by T A Williams
‘But you’re not alone, are you? You’ve got Ines and Umberto, and you’ve got your friend, the famous film star.’
‘Not really a friend. We just both happened to have been involved in the same accident, and so we’re hiding out together.’ She gave him a wink. ‘To be honest, I’m just here to keep her company, if she wants it. Mind you, so far, I get the impression she prefers to be alone, which is probably just as well, as I’m terrified of her.’
‘I’m sure the country air will work its magic on her. Just you wait.’
‘Who knows!’ Bee wasn’t convinced.
‘Seriously, you wait. Romeo and I come up this way most days. If you sit still and silent, you’ll often see all sorts of wildlife. Last week there was a big grey heron just down there on the lookout for frogs to eat or, indeed, one of the brothers or sisters of the snake you just saw. And don’t worry about snakes. There really aren’t that many of them around. We often see foxes, deer and, of course, wild boar, the scourge of the vineyards.’
‘We saw two baby wild boars as we arrived this afternoon. Are the big ones dangerous?’
‘It’s unusual to see them in the daytime but, yes, they can be, especially if you get between a sow and her offspring. But they’re very private and I doubt you’ll see any more of them. They can do a lot of damage to the vines, so we do our best to keep them away.’
‘But they’re the only dangerous animals around here, right?’
She saw him hesitate for a moment. ‘Yes, although there are wolves in the hills around us.’
Bee felt her jaw drop. ‘Wolves? Here in Tuscany?’
‘Yes, but they’re very elusive. From time to time we hear them, but it’s very rare.’
Bee gulped. Snakes, wild boar and now wolves? This was a far cry from the Tuscany of art galleries, museums and historic buildings she had dreamt of for so long. Maybe she would be better off following Mimi Robertson’s example and staying in her room. Seeing her concern, Luke was quick to offer further reassurance.
‘Romeo here wanders all over the place and nothing has ever attacked him. And the peacocks at the villa have been there for ten years or more without incident. Trust me, Bee, you’re perfectly safe here.’
Bee summoned a smile. ‘If you say so, then that’s fine.’
She suddenly jumped as the heavy, hairy head of the Labrador landed on her foot. She looked down to find Romeo stretched out on the ground in front of them and she could have sworn she saw the dog wink up at her. The warm head against her skin wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, so she didn’t move her foot, and she felt rather pleased with herself. She hadn’t been in such an intimate situation with a dog since she was a little girl. She looked back up at Luke.
‘I suppose Romeo’s got the valley all to himself. No wonder he seems to be a happy dog.’ As if in agreement, she heard the Labrador give a heartfelt sigh, and his eyes closed once more.
‘Romeo is a very happy dog, Bee. He roams around all over the place and he’s got two homes, so he’s never short of company, or food. And, believe me, food is very important to a Labrador. He spends as much time up at the villa with Umberto and Ines as he does with me down at the Grifoncella.’ Bee smiled at the name that meant ‘Little Griffon’. ‘Oh yes, he’s a happy dog all right.’
They chatted a little more about the valley, the vines and the history of the villa before Luke finally got to his feet and the dog immediately leapt up, tail wagging, raring to go. Bee stood up reluctantly, feeling quite sorry this little interlude was over.
‘Anyway, Bee, I’ve enjoyed talking to you, but I must get on. Come on, Romeo and I’ll see you safely back down to the track.’
At the bottom of the field, she bade Luke and the dog farewell and went back towards the villa, reflecting upon the impression Luke had made upon her. One thing was for sure – even though she had come to Tuscany with absolutely no interest in men, she was looking forward to seeing him again.
As she walked back past the Podere Nuovo, she got a surprise. She was just level with the front door when she heard a voice, and not a friendly one.
‘This is private property, you know. What’re you doing here?’
Bee slowed and turned in the direction of the voice, furious with herself that her scarf, while a lot cleaner, was still soaking wet. At first all she could see in the half-light was that a door on the ground floor was now open, and it took a moment before she identified a figure standing in the shadows just inside the door. She stopped and did her best to stay in the shadows herself, pasting on her most disarming smile as she replied in her best Italian.
‘Good evening. I’m your new neighbour. I’m going to be spending the summer in the villa.’
For a few moments, there was no response. Finally, he decided to reply.
‘What’s your name?’
It certainly wasn’t the warmest of greetings, but she kept the smile in place.
‘My name’s Beatrice. My friends call me Bee.’
‘And where do you come from, Beatrice?’
She ignored the put-down.
‘I’m from London… England. And what about you? Where are you from?’
‘This is where I live.’ Communication certainly wasn’t his thing.
By now, Bee’s eyes had adjusted to the shadowy interior of the house and she found she could make him out more clearly. He was tall, with an unkempt mop of shoulder-length grey hair and he might have been in his mid-sixties. The fact that he was holding a full glass of red wine in one hand added to the impression he gave of an ageing rock star. Presumably this was the man Umberto had referred to as Riccardo. She wondered idly who he was and what he was doing here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he, like herself, was hiding away from the limelight. This thought somehow endeared this prickly character to her, so she redoubled her efforts to be charming.
‘Well, you’ve chosen a wonderful place to live.’
‘“… a wonderful place to live.”’ The mockery was thick in his tone. ‘And what would you know about this place?’
‘Not very much, I’m afraid. I’ve only just arrived and I’m beginning to find my way around.’
‘Where are you going now?’
‘Back to the villa.’
‘I see.’
Then, without uttering another word, he took a step backwards and shut the door.
‘And a very good night to you, too.’ Bee went off, muttering to herself, wondering why he was so grumpy.
The first thing she did upon her return to the villa was to take off her mucky sandal and dump it in a bucket of water she found by the back door. She scrubbed it with her hands as best she could, hoping it would come out all right. She had few illusions, however, as to the state it would be in when it dried out. Somehow, she felt sure it wouldn’t return to its original appearance. On impulse, she then soaked the other sandal, so that they would, at least look the same, even if that wasn’t likely to be too good, and set both of them on the step to dry.
Once she had finished, she went round to the front door, enjoying the sensation of walking across the soft lawns in her bare feet. A sprinkler was spraying the parched grass with water and she had to wait and then dash past as the wall of water arced away from her. There was no sign of the peacocks, but, in spite of the twilight, she did spot what were presumably peacock droppings and she made sure she avoided them. Clearly, living in the country meant being very careful where you put your feet.
She let herself back into the villa with the key Umberto had given her and padded up the cool marble stairs to her room. As she reached the landing she wondered how Mimi was getting on all by herself and she resolved to try to get her to come out for a walk with her the following day. She wasn’t looking forward to a confrontation with her, but she had promised Gayle she would try.
She spent the rest of the evening on her laptop, reading and deleting emails and sending thank you messages to people who had got wind of her accident. There was nothing more from Jamie and she almost felt
sorry. Whether this meant she still harboured feelings for him was something her subconscious appeared unwilling to debate. When she had finished, she watched the ten o’clock news out of habit and then climbed into bed feeling unexpectedly tired. As she lay there all she could hear was a distant owl. Otherwise, everything was peaceful. To her surprise, the image playing on her mind as she dozed off wasn’t the gorgeous villa, the wonderful surroundings, or even her ex, but the face of Luke, the estate manager.
Chapter 5
Next morning, Bee was woken by the sound of somebody being eviscerated. Or so it seemed. A spine-chilling series of cries from outside had her out of bed and at the open window peering through the mosquito screen apprehensively, wondering what on earth was going on. To her relief, she discovered that the source of the screams of distress was none other than the peacocks.
Back in London, the only wildlife she ever saw were pigeons and occasional urban foxes, both normally scavenging among the dustbins for food. Here, there was no sign of civilisation beyond the formal garden – just rows of vines stretching out before her and onwards up the valley towards the distant woods. She pushed the mosquito screen out of the way, leant her elbows on the sill and breathed in deeply. The fact that she was at an open window in her pyjamas should have made her feel uncomfortable but, out here, she had little fear of being observed.
Partway through the night, she had woken up bathed in perspiration and so had stripped the bed and slept under just a single sheet, with the windows wide open, but the mosquito screen closed. As a result, she had stayed cool and slept soundly, untroubled by flying insects, and now she felt pleasantly relaxed. She stretched, discovering with pleasure that the previous evening’s walk appeared to have been good for her sore leg. It was still black and blue and it still hurt, but not as much as before.
The view was charming and the sky a perfect cloudless blue. The villa was very comfortable and the surroundings unspoilt and spectacularly beautiful. It was a lovely, if remote, place to spend a few sunny weeks, even if her companion at the other end of the villa wasn’t likely to prove to be the easiest of people to get on with. She listened intently and found she could hear nothing at all. Not a car or plane, no rumble of the underground or human voice. She really was in the middle of nowhere and, to a city girl, this was definitely alien territory with its wolves, snakes and wild boar. To reinforce the point, there was a sudden movement in the vines right in front of her and a high-pitched squeak of terror as some little animal fell into the clutches of a predator. Bee squeaked in sympathy. It was another world out there.
Rousing herself, she went into the bathroom and had a long, luxurious bath, the first since the accident. As she lay in the water, she found herself thinking, once more, of Luke. However convinced she had been that she wasn’t interested in any man, he seemed to be occupying an inordinate portion of her thoughts, and she wondered where this might lead. She certainly hadn’t come here looking for romance, but she couldn’t deny that she found him fascinating and appealing.
She emerged feeling refreshed and ready to face the day, regardless of whether this would involve snakes, Labradors or a grouchy film star. She reflected as she dressed that, however grouchy Mimi might turn out to be, she was always going to be preferable to one of Luke’s ‘harmless’ snakes or a pack of wolves, and this brought a smile to her face. The temperature was already rising, so she put on shorts and a light top and decided to do without the wig. Umberto and Ines would just have to get used to her appearance.
Downstairs she found Ines in the dining room, but there was no sign of the film star, grouchy or otherwise.
‘Good morning, Ines. Any sign of Miss Robertson?’
‘Good morning, Signorina.’ If Ines noticed Bee’s stubbly hair and scarred head, she gave no sign. No doubt, she and her husband had been forewarned. ‘I’ve just had a call from her. All she wants is a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. I’m just about to take it up to her.’
‘Please call me Bee, rather than Signorina.’ An idea came to Bee. ‘And why don’t I take the orange juice up to Miss Robertson? I want to speak to her anyway.’
‘Well, if you’re sure… Bee.’ Ines hesitated. ‘She did sound a bit bad-tempered. I don’t know if something’s happened…’
Bee gave her a little smile. ‘She’s probably just grumpy. I believe these film stars can sometimes be a bit temperamental.’ This was an understatement if half the stories she had heard on set were to be believed. ‘I’ll give her the juice and stand well clear.’
‘That’s very kind. When you come back down, if you don’t see me, I’ll be in the kitchen. It’s down at the end of the corridor. Here’s the orange juice. Thank you for doing my job for me.’
Bee took the little silver tray from Ines and carried it back upstairs. As she passed the paintings on the walls alongside the staircase, she took a quick look at each of them. Part of the research for her doctoral thesis had been on medieval and Renaissance art and she had become pretty good at recognising really old paintings from fakes. As far as she could tell without studying them in greater detail, the paintings hanging on either side of her were all old and no doubt fairly valuable, but at first sight it didn’t look as though there was any masterpieces among them. Tuscany had been home to some of the greatest artists of all time, from Leonardo da Vinci to Michelangelo, but the artists on display here, while competent, were definitely not in that league. Nevertheless, she resolved to devote some serious time to studying the most interesting paintings carefully, just in case. The idea was rather stimulating.
When she reached Mimi’s suite, she stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
‘Miss Robertson, it’s me, Bee. I’ve brought you your orange juice.’
‘Just leave it outside.’ No please, no thank you, and the tone was definitely grumpy – or worse.
Bee suppressed a feeling of annoyance and did as instructed, before having one last try at establishing communication.
‘I wondered if you felt like coming for a walk this morning.’
‘No.’ There was a silence and then she heard a grudging, ‘Thank you.’
Nobody could accuse Mimi Robertson of wasting breath on unnecessary words, but Bee took heart from the ‘Thank you’. Maybe the country air was beginning to work its wonders on the film star.
‘Fine, well, goodbye then.’
There was no response and Bee left her to it.
After a morning on the internet, looking fruitlessly through a host of websites for a possible change of job, Bee decided she would go for a longish walk. She wanted to do things properly so she asked Ines to prepare a little picnic for her. After dissuading her from providing enough food to feed a starving family, Bee settled for a cheese and salami sandwich, some apricots from the garden, a bottle of water, and the remains of last night’s rosé from the fridge. She put everything in her little backpack and set off, this time heading down to the river, determined to follow it back upstream to its source. She chose trainers instead of sandals, deciding not to risk walking any distance in her cowpat sandals. Besides, they were still wet. Ines informed her she had found them on the back doorstep and had washed them twice more in the hope of returning them to something approaching their former glory, but Bee had fears that Dolce & Gabbana sandals and cow poo wouldn’t mix.
For the walk, she left her wig behind, but tied her freshly laundered scarf over her head, knotting it on the left so it acted as protection, and camouflage, for her scarred cheek. On top of this she set a wide-brimmed straw hat Ines had found for her. Apart from offering shelter from the sun, this combination would hopefully be useful if she should come across anybody, although she had worked out that this was highly unlikely. It was an unsettling thought that here in the valley there were, in all probability, more wild boar than people.
Once she reached the river, she was unsurprised to see that it consisted of little more than a tiny trickle and an occasional handful of shallow pools of clear water. Nevert
heless, the croaking of frogs and lush green vegetation at the edges was testament to the fact that there had been water there not too long ago. She walked upstream until the fields and vines gave way to woodland. Remembering what Luke had said about poisonous snakes, she kept her eyes peeled, but saw nothing more sinister than a lone squirrel surveying her from the branches of a tree and, at one point, a never-ending line of large black ants trudging across the path. She hopped carefully over them and carried on upwards as the path she was following became ever steeper until she decided to call it a day. Her thigh was aching a bit by this time, so she set down her bag and took a good look round. It was a delightful, if isolated, spot.
A rocky outcrop above her forced the stream into a little waterfall, below which a pool had formed. The water was crystal clear and quite deep, and she could even see little fish darting about in it. Around her in a half-circle, low tree-capped cliffs cut her off from the outside world and a large, flat stone provided a perfect picnic table. She opened her little backpack, poured herself half a glass of wine, and reflected on the beauty of her surroundings.
The place was like something out of a fairy tale, somewhere beyond the real world. It felt as though Little Red Riding Hood or the Three Bears were about to appear at any moment. She sipped her wine as she settled back on her elbows and stretched her legs. It was a bit spooky to be here in the woods all by herself, but she was gradually beginning to get used to the solitude.
Then suddenly, she realised with a start that she wasn’t alone after all.
She sat bolt upright as she heard the sound of somebody, or something, crashing though the undergrowth towards her. An image of an enraged wild boar crossed her mind, and she was starting to scramble to her feet, looking for a tree to climb, when the intruder broke out of the bushes and came running towards her, tail wagging.
‘Romeo!’
Bee wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or dismayed. Although not a wild boar, the sudden appearance of a hefty black dog was sufficiently scary to make lose her grip on her glass and tip the remains of her wine into her lap.
