‘Tierney, go to bed, please.’
‘I’m gone. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
As the door closed behind her, Lainey turned to stare at the night sky again. Her thoughts were so tangled, her hopes and fears so inextricably enmeshed that she couldn’t imagine sleep coming any time soon. She wondered if Tom might be awake too and thinking of her.
More likely he was fast asleep with Kirsten lying beside him, perhaps with her hand in his, or his arm around her, and Julia in a nearby room.
How on earth was she going to bear this?
‘
WHO DO YOU
reckon it is?’ Stacy murmured, as she and Lainey looked down from the hot, but shady terrace to where a large black Audi was passing in front of the villa on its way, presumably, to the slope where their hire car was parked. No entryphone buzzer had sounded, and as far as they knew the gates had closed automatically behind Max when he’d left an hour ago with the girls. (To hook up with some British dudes he’d met at the disco last night, he’d informed Lainey in his cool-guy, don’t-bother-me-with-stuff way, before leaving.)
For one head-spinning moment Lainey wondered if it was a taxi and Tom had decided to turn up and surprise them. Perhaps that was why Zav had seemed more relaxed after he’d spoken to his dad last night, because he’d known he was coming today.
Though it didn’t seem likely, anything was possible, and she longed with all her heart for it to be true. What would happen after that she had no idea, she just wanted it to be him.
As the Audi came to a stop, a blaze of sunlight on the windscreen was making it impossible to see who was driving, and with tinted windows at the back there was no way to tell if anyone else was in the car.
Throwing Stacy a look, Lainey watched the driver’s door open, and as a man in his mid- to late thirties got out she felt her jaw starting to drop.
‘Whoever he is, he’s mine,’ Stacy muttered, as quite possibly the most gorgeous-looking male they’d ever seen removed his sunglasses and started towards them. He was tall, slender but muscular, with carelessly tousled black hair and a shadow of stubble around his chin that made him look like a rock star, or a movie legend, or someone any woman would want to wake up next to.
Moving past the disappointment of it not being Tom, Lainey went forward to greet him. ‘Hello,’ she said smiling, holding out a hand to shake. ‘I’m guessing you’re Marco, Adriana’s brother-in-law?’
‘That is right,’ he confirmed, his large hand closing loosely, yet somehow firmly around hers. His expression was tinged with curiosity as he regarded her, and yet was so openly warm that, in an odd sort of way, it seemed to make his looks less daunting. In fact, perhaps he wasn’t quite so drop-dead after all, she decided, since his nose was a bit crooked and his eyes a little close together. However, they had such a mesmerising intensity about them that she was finding it almost as hard to meet them as she was to look away. ‘And you are Mrs Hollingsworth?’ he asked politely.
‘Lainey,’ she corrected. ‘Please, call me Lainey. Or Elenora, if you prefer.’ She almost laughed as she imagined Stacy’s face behind her. ‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ she told him. ‘We love the villa. It’s perfect, and the view is . . .
bellissima
.’ She instantly felt foolish, because it was probably the wrong word and she shouldn’t even have attempted it, knowing nothing of the language. How many years had it been since she’d found herself tongue-tied in front of a man? In truth, she wasn’t sure she ever had.
‘Excuse me, can anyone join in?’ Stacy asked, peeping over her shoulder.
Lainey spun round and almost bumped into her. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Marco, this is Stacy Greenfield, my closest friend. Stacy, this is Marco, Adriana’s brother-in-law. Our landlord.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Stacy said, shaking his hand while treating Lainey to an elbow out of the way. ‘You have a stunning place here. I can only wonder why you don’t live in it yourself. I know I would if it were mine. Unfortunately, my darling
ex
-husband left me with so little that I can’t even buy anywhere in England, never mind abroad, and I think I should really stop talking now, because I’m starting to make a fool of myself.’
Spluttering with laughter, as Marco’s eyes twinkled, Lainey said, ‘Would you care for a coffee? I was about to make some.’
‘Oh, no, no, I’m fine, thank you,’ he replied, in accented but perfect-sounding English. ‘I have come simply to introduce myself, and to check that you have managed to decipher the code for the Wi-Fi.’
‘Actually, now you come to mention it,’ Stacy said, ‘I
am
having a bit of trouble. I was going to ask Max to sort it, but if you can help . . .’
‘I will be happy to. It is very long and hard to read. A lot of people have difficulty.’ He turned to Lainey.
She smiled quickly as though she’d been caught staring, which actually she had.
‘My sister-in-law tells me that you are hoping to find your family while you are here,’ he said.
Surprised, though feeling suddenly, absurdly, proud of her Italian roots, she said, ‘That’s right. I was born in Tuoro, so I’m here to find out if anyone might remember my mother, or even my father.’
He was nodding with interest.
Behind him Stacy’s eyes were widening, but Lainey wasn’t sure what message she was trying to send.
‘I’m afraid my Italian is non-existent,’ she ran on, filling an awkward silence, ‘but I’m hoping to find someone who speaks English.’
He frowned. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be easy in Tuoro,’ he lamented, ‘or certainly not amongst the older generation. We are not a major tourist destination, you see, so the locals have not found the need to speak your language.’
Lainey grimaced her disappointment. ‘Perhaps you can recommend a translator?’ she suggested.
His frown disappeared. ‘But I will be very happy to help you,’ he declared, as though the matter had already been decided. ‘My sister-in-law would like to help too, and my brother. We are all very intrigued.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ Lainey responded, not knowing what else to say. ‘I’d be extremely grateful if you could, but I don’t want to take up your time. I understand how busy you are . . .’
Behind him Stacy was drawing a frantic zip across her mouth.
‘It is August,’ he reminded her. ‘There is less for us to do during this month, so we are pleased to be of assistance. In fact, Adriana has already contacted our grandmother because she spends many years growing up in the village. She lives in Firenze now, but she tells Adriana that she knows the name of Melvina Clementi.’
Lainey’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think it might be the same Melvina Clementi?’ she asked.
He grimaced an apology. ‘I am not sure,’ he confessed. ‘I will need to give our grandmother more information, but she has already told Adriana who we can to speak to in the village who possibly knows – or knew – Melvina and Aldo Clementi.’
Lainey’s eyes were bright as she turned to Stacy. She’d never even dreamt she might get off to such a promising start.
‘Tuoro is not a big community,’ Marco explained. ‘Of course it is bigger now than when my grandmother was young, but she still has a few friends here of her generation.’ He pulled a mischievous face. ‘She calls them
dei vecchi
– the oldies – but she will be ninety-one next month. She is like a woman half her age.’
Loving the sound of her, Lainey turned as Zav and Alfie came trudging up from the pool. ‘My son and his friend,’ she explained to Marco, and realised that he probably considered them a pair of heathens, since Adriana had rung earlier offering to take them to church along with her own little brood. Lainey had felt obliged to forgo the kindness, since neither Zav nor Alfie were very familiar with the house of God or what was expected of them inside.
After high-fiving with the boys and telling them they must meet his son, Benito, who was ten apparently, and spoke very good English, Marco excused himself to take a phone call. As he wandered back to the car Lainey stifled a laugh as Stacy murmured, ‘Please hand me a Kleenex if I’m drooling.’
Tugging her into the villa behind Zav and Alfie, Lainey said, ‘All that and he seems a really nice bloke too.’
‘Some women have all the luck,’ Stacy complained, reminding them both of the wife. ‘I wonder what she’s like.’
‘Probably just as stunning.’
Stacy sighed dejectedly. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Makes me wish I was a Catholic.’
‘What?’ Lainey cried with a laugh.
‘Well, God definitely didn’t hold back when it came to giving out looks to you Italians, did he, and most of you are Catholic, so I’m figuring it’s divine reward for your unquestioning faith, apart from in your case, of course, but you’ve still got the genes.’
With a wry roll of her eyes Lainey went to make sure Zav and Alfie were all right, and by the time she came back Stacy was on her way down to Max’s apartment with Marco to sort out the Wi-Fi.
Half an hour later, appearing flushed with triumph and oddly bleary-eyed, Stacy returned to declare that Marco had gone off to get his son and would meet them down at the main piazza in an hour.
Lainey blinked her astonishment.
Stacy shrugged. ‘I was going to ask about his wife,’ she said, ‘but as he didn’t mention her I thought I wouldn’t bother either.’
Though Lainey broke into a laugh, her eyes were regarding Stacy carefully. ‘Promise me you won’t go falling for him,’ she said seriously. ‘The last thing you need is a complication with a married man . . .’
Stacy’s hands flew up defensively. ‘I was just being friendly,’ she protested. ‘Anyway, meeting up was his suggestion, not mine, and I thought, as it’s Sunday, and our first full day here, I ought to forget about work and start in earnest tomorrow. Is that OK with you?’
Lainey smiled. ‘Of course. I just don’t want you ending up getting hurt again, that’s all.’
Coming to cup her hands round Lainey’s face, Stacy said, ‘Will you please stop worrying? Sure he’s to die for, but even if he were my type, which actually he isn’t, my priority right now is very definitely my job. While yours, my gorgeous Italian
amica
, is finding your family, and since he’s offering to help I think we should pack ourselves into our little Fiat Bravo and be on our way down the hill, don’t you?’
Having no argument with that, Lainey called for the boys, scooped up her keys and led the way outside. By the end of the day, she was thinking to herself as she locked the villa door, she might actually have spoken to someone who knew, or used to know, her grandparents, or even to her grandparents themselves! The thought of that caused a ripple of excitement mixed with trepidation to run through her. She’d better start deciding how she was going to handle it if they refused to see her, because if they did, given the fragile state of mind she was in, the rejection would be doubly hard to bear.
On the other hand, they might welcome her with open arms and even rejoice in being able to introduce her to her father.
And if you believe that,
she told herself grimly as she got into the car,
you’ll believe Tom’s on his way here and Kirsten Bonner was only ever a figment of a cruel imagination.
Leaving the car in a shady spot at the edge of the village, Lainey and Stacy wandered up a wide flight of steps into a cobbled street lined with quaint old stone houses and flower-filled pots. The boys, seeming not to feel the heat, charged on ahead, eager to find food, drinks and any kind of entertainment there was to be had.
‘It’s so pretty,’ Stacy said, gazing up at the tightly shuttered windows and old-fashioned lamplights. ‘I wonder if your mother ever walked along this street. I guess she must have if she grew up here.’
Finding it surprisingly easy to imagine, Lainey continued to look around as they strolled into a tiny piazza with a fishmonger’s tucked into one corner and washing-covered balconies angled across another. There was no one around, nor any sounds coming from inside the dwellings, just a lazy ginger cat watching from a shadowy doorway and the occasional flutter of birds in the eaves. Sauntering on, they arrived at what turned out to be the main street, though it was barely wide enough for one car to pass along its cobbles. There were more people around here, bustling in and out of the food shops where fruit, veg, pasta and all manner of homewares were spilling out of boxes and barrows. It was far from crowded, however, and everyone was speaking Italian, making Lainey realise how many English voices they’d always heard during their travels through France and Spain.
They paused in front of a butcher’s shop where every conceivable type of sausage was arranged in slices over trays in the window, or hanging in oily, garlic-stuffed glory from hooks in the ceiling. The smell of roasting chicken wafting out of the door set Lainey’s taste buds stinging.
‘The piazza’s down here,’ Zav informed them, as he and Alfie came running back towards them.
‘Is Marco there yet?’ Stacy asked, catching Zav’s arms as he aeroplaned into her.
‘Didn’t see him. Mum, are we going to have some lunch now? I’m starving.’
‘Look!’ Alfie cried, pointing. ‘That shop’s called Speede-bene,’ and howling with laughter they zoomed off back to the piazza.
Spotting an old lady lumbering slowly towards them, weighed down by heavy bags and probably a lifetime of woes, Lainey gave her a smile. ‘
Buon giorno, signora,
’ she said warmly.
Whatever the old lady said in response was lengthy and mellifluous and seemed very friendly. She even put a bag down to pat Lainey’s cheek before moving on.
‘She could have been your granny,’ Stacy teased as they continued on to the piazza.
‘You can mock,’ Lainey responded airily, ‘but how lovely if you were right. She was adorable.’
‘She certainly seemed to think you were. I wonder if you reminded her of your mother.’
Lainey’s eyebrows rose as she slanted her a look.
‘Well, you might have,’ Stacy shrugged. ‘You definitely remind me of her sometimes.’
‘I’m going to take that as a compliment,’ Lainey decided, and spotting a
panetteria
on the edge of the piazza she took off for a browse – and came away with a greasy slab of herb-crusted focaccia, two still warm
filones
, a
panbrioche,
and half a dozen sticky sweet pastries. ‘Well, we do have five children to feed,’ she pointed out as Stacy gaped at the size of the bag. ‘Anyway, we’re on holiday, so no time to be thinking about diets.’