by T A Williams
‘And I’ll never, ever, forget you, Luke.’ For a moment, her resolve wavered. ‘If things had been different…’ She heard her voice waver and he can’t have missed it. She felt his hands reach for the sides of her head and hold her tightly right in front of him. Then he dipped forward and let his lips rest on hers for a millisecond, before releasing her and stepping back.
‘I’ll walk you to the door.’
As they climbed back up the hill to the villa, Bee had a thought. She glanced across at him, seeing his eyes flash in the moonlight.
‘Could I ask you something, Luke?’
‘Of course. Anything.’
‘You know you said I’ve brought happiness to the valley? Well, you know what would make me very, very happy would be if you felt like sitting down and talking to your father.’ Sensing his reserve, she carried on quickly. ‘I’ve started getting to know him a bit now and I get the impression he’s not really a bad man.’ She smiled at him in the dark. Even if he couldn’t see it on her face, he would hear it in her voice. ‘Would you do that? As a favour to me if for no other reason.’
By this time they had reached the lawn and the security lights came on, revealing him clearly. He blinked a couple of times and looked down at her.
‘I’d do anything for you, Bee. Believe me. But there’s so much history, so much mistrust, so much hurt between us, I think you’re asking the impossible. Not of me. I promise you I’m prepared to sit down with him and talk, but from what I know of the man, he’ll say no.’
‘So, you’re saying that if I can get him to come and talk, you’ll do the same?’
‘That’s right but, Bee, don’t hold your breath. I’ve been fighting this particular battle for the last twenty-five years.’
‘Thank you, Luke. That makes me very happy.’
To prove it, she kissed him again, chastely, on the cheeks before heading for the door.
‘Goodnight, Luke.’
‘Goodnight, Bee.’
Chapter 18
The next day, she and Romeo went down to see Riccardo. She found him with a brush in one hand, no doubt hard at work. He invited her in, but she hesitated.
‘Only if I won’t disturb you. If you’re busy, Romeo and I can go for a walk.’
He shook his head. ‘Come in, come in. It’ll be nice to have some company. And it’s good to see the dog again. We always used to have one in the house. My wife was crazy about dogs… well, all animals really.’
‘But you’ve not thought about having one since?’
He caught her eye and she saw the same expression of sadness she had noted on his son’s face. ‘Memories, Bee, memories.’
They went through to his studio, where he was working on another new canvas, this time a complex, almost geometrical composition of rows of vines criss-crossing. It was delightful. Bee sat down on a stool to one side and watched him work in silence while the dog stretched out with a heartfelt sigh on the cool terracotta floor. After a bit, she told him about her lunch with Luke the previous week. At first, Riccardo made no comment, but some time later he brought up the subject again by himself.
‘Where did Luke take you for lunch? To Michelangelo’s I bet.’
‘That’s right. He told me they’re old friends and he said you know him too.’
‘I’ve known Michelangelo since he was tiny.’ He gave a little smile. ‘I believe he’s filled out a bit since then.’
Bee nodded. ‘Indeed. When’s the last time you saw him?’
Riccardo paused for a moment. ‘It must be twenty-five years ago… longer. He was just a boy.’
‘So you haven’t been to his restaurant?’
‘Oh, I’ve been there all right, but it was long time ago. My wife and I often went there in the days when his father was running the place. I haven’t been back since her death.’
Bee gave him an encouraging smile and he rallied, glancing at his watch. It was eleven o’clock. He rested his brush on the edge of the palette and looked up at her.
‘Do you have any objection to drinking in the morning?’
‘It depends what I’m being given to drink.’
‘Champagne.’
She grinned and nodded her head. ‘There’s no wrong time for drinking champagne.’
‘Excellent. There’s a bottle in the fridge and you know your way round the glasses in the kitchen by now. Would you mind going and fetching them.’
Bee needed no further encouragement. As she hunted for suitable glasses, she wondered if there might be a special reason for this.
When she got back to his studio, she soon found out that there was.
He made short work of opening the bottle and filling two glasses. As he handed one across to her, she saw his eyes twinkle.
‘The reason we’re drinking champagne is because I’ve got some news to celebrate.’
Bee clutched her glass and listened attentively.
‘I took a photo of the portrait you so kindly sat for and sent it to my agent. We’ve barely been in contact for God knows how long and it turns out he now has offices in London, Zurich and New York. Business must be good. Anyway, it’s certainly the first painting I’ve sent him for a couple of years, maybe longer. He replied immediately. He loves it and wants me to take it over to him. He says he’s got people queuing up for my work.’
Bee smiled broadly and reached across to clink her glass against his. This was excellent news on many levels. He was painting again. His work was still in demand. And, in particular, he was telling her about it. Seeing as he had been living more or less as a hermit, virtually without communicating with anybody, she felt honoured and delighted for him. Hopefully he was coming out from underneath his pall of gloom. After swallowing a mouthful, she decided to go for it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
‘I was speaking to Luke last night, Riccardo. He told me he’d like to sit down and talk to you.’ She kept the fingers of her free hand crossed behind her back. This wasn’t exactly what Luke had said, but it would do. It was a while before he replied.
‘You’re wrong, you know, Bee. He’d never do that. He hates me.’
It was all so Shakespearian somehow, a family torn apart by death and desertion. And pig-headed stubbornness. To say she felt mixed loyalties was an understatement. Still, she did her best to act as mediator.
‘He doesn’t hate you, Riccardo. He told me that. What he said was that he lost his mother and then his father as well, just when he needed him most, and he had a very tough time growing up as a result. I’m sure you must have had your reasons for doing what you did, but surely you can imagine the impact it must have had on a young boy. He needed a father…’ She held her breath, fearing an outburst. She was, after all, meddling in something that was no business of hers. She took a big mouthful of wine and let the bubbles fizz over her tongue before swallowing.
He picked up the bottle and topped up their two glasses in silence. She could see that this was a displacement activity to give himself time to think and she made no sound, not even to say thank you. Finally, after setting the bottle back on the ground at his feet, he started to talk.
‘I loved Elizabeth, Luke’s mother, more than anything in the world. Standing by helplessly as I watched her fade away and die was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. After her death, I was drained, empty, lost. Everything I saw around here, including my son, reminded me of her and it was driving me crazy.’
Bee reached across and caught hold of his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘I knew I needed time to get over her death. I sent Luca off to school in England as it was what his mother would have wanted.’ He stopped, his eyes staring blankly across the room into the distance. ‘She always said she wanted him to be educated in England. Then, as soon as I knew he was settled, I barricaded myself in here. I couldn’t face the idea of meeting anybody, anybody at all.’
‘I heard that you’d had some kind of breakdown. Is that right? You must have bee
n traumatised.’
His head turned slowly towards her and she saw his eyes focus once more.
‘I must have gone a bit crazy, I suppose. You know something, Bee? I have absolutely no memory of the first few years after Elizabeth’s death. It’s all gone. Wiped. Looking back on it now, I know I should have sought medical help, but, way back then, that never occurred to me. By the time I came out of whatever I’d been going through, as far as my relationship with Luke was concerned it was too late. He was away at school or staying up at the villa with my father and I never saw him. Things weren’t much better with my father. We rarely saw each other and we argued when we did. He told me to speak to Luke, but I didn’t have the nerve. I said I’d wait for Luke to come to me and, of course, he didn’t. And I don’t blame him.’
He shook his head ruefully.
‘The thing is, Bee, I always was a pretty awful father. All that counted for me was my beloved Elizabeth and my art. I never did the sort of stuff normal fathers do with their kids. No games of football or fishing trips, and I never had any interest in farming, winemaking or the estate. Luke was always closer to his grandfather than he was to me. I don’t blame him for not wanting to have anything to do with somebody like me.’
Bee could hardly believe her ears. How stubborn could people be? Surely, after everything he had gone through, Riccardo should have been able to speak to his son, and his son to him? Not for the first time, Bee thanked her lucky stars for having had the good fortune to be born into a relatively normal family, however frustrated she might become with her mother from time to time.
‘You’re still his father and you really should speak to him, you know. If you just tell him what you’ve told me, I’m sure he’ll understand.’ She took another mouthful of champagne. ‘Anyway, that’s up to you and it’s no business of mine, but why don’t you meet him one evening for a glass of something? I told Luke I was coming to see you and he said he’d meet you if you agreed.’
Riccardo looked up sharply. ‘You sure he said that?’
‘Yes. But I won’t say anything to him until I hear from you.’ She finished her drink and stood up, conscious that he had a lot to think about. ‘Anyway, I mustn’t stop you working.’
She leant over and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Just think about it, all right?’
He caught hold of her hand and squeezed it, but he didn’t reply.
* * *
A couple of days later, Bee and Mimi went for an early morning walk accompanied, as usual, by the Labrador. It was mid-August now and the temperature was so high during the middle part of the day that both of them preferred to stay indoors. Dark clouds ringed the horizon and Bee had enough experience of the valley now to recognise that rain was on the way almost inevitably accompanied by thunder. She kept her fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be any damaging hail to ruin the grape harvest.
They set off down the track in the direction of the Grifoncella. As they walked, they chatted. Mimi was now in regular video contact with Hollywood and she relayed the news that the film she had been making that winter in Yorkshire would be having its premiere in London in the autumn.
‘I’ll make sure you get an invitation. I don’t know how long I’ll be in London for, but at least, it’ll give us a chance to catch up.’
‘Thanks a lot. That sounds like fun. Mind you, for all I know, I might be living in LA by then.’
‘Still no email?’
Bee shook her head. It was almost a week now and the waiting was starting to get on her nerves. The end of August was approaching fast and she still didn’t know what she would be doing next month. It was frustrating, to say the least.
Mimi smiled and Bee could see she was trying to cheer her up. ‘Well, if you’re in LA, you can fly over to London for the premiere with me in my plane. There’ll be bags of room.’
That also sounded like fun. Bee found herself smiling back, in spite of the uncertainty about her future.
‘Anybody else likely to be flying with you?’ She gave Mimi a knowing look.
‘Joey, you mean? Well, to be honest, I just spoke to him this morning and he said he’s coming over again to see us.’
‘Us or you?’ Bee grinned.
‘He said us.’
‘He meant you.’
Mimi had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. ‘Whatever. Anyway, seeing as we’re almost at the end of our stay, I thought I might take him out for dinner just before we leave, if I can squeeze him into the 500. Even if we’re recognised, by the time the paparazzi get wind of it, I should be on my way back to the States again. That place you went to with Luke sounded gorgeous. Maybe you’d give me the details.’
‘I don’t really know, but you never know, Luke might still be home. It is early, after all. We’ll be at the Grifoncella in a few minutes and we can ask him for the contact details.’
When they got to Luke’s house, she was in for a surprise. As they turned the corner, they were just in time to see pretty, dark-haired Daniela from the farm shop emerge from Luke’s door and climb onto an old bike. As the girl cycled off down the track, Bee and Mimi stopped and exchanged glances. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and Daniela was leaving. Could it be she had spent the night there? A sensation swept through Bee that wasn’t hard to identify. She was actually jealous, even though she knew there could never be anything between her and Luke.
‘Maybe she does the cleaning for him.’ Mimi was once more doing her best to be supportive.
Shaking her head in a vain attempt to rid it of such thoughts, Bee went in through the gate and walked up to the front door, followed by Mimi. She couldn’t see a bell, so she rapped on it with her knuckles as the dog stood poised, tail wagging hopefully, his nose at the crack of the door. They had to wait almost a minute and they were about to turn and leave when there were noises inside and the door opened.
Luke was looking flushed.
‘Bee, Mimi, hi. Sorry to keep you waiting. For a moment there, I thought Romeo had discovered how to knock on the door.’
He was wearing a T-shirt that stuck to his damp chest and his hair was still running with water. He looked particularly cheerful this morning and Bee’s antennae bristled.
‘Hi, Luke. Did we catch you at a bad time?’
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting outside the door, but I’d just leapt into the shower. Would you like to come in?’
By this time Romeo had pushed past him into the house, so they followed him inside, hearing the door close behind them.
‘Just go straight through to the kitchen if that’s all right with you. Just follow the dog.’
Bee glanced around as they walked along the corridor as directed. It was remarkably cool in here, presumably due to the shade provided by the big trees in the garden behind the house. The floors were old terracotta, the beams supporting the ceilings were tree trunks, and the kitchen was a delight. Like his father’s at the Podere Nuovo, Luke’s was still very traditional-looking, except for a battery of modern units and no fewer than three ovens along one wall. Clearly somebody liked cooking. Or somebody had liked cooking.
‘Coffee? I was just about to make myself an espresso. Or would you prefer a cappuccino? Will you join me? This machine makes pretty good coffee.’ Luke came in after them and indicated they should take a seat at the huge old table.
‘A cappuccino would be lovely, thanks.’ Mimi, realising Bee was struggling, stepped in. ‘Same for you, Bee?’
Bee nodded and sat down as Mimi went on to explain about Joey’s impending arrival and Luke supplied her with details of the website and directions as to how to get to Michelangelo’s restaurant.
As he passed on the information and busied himself with the coffee machine, Bee looked around and stroked the dog who had come over to sit by her, leaning against her knees, his nose on her lap. She gazed down at him as she ruffled his ears, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Luke would appear to have found somebody after all. Mind you, she t
old herself firmly, it made a lot of sense for him to find himself a partner here in the valley, seeing as he would never want to leave. Nevertheless, however logical that argument might sound, it didn’t make it easier for her to accept.
Luke’s voice was gradually drowned out by the sound of the milk heating up. He worked quickly, his back towards them, before completing his task and turning towards them with two big frothy cups of coffee and a plate of what looked like homemade biscuits.
‘These are fresh this morning. Loredana makes them. You’ve been to the farm shop, haven’t you? You must have met her. Her daughter, Daniela, dropped them in just before you arrived and they’re still warm.’ He looked a bit bashful. ‘It’s my birthday, you see.’
‘Congratulations. Many happy returns, Luke.’ Mimi jumped up and kissed him on the cheeks, shooting a jubilant look across at Bee as she did so. They really did know each other very well by now.
A flood of relief swept over Bee as she heard that the pretty girl from the farm shop hadn’t spent the night with him after all and she too stood up and hurried round the table towards him. Taking him by the shoulders, she pulled his head down towards her so she could kiss him on the cheeks.
‘A very happy birthday, Luke.’
For a moment their eyes met and then, by mutual agreement, they both looked away again. He mumbled his thanks and turned back to get his own cup, while Bee and Mimi returned to their seats. As he sat down opposite them, Bee gave him a smile.
‘Dare I ask? Twenty-one again, or is it twenty-two now?’
He smiled back. ‘Thirty-six, but who’s counting? I imagine that makes me about ten years older than either of you.’
Mimi declined to comment, but Bee’s smile broadened. ‘I wish. I’ll be thirty-two next April.’
