Dreaming of Tuscany

by T A Williams

  The villa was truly spectacular. It was three storeys high and almost the length of two tennis courts. The cream-coloured walls were punctuated by huge windows, protected by massive metal grilles on the ground floor, giving it an immensely solid look. Green louvred shutters shielded the upper windows from the baking heat of the sun. Steps led up to a massive arch, housing double front doors, towards which they made their way.

  In front of the villa, a flower bed studded with bushes and flowers extended all around the base of the walls, and a meticulously mown and perfectly watered lawn ran back across from there to the parking area. In the middle of the lawn was an ancient well, complete with rope and bucket, half-concealed beneath a luxuriant white rambling rose bush. Bee was further impressed to see two peacocks standing on the grass alongside the well and studying the newcomers with curiosity.

  As they reached the front door, it opened to reveal an old gentleman with a smile on his weather-beaten face. As he saw them, he stepped forward and held out his hand in welcome. Bee took a good look at him. He was of medium height, just a bit stooped, with a fine head of steel-grey hair. She reckoned he was probably in his seventies or even early eighties, but he still looked remarkably fit and he had kind brown eyes. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and a dark waistcoat. He had a friendly smile and Bee felt herself warm to him instantly.

  ‘Welcome to Montegrifone, ladies. My name is Umberto. My wife and I will be looking after you during your stay at the villa.’

  As expected, he spoke in Italian, and Bee was quick to translate.

  Mimi took his hand and shook it, treating him to the same look she had given the driver.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you. You do know that I’m hoping to keep my presence here a secret, I hope.’

  Bee translated and the old man nodded vigorously.

  ‘Yes, indeed. You need have no concern on that score.’

  Bee added her own greeting as she shook his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Umberto.’

  The old man’s smile broadened.

  ‘Excellent that you speak Italian, and so well too. I’m afraid my English is next to non-existent.’ Bee saw his eyes land on her damaged cheek, but he had obviously been primed in advance. ‘I recognise you from your photo in the newspaper, Signorina. I understand both of you have been in an accident and you’re looking for somewhere to hide away while you get over your injuries.’

  Bee nodded. ‘That’s right. This looks like the perfect place for us.’

  He nodded reassuringly. ‘I assure you, you can remain totally anonymous here. Nobody will breathe a word.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Umberto.’

  Bee translated what he had said as the driver appeared with the first of the suitcases from the heavily laden car. Only one of them belonged to Bee. All the others belonged to Mimi. While the driver set off back to the car for the next load, Umberto ushered them through the front doors and into the cavernous hallway. This was the size of a small church and the doorways leading off it were tall enough for even a horse and its rider to get through without difficulty. It was wonderfully cool in here after the heat outside and Bee breathed deeply. The floor was centuries-old terracotta and the ceiling, high above, was adorned with a wonderful mural. A magnificent marble stairway curled upwards until it split in two as it led to the floor above. As a historian, it was a fascinating and stimulating place. The idea she was going to be staying here went a long way towards relieving Bee’s apprehension about what awaited her.

  Umberto led them through a pair of ornate doors into an even bigger room.

  ‘This is one of the sitting rooms. There are twenty-six rooms in the villa altogether, so if you ladies fall out, there’ll be ample space for you to get away from each other.’

  There was a distinct twinkle in Umberto’s eye, but, wisely, Bee decided not to translate the last part of his remark to Mimi. There was no point in tempting fate.

  The walls were hung with oil paintings, the floor strewn with wonderful rugs, and there was a monumental fireplace at the far end. It was a spectacular room with windows looking out over a formal garden to the rear of the property. As they made their way in, another figure appeared from a door cleverly concealed in a bookcase set against the side wall, and Umberto was quick to make the introductions.

  ‘This is my wife, Ines.’

  Ines was a matronly lady, probably the same sort of age as her husband, and she, too, had a friendly smile. As they all shook hands, Bee noted a distinct look of sympathy as Ines’s eyes alighted upon their scarred faces.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you ladies and I hope you enjoy your stay here at Montegrifone. I’m sure some good, clean country air will do you both good.’

  ‘Thank you, Ines. You live in a wonderful place.’

  ‘Can I get you some tea or coffee? Or maybe some homemade lemonade. The lemons are from our own trees.’

  Cold lemonade sounded excellent to Bee and when she translated she was pleased to see both Mimi and Gayle nod in agreement. Ines scuttled off and Umberto indicated they should sit down while he remained standing with his back to the fireplace. Bee would have dearly liked to study the old oil paintings on the walls, but she knew she would have bags of time for that over the next few weeks. She took a seat on a lovely old sofa alongside Gayle, while Mimi sat down on an identical sofa on the other side of a finely carved coffee table.

  ‘The villa as you see it now was built in the fifteenth century, shortly before Christopher Columbus sailed off to discover the New World, but it replaced a much earlier castle, more of a fortress. Some of the walls date back to the early Middle Ages and are almost a metre thick in places. The earliest record of a building here dates back to 1168, but the experts say it is much older than that. The villa has been in the hands of the same family for five centuries.’ Bee translated faithfully. Clearly, Umberto was reciting a carefully prepared speech, but one of his twenty-first century guests had more pressing things on her mind.

  ‘Beatrice, ask him about food. I need to follow a very special diet.’ Mimi’s priorities were evidently less in the past than the present.

  ‘We’ve already told them…’ Gayle started to answer, but Mimi shook her head angrily and insisted.

  ‘Tell him, Beatrice. I want to be sure everything’s quite clear.’

  Bee relayed the message and listened in awe as Mimi then reeled off an exhaustive list of things she could and couldn’t eat. The list of prohibited items was a lot longer than those she could eat and Umberto had to pick up a pad and pen and write it all down. It filled an entire sheet. As far as Bee could tell, her diet consisted principally of egg-white omelettes and celery. Carbs were strictly verboten, as was anything containing sugar. It was clear that staying young, slim and beautiful involved a massive amount of self-denial. Bee hoped Ines and Umberto wouldn’t insist that she follow the same diet. Yes, she could maybe afford to lose a pound or two, but she knew that Mimi’s diet would have her looking skeletal within weeks.

  The lemonade was delightful and came accompanied by a plate of gorgeous cantuccini, Tuscany’s traditional almond biscuits. These rock-hard biscuits suddenly became wonderfully edible, almost melting in the mouth, when dipped in the lemonade and Bee and Gayle helped themselves to several, while Mimi sat back and watched disapprovingly, or maybe longingly. Bee noticed that Mimi added no extra sugar to her lemonade and wondered idly what the bitter drink might be doing to her digestive system.

  After their refreshments, Umberto took them for a guided tour of the villa, from the dining room with a table long enough to seat two dozen people, to the spacious bedrooms above. Bee looked out of the windows on the first floor and it was easy to see why the original builders had chosen this precise spot. The ground sloped steeply away on all sides and it would have been ideally suited to its original purpose of fortress. You could see all the way up and down the valley with its vineyards, olive groves and occasional green fields. As far as the eye could see, the only other building
visible was a charming old brick farmhouse just a little way up the valley, the weathered pink roof just about poking out above the olive trees.

  As Mimi stood alongside her and looked out, Bee got a glimpse of the irascible diva others on the set of The Dark Prince had described.

  ‘Is the other house occupied? I was told we were going to be completely away from any neighbours. Can’t you get anything right?’ With her clipped English accent, she sounded like Bee’s old headmistress. While Bee translated to Umberto, she heard Gayle attempting to pour oil on troubled waters.

  ‘It’s all fine, Mimi. We knew about this. Nobody’s going to breathe a word. They’ve all signed on the dotted line.’

  Umberto listened to Bee and nodded. ‘There are two other houses on the estate, but you can be sure of complete silence about your presence here. Riccardo in the house you can see over there, the Podere Nuovo, rarely goes out anyway, so he never really comes into contact with anybody else. He’s almost a hermit. The other house, the Grifoncella, is a little way down the valley and Luca, the estate manager, lives there. You can trust him implicitly.’

  As Bee translated, Mimi looked a little more pacified, if not totally convinced, but even she could see that they had virtually no neighbours. Gayle’s ‘guys’ had been right: this place was about as far off the grid as they could have hoped to find. Apart from these two other houses, there were just fields, olive trees, row upon row of vines, and dense woodland on the hilltops. Once again, the shiver of apprehension ran through Bee’s body. What was that line about ‘Nobody to hear you scream’?

  When they got back downstairs, Bee sat down on the sofa in the sitting room and stretched her legs, resisting the urge to massage her thigh. She looked across at Umberto with a smile on her face.

  ‘This place is wonderful. I feel at home already.’

  He and Gayle both smiled back at her. All three of them then switched their attention to Mimi who was standing by a window, staring out into the garden, and Gayle asked the all-important question.

  ‘So, Mimi, what do you think? Are you going to be comfortable here?’

  There was a dramatic pause before the actress grudgingly agreed.

  ‘It’ll do.’

  Definitely not effusive, but nonetheless positive. They all relaxed.

  Chapter 4

  Either by accident or design, Bee’s room was at the opposite end of the villa to Mimi’s. The shutters were open, the bed made up, and her suitcase already waiting for her when she got there. It was a sumptuous room. There was an imposing wooden double bed, a massive antique wardrobe and matching chest of drawers, as well as a fine old sofa. Leading off the bedroom were two doors. One led to a large private bathroom, complete with unexpectedly modern bathroom furniture, and the other was what Umberto referred to as her dressing room. This was another big room, lined with cupboards. The contents of her single suitcase looked very lonely in there after she had unpacked.

  Another of Gayle’s ‘guys’ had gone out a few days earlier at Bee’s request and bought her some summery clothes for when she came out of hospital. These included several pairs of shorts and some light tops, along with brand new trainers and sandals. To her surprise, Gayle had picked up the tab for all of it and Bee had been mightily relieved. The ‘guy’ had pretty clearly gone to some very expensive shops, and designer labels adorned most of the items. She had very little in the way of smart clothes with her – just a couple of dresses she had brought with her from London, one pair of shoes with heels, and a few other bits and pieces. Somehow, however, she didn’t think there would be much call for heels or smart dresses out here in the wilds of the country.

  Her bedroom also boasted a fridge bigger than the one in the kitchen of the flat back in London. It was stocked with alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, as well as fresh fruit and a mouth-watering selection of chocolates. Bee selected a big bottle of mineral water and poured herself a full glass. Although it was pleasantly cool in her room, the temperature outside was high and, considering it was still only late June, she had no illusions that the next few months here in Tuscany were going to be boiling hot. There was an air conditioning unit above the window, but for now the thick walls of the villa appeared to be doing their work and she didn’t need to use it. Interestingly, there was a very fine mesh mosquito net at the window. No doubt, bloodsucking insects were par for the course here in the country.

  Her thirst quenched, Bee opened her laptop, delighted to find the Wi-Fi good and fast. She took a quick look at her emails and was suddenly surprised to see one from a very familiar source. She clicked on it immediately.

  Hi Bee. I’ve just seen the news about your accident. It looked awful. I hope you’re all right. Let me know how you are, please. Thinking of you. All my love. Jamie.

  Bee looked up from the screen in disbelief.

  All my love…?

  Of course, she felt pretty sure he had loved her. And she had loved him. It hadn’t been wild infatuation, but she had genuinely believed it would last, at least in the heady days of their first year together. But, as time passed, they had both slowly come to realise that they were drifting apart. The end, when it had come, had been a low-key affair, more like the dissolution of a partnership than a break-up. There had been no histrionics, no real heartbreak, just a mutual decision to end something that had ceased to have any meaning. Although she had remained in contact with him off and on since then, she was surprised to see him using the L-word. Something he had rarely done in real life.

  Seeing his name at the end of the email brought a whole raft of memories pouring back. Why, she asked herself, did these memories all have to be of the last few fraught days and weeks together, rather than the years of happiness that had preceded them? She got up, went over to the window again, and spent a long time staring blankly out over the vines and olive trees but without really seeing them.

  Finally, she roused herself, returned to the desk and sent him a bland reply.

  Hi Jamie

  Thanks for asking. I’m getting better now and they’ve let me out of hospital. I’m just starting a long relaxing holiday in the country with Mimi Robertson of all people. Bee.

  She felt a bit guilty to be mentioning Mimi, knowing it would almost certainly wind him up. He was a moderately successful freelance writer, just about managing to support himself from his royalties and magazine articles, but she knew his all-consuming dream had always been to write a screenplay for a Hollywood blockbuster. Following his departure from her life this winter, he had travelled to Los Angeles, no doubt in search of his big break. Knowing that she was now, albeit peripherally, involved in the movie world would be bound to frustrate him. After pressing ‘Send’, she rather regretted waving this in his face. He was a fundamentally nice guy and he didn’t deserve it, but it was too late.

  Closing the laptop, she went downstairs for the light early-evening meal they had been promised. Gayle had left in the Mercedes an hour or two before, after assuring herself that Mimi was satisfied with the accommodation. Her whispered parting words to Bee had been, ‘Call me regularly. I need to know how you’re both doing. And remember, she’s a good girl, although I admit she can hide it pretty well sometimes.’

  When Bee went into the dining room, she saw that the massive table was set for two people, mercifully side by side, facing out into the formal garden, rather than at opposite ends which would have almost involved shouting at each other to be heard. However, although it was past the agreed time, the other seat remained empty. Umberto appeared and informed her Miss Robertson had decided to skip dinner, so Bee found herself eating alone in a room the size of a badminton court. It was a bit strange, a bit creepy, and could have been a bit lonely. After her communication with Jamie, it would have been easy to slip into maudlin reminiscence and a feeling of loneliness. Fortunately, however, her mood was considerably lightened by the smiling faces of the elderly couple and the abundance and quality of the food on display.

  There was a leg of what looke
d like Parma ham set on a special steel holder from which Ines carved her a few wafer-thin slices. There were olives, sundried tomatoes and tasty local pecorino cheese, along with pots of artichoke hearts, mushrooms and tiny onions, all conserved in thick green-hued olive oil. This was all accompanied by slices of the wonderful unsalted Tuscan bread that Bee had grown to love in the last few weeks. Ines had prepared a mixed salad, within which Bee could see little blue and white edible flowers, quails’ eggs and asparagus tips. Alongside was a dish of sliced tomatoes topped with mozzarella and basil leaves, drizzled with thick, aromatic olive oil. The scent of fresh basil filled her head and she breathed in deeply.

  If this wasn’t enough, there was also a huge wooden board almost groaning under the weight of different salami, ranging from hefty dried sausages the size of Bee’s forearm, to little ones the size of her thumb made, according to Ines, of wild boar. Bee took just a little taste of three or four, reflecting that, if she wasn’t careful, a few weeks living like this could very easily result in her needing a whole new wardrobe. She resolved to eat sparingly and do her best to get as much exercise as possible.

  There was cold mineral water to drink, and Umberto produced a bottle of gloriously cool rosé wine. The label on the bottle announced that it was local wine from the estate: Tenuta Montegrifone. As he poured the wine, Bee saw the condensation form on the outside of the glass and run down it like tears. The wine and the food were equally exquisite and Bee felt sorry that Mimi was missing such a treat. They had barely exchanged a handful of words all day and Bee hoped she would loosen up and become a bit more sociable. However, eating alone in these magnificent surroundings was definitely better than struggling to make small talk with a spoiled diva, so Bee took another mouthful of wine and summoned up a smile for Umberto.