‘All made in China,’ Maddy declared, while Bridget strained at the lead. ‘But you go on, I’ll take Bridget for a piddle in the little park over there.’
‘Okay. Shouldn’t take me long,’ Leanne said and pushed through the throng of tourists to browse among the array of towers on the counter. She picked up one that was small enough to fit in her handbag. When she had paid for it, someone bumped into her so hard she dropped both the tower and her handbag, making the contents spill out. ‘Feck!’ she exclaimed, dropping to her knees to gather up her things, glaring at the culprit. She gasped as it dawned on her who it was. ‘Jesus, if it isn’t Assumpta O’Callaghan,’ Leanne, almost shouted, staring at the short, chubby brunette.
The woman jumped and stared back at her. ‘Leanne! Oh my God, I don’t believe it.’
‘Well, you’d better.’ Leanne laughed, standing up. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I’m on my honeymoon,’ Assumpta said and pulled at her bright yellow t-shirt with the Versace logo.
‘But I thought…’ Leanne paused. ‘Weren’t you going to the Bahamas? At least that’s what you said in your Insta post about the wedding. Nice cake by the way. So big.’
‘The Bahamas?’ a voice cut in behind them. ‘That must have been a typo. We were going to Benidorm, but the Ryanair flights were all fully booked. So we went on this bus tour instead. Five towns in a week.’ The tall ruddy man held out his hand to Leanne. ‘I’m Brendan, Assumpta’s husband.’
Leanne shook his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Leanne. Assumpta and I were in the same class in school.’
‘Nice to meet ya,’ Brendan said, smiling.
‘Lovely,’ Leanne replied with a fake smile in Assumpta’s direction.
‘Your blog is such fun,’ Assumpta said as if it was nothing of the kind. ‘But I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention meeting me. We want to be… incognito during our honeymoon. Right, Brendan?’
‘Fine with me,’ Brendan replied. ‘But hey, Assumpta, sweetheart, we have to go. The bus leaves in a few minutes.’
Assumpta nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll just pay for my stuff. Did you find the… what I asked you to buy?’
Brendan held up a supermarket bag. ‘Yup. Got the prunes and some water. This should shift it. Bus tours, eh?’ he said to Leanne. ‘Bungs you up big time. Sitting for hours isn’t good for the old digestion, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Leanne smiled at Assumpta and held out the plastic tower. ‘Here. Have this as a wedding present. A memento of us meeting here. Hope you feel better soon.’
‘Thanks,’ Assumpta sniffed, shoving the tower into her handbag.
‘Bye, Leanne,’ Brendan said. ‘Have a nice holiday.’
‘Thanks. You too.’ Leanne managed to keep a straight face until Assumpta and her new husband had left and then she burst out laughing. How ridiculous. And how revealing. All those blingy wedding photos were just a front. The truth was far less glamorous and she realised in a flash that her own life was probably a lot better and more fun. She didn’t have to pretend, she was living the dream. She felt a dart of pure joy before she started to laugh again. She was still in stitches when Maddy caught up with her.
‘What’s the matter? What happened? Who was that?’
‘Assumpta from school,’ Leanne chuckled. ‘One of the Bridezillas. Married a dentist and had this big splashy wedding. Boasted about it on Instagram and said they were going to the Bahamas on their honeymoon.’
‘Why were they here, then?’ Maddy asked, looking confused.
‘Because she lied. They couldn’t even get on a Ryanair flight to Benidorm so now poor old Assumpta is sitting on a bus for five days getting constipated. Her new husband had bought her a big bag of prunes. I bet that won’t go on any Insta post.’
‘Oh, God,’ Maddy giggled. ‘That’s hilarious. Poor woman, though. She must be feeling awful.’
‘She didn’t seem that pleased to see me either,’ Leanne remarked. ‘I do wonder why?’
‘Maybe she was worried you’d blow her cover? I mean if you even hinted at meeting her, it would make her look bad.’
Leanne shook her head. ‘Tempting, of course. She was always so snooty to me at school. A real bully. I could pay her back for all those little jibes that made me feel so miserable. But I think I’ll just let her sweat. I might hint at meeting someone, but…’
Maddy laughed. ‘Sneaky, but brilliant. Much more subtle.’
‘Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. And this one is colder than ice cream on the North Pole.’ Leanne bent down to pick up Bridget. ‘How are you, my darling pooch? Ready for Florence? I bet you’ll be a big hit there.’
Bridget licked Leanne’s face and wagged her little tail, letting out a happy bark.
‘She’s ready,’ Maddy declared. ‘Let’s go. Did you get your plastic tower?’
‘I decided I didn’t want it after all. I gave it to Assumpta as a wedding present.’ Leanne’s smile was wicked. ‘But I got a much better souvenir.’
‘What was that?’
‘A glimpse behind the façade of Assumpta’s so-called glamorous life. Priceless.’
* * *
They followed Lucilla’s rather confusing directions through rolling green hills, past the vineyards of Tuscany, where beautiful old villas were surrounded by cypress trees and tightly clipped hedges. After a long frustrating drive around the middle of Florence, with its ancient houses and tiny squares, getting stuck in dead ends, they finally found the house. It wasn’t quite the sleek apartment building they had imagined, but a magnificent crumbling sixteenth-century palazzo in a narrow street near the main square.
‘Wow,’ Leanne whispered, awestruck as she looked up at the pink stucco façade and the ornate windows. ‘This is some pad.’
‘Where’s the garage?’ Maddy shouted over the cacophony of hooting. ‘Come on, we’re blocking the traffic.’
Leanne stuck her head out the window. ‘Shut up!’ she yelled to the backlog of angry Italian drivers. ‘We’re trying to find the bloody garage. Give us chance!’
Maddy frowned, rolling her eyes. ‘Stop shouting. It’s around the corner, it says here at the bottom of the instructions she sent us. We have to put in a code and the gates will open.’
‘Okay.’ Leanne revved the engine, drove around the corner on two wheels, and slammed on the brakes in front of a set of tall black gates. ‘Where’s the code thingy?’
‘I’ll have a look.’ Maddy jumped out, found the panel and punched in the numbers. The gates slowly slid open and they drove into a dark courtyard, parking between a Fiat and a battered Opel Zafira.
‘I bet that’s the people carrier we’re taking to Ancona,’ Leanne remarked. ‘A bit of a come-down after our beautiful Merc.’
‘Ah, come on,’ Maddy laughed. ‘You talk like a spoilt little rich bitch. It’s far from luxury cars you were reared, my girl.’
Leanne stretched and smiled. ‘Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t take long to get used to money and style. What can I say?’
‘You could have all of that if you took your dad’s offer.’
Leanne snorted. ‘Nah. I don’t want him breathing down my neck for the rest of my life. I want to do my own thing and make my own mistakes. I love my dad but I wouldn’t want to work with him. Too much, too soon, I think.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Maddy laughed. ‘I’m not sure I’d want to work with him either.’
‘There you go.’ Leanne got out of the car and looked around. ‘So this is where we leave our baby for a few weeks? Is it safe?’
‘I’m sure it is. Look at the Lancia and the Audi over there on the other side.’
‘Pretty fancy,’ Leanne remarked as she clicked her fingers at Bridget. ‘Out you come, sweetheart. Time to hobnob with the Italian aristocracy.’
Maddy got out and picked Bridget up. ‘Aristocracy?’
‘Yeah.’ Leanne opened the boot. ‘Lucilla’s a countess or something. Do you want me to take out your suitcase?’
‘Yes. She said that was perfectly fine. One of her friends brought her little dog with her on a cruise like that last year. “No problema,” she said.’
‘Great.’ Maddy let Bridget down and clipped the lead onto her collar. ‘Give me my bag and we’ll go.’
‘Where?’ Leanne asked, looking wildly around the courtyard. ‘I don’t see a door.’
‘I think we have to go around the house and in through the main entrance,’ Maddy suggested.
‘Aha! Okay. I bet there is some scary concierge who’ll ask us a load of questions before they let us in. These places always do,’ Leanne said, as if she was constantly visiting grand palazzos in Italian cities. But it was only bravado. She felt very much out of her depth in this elegant environment. Wealth and class intimidated her, because of her mother’s humble background and her childhood, where they’d struggled along. And this kind of class in a foreign environment was even more daunting. But Maddy charged ahead, carrying her suitcase in one hand, Bridget on the lead with the other, looking cool and confident. Leanne trotted after her with her own bag and Bridget’s bed and water bowl.
The vast entrance door was opened by a surly woman in a blue dress and white apron. ‘You are the guests of the contessa, yes?’ she barked, glaring at them.
‘Contessa?’ Leanne asked. ‘You mean Lucilla Fregene?’
‘Contessa Fregene de Popolonia,’ the woman corrected, looking annoyed. ‘She waits you upstairs. Five floors.’
Maddy smiled at the woman. ‘Grazie, signora. Come on,’ she hissed at Leanne. ‘Get in the lift.’
Leanne followed Maddy across the shiny marble floor to the ancient-looking lift with its black iron gates. ‘Jaysus, that looks lethal. Are you sure it’s safe?’
‘Of course it is.’ Maddy put her suitcase down, pulled the iron doors open and stepped into the mahogany-panelled interior. ‘It’s old but posh.’
Leanne followed, darting frightened looks around the cabin and clanking the doors shut. Bridget shivered at their feet. ‘Why are there so many mirrors? To make it look bigger?’
‘Maybe to allow ladies to check their hair and make-up before they arrive?’ Maddy suggested and pressed the button. The lift started to rise slowly, creaking through the building and as they got higher, they could see that every floor was home to two huge mahogany doors with brass plates, signalling two apartments. The lift creaked and groaned, and finally arrived at the fifth floor, which only had one door.
‘She must have the whole top floor,’ Leanne exclaimed. She heaved the door of the lift open and stepped onto the red carpet where she put down her suitcase. ‘Red carpet, gee whizz. This place is fierce posh.’ She looked up at the high ceiling, where cherubs floated among clouds. ‘Will you look at that! A painted ceiling in an apartment block.’
Maddy pulled a reluctant Bridget onto the landing. ‘It’s not an apartment block, you twit, it’s a palazzo. God, I wonder how they managed to get all the way up here before there was a lift. All those ladies in their rococo dresses.’
‘Maybe this was the servants’ floor?’ Leanne suggested, eyeing the bell pull. ‘If I pull this, will something happen do you think?’
‘Try it and see.’ Maddy gathered Bridget in her arms. ‘Poor thing, she’s shivering with nerves. I think she’s scared of lifts.’
‘She’s never been in a – uh – palazzo before either.’ Leanne raised her hand to the bell handle. But before she had a chance to pull it, the door swung open.
Five
‘Here you are!’ Lucilla, her generous curves poured into a slinky red dress, stood in the doorway. ‘I was just going to give you a call. Lunch is ready and we have some family here who want to meet you.’ With her flashing dark eyes and black curly hair, she was the epitome of a Italian beauty. But there was a friendly look in her eyes, which made Leanne feel more relaxed about her designs on Carlo. No aggro there. What a relief.
Lucilla stepped aside. ‘Please come in. I see you brought your sweet dog as well.’ She held out her arms. ‘Give her to me. I want to cuddle her.’
Maddy handed Lucilla the little dog, who immediately started to lick the young woman’s face. ‘Oh, carina, so cute,’ Lucilla cooed as she led the way into a vast entrance hall lined with marble statues and enormous mahogany cupboards the size of confessionals. The floor was covered in an Oriental carpet, its once vivid colours faded by sunlight and age. ‘Put your bags here. I’ll get Sofia to put them in your rooms. You need the – bathroom?’
‘Yes,’ Leanne said. ‘I do need it, actually,’
‘It’s there.’ Lucilla pointed at a door between two of the cupboards. ‘We’ll be in the soggiorno through there.’ She pointed at a set of double doors through which voices and laughter could be heard. ‘And lunch will be served on the terrace.’
Leanne stepped awestruck into the bathroom, which was bigger than the whole ground floor of her mother’s house in Ireland. The floor was made up of black and white tiles and the toilet was the old-fashioned kind with a dark mahogany seat and a chain and pulley to flush. Enormous mirrors flanked a huge marble hand basin and the tall window was hung with a silk curtain with an opulent tropical motif. ‘Holy God, this is elegant,’ Leanne muttered to herself as she opened the loo cover and discovered the toilet bowl decorated with flowers and birds. It seemed nearly a sacrilege to use it.
Having flushed the toilet, Leanne glanced at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands and dried them on a soft linen towel. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes huge and frightened. What was wrong with her? These people were as normal as she was, only richer. No big deal. She applied an extra layer of mascara, pinched her cheeks and straightened her back, remembering her proud Norwegian grandmother. She would never have let plush surroundings or other people’s money intimidate her. Leanne smiled, feeling restored. She nodded to herself and went out to join the guests in the living room.
* * *
The big room was empty, all the guests having gone out onto the terrace, seated at a long table that Leanne glimpsed through the French doors. She glanced around the room, muttering ‘holy shit,’ as she tiptoed across the marble floor covered in Venetian carpets, gazing at the walls crammed with oil paintings and tapestries and the windows swathed in faded red curtains tied back with thick silk ropes. The ceiling was decorated with frescoes of the same kind of cherubs as the entrance hall but with clouds, birds, grown men and women floating around. The furniture consisted of a mishmash of old and new pieces, which gave the room a comfortable, lived-in look. On closer inspection, Leanne noticed the worn upholstery of the sofas, the bald patches in the carpets and the cracks in the walls. Patina that spoke of former glory and wealth that hadn’t lasted into this century. But it would probably cost a fortune to restore all of it.
Leanne squinted against the strong sunlight as she walked onto the terrace. She shaded her eyes with her hand, looked out over the edge and gasped. The view of Florence and the river Arno that snaked through the ancient city like a shiny blue ribbon was breathtaking. Beyond the terracotta roofs, the cupola of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, otherwise known as the Duomo, rose majestically against a backdrop of the Tuscan hills and the Apennine Mountains in the far distance. ‘How incredible,’ she mumbled.
‘Wonderful, no?’ Carlo said as he rose to greet her. ‘Welcome to Florence.’ He kissed her on both cheeks, took her elbow and steered her to the table under the awning. ‘It’s hot. Please come and sit down beside me in the shade.’
‘Thank you.’ Flustered by the feel of his mouth on her cheek and the heady smell of his spicy aftershave, Leanne sank down onto a chair beside him. She looked around the table and smiled at the ten or so people busy eating, talking and laughing.
‘Meet my family,’ Lucilla called and spread her arms to encompass the p
eople sitting around her. They all smiled and waved.
‘And this is Leanne,’ Carlo shouted over the din. ‘The best blogger in the world.’
‘Benvenuto!’ someone shouted back.
Across the table, Maddy was deep in conversation with a red-headed man with tortoiseshell glasses. She turned to Leanne. ‘Meet Antonio O’Grady, Lucilla’s cousin.’
‘Hi, Antonio,’ Leanne said. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Hello, Leanne.’ The man reached across the table and took Leanne’s hand in a firm handshake. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from Maddy.’
Leanne laughed. ‘That’s a nice Cork accent you have there.’
He smiled, his hazel eyes glinting behind the glasses. ‘Yes, I know. My dad’s from Kinsale. I went to school there until I was ten. Then we moved to Florence, my mother’s birthplace. After secondary school here, I went back to Ireland to do medicine at The College of Surgeons. The Cork accent stuck to me like glue. Yours is pure Dublin, though.’
‘Sure I know,’ Leanne chortled. ‘You can never get away from your roots.’ She turned to Carlo. ‘Where are your roots? Right here, in Florence?’
No. A bit further south of Naples, actually. Not the posh part,’ he added, looking a little unsure of himself.
‘Oh, well we can’t all be wealthy,’ Leanne remarked. ‘I’m not from the right part of town either.’
‘Oh? But I thought your dad…’
‘He made his millions when he ran away from home.’ Leanne shrugged. ‘Long story. Let’s not go there right now, okay?’
‘Of course. No need to share if you don’t feel like it.’ He smiled, suddenly oozing confidence again. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you. Have you seen the clothes yet?’
A Holiday to Remember: An absolutely hilarious romantic comedy set under the Italian sun Page 4
