From Italy With Love

by Jules Wake

  ‘What the fuck do you think you were playing at?’ He ground the words out as if through gritted teeth.

  Reality crashed in and the enormity of what she’d just done hit her. ‘I knew what I was doing,’ she muttered. Oh God, she sounded just like a sulky teenager.

  Cam annoyingly quirked one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Who are you kidding?’ He shook his head.

  When that first bend came up a lot quicker than she remembered, she thought her heart might just burst out of her chest. Fighting to get the car into third had taken all her wits and strength but she wasn’t going to admit it to Cam. The look on his face the first time she’d passed him had been worth it. Sheer surprise. Served him right. Just because she didn’t mix with the jet set, didn’t mean she was some numpty dullard beneath his notice. The second lap of the track had been pure heaven though and she couldn’t regret it.

  She’d braced herself for him to shout but he seemed to have got himself under control.

  ‘Well, you might think you know what you’re doing,’ his stern expression made it clear, he didn’t think so, ‘but you can’t drive like that on public roads. There are a lot of other things to think about instead of showing off. And don’t forget it’s a left hand drive.’

  Damn. He was right. She was going to have to back-track like mad. It was perfectly legal to drive with a provisional licence on a private road but not on a public road. She’d let herself get carried away. The magic of the car. See, that’s what happened when you let yourself be ruled by emotion. She didn’t want to risk driving. She’d been planning to play the girly-I-can’t-drive-a-car-like-that card.

  ‘Sorry, you’re right. It was irresponsible.’ She tried to strike a humble note even though she wanted to stick out her tongue at him. ‘I hadn’t thought. It would be very different with other cars around.’

  ‘Yes, if you hit something else that would be very bad news.’ Cam looked very serious. ‘Cars like this aren’t built like modern cars; even a minor bump can cause a huge amount of damage. And if you’re not used to left hand drive, it’s difficult to orientate yourself.’

  Her face fell. She hadn’t thought of that either. Of course the car would probably crumple like a tin can. No, no driving for her. It wasn’t like you could get spare parts for a car like this. All the better reason for him to drive.

  ‘Cam …?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better if you did most of the driving and I just did little bits on the quiet bits. I mean it doesn’t say anything, as far as I can see … I’ll check with Ron … but there’s nothing to say I have to drive, is there?’

  An odd expression crossed Cam’s face. Almost like relief − or was that triumph?

  ‘Sounds good to me. These high performance cars do take quite a bit of getting used to, and trying to drive on the other side of the road and coping with French drivers, not to mention the Italians, will make it even harder. I think that’s a good call.’ He sounded impossibly pompous and she gave him a curious look. It was not at all like the devil-may-care attitude she’d glimpsed before.

  He was right though. Disappointment flared, once she’d got used to the feel of the clutch and the accelerator, the responsiveness of the car had dazzled her, that burst of speed, the handling. But it was for the best, she couldn’t possibly take her test before they had to leave and there was no way she’d admit to Mr Super-sophisticated that she didn’t have a full driving-licence. She gave the low slung bonnet a longing look. Shame, driving it had been something else.

  Robert appeared in the hallway as soon as she opened the front door.

  ‘How was it? How did you get on?’

  Laurie grinned, pleased to see his enthusiasm. She’d half expected him to be a bit sulky. ‘It was great. I surprised myself. It’s a difficult car to drive …’

  ‘You drove it! I thought he was driving—’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she put a hand out to placate him, ‘it was on private land. Uncle Miles owns a disused track. I drove it there.’

  ‘Well I don’t see why you bothered. It’s not as if you can drive it anyway.’

  ‘That’s the thing; I’d forgotten I …’ There probably wasn’t any point explaining to Robert that her uncle had taught her to drive at the age of thirteen and that until she was fifteen she’d been a regular at the track. She knew he would be horrified.

  ‘Anyway Cam’s agreed to do the driving.’

  ‘What all the way to Italy?’ Robert looked sceptical

  She nodded.

  His mouth turned down. ‘That’s great then, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well he’s hardly doing it out of the goodness of his heart is he? So your uncle must have paid him. How much I wonder?’ Then he brightened. ‘I suppose it will be worth it when you get to Italy.’

  ‘Yes.’ She stepped past him into the kitchen. No sign of food on the go yet.

  ‘That’s brilliant.’ Robert scooped her up in his arms and swung her around. ‘You’re amazing, you know that.’ He kissed her soundly and then deepened the kiss, his tongue diving into her mouth.

  His sudden enthusiasm and the unexpected amorous lunge of his hand down her shirt and into her bra confused her. To put it bluntly he’d always been a lights off, in bed only type of guy and much as she might have occasionally wished for a bit more spontaneity, this didn’t feel right.

  With his other arm he pulled her against him.

  ‘Oh Laurie, I love you so much,’ he moaned, nuzzling her neck. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’

  ‘Robert,’ she tried to push him away but he was kissing her mouth again and pushing his groin against her with such insistence that she suddenly found herself with her back against the draining board.

  ‘I love you …’ he kissed her full on the lips again, eyes focused and bright. ‘Let’s get married. I know the registry office idea threw you … but with you going away … let’s just do it. Life’s too short. I hate the idea of you being so far away from me. I need to know you’ll come back to me. Mrs Evans.’ He held her face in his hand, his fingers biting just a bit too hard into her jaw.

  The intensity of his gaze, full beam, stirred anxiety rather than joy. This should have been romantic, incredibly romantic … it wasn’t.

  ‘What’s wrong, Robert?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s just you not wanting to get married knocked me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ She smiled to take the sting out of the words but he was being completely ridiculous. In their time together he’d never had a particularly romantic bent. They just weren’t that sort of couple. Why now? And why was he spouting about ‘losing’ her? It was ridiculously melodramatic.

  ‘If you really want all the bells and whistles, we can do that when you get back. Renewal of vows. The important bit is us, you and me, promising to each other. A declaration, private, just the two of us.’ Robert’s earnest gaze bored into her. She felt saliva collecting in her mouth, her jaw tense, aching.

  She closed her eyes trying to distance herself from him. The last thing, she wanted to do was hurt his feelings. What a contrary bitch she was. After such an impassioned, desperate declaration. And that was the clincher. Desperate.

  The word rang in her head. Desperate. Why was he suddenly so desperate? In eighteen months, he’d never shown any interest in getting married. She’d broached the subject six months ago, and despite the possible tax breaks, he’d been quite sure there wasn’t much point.

  ‘Honestly Robert, don’t be so daft.’ She pushed past him and opened the fridge. ‘Fancy an omelette for tea?’ Not waiting for his answer, she carried on, ‘Besides, it’s only a couple of weeks.’ She shook her head refusing to give into irritation. He’d got some bee in his bonnet but she wasn’t going to let it cause an argument.

  She didn’t do arguments or confrontation.

  ‘Laurie, darling … don’t you want to marry me?’

  He was pouting, lookin
g ludicrous and she had no idea what to do.

  The easiest thing would have been to say, don’t be silly … of course I do, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words instead she said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Well why won’t you then?’

  ‘Why won’t I what?’ She stalled, taking a pack of eggs from the fridge.

  ‘Marry me.’ Robert looked entreatingly at her and guilt curdled in the bottom of her stomach. Why the hell didn’t she just say yes? For an easy life? But she couldn’t bring herself to.

  ‘But Robert, six months ago, you didn’t want to.’

  ‘I never said that.’ His mouth snapped shut in a mutinous line.

  ‘Yes you did. We talked about it.’

  ‘No we didn’t.’

  ‘We did. You said the only point was possible tax breaks.’

  ‘So you don’t want to marry me.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Tamping down her exasperation, she cracked the eggs smartly on the edge of a Pyrex bowl, pushing the empty shells to one side.

  ‘Well you don’t exactly seem to be champing at the bit.’ With a sudden movement, he smashed his fist into one of the half shells crushing it.

  Realising she needed to tread carefully, she decided to change tack. ‘It’s not that … it’s just the timing.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the timing? I’d have thought with another death in the family, you’d want the security of another income. If I wasn’t around you’d be completely on your own.’

  Laurie closed her eyes, a feeling of unbearable sadness descending from nowhere. Everything he said had a horrible logic about it. Was that all it was about? Not being on her own? They made a good solid couple. Sensible.

  And today she’d tasted something else. Not sensible. For a moment she’d glimpsed a different world, experienced a surge of exhilaration and felt a moment of soaring freedom.

  Chapter 7

  She didn’t need the ring of the doorbell to tell her that Cam had arrived. The low grumble outside announced that it was time to leave.

  For some reason his punctuality surprised her. Robert lived his life to the second, a slave to perfect timing. She’d assumed Cam would be either very early or very late.

  With a last glance around the kitchen, she picked up her bag and hurried for the door. Her fingers toyed with her engagement ring. It would be mean and petty to dump it on the hall table. Reducing herself to Robert’s level. It didn’t feel right leaving without saying a proper goodbye but he’d left her no choice. Leaving her ring would have made a symbolic statement which would hurt him. A bit of distance now was probably exactly what they needed. The row about not getting married was utterly stupid and for him to carry it on and refuse to talk to her was even more stupid.

  Crossing quickly to the front door, she yanked it open. She didn’t want Cam wondering if she’d chickened out or to see the indecision lurking on her face. She had to go, for Miles and … Robert had to understand.

  She crossed her fingers, hoping she was doing the right thing.

  Forty-eight hours had lapsed since Robert issued his final ultimatum and he hadn’t uttered a word to her. She hated going away without settling things between them but when he’d gone ahead and booked an appointment at the registry office, despite everything she’d said, it had made her dig her heels in. She felt bruised and exhausted. Having spent the last two nights on her own in the double bed in the master bedroom, with Robert in the spare room and pointedly refusing speak to her as they played dozy doe around the kitchen, it was a huge relief to get out of the house and away.

  As soon as she opened the door, the car’s low level rumble buzzed through her making her legs turn to jelly as the enormity of the adventure hit her. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to turn back into the dark hallway of home, beg Robert’s forgiveness, call the head librarian and say she was cancelling her very short-notice holiday and didn’t want to be considered for voluntary redundancy after all. Then the dragon’s roar of the engine pulled at her, as enticing as a siren call and as she stepped into the summer sunshine, excitement shimmered with the promise of something wonderful.

  In the tiny garden, dancing delphiniums, phlox and lupins nodded their heads in unison, urging her on as if all the elements had conspired to send her off.

  Cam met her half-way down the path.

  ‘Morning. Let me take that for you.’ He looked beyond her expectantly at the door. Is this everything?’ he asked, an odd look crossing his face. If she’d had to guess she’d have said it was disappointment.

  She nodded feeling disconcerted. Didn’t men prefer to travel light?

  In response he snatched up her bag and then with a sigh he touched her elbow as if to guide her toward the car which waited at the gate, the silver bodywork gleaming in the sunlight. ‘I’ll take these as well.’ He took her jacket and an ancient beige cardigan she’d grabbed at the last minute. She gave a reluctant smile. Despite his odd demeanour, he had good manners and being looked after felt rather nice.

  Bugger, just his luck, the first female of his acquaintance who didn’t need an entire wardrobe at their disposal. He’d deliberately avoided talking to her about luggage. A hard shell case was hopeless, you needed something that would squash into the tiny luggage areas. Whether by luck or by judgement, she’d got it right. No, judgement, she was one of life’s sensible girls and about as low maintenance as they came … and he was an expert. Sylvie had never travelled light; she couldn’t leave the house without packing half the contents of the bathroom cabinet in her handbag. The size of Laurie’s bag wouldn’t have contained Sylvie’s accessories let alone a week’s worth of clothes.

  It messed plan A up though. She was supposed to have a great big suitcase full of clothes which he would have made her unpack and repack into a much smaller bag right there on the doorstep, accompanied with constant reminders that they had to get on the road otherwise they’d miss their train. The idea was that with his interference, she’d make decisions in such haste that she’d end up with all the wrong sorts of clothes for the trip.

  At least he’d snaffled her cardigan and coat, he thought with a wry grin, as they went with her bag into the boot. She might live to regret handing them over quite so easily.

  ‘Good bag choice,’ he lied, flashing a smile, hoping it might loosen her up. This was going to be a long journey and it was going to be damn uncomfortable for the first leg. He ignored the twinge of guilt as he looked at her short-sleeved T shirt. Crossing his fingers behind his back, he hoped she was one of life’s stoics otherwise he was in for a lot of earache. He didn’t have her down as a sulker. In fact he didn’t have her down for anything. She seemed incredibly self-contained, distant and buttoned-up. Nothing emotion-wise leaked from her face. Even her mouth measured out in a straight line of neutrality, neither disapproving nor approving.

  The rare view of the carefree girl on the race track had vanished again as if he’d imagined it. She inclined her head but still didn’t say much. He sighed loud enough to make the point. Her handbag suddenly seemed to command all her attention, and he watched as she touched her passport, and smoothed a bunch of papers.

  ‘You happy for me to drive the first leg. Get us to the tunnel?’

  She nodded and he wondered at the flash of relief crossing her face. She didn’t need to worry; her driving rated well above competent. Hell, she knew how to handle a car. Amusement flooded anew through him. Who’d have thought it, although she’d scared the shit out of him at the time?

  ‘Not got any more surprises for me?’ he asked with a wry smile, thinking of what he’d got in store for her.

  Her eyes widened. ‘No. Why?’

  She sounded nervy again, with that tone of almost guilt. ‘Just wanted to check you weren’t going to pull any more stunts like the last one.’

  She shook her head, her ponytail whipping out quickly, reminding him of a dog shaking itself dry.

  ‘Got everything?’ he asked firing up the ignition
.

  For a moment he saw her hands grip together around the bag, as if clutching a lifebelt.

  ‘Yes,’ her chin lifted as if she’d come to a decision. ‘Let’s go.’

  For the first couple of miles he concentrated on the road and had to go at a relatively steady place. In the heavy sweater he felt too warm but he sat it out, knowing that as soon as they hit the faster road, he’d be grateful for it.

  Once they joined the M25 and started to pick up speed, nipping along in the fast lane, the temperature began to drop inside the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurie shrink into her seat as if trying to escape the chilly breeze that was leaking through the nearly closed windows.

  ‘Sorry, the windows don’t fit as well as they do in a modern car,’ he shouted over the shrill whine of the wind that filtered through the small gap. ‘Should have forewarned you,’ he lied. Before he’d set off that morning he’d deliberately tampered with the windows, opening them just a few millimetres so that they would let the air whistle in to make the journey as uncomfortably draughty and noisy as possible. Now they were cruising along at seventy, the full effect had made itself felt.

  ‘You OK,’ he yelled, cheerfully mindful of the goose bumps appearing on her arms.

  ‘Fine.’

  He smiled to himself and then focused on the road, nipping into the outside lane and starting to pick up speed. At eighty the whistling was horrible and starting to hurt his ears, but no pain no gain. For the next twenty minutes he needed to keep his wits about him. The M25 was a pig at the best of times, with a tendency to back up with no notice and invariably you got some pillock spotting the badge and deciding to take you on.

  It was only when he realised how cold his hands were that he risked a glance at Laurie. Unfortunately the effect of the cold on Laurie’s body had made itself very apparent and her nipples on her small rounded breasts were suddenly very prominent. Like a magnet they drew his gaze and Laurie glanced round and caught him in the act. With a florid blush staining her cheeks, she crossed her arms and determinedly looked out of the window.