The Getaway Girls: A hilarious feel-good summer read

by Dee MacDonald

  There was handshaking all round, with Alfonso looking even more confused. ‘You are eating with us also?’

  ‘No, no!’ Connie said hastily. ‘We just came out for a stroll.’

  ‘That’s a little walk,’ Maggie explained to a still mystified-looking Alfonso.

  ‘Well, don’t let us stop you,’ said Gill. ‘You’ll want to build up an appetite for that casserole of yours!’

  ‘Such a coincidence to run into you like this,’ Connie said, taking Maggie firmly by the elbow. ‘We’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Damn me!’ Maggie exclaimed as they resumed walking. ‘She must know we were following her.’

  ‘Well,’ Connie said, ‘she should be pleased to know we were just making sure she came to no harm. And he seems OK, doesn’t he, this Alfonso?’

  ‘Yes, but you know what Gill’s like. We’re never going to be able to get her to move on now.’

  Connie laughed. ‘There’s still that guy in Rome she goes on about. We should get her that far at least. Now, I think we should go back to our supper.’

  Twenty

  ALFONSO

  Connie awoke and eased herself up on one elbow to check the time. Only half past six. She wondered how Gill had got on and then, to her astonishment, she saw that Bella’s door was open and Gill was sitting on the step gazing out at their still sleeping neighbours. In the distance a dog was barking.

  Connie swung her legs out of bed. ‘Gill, are you OK?’

  Gill, in her nightie, took a sip from her bottle of water. ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘No, not at all. But it’s not like you to be up so early.’

  There was a big sigh. ‘I just couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Why ever not? Was the dinner date a disaster or something?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Gill replied. ‘That’s just the problem.’

  Connie scratched her head. ‘Tell me all!’

  ‘He’s so lovely,’ Gill replied dreamily. Then, getting to her feet: ‘Can we have some tea?’

  ‘Of course we can!’ Connie yawned as she filled the kettle. ‘Hope you didn’t mind us tailing you last night, but it was only because we wanted to make sure you were safe.’

  Gill settled herself down on the small divan. ‘No, and I’m really touched that you cared. Anyway, we went to this great restaurant. And everyone seemed to know him – lots of hugging and handshaking and all that. “This is Gee-lee,” he told everyone. That’s how he says it! And he told them all it was my birthday.’

  ‘And the food? Did you like the food?’ Connie asked as she dropped the teabags in the mugs.

  ‘Yes, the food was delicious.’ Gill paused. ‘And he’s got two daughters.’

  ‘And definitely no wife?’

  ‘Definitely no wife. And Connie, dare I say it, but I think he really fancies me!’

  ‘And do you fancy him?’ Silly question, Connie thought.

  ‘Oh, I do!’ Gill said as she accepted a mug of tea. ‘I really wanted to stay with him last night but I knew you two might be worried.’ She took a gulp. ‘But I’ll stay with him tonight.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Would you mind?’

  Connie grinned. ‘Gill, you’re seventy years old! You hardly need my permission!’

  ‘He’s so lovely.’

  ‘Yes, you already mentioned that. But why couldn’t you sleep?’

  ‘I just couldn’t get him out of my mind. God, Connie, I haven’t felt like this in years!’

  ‘Well, he sounds very nice. But Gill, you’re on holiday, the sun’s shining, the wine’s flowing and Mediterranean Man has always been around to add a little spice to the mix.’ Connie recalled long-ago holidays in Italy and Greece enlivened by these bronzed, dark-eyed lotharios.

  At this point a bleary-eyed Maggie emerged from the rear. ‘What’s going on? Why’s everyone up so early?’

  ‘Gill’s hormones have been keeping her awake,’ Connie replied. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Maggie sat down next to Gill. ‘I heard you creeping in late last night. Just as well you had the spare key.’

  ‘Yeah. It was gone one o’clock, I think.’

  ‘So, how did you get on with the hairy old Italiano?’

  ‘He’s lovely. And his name’s Alfonso, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Well you did introduce us!’ Maggie winked at Connie.

  ‘And I call him Alfie. He likes that. And he pronounces my name “Gee-lee”, isn’t that sweet?’

  ‘As in “strawberry jeely with custard”,’ Maggie teased. ‘That was once considered a sophisticated pudding in my part of Glasgow!’

  ‘Like a singer, Alfie said.’

  ‘What does he do, apart from chatting up British ladies?’ Connie asked.

  ‘He was a policeman,’ Gill replied. ‘He was the police chief for this area before he retired.’

  ‘Dear God!’ Maggie muttered. ‘Just what we bloody well need! I don’t suppose you mentioned in passing that we had a criminal pursuing us for a load of stolen money?’

  ‘Somehow or other that didn’t enter the conversation,’ Gill replied drily.

  * * *

  Alfonso appeared a couple of hours later, clad in a well-fitting navy blue T-shirt and pristine white slacks.

  ‘You’ve met Connie and Maggie,’ Gill said.

  ‘Buongiorno! I am pleased to meet again! Now, you follow,’ he ordered, ‘and I take you to nice place for parking.’

  ‘Well, perhaps for just one night.’ Connie wondered what they were letting themselves in for now. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone quite so hairy – even the very tops of his feet! Must all be a bit hot in bed. But she could see that he had a certain hirsute charm, and very nice velvety brown eyes.

  ‘I park at gate,’ he said, pointing towards the entrance. ‘Gee-lee, you come with me. We wait in my car and they follow us.’

  Gill, who’d spent the last couple of hours doing her face and hair, and deciding what to wear, said, ‘Yes, Alfie,’ and beamed at the other two. ‘Do you need me to help you pack everything away?’

  ‘No, we’ll cope,’ Connie replied.

  As she began to stow away the kitchen stuff she noticed the tense expression on Maggie’s face.

  ‘We’re doing this for Gill,’ she muttered once Gill was out of earshot. ‘Just to let her have some more time with her Alfie.’

  ‘Lord only knows where he’s taking us,’ Maggie groaned. ‘And why on earth did he have to be a bloody policeman!’

  ‘He’s not a policeman now,’ Connie reminded her.

  ‘Maybe not, but he’ll still be a suspicious bastard. Once a cop, always a cop. I only hope Gill doesn’t let something slip out in their conversation.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like avoiding red Lexuses, just for a start.’

  They followed Alfonso’s black BMW for about a mile before he turned into a narrow lane, passed an olive grove and finally pulled up at a square terracotta-coloured villa, with dark green shutters drawn across all the windows. After he parked his car he signalled Connie, who was driving Bella, to follow him as he walked round to the rear of the house, where they found an open area bordered by cypresses and with a large swimming pool on one side.

  ‘Wow!’ said Maggie, as he waved them to stop.

  ‘Not bad!’ Connie agreed as she applied the handbrake.

  ‘You like this place?’ Alfonso asked through the open window. ‘My house.’

  Gill emerged, beaming, from the front of Alfonso’s car.

  ‘Like the cat that stole the cream,’ Maggie murmured.

  ‘You stay here,’ ordered Alfonso. He opened a small cupboard attached to the wall. ‘Here is electric.’ He waved at the seductive turquoise water. ‘You like swim?’

  ‘This is OK,’ Connie conceded as she jumped out of the vehicle.

  Gill joined them. ‘This is better than Il Paradiso, isn’t it?’

  ‘You did well for us, Gill,’ Connie admitted.

  Alfonso had unloc
ked a large carved wooden door and beckoned them to follow him.

  ‘La cucina!’ he exclaimed, as they found themselves in a cavernous kitchen. From the tiled floor to the high-beamed ceiling the atmosphere was cool and calm after the blistering heat outside, with free-standing dressers and cupboards round the walls, and one enormous wooden table in the centre.

  ‘And you’re here all alone?’ Connie asked, unable to imagine cooking a solitary lasagne in this enormous space.

  ‘Now, si,’ he said a little sadly. ‘But I have many friends who come to eat here, you know? And is warm in winter.’ He indicated a giant stone fireplace at the far end.

  ‘Well, I think it’s lovely,’ said Gill, walking slowly around and running her hand along the fronts of the cupboards. ‘I could cook in here!’ She glanced at Alfonso. ‘You don’t bother so much for yourself, do you?’

  ‘Esatto!’ he beamed back at her. He opened a door, which led into a hallway. ‘Come! I show you my salotto!’

  The sitting room was formally furnished and very dark, the shutters closed firmly against the outside heat. Obviously no one had done much sitting in here lately, Connie thought, as she gathered a layer of dust on her forefinger from the ornate sideboard.

  They moved in procession into a dark-shuttered dining room, a dark-shuttered study and, finally on the ground floor, an enormous dark-shuttered bathroom, complete with roll top bath.

  ‘You can use,’ Alfonso announced, ‘because I have another upstairs.’ He indicated the staircase as they emerged again into the hall, but declined to lead them upwards. He held up four fingers. ‘Four rooms for sleep.’

  ‘It’s a big house, Alfonso, for just one man,’ Maggie remarked as they re-entered the kitchen.

  ‘Si, si, but I lazy to move. And I like to swim. And to care for my olives.’ He produced a glass jug containing a golden liquid. ‘You like try? Is my oil.’ He dug four tiny glasses out of one of the cupboards.

  ‘You drink oil?’ Gill asked in horror. ‘Out of a glass?’

  ‘Si, si, buonissimo!’ Alfonso said as he poured. Then, glancing at Gill’s face, he uncovered a container on the table, withdrew a loaf and chopped a thick slice into small chunks. ‘Now you try!’

  Connie was no expert on the merits of olive oil and she sipped the liquid gingerly, surprised to find it had an almost fruity, peppery flavour. Gill and Maggie both dipped the bread into their glasses and agreed that the taste was indeed very acceptable.

  ‘Tonight,’ said Alfonso, ‘I wish to take Geelee out again so, if you like’ – turning to Connie and Maggie – ‘you can use kitchen.’

  ‘No, no, we’re fine,’ Maggie said hastily. ‘We have a great kitchen in our Bella. But we’d love to use your bath.’

  ‘And can we have a swim in your pool, please?’ Connie asked.

  * * *

  They spent the remainder of the afternoon swimming, sunbathing and dreaming of the large free-standing bath in Alfonso’s downstairs bathroom.

  ‘I can’t remember when I last had a bath,’ Maggie sighed. ‘I just hope to God his toilet doesn’t need cleaning.’

  ‘He has someone who comes in to do all that,’ Gill informed her loftily. ‘Some old crone in the village.’ Well, she hoped Giulia was an old crone. Anyway, she had better things to think about, such as what she might wear this evening, and which handbag would suit best. Connie had bought her the green, Maggie the blue, and both were gorgeous. Would Connie be offended if she chose the blue one tonight? And she must wash her hair and have a lovely soak in that bath. She’d wear one of the Cannes dresses, and definitely the matching lacy bra and knickers. She’d begun to wonder if she’d ever have an opportunity to wear these or, better still, an opportunity to have them removed! She felt quite giddy with anticipation. What a seventieth!

  * * *

  Connie and Maggie had leisurely baths in the evening, soaking in Alfonso’s bubbles from a bottle he’d conveniently left on the shelf.

  I can’t remember the last time I saw my fingers so prune-like, Connie thought as she dried herself while letting the water run away. She was relieved to see the water was still hot as she ran a bath for Maggie. They then took the opportunity to have a good look round the house, in particular Alfonso’s bedroom, fascinated by the painting of cherubs on the ceiling above his bed.

  ‘Imagine waking and staring up at that lot,’ Maggie mused.

  ‘Gill will look up and think she’s gone to heaven,’ Connie said.

  Maggie laughed as she looked through the contents of Alfonso’s wardrobe. ‘I must say everything’s very neat and tidy, all colour-coordinated too. And a smell of cologne to boot. Ringer’s wardrobe was a shambles, full of sweaty T-shirts and a jumble of shoes in the bottom.’

  There was a photo of a woman beside the bed, presumably Alfonso’s late wife. She gave them a stern glare.

  ‘On the other hand, Gill might open her eyes and meet this lady’s stare,’ Connie said. ‘Very disapproving, I would have thought.’

  * * *

  It was mid-morning the next day, and there was still no sign of Gill and Alfonso. Connie and Maggie, sunning themselves by the pool, were contemplating where to go next.

  ‘Tuscany is so beautiful,’ Connie remarked. ‘You must see Pisa and Lucca, the walled city where Puccini was born. And then there’s San Gimignano and Volterra and Florence…’

  ‘That’s if we can ever prise Gill away from her hairy Romeo,’ Maggie said, gazing at the shuttered upstairs windows.

  ‘You don’t suppose…?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t suppose,’ Connie said, ‘that this could blossom into a real romance?’

  ‘What? Gill and Alfonso? Of course not; they’re both just desperate for a bit of nookie. She’ll forget all about him when we move on.’

  Connie looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

  ‘Well, we certainly can’t have him chasing after us. He’s police, Connie! And Gill’s bound to say some stupid damned thing about wine-coloured Lexuses and avoiding their drivers.’

  ‘We must give her a talking-to, I suppose.’ Connie sighed.

  ‘We must move on, pronto,’ said Maggie.

  * * *

  Gill emerged at eleven, with no sign of Alfonso. She waved cheerily at her two friends as she headed for Bella to change out of last night’s crumpled blue dress, and then, fifteen minutes later, clad in a multi-coloured floral swimsuit, she joined them by the pool.

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. ‘Nice restaurant, then?’

  ‘Restaurant?’ Gill had to think for a moment. ‘Oh yes, the restaurant was great. Lovely nosh.’

  There was a short silence before Connie asked tentatively, ‘What time did you get back?’

  ‘Time? No idea. Late.’

  Connie cleared her throat. ‘Well, the thing is, Gill, we should be moving on. There’s a lot of Tuscany to see.’

  ‘Well,’ said Gill, ‘Alfie’s happy to take us anywhere we want to go, and so we could leave Bella here for a while.’

  ‘A while!’ Maggie sat up suddenly. ‘Just how long is that? Look, we need to distance ourselves from Alfonso, delightful though he may be. He’s a policeman, Gill!’

  ‘So what? He was a policeman but he’s an olive farmer now.’

  ‘Once a cop, always a cop,’ Maggie said drily.

  ‘Cobblers! Anyway, you can do what you like but I’m staying right here.’

  ‘You are joking!’

  ‘No, I’m not, Mags. He’s a lovely man and he fancies me, and I fancy him, and I’m not about to bugger up any chance of happiness.’

  Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve only known him a couple of days, for God’s sake! The heat’s got to your brain!’

  ‘And he’s Italian,’ Connie put in. ‘Do you honestly think you’re the only British woman he’s chatted up on the beach? Come on, Gill!’

  ‘Randy old thing!’ Maggie added. ‘Well, he’s got your knickers off and you’ve had a nice birthday. And now it’s
time to move on – pronto!’

  At that moment Alfonso, clad in a brief pair of blue trunks, emerged from the house, smiling broadly.

  ‘Buongiorno, ladies!’ he said. ‘It too hot, nearly time for siesta. All Italy go to sleep then.’ He winked at Gill, then turned to the other two. ‘Tomorrow I take you to Pisa.’

  As he and Gill sauntered off, his arm round her shoulders, Connie said, ‘Not much sleep likely to be going on there!’

  ‘They’ve only just got out of bed!’ Maggie exclaimed. She was wearing her anxious face again. ‘I’m not happy at the thought of leaving Bella here all day tomorrow.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ Connie asked. ‘She’s perfectly safe here.’

  ‘What if Ringer…?’

  ‘How can Ringer possibly find us here, Mags? We’re not on a site, we can’t be seen from the road; what’s the problem?’

  ‘Yes, but I just have this feeling he’s around. And he always seems to know where we damned well are.’

  ‘That’s nonsense, Maggie. And we really can’t be one hundred per cent certain that any of these incidents and sightings were anything to do with Ringer. And anyway, we’ve left Bella before when we went into Paris and Avignon and—’

  ‘But those were caravan sites with proper security and everything.’

  ‘And now we’re hidden away in the back garden of an ex-police chief! Nobody, but nobody, is going to break into a dusty motorhome on private property and start taking it apart looking for hidden money they don’t know we have!’

  Maggie sighed. ‘Except Ringer. OK, OK, I take your point. We’ll let him take us to Pisa.’

  * * *

  Alfonso appeared to know every second person they met in Pisa and, to Maggie’s consternation, he kept stopping to chat with members of the Polizia and the Carabinieri. Everyone knew Alfonso as well. As Maggie was becoming increasingly agitated, Gill was wittering on about getting to the tower.

  ‘I’ve never seen so many good-looking cops,’ she murmured to the other two. ‘And have you seen those sexy uniforms, and the way they fit round their bottoms! They must be individually tailored, not like our lot!’