Something about that compliment sparked something in Sophia and, with her mother and sister-in-law as cheerleaders, she spent a very happy day trawling the shops and splurging on a whole new wardrobe. After being accustomed to wearing her low-key work uniform of suits and blouses, and weekend casuals in beige and cream, trying on clothes that were colourful, daring and with significant price tags, was extremely liberating.
*
She peered out of the airplane window at the clouds and her eyes watered. It was so bright out there. Hopefully, it was a sign… that her future would also be bright, or at least that the weather was nice in Italy. She pressed her nails into her palms; she was being silly, looking for signs. She just needed to relax and enjoy whatever lay ahead. Be… what was it they called it… more accepting? More… positive? Even if her new wardrobe did make her feel like she was a bit out of her comfort zone.
Also at Kaisha’s insistence, there had been the almost total body waxing, including her eyebrows. Sophia usually gave her legs and underarms a quick swipe over with a razor but when Kaisha had seen Sophia’s legs in the changing room, she’d immediately dragged Sophia off for emergency waxing. It had hurt like hell and Sophia swore she’d never put her flesh through such agony again. But afterwards, she did have to admit that her skin was extraordinarily smooth. And she liked the way that her new eyebrows framed her eyes so neatly. She’d been worried she’d end up looking completely surprised but the beautician had reassured her that she knew what she was doing. When it had come to permanent makeup though Sophia had refused, horrified at the idea – no matter how good Kaisha claimed permanent eyeliner was. They had reached a compromise by Sophia allowing herself to be talked into buying buy an extra three bikinis and her mother had been delighted.
Saying goodbye to her parents at the airport had been difficult, especially seeing the conflicting emotions war in her mother’s eyes because Sophia was going to visit her own mother. Sophia hadn’t seen her Italian nonna in about ten years. Her parents didn’t visit as often as they’d have liked because of the restaurant, but Sophia’s mother assured her that Nonna Spinoli was as fit and sprightly as ever. She refused to get involved in social media, but telephoned Sophia’s mother every week without fail to fill her in on the ins and outs of her life and those of her friends in the pretty town of Malcesine. What Sophia could recall of her grandmother was a strong dark-haired woman with a personality that filled every room she entered. Even as a child, Sophia had sensed that Nonna Spinoli’s presence had a significant impact upon her mother, and that her mother changed when Nonna was around. It was as if she shrunk like a flower in the too-hot sun, as if Nonna shone brightly enough for the two of them. Perhaps that was another reason why her mother didn’t try to get over to Italy more often; she didn’t like to lose her identity as she seemed to around Nonna Spinoli.
Sophia’s ears popped and she realized that the plane had begun its descent. She held tightly onto her handbag and swallowed hard.
‘First time in Italy?’ the woman sat next to her asked, eyeing Sophia’s white knuckles.
‘No but I haven’t been out here for a while.’
The woman, who appeared to be about the same age as Sophia, nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. You’ll love it.’
‘I hope so.’
‘It’s the land of love and dreams.’ The woman smiled broadly. ‘You’ll find whatever it is you’re searching for here.’
Sophia was about to ask what the woman meant when the plane bounced and she closed her eyes tight.
Just turbulence. Nothing to worry about. Focus on Italy. Focus on the future. And focus on relaxing. Perhaps Italy really will have the answers.
And as the plane landed on the Italian tarmac, Sophia had a good feeling that this was the start of what would be an exciting summer at the Italian lake.
*
The airport at Verona was warm and busy and it took Sophia a while to locate her suitcase. As she trudged out of the terminal, her feet had started to ache and she was already wondering at the wisdom of wearing the wedge espadrilles Kaisha had encouraged her to buy. Even though the wedge wasn’t that high, it still dwarfed her usual low-heeled courts, and the balls of her feet kept cramping up.
She breathed deeply as the electronic doors opened to allow her to exit, hoping for a refreshing breath of air, but instead she hit a wall of heat that made her wobble with surprise. She’d checked up on the average temperatures for Verona in June and they hadn’t seemed that high. Beads of perspiration popped out on her upper lip, and although she was in doubt about the wedges, she was instantly grateful for the off-the-shoulder paisley silk midi-dress. Kaisha had insisted that it set off her skin tone and dark eyes, and Sophia’s mother had agreed enthusiastically. The cut-out shoulders had made Sophia a bit self-conscious, so she’d agreed to buy it if she could match it with a fringed crochet kimono that they’d found. But now she realized she’d need to remove the kimono if she didn’t want to overheat.
She released the handle of her suitcase and unhooked her bag from across her body, then placed it between her feet. She was just shrugging her way out of the kimono when something hit her hard from behind causing her to fall forwards and over her suitcase. Her arms were caught up in the kimono, which meant that she couldn’t put them out in front, so she slid off the case to the ground and her face met the pavement in front of the airport doors.
‘Argh!’
‘Dammit! Are you all right?’
Sophia lay where she’d landed, her arms still trapped behind her and her legs sticking up over her suitcase.
She tried to reply, ‘Do I look all right?’ But it came out strange and slushy, ‘Do I plook all plight?’ and she winced at the pain in her upper lip.
Strong hands took hold of her and lifted her quickly to her feet, then eased the kimono back over her shoulders. She brought her arms around and gently prodded her face. Everything seemed to be intact and without injury, except for her mouth and a sore spot on her forehead.
‘Can I take a look?’
Sophia realized that she was just inches away from a very broad chest. She raised her eyes to find shoulders a rugby player would envy, then up a thick neck and over a chiselled jaw, but before she could get any higher, she winced again as pain pierced her forehead. ‘Ouch!’
‘Yes, you’ve a small cut on your top lip and given your forehead a whack.’ A hand had gently cupped her chin and raised it, while the other one smoothed her hair back. ‘The egg is popping out, so you’ll probably be okay without seeing a doctor, although I could take you to one just to be sure?’
‘No. No that’s okay.’ Sophia shook her head then met the intense green eyes full of concern that were currently scanning her face. ‘I mensh… mean… okay.’ She probed her upper lip with her tongue and realized it was swelling rapidly. ‘Have to get a bush now.’
‘A bush?’
She shook her head. ‘A bus-s-s-s.’ She sent the s sound out through her teeth.
‘Look, I have a car. Let me give you a lift. It’s the least I could do after knocking you over like that.’
‘No, it’s okay. But you should look where you’re going, you know. I could have really hurt myself… broken something.’
‘Yes I know and I am so sorry. I’d just dropped someone off at the airport and was hurrying back to work. I didn’t see you until it was too late.’
Sophia nodded.
‘So will you accept a lift?’ He frowned. ‘Oh where are my manners? I’m Joe… Joe Lancaster.’ He held out a large hand.
‘Sophia Bertoni.’
They shook hands and Sophia’s felt lost within his.
‘So I’m guessing that you’re English but have Italian grandparents?’ Joe asked.
‘And parents. That’s why I’m here. To visit my…’
Stop telling this stranger things about yourself! Just because he’s a well-spoken Englishman does not mean he isn’t a serial killer.
‘To visit your parents?’
; ‘Grandmother.’
Stop it!
‘Same here.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I came over to visit my uncle for the summer. He has a hotel on Lake Garda.’
‘You don’t look very Italian… if you don’t mind me saying so.’
He smiled, showing perfectly straight white teeth. ‘My uncle is my mother’s brother. She’s like you, with lovely dark hair and olive skin, but my father is your quintessential Englishman. Or he was until he went bald but when he had a full head of hair, it was lighter than mine.’ He ran a hand through his own blond hair, which was actually quite messy, reminding Sophia of images she’d seen of surfers on sun-kissed beaches. His skin was golden brown and she guessed that he’d been in Italy for a few weeks already.
‘So?’ Joe was frowning at her.
‘So what?’
‘I just asked if you should go to a doctor because you were staring at me a bit strangely. Your eyes had kind of glazed over. Perhaps that bump caused more damage than I first thought.’
Heat flooded Sophia’s cheeks. She shook her head then lowered her eyes to the ground and leaned over to pick up her bag. ‘I was just—’
‘Look, tell me where you’re going and I’ll take you.’
There was no way Sophia was getting into a car with a stranger. Growing up in London had taught her that, at least. Even if she had been telling him her family history, and she could feel her lip growing bigger and her head had started to throb.
‘No. Thank you, but no. I’ll get the bus just like I planned.’
She looped her bag over her head and tucked it in against her body then grabbed the handle of her suitcase.
‘Well take care. I understand you being careful… too many nutters out there to trust a stranger, right? Anyway, uh, … take care and I hope you enjoy your holiday in Verona.’
Sophia was about to correct him but stopped herself just in time. He could, after all, be one of those psychopaths who waited at airports for female tourists then lured them into his car and took them to his villa out in the mountains where he carved them into little pieces and fed them to wild animals or used them as fish bait. Nope. She was not getting into his car or anyone else’s car for that matter.
‘I will do. Goodbye.’
Sophia offered a brief smile, then hurried along behind a crowd of noisy women who’d just emerged from the terminal building. Judging from their pink tutus and rhinestone tiaras, as well as the constant stream of filthy jokes and laughter, they were a hen party. One of them was talking excitedly about how Malcesine was the perfect place to stay on the shores of Lake Garda. And when she saw that they were headed for the shuttle bus, she released a breath and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. She needed to get the shuttle bus from the airport into Verona, then catch the bus to Malcesine. She’d researched her travel options before departing London and found out that the bus journey could take up to two hours, but she was nervous about taking a taxi. At least this way, she could follow the hen party.
As she settled on a threadbare blue and red striped seat on the shuttle, and dug around in her handbag for some painkillers, she felt very, very tired. Her lip throbbed, her head throbbed and the balls of her feet throbbed. She could taste blood, which must be coming from where her front teeth had sunk into her lip and her throat was dry.
But in spite of it all, she was in Italy, on her way to the picturesque Malcesine, and she would soon see her nonna for the first time in ten years. She was not about to allow men like Lee or Joe, if that really was his name, to ruin that for her.
She looked up and caught the eye of a pretty woman at the centre of the hen party. She wore a pink satin sash with ‘Bride-to-Be’ on it and was glowing with happiness. And, no doubt, Prosecco. The bride-to-be smiled at Sophia, then gestured at her lip and mouthed, Are you okay?
Sophia smiled as best she could and nodded. Because she was.
Well, she would be.
The summer started now…
Chapter 5
Joe pulled into the covered car park behind his uncle’s hotel and cut the engine. The car made a ticking noise as it cooled down. He loved the balmy warmth of Malcesine in the summer months, being able to wander around in shorts and a t-shirt, free of the tie and trousers combo he’d had to wear as part of his previous job.
But that life had ended in January and with it had gone the uniform.
He got out of the car and headed out of the car park and down the concrete steps at the side, then across the patio area. He stopped, as he always did, to admire the view. His uncle’s hotel was right on the lakeside with just the patio and the path than ran around the lake to separate it from the water. In the late afternoon, a gentle breeze blew, caressing the trees and foliage of the plants that grew in abundance in the temperate Mediterranean climate. His eyes were always drawn to the bright pink and magenta of the bougainvillea, the intense purple of the violets and the deep ruby of the geraniums. The scents of flowers mingled on the breeze, creating a delicious fragrance that spoke of hot summer days, swimming in the fresh, cool lake and alfresco dining.
‘Ah, there you are!’ He looked up to find his uncle standing beneath the white awning that shaded the patio dining area.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long… I got caught up with something.’
‘I thought you must have decided to return to England with the delightful Charlotte.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Why would I want to be there when I can be right here?’ He gestured at the hotel then out at the lake.
His uncle laughed. ‘So what did you get caught up with, Joe?’
His uncle’s English was excellent and laced with a variety of accents that he’d picked up during his long career as a hotelier. He’d started out working for his own uncle then taken over the business and he’d tried many times to encourage his only nephew to join him. But up until the start of this year, Joe had thought he had his career all mapped out as a photographer at a local rag in Oxford, with hopes of branching out as time went on, but it had never happened. He’d been made redundant and now he was drifting, not quite sure what direction to take. Therefore, spending some time on Lake Garda, helping his uncle out in exchange for bed and board seemed as good a plan as any. Charlotte hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about visiting at first, but after she’d stayed at the hotel for two weeks, he could see that she had warmed to the location. Although she had still been keen to get back to London. But he couldn’t blame her for having a life of her own.
‘I kind of bumped into someone. Literally.’ His cheeks warmed as he recalled the lump on Sophia’s head and the swelling of her lip. And when he’d offered her a lift, her eyes had widened as if he’d asked her to do something abominable. Of course, he could understand that, he’d warned Charlotte a million times not to accept lifts from strangers. He just felt so bad that after sending Sophia hurtling to the ground, he could do nothing to make amends. He wished she’d let him drive her to her grandmother’s so he’d feel less guilty, but some people were just mistrustful of others. And Joe didn’t have the time or energy to waste trying to convince a stranger that his intentions were good. He had his own life to sort out.
‘Oh…’ His uncle waggled his eyebrows. ‘A woman?’
Joe smiled. ‘Yes. I knocked her over her suitcase and she bumped her head. I was quite worried she was seriously hurt.’
‘Where’s there’s blame there’s a claim…’ Uncle Niccolo shook his head.
‘No, no. Not like that. Not really. I was just worried about whether she would be all right.’
‘Si, si. Always such a gentleman, my nephew. It runs in the family.’ Uncle Niccolo nodded. ‘Well, come and have a coffee before you start your shift.’
‘Good idea.’ Joe let his uncle guide him into the hotel where the clinking of glass and cutlery had already begun, as the staff prepared the dining room for the evening meal.
*
Sophia eased her suitcase down the steps of the bus
then onto the pavement. She stretched for a moment, trying to free the knot from between her shoulders. The journey had taken almost two hours and with having to change bus as well, she’d been afraid of getting on the wrong one and ending up lost. Combined with her throbbing lip and sore forehead, she was keen to get to her grandmother’s to wash and change. As well as to eat. She hadn’t had much all day and her stomach was cramping with hunger now.
Even though it had been years since her last visit, her surroundings seemed familiar, so rather than get the map out of her bag, Sophia decided to try to locate her grandmother’s house unaided. She pulled her suitcase along behind her, heading across a road then along a winding street that evidently had a slight incline, as she soon found herself breathing faster. The streets became narrower and soon there were cobbles beneath her feet that were difficult to negotiate in her wedges and made her suitcase bump up and down. The buildings were close together, the street between them barely wide enough for a small car, so that when she looked up, all she could see was a sliver of orange sky between the terracotta roofs.
But soon she came into a small square in the middle of eight three-storey buildings. She stopped for a moment and turned around, taking in the creams, browns, greys and pinks of the buildings’ facades with their higgledy-piggledy construction and the colourful shutters that framed the windows.
Her grandmother’s house was just to her right, a light grey building with bright green shutters. Red, purple and gold flowers filled boxes fixed below every window and greenery spilled out and trailed down the walls. The double front door was positively gothic, a large wooden door that arched at the top. Just above the arch, a carving of a cherub poked out and Sophia had the uncomfortable feeling that it was assessing her crumpled travelling clothes and her battered face. She smoothed her hair back, then raised her hand to knock but, as she did, the door swung inwards and the scent of garlic and onions rushed out to greet her.
‘Sophia!’ She was pulled into a tight embrace before she could even look into her grandmother’s face. ‘You are late. I was worried and about to try to ring your mobile telephone.’
Love at the Italian Lake Page 3
