Authors: Sarah Elizabeth Ashley
We sit discussing plans for next week and have agreed that
we will go on Tuesday. Roberto and Gia will come home on Thursday afternoon and
James and I will stay until the weekend. James makes plans with Robbie, who
arranges for the hotel to be covered whilst he is away. I call Anna and tell
her what we’ve planned; she is flying out to Los Angeles with Katie on Sunday
so it won’t really affect her, she tells me that she’ll be dropping by with
Katie on Saturday to collect her passport and bits and pieces.
Once we’ve eaten, we return home. As soon as I walk through
the door I can see that Muriel has done a great job. It smells of furniture
polish, she’s been around the house like a whirlwind, everything polished and
spick and span.
The rest of the week passes quickly. We spend some time
together on our own and actually manage to do some shopping. I’ve bought lots
of new summer things to take to Italy, t-shirts and shirts that will cover my
back completely and new shorts and skirts. James also brought some new clothes,
everything he tried on looked fantastic.
The doctor called me with a referral to someone in Harley
Street and I went for the first time on Friday: a lovely lady who has agreed to
see me twice a week for, she thinks, no more than about six weeks, and then
we’re going to see where we go from there. She saw my back and suggested that I
go and see the plastic surgeon who gave James his card when I had the panic
attack, just to see if anything could be done. She felt that if this could be
removed it may help me move on even more.
Anna came home on Saturday with Katie and collected some
things, including her passport. I spoke with the property management company
that looks after the house out there and arranged for them to open up, make
sure the place is clean, beds made and a box of groceries to be left. I’ve also
arranged with them to organise a driver for Anna and Katie as neither of them
have a driving licence and wouldn’t be able to get around. I’ve also spoken to
the people that look after the villa in Tuscany. They didn’t know that Maggie
had passed away and were distraught; apparently in recent years she had spent
more and more time over there and they thought something was wrong when she
hadn’t been for the last few months. I can’t help wondering why she never met
with Ramiro again; maybe it was just too painful for Maggie too!
Tuesday soon comes around and Archie
picks up James and me and then Gia and Roberto before driving us to London City
Airport. I’ve arranged for us to fly with Airfrance. Unfortunately they only
offer one class of seat on this service but nobody seems to mind!
The short flight, a little over two hours, passes quickly
and once we arrive in Florence and clear customs Roberto organises a taxi. It’s
so useful having someone with us that speaks the language and this makes for an
easy journey to the villa. We arrive at the stunning villa after just an hour’s
drive. The pale stone building stands alone, surrounded by perfectly manicured
lawns; the plot appears to be elevated with views of rolling hills behind. I
can’t wait to see inside. The keys have been left under a plant pot by the
people who look after the villa. I gasp as I walk into the most charming room I
think I have ever seen, it’s no wonder that Maggie loved this place. It’s
rustic but also very, very pretty with flagstone floors and chunky
farmhouse-style furniture.
I pass through the other rooms with James. It’s apparent
that Roberto and Gia have been here before, and it doesn’t surprise me. Gia
tells me that “nothing has changed”.
There are four bedrooms upstairs; the largest one has an
en-suite with a very big walk-in shower. It’s just beautiful, so peaceful.
James walks up behind me and pulls me close, something that he seems to do
quite a lot, I have realised. “We can have some fun in this,” he whispers as we
stand by the shower.
I laugh. “Umm. Maybe when Roberto and Gia have gone home, or
another time.”
We wander back to the kitchen where we find Gia pulling
together some lunch, just some fresh bread and cheese, but it’s excellent.
“When are we going to see Ramiro?” I ask.
“We’ll go as soon as we’ve finished this,” Roberto tells me.
“I am so looking forward to seeing my brother, it’s been too long and I know
he’s delighted to be seeing you.”
I pick at a crust of bread. “Where does he live?”
“He has a small house with a little land, it’s nowhere near
as big as this, but it’s very nice, you’ll like it.” Roberto stands, walking
over to where Gia has prepared lunch.
We eat and clear away. Roberto calls for a taxi and we’re
soon on our way to meet Ramiro, my father. I’m nervous – no, scrap that, I’m
petrified. I have no idea what to expect, does he look like Roberto?
We pull up to the little house, similar in colour to the
villa. Roberto asks the driver to collect us in two hours, in honesty, that’s
probably enough time for a first visit. I follow Roberto and Gia as they knock
on the door lightly and walk on in. Sat at the table – again, not unlike the
one in the villa – is a grey-haired gentleman. He’s olive skinned as I would
expect and as he looks up he has the most beautiful smile, but sad, sad eyes.
He’s wearing a shirt and tie with dark trousers. On the table he has laid out a
bottle of Chianti and some glasses; there is also more bread, cheese and
olives.
Roberto walks over to his brother and embraces him. It’s a
hug that lasts for a while and the two men talk to each other in hushed voices.
Gia then joins the welcome and they speak, rattling away in words I do not
know, but their facial expressions and the tears tell me what is being said.
All three of them are so happy yet so sad. They pull apart and Ramiro stands,
looking at me.
“Alexandra,” he says. I nod and walk towards him.
He talks to Roberto, who translates for him. “Ramiro says he
wants to look at you, please.”
I stand before him, this man who I have never met, did not
even know about until very recently but whom I know to be my birth father. Not
the man who raised me but the man who was kept secret from me for so many
years. I don’t know what he’s thinking but I can guess, those sad eyes give so
much away.
He speaks again to Roberto.
“He says you are like Maggie, not him.” Ramiro continues to
speak to his brother, who in turn, translates for me.
“He says he loved Maggie and always will. He was forced to
leave her by our father and was so happy when she told him she was expecting
you, but things did not go to plan. He says he always hoped one day to meet
you.” Roberto looks down. He also looks distressed by what he is having to
translate.
I look to Roberto. “Will you tell him that I am so pleased
to meet him too? I didn’t know about my parents until very recently but I am so
pleased to have found him.”
Ramiro stands and beckons me towards him. He takes my hands
and holds them between his two. He talks to Roberto.
“He says your skin even feels like Maggie’s,” Roberto
translates.
I turn to James, who is standing beside me protectively. “Are
you okay?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine.” I smile, just the hint of a tear threatening.
I ask Roberto, “Who comes to see Ramiro, who does he have
for company? He’s not here on his own all the time, is he?”
Roberto translates for me, asks the question and gives me
the answer. “He says he’s pretty much on his own, most of the time. Franco
comes to see him once a month and he goes into the village for food.”
Ramiro fires another round of Italian at Roberto. T,he
facial expressions change and he frowns deeply as he speaks, articulating his
conversation with flapping hands.
Roberto looks at me, and his face hardens. “Ramiro asks if
you are free of the bastard that has hurt you. Did Benito sort everything out?”
“Tell him that I will be very soon, but yes, for the time
being I am safe from him.”
Roberto tells his brother this and the expressions soften to
a smile.
Our visit seems to fly by. I have learnt so much about my
family, my new family, even though I will never, ever forget the people who
raised me – they will always be my mum and dad, but I feel that I am now
complete. I know all about me, where I came from and, more importantly, who I
am.
The four of us return to the villa in the taxi. We stop in
the village so that Gia can pick up some food to make us a decent supper; she
buys wine as well. I can’t help but think that we should have bought Ramiro
with us, but maybe it’s a little too soon for both him and me to be playing
happy families. I think that Roberto feels this way too – I know that James
does, he’s just so protective.
After we’ve eaten I go to our room. I’m tired, very tired,
and even though the events of last week seem to have now passed, I still feel
like I’m riding an emotional wave that feels like it’s going on forever.
James comes to bed shortly after me. He climbs in beside me
and pulls me close. I roll towards him and snuggle into his embrace.
“I do love you, Alex,” he growls into my neck.
“Umm… Do you?” I lie on my side, looking at him, just
smiling.
“Yes, I do. Very, very much.” He pulls me closer.
I fall asleep in his arms. He makes no attempt at
love-making, I know that he respects me too much to try this now. I sleep in
his arms all night.
I wake the following morning and have turned my back towards
James. He’s still holding me and I hear and feel his soft breathing against my
neck. I can also hear someone in the kitchen, probably Gia. The smell of
breakfast and coffee drifts upstairs, but I don’t want to move, I’m happy here.
The sun is spilling through the open window and the soft voile drapes are
fluttering in the gentle breeze. Who would ever want to leave this idyllic
place?
Eventually I stir, unfortunately waking James in the
process. “Getting up?” he croaks.
“Umm, whoever’s in the kitchen and whatever they’re making
smells very good.”
“It does,” he agrees.
I remove myself from James’s arms and kiss him lightly. I
use the bathroom, brush my teeth and wash quickly. Rummaging through my
suitcase I find some denim shorts and a t-shirt. I sort out my flip-flops and
pull my hair back into a ponytail, I then leave James sprawled out on our huge
bed and walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Gia has prepared warm pastries and
coffee; it looks and smells divine. I note Roberto is already sat outside on
the porch with his coffee, just looking out at the countryside. It really is a
beautiful place.
“You want some?” Gia offers me a plate of pastries and some
coffee. I normally wouldn’t drink coffee in the morning but it seems the right
thing to do. James comes down shortly afterwards and joins us.
He grabs a croissant from the large plate. “This is good,”
he says to Gia with his mouth full. “Are there any strawberries?” he asks.
“There, son.” Gia points to a bowl on the table full of
fresh, large berries which he tucks into with his croissant.
Once breakfast is over, James and I clear away, leaving Gia
and Roberto time to get themselves ready. We talk about Ramiro and about
Maggie. When he’s finished washing up he pulls the plug and grabs a handful of
soap suds; a blob ends up on my nose!
“Don’t!” I shout, and make a grab for what’s left of the
suds in the sink. He sees what I’ve done and makes a run for it. I chase him
around the kitchen table with my handful of suds but he’s much too quick for me
and evades me at each opportunity. “I’ll get my own back… when you least expect
it!” I hiss playfully.
“Oh, does that mean I have to be on my guard forever?” He
laughs.
“Oh yes.” I laugh.
We spend the next few days getting to know Ramiro a little
more and we eat in the village, Ramiro seems to really enjoy getting out. We
soon have to say goodbye to Gia and Roberto as they head home to London. The
brothers embrace, hugging tightly, appearing not to want to let go of each
other. Roberto tells me that he has told Ramiro that he and Gia will visit again
soon. There is no reason why they shouldn’t – they’re free to use the villa
whenever they want.
We have two days on our own, two days which I am really
pleased to have. We spend this time exploring the area, taking lunch and dinner
in bistros that we find and spending some time in Florence, a most beautiful
place and a city that I definitely want to return to. We see Ramiro a couple of
times before we have to leave and we take him for lunch again. Even though we
have the language barrier, we manage to get by with hand signals and pointing
at various things, plus the phrase book that I picked up at the airport.
Despite the lack of conversation with him, because we really do struggle, I
find him very good company.
After lunch on Thursday we start to pack our cases ready for
our early flight the next day. My mobile rings, the first call I’ve had since
I’ve been in Italy, although James’s hasn’t stopped ringing with questions from
the hotel.
“Hello.”
“Mrs Drake, it’s Shauna from Parry’s.”
I mouth to James, “
solicitors”.
“Hi Shauna, is everything okay?”
“Yes, just ringing to let you know that your Decree Nisi has
been granted,” she says. I can tell she’s smiling as she tells me, her voice
sounds so upbeat.
“That’s great, absolutely fantastic. So what happens now?” I
ask.
“Well, this means that the court is satisfied that your
marriage has broken down irretrievably, so in six weeks’ time we can apply for
your Decree Absolute. Once that’s finalised it means you will no longer be
married, so not too long now. Hold tight for the next six weeks or so and
you’ll be free.”
“Thank you so much for letting me know, Shauna. I’m back in
the UK tomorrow afternoon. If you need me for anything you’ll have to let me
know,” I tell her.
“Well, we’ll need to arrange the transfer of the settlement
to Mr Drake, but we’ve got a few weeks to sort that and I don’t think we should
do it until the very last minute.”
“Agreed. Thank you again, Shauna, for all of your help.” I
smile. I feel so happy, with such a wonderful feeling in my stomach, my heart
full of happiness.
I hang up and run over to James, throwing my arms around his
neck. “I’m going to be free – James, you’ve freed me!” I whisper against his
ear.
He pushes me away, holding onto my shoulders at arm’s
length, smiling broadly. “I’ve done no such thing. Helped you along the way,
maybe, but Maggie did this for you. Do you honestly think you would have left
him if Maggie hadn’t given you the push you needed?”
“No, maybe not, but you’ve made it more bearable and as
Maggie’s not here, I’ve only got you to thank. So thank you.” And I mean every
word of what I say to him.
I hug him tightly. He looks down at me and our mouths find
each other. We kiss deeply, passionately. We move upstairs, holding on to each
other as we go, wrapped in each other as we stumble into our room.
“I’m going to be free of the bastard,” I whisper. “Free!”
He smiles at me as we both tumble onto the white cotton
duvet.