“Ahem.”
She opened her eyes, horrified to see another guest glaring at her with distain. She quickly pushed her feet back into her shoes, wincing as the pain in her toes jolted through her, just as the lift doors drew back, and stepped inside. “Sorry. Hot feet.”
The man pressed the button for the second floor and raised his eyebrows in question.
“Oh, third floor for me, please.”
He pressed the third button and glowered at her and then down to her sore feet, before emitting a deep breath to show his disgust. The lift stopped at the second floor and as the doors drew back he stepped forward and without bothering to look back, said. “This is a hotel, not a hostel.”
“It must be nice to be so cheerful,” she said as the doors closed, eager to go back down to find him and give him a piece of her mind.
It dawned on her as she walked along the corridor that maybe he had a point. Her aunt would have said the same thing, or certainly commented on it to her when they were alone. By the time Sacha reached their room she was embarrassed that she’d been caught without her shoes on.
She listened at the door for any sound, then hearing none carefully pushed her key card into the slot and slowly pushed down the door handle. Opening the heavy door, she walked inside the darkened bedroom and saw the shape of her aunt, lying on the bed.
“It’s all right,” Aunt Rosie whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid to move. This migraine isn’t nearly as bad as I’d dreaded.”
Sacha kicked off her shoes and sat down on the brocade chair at the side of the bed. “Do you think you’ll be well enough to come downstairs for some supper?” she asked doubtfully. “Or we could have a bite to eat up here, if you’d prefer.”
“No, darling. I’ll just stay put and keep my eyes closed for now. If you’d rather go out somewhere though do so. I don’t want to hold you back from enjoying this incredible place.”
They sat in silence. Sacha didn’t like to disturb her aunt and it was a relief not to be wearing her shoes.
“Did you have a lovely time with that delicious looking man?”
Sacha smiled, glad the heavy curtains were keeping out most of the light, and that her aunt’s eyes were still closed. “Yes, thank you. He was very kind.”
“Kind? Tell me where he took you and what you saw.”
Sacha told her everything, leaving out the bit about the man in the lift, telling her off about her shoes. “It’s a stunning place. I love Rome. I can’t believe I’ve never made the effort to come here before now.”
“Nor can I,” her aunt said. “It’s where I had my first holiday romance. I was twenty-one and travelling on my own for the first time without my parents.”
Sacha hadn’t heard about this before. Rosie was her aunt, but also her godmother. She was sixty and very young at heart, as well as glamorous, with a charm and charisma that intrigued men of all ages. Sacha hoped she could learn a few things from her aunt during this enforced holiday. How to be a bit more self-confident, for a start.
“If you don’t need me to stay with you this evening, Alessandro has asked me out to dinner. He’s going to show me more of the sights.”
“I’m so relieved,” her aunt said. Sacha could tell she was smiling as she spoke and knew she’d approve. “I only met him once before, several years ago, he was charming then. I can imagine he’s great company. He’s an interesting young man, you know.”
She wasn’t sure how her aunt could know such a thing if she’d only met him once, several years ago. “He was,” Sacha admitted.
“Good. You go and enjoy yourself. You’re not even thirty. You should be having an exciting time. I keep telling your father you work too hard in that café.”
“I don’t, not really,” Sacha said, not wishing to go over their usual argument. “Working in finance all those years was far harder for me. At least running the café, I get to walk about in the sun if it’s quiet, and I enjoy meeting the customers and seeing them enjoy their sundaes.”
She thought of Betty, the oldest resident on the boardwalk at ninety-three. She was also the local heroine, having helped a young French man desperately trying to get back to his family in 1941 to escape the Nazis. Sacha had grown up seeing the stone monument, placed at one end of the boardwalk in the seventies to honour Betty’s bravery. She recalled asking her father when she was a teenager why it had taken so long to honour the lady, and been surprised to discover that Betty had never told anyone what she had done. It was only when the Frenchman returned to the island to find her in the late sixties, and reported her actions, that anyone found out.
Sacha enjoyed chatting to Betty on the mornings when she came in for her chai latte and Jersey Wonder. Betty loved the local doughnut, so different to the ones on the mainland that were coated in sugar and filled with jam. These plain donuts were typical to the island, and delicious. Sacha always had to resist temptation when a fresh warm batch was delivered to the café by Mrs Joliff.
Then there were the retired statesmen. They were well known on the island, their decades- long differences in politics causing many a front-page headline over the years. Sacha found it amusing how they met up at her café each morning and put the world to rights over a couple of coffees. She was grateful to have such a pleasant job.
“When it’s quiet, I get to go out to the boardwalk,” she continued. “I can make the most of the sea air, rather than spending my day cooped up in an air-conditioned office, sitting at a desk with my head in some files.” She shuddered at the memory. “I know some people enjoy their office jobs, but it’s just not for me.”
“Personally, I always thought it must be wonderful to dress up in a suit and go to meetings with clients. Being a florist was fun, but there wasn’t much call for me to spend time in a boardroom.” Her aunt moved slightly and winced in pain. “I can’t wait for this to pass,” she said, her forearm over her eyes.
“The novelty of working in finance wears off, or it did with me. You probably like the thought if it because you’ve never done it.” Sacha thought of the bags of suits, blouses and court shoes she’d donated to the Salvation Army clothes bins the day after she’d left her office job. Her mother had been sure she’d need them again, but she was determined to make the café work, and saw the donations as the closing of an era of working in finance that she never intended repeating.
“And you don’t mind living in that tiny box flat above the café? After all, you were used to that large apartment in town when you were with The Little Shit.”
Sacha shivered. Hating to be reminded of The Little Shit. It was a name her aunt had always used to refer to her ex, Giles. Although Giles, being six-feet-one and a part time rugby player was hardly little.
“I love my flat. It’s cosy, and the view of the boardwalk, and the sound of waves rolling onto the beach couldn’t be better. Really, I’m very happy now, and Giles has moved on. I heard he was getting married to the estate agent who sold our apartment. Good luck to them, I say.”
“Rubbish, he’s a pig and deserves someone doing to him what he did to you. It wasn’t as if he stayed with that girl he dumped you for either, moving on to the next one within weeks of leaving you. He thought he was so clever, and it never occurred to him that someone as nice as you wouldn’t put up with his philandering and might just dump him.”
Sacha pushed away the memory of the one occasion he’d come around to her tiny flat, bottle of red wine in his hand as he tried his best to persuade her that they’d enjoyed something magical, and she should give him another chance.
“Can we change the subject, please?” she said, feeling that familiar pang of humiliation whenever the subject of Giles and what he’d done to her was brought up. “We’re in a beautiful city and we’re going on a cruise in two days. That’s if you’re well enough to go,” she added, when it occurred to her that maybe they’d have to cancel their time on the ship.
“I’ll be fine. I always am. Don’t start worrying about me. Worse things
than a ruddy migraine have failed to hold me back from having fun. Right, you can top up my glass of water from that jug if you don’t mind and then you’d better freshen up for your date with the lovely Alessandro.”
Relieved by this change in conversation, Sacha laughed. “Fine.” She filled up her aunt’s glass, then walked over to the wardrobe and selected one of her new sundresses; a raspberry and green cotton shift. She carried it into the small shower room to get ready.
Chapter Two
“Seriously, I want to know,” Sacha insisted, as Alessandro shook his head.
“No, I do not sing opera, or anything else.” Alessandro laughed. “Why do you think that I sing?”
She was enjoying teasing him and he appeared to be enjoying it, too. “Because you must do something. You said you don’t work at the hotel as a guide, so what do you do?”
He looked at her as if he wasn’t sure whether she was joking or not, then said. “I have been travelling.” He held his hands up in resignation. “You really wish to know? I am an archaeologist.”
She hadn’t expected him to say that. She glanced at his hands. They appeared too unmarked to have been working on digs. “You said you’d done modelling, though.” She thought of the girls who’d followed them. She didn’t like to be nosy, but was intrigued. He certainly had the height and looks to be a model.
“I was offered modelling work and accepted it to help pay for my studies. My father was angry when I didn’t immediately join his business and refused to help me pay for my studies in Cagliari.”
“Where’s that then?”
“Sardinia. Is a beautiful place, I loved my time there.”
Excited, she said, “I thought my aunt and I were visiting Sardinia on our cruise, but we’re going to Corsica and only for one day. Cruises are a bit like taster menus, you get to try out places, and if you like them you can return and stay for longer.”
“Good idea. You will like Sardinia, I am sure.”
“Would you go back there?”
He looked surprised by her question. “I’ve been back many times and will hopefully visit the friends I’ve made there, soon.”
“Why did you give up the modelling though, isn’t it easy money if you do well?”
He studied her for a moment. “It can be very hard work. I was lucky enough to be offered several well-known campaigns, but as soon as I was qualified I gave it up. I am an archaeologist, it’s what I love doing. It’s what I trained for.”
“I understand,” she said. “Don’t you ever model now?”
“I only do it for charity and not very often.”
She could see he didn’t like referring to that part of his life. “What are you doing now?”
“I have been working in Spain for several months, but my father became ill and asked me to return to Italy and help him in his business.”
“That’s kind of you.”
He shook his head. Something told her that talking about his father upset him a little and she wondered quite how ill he must be. “What work do you do?”
She told him about leaving her old job in finance after ten years. “I became tired of the intensity of it all. I left university with a lot of ambition, but I lost that over the next few years and wanted to venture out in a different direction.” She hesitated, not wishing to divulge any information about Giles. “My circumstances changed,” she said simply. “When one of my father’s managers moved away, I offered to step in and now I run the café.”
“Café?” He hesitated and seemed surprised, but she wasn’t sure why.
“Yes, I love it there. It’s long hours, and in the summer I might work seven days a week at times. I can honestly say I never dread going to work and that’s got to be a massive bonus.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It helps if you love what you do,” he said, rubbing his chin slowly.
The waiter brought over their plates of fresh tomato salsa on toasted bread. The smell of the tomatoes, basil, garlic and oregano filled the air and Sacha’s stomach rumbled noisily.
“Sorry,” she said, reddening. He pretended not to notice and she continued. “Life is much too short to spend it doing something that doesn’t fulfil you. Do you agree?”
“I do,” he said. “This food smells very good.”
It was delicious and Sacha finished her bruschetta unsure how she would manage to eat the following course. A short time later bowls of pasta were placed in front of them. Tempted by the delicious smell of the pesto sauce covering her pasta, she picked up her fork and stabbed it into her penne. After savouring a few mouthfuls, she said, “There have been quite a few archaeological digs on the island where I live.”
He put down his fork and stared at her. “There have?”
“Yes. Some men found a load of coins a couple of years ago with their metal detectors.”
“Ah, yes, I have heard of it.” He thought for a moment. “The Celtic hoard? Found in a field and worth maybe 10 million pounds?”
She nodded. “That’s the one. The coins were estimated to be about 2,000 years old and were exhibited at the museum for a while. I went to see them during my lunch hour once when I worked at my previous job. I was so engrossed that I was late back to work. It was fascinating to think that two men had found them locally.” She laughed. “My father wanted to go out and buy a metal detector. You see quite a few of them on the beaches, sometimes.”
“Your father is interested in archaeology?”
“I’m not sure. I think we all were when the coins were found.” She couldn’t help being amused at the memory. “They’ve also found Neanderthal teeth and woolly mammoth, and woolly rhinoceros’ teeth at La Cotte. That’s in one of the southerly parishes, called St Brelade. That dig was years ago though. Prince Charles came over to help with the dig. I’m not sure if he was still at university then?”
Alessandro’s eyes widened at this information. “I think I will enjoy visiting your island. It seems there is much that goes on there.”
“Yes, I suppose there is. In fact, I recently heard someone mention a new find somewhere on the island.” She tried to recall the details, but failed. “It sounds like a quiet back water and seems like that sometimes, but an awful lot has happened in such a small place. I must admit I love it there.”
“You have travelled much?”
“Yes, my father always took us away each year and after I left school, I took a gap year and travelled extensively doing the usual, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam. Now I’m enjoying running the café and staying close to the boardwalk.”
“Boardwalk?”
Sacha pictured the boardwalk, recently built along the promenade overlooking the beach. It was the first thing she looked at every morning, and she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to live anywhere else.
“It’s actually a village, known locally as, The Boardwalk by the Sea. Even the holidaymakers call it that. There’s a row of buildings, cottages mainly, but some are shops, and my café. We’ve got a second-hand book shop, which is run by my friend, Jools. It’s her mother’s really, but she’s less and less mobile. Jools lives with her now and helps run the place. She’s an artist really, and I sell some of her paintings in my café, as does our friend Bella. She’s got an antique shop on the boardwalk. All our homes overlook the beach. There’s a small pier on one side, and cliffs on the other. We love it there.”
“It sounds interesting and very beautiful.”
It was. Sacha smiled at the thought. “I’ve only been there for a couple of years, but I’ve lived on the island my whole life.”
After dinner, Alessandro suggested they walk off some of their bruschetta al Pomodoro and pasta meal.
“I will show you more of this city,” he said. “There is much to see and although you won’t be able to view everything in the time you have here, I can take you past the Colosseum and St Peter’s Basilica.”
Sacha couldn’t help taking photos. She was torn between taking in the sights by gazing at them, trying to memorize them
and holding up her mobile to record them for prosperity. “I love this city,” she exclaimed, taking in the golden lights and shadows they cast over the ancient monuments. “It is truly breath-taking.”
Stopping by the Spanish Steps once more, she covered her mouth, unable to help yawning.
“You are tired,” Alessandro said, sounding guilty.
“No, I think it’s stopping, after working so hard the last week before I came away. I wasn’t planning to go on holiday, especially as the season at home is almost at its height, but my aunt had a falling out with her partner and refused to let him come with her. When she asked me to join her, my mother decided it would do me and my aunt good if I accompanied her.”
She thought back to her argument with her mother, about leaving the café at such a busy time, but her mother was determined Sacha should have a break, even if only for ten days.
“My aunt and I get along really well, but I worry about leaving the business during the busiest time.”
They began walking in the direction of the hotel.
“Who is looking after it now?”
“My twin brother, Jack.” Sacha grinned as she pictured Jack in an apron, wiping tables and making ice cream sundaes. “He was guilt-tripped into taking two week’s leave from his job in London. He’s left his girlfriend behind because she couldn’t get the time away from her job. So, he travelled over to the island without her. I think he secretly liked the idea, but he made a bit of a fuss before agreeing, to save face.”
Alessandro laughed. “Ah, guilt-tripped? It’s what parents do to us to make us do as they wish, no?”
“That’s the one.” Sacha giggled, picturing her mother’s face as she spoke to Jack, thinking he couldn’t see through her reasoning for getting him to come and look after the café. “Jack is usually very independent of our family, or likes to make out that he is. I think my mum doesn’t particularly like his present girlfriend and is hoping that time away from her will make him see that she’s not the right woman for him.”
Summer Sundaes: Escape to the seaside with the perfect summer read! (The Boardwalk by the Sea Book 1) Page 3
