He stood up, took his mobile phone from his pocket and held it out to her. ‘The number for the police is 112. Will you ring them, explain the situation and ask them to get to the house as fast as they can? Road blocks might be an idea, too.’

  She took the phone from him. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going across the square to get Carlo,’ he said. He glanced at the worried faces around the table. ‘There’s nothing the rest of you can do, so you might as well stay here and finish your meal.’ He took a handful of notes from his wallet and handed them to Stephen. ‘I’ll leave you in charge of settling up.’

  ‘But—’ Clare began.

  ‘No buts. You must all stay here.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘Except for you, Jenny. I hate to ask you to go anywhere where there might be trouble, but would you come back to the house with me? I might need your help with the police when they arrive. I don’t know whether they speak English or not.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ she said, tapping 112 into the phone. ‘But I doubt we’ll catch them. They’ll be long gone by now.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Max said. ‘We left the house later than planned – they won’t have dared to make a move until they were absolutely certain we were out of the way and no one would come back for something they’d forgotten. It’ll take some time to get the paintings down and stack them in the car without damaging them. Remember there are two houses to do.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ she told Max. ‘Polizia,’ she said into the phone.

  Stephen leapt to his feet. ‘I’m coming, too. No way are you going on your own, Uncle Max. Here, Clare, you take the money.’

  ‘I guess I can do the heroic thing, too.’ Nick got up. ‘Count me in.’

  ‘Thanks, boys. I appreciate it. I’ll see you outside, Jenny.’ Max hurried out, closely followed by Stephen and Nick.

  She rapidly explained the situation to the police, gave them the location and told them that they were going back to the house. Then she hung up and bent down to pick up her bag.

  As she did so, George pulled his napkin from his shirt and started to stand up.

  She saw what he was doing and moved swiftly to his side. ‘I know what you’re thinking, My Rayburn, but no.’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘I’d be really grateful if you stayed here with Clare. I don’t want her left on her own, and I definitely don’t want her coming with us.’

  ‘But I’m a nurse,’ Clare insisted. ‘You might need me.’

  Jenny tried to laugh. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that.’ Catching Clare’s eye, she inclined her head towards George. Clare sat back, nodding that she’d understood.

  ‘It would help us a lot if you stayed with Clare, Mr Rayburn,’ she repeated.

  ‘Well, if you insist, Jennifer,’ he said, and sat back down again. ‘But if I were a younger man …’ He shook his head regretfully.

  ‘Thank you.’ She started to move towards the door.

  ‘You’ll see that Carlo comes back for us as soon as it’s sorted, won’t you?’ Clare called after her. ‘We’ll be worried sick until we know that everything’s all right.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll be back for you as soon as we can. Whatever Max said, they’re probably miles away by now. I doubt we’ll ever see them or the paintings again.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Carlo swung the minibus off the main road and on to the narrow lane leading to Max’s house. He dimmed the headlights and slowed his speed to reduce the sound of the engine.

  From her seat behind Max and Carlo, Jenny kept her eyes fixed on the windscreen, her heart beating fast as she waited to see the wrought-iron gates that marked the top of the drive. But with the minibus going so slowly, the house seemed to be taking forever to come into view, and she eventually turned to gaze through the side window at the expanse of darkness below.

  As her eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that the black mass at the foot of the slope was broken up by pinpoints of light from the numerous houses spread out across the plain towards Bevagna, which lay at the heart of the valley, encircled by its subtly spotlit wall.

  She glanced down the side of the hill, frantically hoping to see help on the way.

  A line of shining stars was winding sinuously in their direction.

  She pressed closer to the window, her breath misting the glass; and yes, the starry lights were definitely coming towards them. She sat back in her seat, weak with relief. ‘I think I can see the police,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘But they’re still quite far away. We’d better stop now or we’ll get to the house before they do.’

  Max gestured to Carlo to pull into the side, shut down the engine and turn off the lights. The minibus rolled a little way forward and came to a standstill just before the road curved sharply to the left.

  Stephen leaned across in front of Jenny and stared down at the moving lights. ‘You’re right, Jenny. It must be the police. Thank heavens for that.’r />
  Max turned to look at Stephen, Nick and Jenny, his face grim. ‘Listen carefully. I don’t want any heroics tonight. I’m more than grateful that you want to help, but no one – and that includes me – must take any chances. Pictures are only objects, and objects are nowhere near as important as people. If there’s anything we can do safely, we’ll do it. But if there isn’t, we’ll sit tight and let the whole lot get taken; if it hasn’t been already, that is. I hope that’s quite clear.’

  ‘But there’s no need for you to do anything, is there?’ Jenny asked, her heart beating fast. ‘You might get hurt. The police can do what has to be done, can’t they? They’ll be here any moment now.’

  ‘Distances are deceptive, especially at night, and I’m not sure how long the police’ll be. I’d like to see what’s going on at the house, so I’ll go on foot from here.’ Stephen made a movement. ‘By myself, Stephen. I want to see whether or not they’re still there. If they are, there’s less chance of me being seen if I’m alone.’

  ‘Oh, Max. You’ll be really careful, won’t you? Promise me.’ Her face white with fear, Jenny reached out her arm to him.

  He took her hand. ‘I’ll be very careful, I promise,’ he said, his eyes on her face. ‘I’m not your hero type. Don’t you worry; I’ll be back in no time.’

  He gave her a reassuring smile, squeezed her hand, then dropped it, slid open the door and jumped down from the minibus. ‘No one else goes anywhere,’ he called up to them. He ran softly to the bend in the track and disappeared around it.

  They stared after him. No one spoke. Fear hung heavily in the air.

  After what felt like an eternity, he came running out of the darkness. There was a collective sigh of relief the moment they saw him.

  ‘They’re still there,’ he told them in a low voice as he climbed back in. ‘The gates are wide open, and the chain and padlock are hanging from one of the gates. There seem to be three of them – the Andersons and a man I didn’t recognise.’

  ‘I bet that’s the man Clare saw them with,’ Stephen said. ‘What are they doing?’