‘Have you been to Italy before, Caitlin?’ Gabriella asked as they left the busy streets of Genoa behind them and gathered speed along the spectacular coast road, rugged mountains rising steeply behind them and the sun sparkling on the sort of sea Caitlin had only seen on postcards.
‘Never,’ Caitlin admitted. ‘I just can’t wait to explore it all.’
‘Well, I’ve got loads of plans,’ Gabriella assured her. ‘There are some wonderful shops, and we’ll go to Portofino for lunch at the Splendido, and then I thought we could take the boat trip to all the villages of the Cinque Terre and of course, if you’re into art, I must take you to the Palazzo Reale in Genoa––’
‘Gaby, you don’t have to take care of us,’ Ludo cut in firmly. ‘We’ve got plenty of plans of our own.’
‘Sure you have,’ Gaby acknowledged, turning off the coast road up a steep and winding lane, and pulling up outside a large, pink painted villa. ‘It’s just that your father thought . . . Oh well, I’m sure you’re right. Look, I’ve just got to drop off a present for a friend of mine – won’t be long!’
‘Great,’ Ludo said, the moment Gabriella had shut the car door. ‘I’ve been wanting a moment with you alone ever since we boarded the plane.’
Caitlin’s heart flipped as he leaned closer to her.
‘Look, this is a bit tricky and I don’t quite know how to put it . . .’
He’s going to tell me he fancies me, Caitlin thought, trying to keep a cool expression on her face.
‘Go ahead,’ she invited.
‘I’m really glad you’ve come,’ he said, and Caitlin’s heart swelled. This was it. This was going to be the declaration of love. ‘It’s just what Summer needs.’
‘Summer?’
Ludo nodded.
‘She spends far too much time brooding over stuff,’ he went on, keeping one eye on the doorway of the villa where Gabriella was talking to an elderly woman in a floral print dress. ‘Like this whole thing with Gaby, for instance.’
‘I know she said she didn’t like her, but she seems nice enough to me,’ Caitlin said, hiding her disappointment at his choice of topic.
‘Exactly!’ Ludo looked at her approvingly. ‘Dad’s happy for the first time in ages – well, ever since Mum died really.’
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
‘Mum dying was awful for all of us,’ he said. ‘But Summer – well, she’s never really been the same since. She – well, she almost had a kind of collapse. She missed loads of school, did atrociously in her SATS, cut herself off from her friends. That’s why she changed schools; music’s her thing and Mulberry Court was a new start – well, you know all about that. But it seems the older she gets, the worse it appears to affect her.’
As he spoke, he suddenly looked a lot younger. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands and chewing on his bottom lip like a nervous schoolboy. Caitlin wanted to enfold him in her arms, but she thought it was perhaps a little too soon for that.
Gabriella was still talking to the old lady. Caitlin took a deep breath and seized her chance.
‘So what actually happened?’ Caitlin asked. ‘To your mum, I mean.’
‘She had a fall, fractured her skull and it killed her,’ he replied abruptly. ‘Anyway, it’s over and well – it’s something we don’t talk about, OK?’
Ludo’s expression was grim and he turned away, staring at a couple of goats tethered on the burnt lawn of the villa. ‘It was over two years ago and life goes on, right?’
Caitlin hesitated. Of course, she had read all about the effects of unexpressed grief, and that could account for his abruptness, but perhaps, just possibly, Izzy was right. There was dark secret lurking in the history of the Tilney family.
She would have liked to have pressed him, insisting that these things had to be aired and telling him about that guy on Channel Four’s Passion Plantation who ran amok during the live filming because the sight of a palm tree triggered a buried emotion about the death of his mother by a falling coconut. Sadly, before she could say a word, she heard Gabriella call out a shrill ‘Arrivederci, Sofia!’ and head back towards the car.
‘All I’m asking,’ Ludo muttered hurriedly, his expression softening, ‘is that – well, you try to get Summer to hang loose this holiday. Do girl stuff or whatever. Have a laugh. She’s so uptight half the time and it’s bad for her. Not much fun for the rest of us either.’
He dropped his voice as Gabriella reached the gate.
‘I just want our lives to be normal again,’ he muttered. ‘Summer needs to accept that Gaby’s a permanent fixture, whether she likes it or not. Get her to see it’s the future that matters now. She might listen to you – after all, you are her best friend. Well, the only person she really talks about anyway.’
‘OK, I’ll do my best.’ Caitlin nodded, delighted at her new-found status as the person the whole Tilney family could depend on to make the future easier. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘Oh wow!’ For all her good intentions about remaining cool and sophisticated, Caitlin couldn’t help exclaiming with delight as the car rounded the gravel drive and pulled up outside Casa Vernazza. The sprawling, red-roofed villa was surrounded on three sides by a wide veranda; swathes of bright pink-flowering bougainvillea grew up the white walls and a couple of marble Muses flanked the stone steps that led up to the front door.
‘It’s amazing – it’s like something out of a movie,’ Caitlin exclaimed.
‘Definitely a budget movie,’ Gabriella said with a laugh, pulling on the handbrake and flinging open the door. ‘It’s pretty, but it’s falling down. Don’t sneeze while you’re here – some plaster might fall on your head!’
She turned to Summer and Izzy, who were coming down the front steps to greet them.
‘I’ll show the girls to their rooms, shall I?’ she began.
‘They’re my friends – I’ll do it,’ Summer replied, and then, catching Ludo’s eye, added, ‘but thanks for offering.’
‘Fine,’ Gabriella replied with a shrug. ‘And then why don’t you all go and explore until suppertime? Drinks on the veranda at seven on the dot, supper al fresco at eight.’
She tossed her car keys at Luigi, who was unloading luggage from the boot of the Alfa Romeo.
‘Put the car away, there’s a dear,’ she trilled. ‘I simply have to go and take a shower – this heat is killing me.’
‘I wish,’ muttered Summer, sidling up to Caitlin. ‘Come on, I’ll show you and Izzy your rooms. Ludo can sort Jamie out.’
She set off up the wide stone steps leading to the front door, which stood open revealing a tiled hallway.
‘Must you?’ sighed Caitlin, as Izzy wrapped herself round Jamie and began kissing him urgently. ‘For heaven’s sake, you’re going to find your bedroom, not leaving on a polar expedition!’
Reluctantly, Izzy pulled away from Jamie and blew him a kiss. Ludo winked at Caitlin and pulled a face, mouthing ‘Sad or what?’ behind Izzy’s back. Caitlin sighed inwardly, guessing that it was too much to hope that sometime soon he’d be doing the same thing with her.
‘This is so cool,’ Caitlin breathed as Summer showed them one room after another, all with huge double doors leading on to terraces with views across olive groves and rooftops to the distant sea. The rugs in the dining room were fading and frayed at the edges, the sofas in the two sitting rooms were sagging – but all this, Caitlin thought, made the place even more perfect. It had a sense of timelessness about it. Besides, she’d read that ‘old money’ never purchased new stuff; even the Queen saved bits of old soap.
‘So where’s Jamie sleeping?’ Izzy demanded.
‘I told Gaby to put him in the Garden House,’ Summer told her. ‘Next to Freddie. I thought he’d be around now but apparently he’s gone over to La Spezia for some bike spares. He should be back soon.’
‘Freddie’s here?’ Izzy’s face lit up. ‘Great – he is such a laugh.’
‘You know him? Oh yes, you met at Open Day,
’ Summer remarked.
‘With the super soakers and the champagne, remember?’ Izzy laughed. ‘He was so cool.’
‘Insane, more like,’ Summer said, grinning. She opened a door and stood back to let Izzy through. ‘This is your room – the bathroom’s next door. And that’s the Garden House, just across the courtyard.’
Izzy caught her eye and smiled.
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Couldn’t be better. This is going to be such a cool holiday.’
‘You’re in here,’ Summer announced, flinging open a door and ushering Caitlin into a low-ceilinged bedroom with a sloping floor, whitewashed walls, and creamy voile curtains billowing in the late afternoon breeze. Caitlin sized up the brass ceiling fan, marble shower room and faded Loyd Loom chairs with a sigh of joy. ‘I know it’s not as big as Izzy’s room,’ Summer went on, ‘but it’s the only one with a balcony and my mum used to say the light here was perfect for painting.’
‘Your mother was an artist?’ Caitlin asked in surprise. Now she understood Gabriella’s earlier concerns about painting.
Summer nodded. ‘She was seriously good,’ she said. ‘She was going to have this big exhibition, but Dad wouldn’t let her. Said it was too pretentious – like, can you imagine that?’
She flung open the doors to the balcony.
‘If you like, I’ll show you some of her stuff later.’
‘Yes, please.’ Caitlin nodded enthusiastically, stepping out on to the tiny balcony and gazing out across the courtyard shaded by lemon trees heavy with fruit. ‘This is beautiful. But Summer, the trouble is, Gabriella said that I shouldn’t paint in the house.’
‘Ignore her,’ Summer said. ‘It’s my home, not hers. Mum used to paint wherever she wanted – whenever she wanted. That’s what real artists do.’
‘You don’t talk much about your mum,’ Caitlin ventured, a little nervously.
‘That’s because at home everyone goes all stiff and upset, and at school . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s not the kind of thing you chat about to just anybody.’
She paused, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smile.
‘She was a laugh, though – really good fun and not a bit like my friends’ mothers. I mean, she’d get these crazy ideas. Like once, she woke me up in the middle of the night and said we were going on an adventure. We went up the hill behind the house and she made a fire and she taught me gypsy dances and then we slept up there till morning. It rained and we got soaked!’
Caitlin blinked, trying to picture her own mother doing anything as way-out.
‘And another day, she decided me and her would have a picnic but we could only eat things beginning with L. She got really cross with me because I packed some lettuce and she wanted only stuff that started with an L in Italian. She threw a total wobbly.’
‘She sounds fantastic, Summer. Can I ask . . . er, did she die out here? In Italy?’ Caitlin held her breath and prayed that she wasn’t overstepping the mark.
‘Yes,’ Summer said abruptly, glancing at her watch. ‘Oh sugar, is that the time? Listen, will you promise me that whatever I tell you about stuff while you’re here you won’t breathe a word to anyone? Not Izzy, not Jamie, no one. I mean, if you can’t keep a secret, just say so now.’
‘Of course I can,’ Caitlin vowed. ‘We’re in this – whatever it is – together.’
‘Good,’ Summer said decisively. ‘So right now we’re going down to the village, OK? You can unpack later.’
‘Sure.’ Caitlin grabbed her sun hat and slung her camera round her neck. ‘Is Ludo coming?’
The moment the words had escaped her lips and she’d seen the amused smile on Summer’s lips, she could have kicked herself.
‘. . . and Izzy and Jamie?’ she finished hurriedly, in the hopes that it would sound as if she was merely concerned for everyone’s well-being.
‘This is just you and me,’ Summer replied firmly. ‘Anyway, by now, my father will have dragged Ludo off to discuss crop yields or vine weevil or something equally riveting, so you’re out of luck there.’
Caitlin tried to look totally disinterested.
‘I didn’t mean . . . well, I know that it must be hard for you, what with Izzy having Jamie, and me being with Ludo . . . Well, not with Ludo exactly . . .’
‘. . . but fancying him like crazy,’ Summer finished with a laugh. ‘And no, it’s not hard at all. You’ll soon see.’
She opened the door and stepped out on to the galleried landing. ‘Come on – no doubt Jamie and Izzy can keep themselves amused. I gave her that room for a reason – with a bit of luck, she’ll work out pretty quickly that she can nip across the courtyard to Jamie’s room without anyone knowing . . . that should keep them occupied!’
Caitlin giggled. ‘And to think people say you’re prudish,’ she mused and then checked herself. ‘I don’t mean . . .’
‘I know what people say, and I couldn’t give a damn,’ Summer replied. ‘Now, come on – we’ve only got an hour before Gabriella starts insisting on communal jollity all over the place.’
‘When we get to the village, you go off and do what you like, OK?’ Summer began, as they followed a narrow path through terraced vineyards and olive groves, the sound of cicadas a constant background to their conversation. ‘I’ll show you where to meet me later.’
‘Why can’t we stay together?’
‘I’m meeting someone, that’s why,’ Summer admitted. ‘I haven’t said anything to him about you––’
‘Him?’
Caitlin’s mind raced off at a tangent. Could this be the guy she’d thought Ludo was trying to protect his sister from? Surely it couldn’t be, because he was in England, if he existed? But what if he was a real stalker, someone who would fly anywhere in the world to be near the object of his twisted affections? What if, in fact, Summer was the naïve and trusting victim, lured by his good looks, unsuspecting of his real motives . . .
‘Who is this guy?’ she demanded, as the path widened into a cobbled lane, lined with pastel pink and sunshine yellow houses nestled together like gingerbread cottages in a child’s storybook. ‘And if you didn’t want me around, why bring me in the first place?’
‘To be honest, you’re my alibi,’ Summer replied apologetically, turning sharply left down a flight of shallow steps connecting the lane with a tiny cobbled square with a fountain in the middle. ‘I’m sorry to do this on your first evening but I don’t know when I’m going to get another opportunity.’
She nibbled on a hangnail and turned to Caitlin.
‘See, I’m not meant to have anything to do with him, and if my father or Ludo knew I was going to meet up with him, they’d – well, just let’s say it doesn’t bear thinking about.’
She caught Caitlin’s anxious expression.
‘Listen, I’ll explain it all later, OK? Does your mobile work out here?’
Caitlin fished in the pocket of her jeans and glanced at the phone.
‘Seems to,’ she nodded.
‘Great. Don’t phone me – if there’s any change of plan I’ll call you.’
‘But––’
‘Trust me – all you have to do is go off and have a good time. There’s a wicked ice cream place down by the harbour. Meet me back here at six-thirty. Oh, and if anyone asks later, all you say is that you’d forgotten to pack some vital item and I took you to get it. Now, go!’
Caitlin ambled as slowly as she could across the square and down another narrow alleyway, past a faded wooden sign that said Il porto, which she took to mean the harbour. Every few seconds she turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of Summer and discover where she was heading, but her friend hadn’t moved. She was still standing on the same spot, shielding her eyes from the sun and nodding encouragingly at Caitlin. She knew that until Summer was convinced she was well out of the way, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Reluctantly she turned into a side street so narrow that she could touch the walls of the houses either side at the same time. Her mi
nd was racing; clearly she’d got the wrong end of the stick. Summer wasn’t being stalked – she was a willing participant in something that could be really dangerous. Caitlin knew in that moment that she owed it to her friend – and to Ludo – to find out just what was going on. For a moment, her thoughts turned to that awful story she’d read in Prego magazine, the one about the American teenage model who thought her lover was really passionate about her when all the time he was planning to murder her.
As she turned another corner, she spotted a flight of stone steps that led back round to a viewpoint surrounded by aloe vera plants and gilly flowers. A small boy with bare feet and tight black curls was squatting down, inspecting what looked like a large toad. Immediately her artist’s eye saw an opportunity. Running down the steps, she pulled her camera from her bag, checked her light meter, and clicked off a couple of shots before the child caught sight of her, stuck out his tongue and ran off.
Leaning against an iron railing she adjusted the lens and scanned the view before her. Three- and four-storey houses banked up the hillside in higgledy-piggledy terraces, some painted pink, others peach, while a few looked faded and neglected, their less attractive khaki paint peeling in places. Laundry fluttered from makeshift washing lines, anchored to the green-painted shutters or strung across the narrow alleys dividing the houses. Entranced, she took shot after shot, already picturing a collage of prints entitled Laundry day in Liguria.
Suddenly, where the houses ended and the olive grove began, she caught a flash of white. She adjusted the focus. It was Summer, weaving her way back past the olive trees and through the lower terraces of the vineyards towards what looked like a ruined church, its crumbling tower sporting a clock-face with just one hand stuck on the figure 5. Zooming in to the maximum that her new, powerful lens would allow, she watched, intrigued, as Summer broke into a run, stumbled for an instant and then disappeared from view.
Summer of Secrets Page 8
