by T A Williams
His two passions in life were Fiorentina football team and his fiancée, Anna. She and he were going to be married the following year and Debbie almost told him that this had been her plan as well until it had all fallen apart, but she decided against it. She had barely spared a thought for Paul for a good long while now and she saw no need to rake up old memories. And she certainly didn’t talk about Pierluigi. He, too, crossed her mind less and less these days, and she had gradually begun to get over the whole sorry episode.
As she unpacked her things, she found herself humming a little tune.
* * *
On Monday, she received a visitor at work. To her surprise, she recognized the businessman she had met in the Giubbe Rosse restaurant with Steven, back at the beginning of October. As he walked in, she racked her brains for his name, but could just remember his first name, Fausto. Luckily, he appeared to be well known to Giancarla, who greeted him with one of her ever more frequent smiles.
‘Buongiorno, Dottor Montevarchi.’
‘Buongiorno, Giancarla.’
Debbie was sitting at Steven’s desk, as she had been most of the previous week. With Bella’s help she had moved it a few feet so that it was now strategically positioned so that she could see through the door into Reception. She rose to her feet and was about to go out to say hello when Doctor Montevarchi strolled into the office and closed the door behind him, indicating that Debbie should sit back down again. She did so, wondering what was happening. He began to explain.
‘Professoressa Waterson… Deborah, how good to see you again. I have come to give you my thanks and to show my gratitude.’
‘Your gratitude?’ She took his outstretched hand and shook it, feeling distinctly puzzled.
He nodded, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite her. ‘Yes, for stepping in and taking over after Stefano’s heart attack.’
‘I had no choice. Somebody had to take over, after all.’ But, she was asking herself, what business was it of his what she did here?
‘Well, I’m very grateful, as, indeed, I am for your first-aid skills that saved Stefano’s life.’ Finally he cut to the chase. ‘As you may know, I’m the owner of the school.’
‘The owner?’ This really was news to Debbie. ‘You own the school? But I thought Steven…’
‘No, Deborah. Steven works for me. I leave all the running of the school to him, but the school is actually mine. I set it up almost exactly thirty years ago. And a very good investment it’s been.’ He extended his arms out in front of him, interlocked his fingers and stretched his palms towards her until his knuckles cracked. Debbie did her best not to recoil. ‘Anyway, apart from my thanks, I wanted to let you know that I’ve put five hundred euros into your bank account today and I will do the same every week until Stefano comes back to work. Think of it as a bonus – and a thank you.’
‘Signor… Dottor Montevarchi, that’s very kind, but I wasn’t expecting anything. Like I said, somebody had to do it, so I did. Anyway, thank you very much.’
He was smiling broadly as he looked around. ‘You’ve even managed to tidy Stefano’s office. He won’t recognize it when he comes back – if he comes back.’
‘You think he might not?’
‘I don’t know. The doctors told him his valves and his arteries are a mess and, although they’ve put in some stents, he really has to avoid any kind of stress.’ His concerned expression softened for a moment. ‘And also avoid alcohol, I believe, which will be a challenge. Anyway, Stefano was sixty this year and so he may decide to take this opportunity to retire. I don’t know. We’ll see.’ He caught her eye. ‘Anyway, are you sure you’re happy to keep doing what you’re doing in the meantime, until we know what’s going to happen?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Later on, after Doctor Montevarchi had left, Debbie worked out that this represented a pay rise, at least for the moment, of two thousand euros a month – a fortune. She resolved to use some of it to pay down a bit more of her student loan and some of it to take Alice out for a really good meal when she came across at the weekend.
* * *
Alice and Debbie had a great time together. Debbie had booked tickets for the Uffizi gallery on Saturday afternoon and they emerged from three hours in there quite shell-shocked from exposure to some of the finest works of art ever created by the hand of man. Debbie had been blown away by Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and had stood, entranced, in front of it until she was elbowed out of the way by a group of French tourists. Even now, in November, the place was absolutely packed.
Debbie had thought about booking a table at the same lovely restaurant in Fiesole, but then she changed her mind. Alice was only here for such a short time, she deserved to experience somewhere different. It was Steven, with a wistful expression on his face, who came up with a recommendation, as Debbie was sitting at his bedside on his last day in hospital. He told her about a restaurant that was typically Florentine and an absolute must for anybody who wanted really fine Tuscan cuisine. She took his word for it and booked a table. When she and Alice got there on Saturday evening, she instinctively knew that it was going to be something special.
The restaurant was tucked into a narrow street, roughly halfway between the Uffizi and Santa Croce. The entrance was quite narrow and led into a fairly unprepossessing bar, beyond which the restaurant was accessed along a narrow passage. As they emerged from the corridor, they both stopped in silent appreciation. The place was huge. The high-ceilinged room stretched away before them and on their right, windows looked out onto a charming courtyard with an ancient well in the middle, surrounded by box hedging.
As this was a special occasion, Debbie insisted that they should go for a full Italian menu with antipasti, followed by fresh pasta, and then a bistecca alla fiorentina between the two of them. It was a good choice. The meal was every bit as delicious as Debbie had hoped.
‘So, Al, what about you and men? Anything exciting going on?’ She set her knife and fork down, deciding that she just couldn’t eat another thing.
There was a slight pause before Alice replied and when she did, she sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘I don’t want to jinx things, but I’ve been going out with the same man now for almost a month.’
Debbie sat up and took notice. A month with the same man was almost unheard of for Alice.
‘I met him, Guy, a couple of weeks after you left and he’s rather nice.’
Debbie listened with satisfaction to the details of this tall, athletic, experimental chemist, delighted that her friend might finally have found her Mr Right. As she listened and watched the happy expression on Alice’s face, however, she was impressed to find that she really didn’t feel envious.
‘I’m so very pleased for you, Al. You deserve to find somebody.’ She gave her a grin. ‘You’ve certainly done enough research.’
‘And you, Debs, are you all right? Not feeling too lonely?’
Debbie shook her head. ‘Not in the slightest.’ She met and held Alice’s eye. ‘Really. I’ve got lots to do at work and I often don’t get home until ten thirty or even later. I spend my whole day with people, talking to people. And when I have got a bit of free time, this city’s so jam-packed with places to go and things to see, it’s impossible to get bored. No, no question of loneliness.’
‘And you don’t need a man in your life?’
‘Nope. After what’s happened to me this year on the man front, I’m well out of it. Besides, I’m in love with Byron.’ She went on to describe the Labrador and his master and mistress’s house. Then Debbie decided to pull her friend’s leg a bit.
‘And, of course, there’s Rory. He’s six foot six, built like a barn door and sweet and helpful to boot.’
Alice looked up from her steak, a smile spreading across her face.
‘Rory, eh? I knew it wouldn’t take you long. So, do I get to meet him?’
Debbie shook her head, a smile on her own lips now. ‘He’s away playing rugby in Treviso, so you�
��ll miss him. But he’s a real hunk.’
‘Tall and strong and a rugby player, eh? What colour’s his hair?’
‘Fairish. A bit like yours.’
‘Eyes?’
‘Erm, blue, I think.’
‘Anything else you want to tell me about him? Anything more intimate, maybe?’
‘Not really, apart from the fact that he’s gay.’
She enjoyed the momentary expression of surprise, followed by disappointment, on Alice’s face.
‘Gay?’
‘Yes, and he’s a bit lonely, I think. I’d really like to help him out if I can.’
Alice swallowed her disappointment. ‘Well, isn’t there some hunky man you can fix him up with?’
‘There are quite a number of handsome men at the school, but they don’t really have labels on them, you know.’
‘Surely there must be a gay bar around here. Check the internet. You’re bound to find somewhere for him.’
When they left the restaurant, it was just starting to rain, so they made their way home to the flat and sat chatting until well past midnight.
Just as they were folding out the sofa bed in the lounge for Alice, they were disturbed by raucous laughter from outside. Debbie went across to the door and peered through the little spyhole. The lights were on and she saw the door of the flat across the landing from her open for the first time since she had moved in. A tall man was standing at the entrance, fully engrossed in kissing and fondling a girl in a very short dress. As Debbie looked on, he tugged the dress up over the girl’s bottom and his hands reached for her. At that point Debbie stepped back, deciding that she had no desire to get to know her neighbour, or his girlfriend, any more intimately. A moment later she heard the door slam shut as the happy couple decided to move inside.
She looked back at Alice.
‘My new neighbour’s arrived.’
‘What was all the giggling about?’
‘From what I could see, they were thinking about having sex on the stairs.’
‘Classy…’
Debbie and Alice were both woken again at around four o’clock by the sound of the door to the other flat as it slammed shut. There was more giggling and then heels clip-clopped down the stone steps, echoing up and down the stairwell. Clearly, Flora’s son was a lot less considerate than his mother.
Debbie sighed and drifted back to sleep, vaguely aware that she hadn’t dreamt of her special place for quite some time. Of course, now that she could just walk there any time she wanted, she no longer needed to dream.
Chapter 10
Debbie and Flora went out for tea on Wednesday afternoon as usual. This had become a regular event and they were experimenting with different cafés to see which appealed to them most. It was a cold autumn day, but it was dry, although the sky was grey and rain was forecast for later that evening. Today it was Debbie’s turn to choose the café and she had decided to take Flora to the Giubbe Rosse, where she and Steven had had dinner on her first night in Florence. She also chose the route to get there.
‘The café I’ve chosen is in Piazza della Repubblica, but if you don’t mind, we’ll do a little detour by Via de’ Tornabuoni on the way there. There’s a fabulous clothes shop that I’d like you to see. It’s quite unusual, as they only ever put one or two outfits on display at any one time and there’s never a price anywhere. And they’re always jaw-droppingly gorgeous. As you know all about fashion, I’d like you to tell me how much you think they might cost. If they’re as pricey as I imagine, that’ll save me wasting my time going inside and being turfed out again.’
‘The shops in Via de’ Tornabuoni are among the most expensive in Florence, but we’ll see.’ Flora’s eyes were sparkling, as if something amused her.
When they reached the shop, Debbie saw that, this time, there was just one dress in the window– a stunning light grey evening gown, pretty obviously made of silk. She studied it in awe for a few moments before turning towards Flora.
‘Isn’t that just the most amazing dress? I told you they had fabulous stuff here.’ She noticed that same amused expression on her friend’s face once more. ‘What is it? Is it going to cost the absolute earth? Am I wasting my time even dreaming of buying something like this?’
‘As far as I recall, this gown retails for around six thousand euros.’ Debbie couldn’t restrain a gasp of astonishment, but Flora went on. ‘You’ve got very good taste, Deborah. Come in and have a look around. I’ll show you some of the items from our spring collection.’
‘Your spring collection? You mean…?’
Flora was grinning more broadly now. She pointed to the oval glass panel above the door. On it was a simple logo consisting of just two letters entwined: FG. ‘My maiden name was Galli, Flora Galli, so when I set up the business I just used my initials.’
‘Your company is FG?’ Debbie had never been particularly fashion-conscious but even she knew that name. ‘Wow, I didn’t realise you’re FG. You’re a household name.’
The glass door was locked, but as the immaculate doorman spotted Flora, he sprang into action, opening the door and holding it as they went inside.
‘Buongiorno, Cristoforo.’
‘Buongiorno, Contessa.’ He bowed formally towards Debbie. ‘Signorina.’
Flora led Debbie in through the entrance hallway and up three marble steps into a large bright room, decorated in a combination of the palest greys, pinks and greens, no doubt as an homage to the Duomo just a few hundred metres along the road from here. It looked less like a shop than anything Debbie had ever seen. She could have been in a film star’s bedroom.
‘Now then, come and take a look at these.’ Flora led Debbie across to the far side and started picking dresses from a rail. Debbie’s eyes widened. It was like being inside the pages of a fashion magazine.
‘Flora, good afternoon. I’m so glad you’ve come.’
Debbie and Flora turned as one to find a tall, slim, dark-haired lady at the door. She was probably the same age as Flora, maybe in her late fifties, and, like Flora, she was a very good-looking woman. Debbie wondered if she might even have been a model in the past.
‘Barbara, ciao. Deborah, I’d like you to meet Barbara. She’s our marketing manager, based here in Florence. Barbara, this is my good friend, Deborah.’
They shook hands, but Debbie could see that Barbara had something on her mind.
‘Flora, we have a problem.’ Barbara glanced at her watch. ‘In ten minutes’ time we’ve got that group of American buyers arriving on the train from Milan and Miren’s just let us down.’ She quickly corrected herself. ‘Sorry, that’s not fair. Miren’s mother’s been knocked off her scooter and she’s been rushed to hospital and Miren’s had to jump on a plane back to Madrid to be with her. Anyway, the net result is that we haven’t got anybody to model the clothes for them.’
‘Poor thing. I do hope she’s all right.’ For once, Flora looked bothered. ‘What a pity. We really needed her.’ She glanced across at Debbie. ‘These people from New York are really big. They’ve got stores all the way up and down the eastern seaboard. They’ve been at a fashion show in Milan and they’re making a special stop here in Florence just to see us, en route to Rome. Miren’s a fabulously beautiful Spanish model we engaged specially for this event, and now she’s out of it.’
As Flora was explaining, Debbie began to get the impression that she was being watched. She turned towards the door and saw Barbara’s eyes on her, giving her a close and clinical examination.
‘Flora, your friend here… Deborah, she looks like a pretty perfect 40 to me.’
Flora nodded. ‘And to me. Deborah, what size are you in the UK?’
‘Um, 8, I think. I haven’t bought new clothes for so long, I’m not sure.’
‘Well, don’t worry. We’ll measure you up.’
Debbie swallowed hard. She was beginning to realise where Barbara might be going with this.
Flora already had. ‘Tell me, Deborah, have you ever done any
modelling?’
Debbie blinked and then found herself giggling. The idea was so preposterous.
‘No, never. Somehow I don’t think that’s for me.’
‘Why not? You’re very beautiful, you’re tall, and I love your long hair.’ Debbie saw Barbara and Flora exchange glances. ‘Anyway, look, are you busy for the next hour or so?’
Debbie shook her head, still refusing to believe what appeared to be happening. ‘No, but…’
‘Would you be prepared to help us out by hanging around here for a bit? It could be they won’t want to see any of the items on a model, but just in case.’ Flora caught Debbie’s eye. ‘You’d be doing us a great favour.’
‘I really don’t know…’ Debbie was in a quandary. On the one hand, she knew she owed Flora a lot and wanted to help her but, on the other, the idea of standing around, posing, while people stared at her was very, very scary.
‘They may be quite happy just seeing the dresses on hangers.’ Barbara was doing her best to sound encouraging. ‘You may not need to do anything.’
Taking a deep breath, Debbie nodded, blessing the instinct that had made her put on the new underwear she had bought only last week.
‘Of course I’ll help out, and I’ll do my best. I just hope your lovely clothes look good on me.’
The next hour was without doubt one of the most stressful of Debbie’s life. In comparison, being observed by a British Council inspector as she did her best to make an assorted group of septuagenarians understand the difference between the present perfect and the present perfect continuous tenses was as nothing.
