Under a Tuscan Sky

‘So is my daddy. He lives in the Italy but I don’t think he wants to come home … ever or ever. Mummy had to go to find him and then …’

‘No you can’t have both your daddy and mummy in Italy – you’ll be all on your own.’

‘Well I do,’ four-year-old Olivia told her matter-of-factly.

‘So, I’ll have to look after you then.’ Chiara was like a lioness to her cub, and so generously had made time for her ever since those early days. They had become like sisters.

As she strolled into her office, her mind leapt back to the present, and she squinted as the sun glistened brightly on her desk. She still felt proud of her practice, five years on.

Chiara raced behind her, taking off her jacket and placing it on the coat stand by the door before following her. ‘Just be careful. Surely with everything you’ve been through with your nonna’s death, the funeral, and everything to sort out, you aren’t feeling yourself? Think about it, Liv, it’s been a terrible few weeks. And, I’m sure Will probably thinks you need some space after all the stress. I think you’ll miss him, and what’s more …’ Chiara licked her lips ‘… remember, you’re now forty, and the biological clock is ticking. You’ll have to meet someone and …’

Olivia shut her eyelids for several seconds. Those words. Chiara knew she detested them. ‘That can’t influence it. I’ve thought it through. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’ll never be a mother. It’s not the be-all and end-all. Clearly, I’m like my mum: I don’t think I have maternal bone in my body. And, like her, I could find myself wanting to abandon my child.’

It was shameful to think it had been another reason for staying with Will for the last three years, especially when there were so many doubts in her mind about motherhood. If she couldn’t have that someone special to help her bring up children, what would be the point? It was better to make a clean break, make different life choices.

And Will would have the freedom to find a richer relationship for himself. Besides, there could be a reason he spent weekends and evenings at work and football. Chiara may fight her over it, but that much was true. He didn’t want to be with her.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re making excuses. It was probably circumstance rather than something from your mum’s genes. You love my Sophia and I’m sure you’ll love this one,’ Chiara said rubbing her rounded tummy with her hand. ‘Just because she left you in England with your dad’s parents doesn’t mean you would do the same. That’s absurd. She was young and must have had her reasons. Liv, surely you don’t want to be on your own for the rest of your life. Perhaps the romance just got a bit lost, like it did with me and Liam for a few years. Perhaps a break to Italy is what you both need right now to rekindle that romance.’

Olivia smiled affectionately at her friend’s persistence and at the memory of Chiara and Liam’s trip to her nonna’s farm in the spring whilst she looked after eight-year-old Sophia, their daughter. The excitement they both exuded on their return had been palpable. It had definitely reignited the romance in their relationship. In fact, it had prompted both a wedding date and plans for another baby. The latter had emerged sooner, but the order was of little consequence to them – the difference being that Chiara was deeply in love with Liam, as he was with her. Italy had certainly worked its magic for them.

Olivia took out her phone from her handbag, punched in her PIN, and tapped something on her ‘Wedding’ list for her future chief bridesmaid speech at Chiara and Liam’s wedding. ‘Chiara, it’s done. Will and I are finished. I may regret it but I don’t want to think in that way. He did ask to see me yesterday but I refused. I don’t want him to persuade me. I know you care, but I’ve dug deep and taken a big leap of faith in myself.’

Olivia placed her coffee mug on a coaster on her desk. It had a picture of a skier in a bikini, and underneath it read, “At your age, people expect you to be mature, wise, and sensible – Disillusion them.” She smirked as she lifted her head and looked at the clock. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll have some fun.’

She looked at the clock. ‘I need to get ready for Mrs Getts.’ Olivia opened her cupboard and took out a hanger containing a clean uniform: a pair of white trousers and a white tunic with navy piping. She headed for the cloakroom door inside the spacious office, but – like a dog with a bone – Chiara needed to scrape out the marrow, and as Olivia washed her hands in the modern square washbasin, her friend persisted.

‘Please, Liv. Take some time to think. You deserve to be happy, of course you do, but give Will a chance to put things right. You’d be stupid to let him go and him, you. I do feel sure you can make it work. I’m the same age and having a child.’

With wet hands, Olivia grabbed a paper towel and peered around the door. Chiara was finding all this hard to accept. ‘Don’t feel responsible. A decision is made and I will manage. It’s not going to work with Will – ever. Accept it. What is the point of having a child anyway if our relationship isn’t sound now? He’ll take a few weeks off football and go back to it; I know he will. That’s what he did before.’

Chiara stood gazing at her with her cheeks puffing out. ‘Really? I still can’t believe it. In just a few days, you seem so resolved.’

Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Olivia pinched her cheeks. She didn’t look or feel forty – a few lines, but barely any signs of grey in her hair. She kept herself fit by running every day and according to Will, she was still attractive. She smoothed her chin, running her hands up to her ears. Doubt nibbled. Was she capable of looking after herself? Was she really prepared? Was Chiara right? Should she just settle for Will and try for a family?

‘I am resolved, really. Trust me. I was probably only in love with the idea of being in love.’

‘Liv, one photo and you’re being dramatic. You barely knew your Italian grandparents compared to Nora and Ronnie, here. I can’t understand how they are influencing you so much. And Will … I just hope you don’t live to regret it. Jesus, you’re no spring chicken.’

Turning to face her friend, Olivia took a deep breath before the sting hurt. ‘Thanks for that, dearest friend. The least you can do is respect my wishes.’ She marched over to a fitted wall cupboard.

Chiara skipped close behind and stepped in front of her. ‘I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I love you, I like to tell you straight, and I care.’ Chiara then opened her arms, leaning forward to give her business partner and close friend a hug. ‘Oh God, I hope you haven’t gone mad, Liv? I’m sorry.’

Liv squeezed Chiara’s shoulders. ‘I’m only letting you off because you’re hormonal. I’ve woken up, that’s all. Will was forever making excuses and pulling delay tactics. It needed addressing and now I need to move on. I’m making a fresh start and going to Italy without him. It will do me good, I’m sure. Besides, clearing out Nonna’s house could be therapeutic. It might take me longer on my own but I have to do it – the agent emailed this morning. He has people waiting to see it.’

‘Oh, Liv. I wish I could be more use but with two of us away, the business doesn’t work. I suppose I sort of understand. If your heart isn’t in it. And poor you having all that crap to deal with; you haven’t even been over there long enough to be fluent in the everyday language, let alone the legal jargon.’

‘Stop worrying about me. You have your own expanding family to think of now, soon-to-be Mrs Watts.’ Olivia gently pressed her hand on her friend’s baby bump before picking up and pulling her trousers off their hanger. ‘Mrs Chiara Watts, sexy wife to Liam, marvellous mother to Sophia and bump, and unarguably the most amazing domesticated goddess that ever lived.’

‘Of course. And still pseudo-sis to the amazing Olivia Montague. Just be sure to call me if you need help in Italy.’

‘I will, silly.’

‘And I want to know everything. The lawyer will know; grill him. It still strikes me as odd that your mother doesn’t take responsibility for the estate or want her inheritance. I mean, at least you lived with Nora and Ronnie – you knew much more about their affairs.’

‘Yes, well we both know my mum has always been odd. That will never change.’

‘Yes, but then dragging you away from the funeral like that, and me. She’s totally gaga.’

‘Well, like we said before, maybe she has remarried and doesn’t want her new husband to know about me. I don’t know. Maybe she is ashamed to let any of her friends or Nonna’s friends know she has a daughter. Who knows? She flits around so much I don’t suppose she had anyone long-term in her life. None of what she does makes sense to me. Never has.’

Chapter 3

The next few days flew by and Olivia was beginning to feel and act like she was more in control, like a bird inching out of the nest. She had taken the first step and, somehow, she would manage clearing Nonna’s possessions and property, even drive without relying on Will or Chiara’s input.

Emptying and tidying her desk late Thursday afternoon, before her flight early Friday morning, she realized fate or instinct had intervened – just like it had when setting up the business with Chiara five years ago. Back then she’d received the inheritance from her London grandparents who had virtually raised her.

Olivia had insisted they go equal partners in the business when Chiara wasn’t able to equal the funding she had put in. But to her, the guiding principle was she wished to share the good fortune with her friend, after all Chiara had shared with her. She’d told her that sharing the skills and burden of a new business was equally important. Eventually Chiara was convinced, and so their Osteopathic Clinic was born. It was a fifty-fifty commitment.

Like that obligation, there was no doubt sometimes she would get it wrong and find herself struggling, particularly – she imagined – when driving in Italy. Chiara had aired concerns again during the week, Olivia recalled.

‘Naturally, I worry you’ve been stressed and you’re still grieving. I wouldn’t want you to go into one of your panics,’ Chiara had said.

‘It’s very kind of you, but honestly, I’ll have a satnav in the car and I need to work at it,’ she’d told her. ‘I’ll take it slowly.’

She loved Chiara, but wondered if she was becoming overprotective, or whether it had become such a habit she couldn’t shake it. Nonetheless, she was beginning to feel like a child. Unless, of course, something in her had changed.

‘I’m sure clearing Nonna’s things will help. It’ll be therapeutic, certainly less emotionally draining than Gran and Grandad’s. At least I wasn’t so attached to Nonna.’ Olivia had hugged her friend. ‘OK. Appointments reshuffled where necessary. I should be a couple of weeks max.’

Chiara had stepped back and leaned against Olivia’s desk. ‘We’ll miss you. Skype or DM me if anything changes,’ she’d said folding her arms, ‘and don’t do anything outrageous. My heart and hormones won’t take it.’

‘I’ll try not to. Let me grow up, sis.’

***

Leaving the office a little early allowed her to pop in to the Bureau de Change, and Boots the chemist on the way, for euros and last-minute toiletries. She was arranging small piles of clothes on her freshly laundered bed when she heard Will’s key in the front door and his familiar kick of the door.

‘Will?’

‘Yup.’

‘I’m upstairs packing.’

‘Is it OK to come up?’

‘Don’t be facetious; of course it is.’ She picked up her phone with her ‘packing’ list and ticked off two items. ‘Charger and spare,’ she mouthed, heading for the bedside table. ‘Oh, best put that in in the morning,’ she muttered, leaving a charger beside her bed.

She then opened the drawer, picking up her passport and two small purses. Taking them around to the bottom of the bed, she opened an envelope and, removing half the notes, stashed them into one purse, placing it into a pocket in the side of the suitcase, then stashed the other wad of notes into the other small purse and inserted it into a side pocket of her handbag and zipped it up.

Turning and straightening up, she saw that Will – out of breath – was at the door, dressed in his grey suit. He looked so handsome in a suit. She sighed. ‘You’ve not been home yet?’

‘No. Thought I would drop this in before you leave. Wouldn’t want you obsessing about your key and security whilst you’re away.’

‘Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said, reaching for the front door key in his hand, and curling back her tongue to keep the sarcasm contained. ‘I’ve got packing to do but would you like a coffee? Beer?’

Sucking in his breath as he observed the various piles on her bed, he said, ‘No, I’ll let you get on. I know you have a lot to do.’ He signalled with his head and transferred his weight from one foot to the other before he said, ‘Just one thing. I would like you to give me another chance. I’m sorry I let you down when you needed me. I would really like to join you in Italy and offer my support.’

Glaring at his apologetic face for several seconds, her resolve briefly weakened. He did seem to care. But then she remembered all the discussions and excuses that she’d heard over the last few weeks and how those photos had captivated her. Now, it seemed, he felt the need to show his hand and it wasn’t the hand she wanted.

‘It’s too late. I’m not going to change my mind,’ she said, swiping her phone and selecting a list. Then concentrating with her tongue licking the side of her mouth, she said, ‘Ah, here we are: “door key”.’ She tapped the screen to strike through the item. Having the phone to hand was a comforting distraction but she had to be firm. There was no use giving him any snippet of hope. ‘I made it perfectly clear, Will,’ she said glancing back at him, and watching his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. ‘It’s for the best.’

‘How do you know it’s for the best? You’re still upset about your nonna and I appreciate it isn’t easy for you, but you know I love you and I want to be with you, marry you. You’ve made a split-second decision that will affect us for the rest of our lives. All those plans … Now that Chiara is having a baby, I thought you might change your mind too. I wasn’t going to mention it yet, what with your nonna just passed away.’

Fighting back a sad but not sorry tear, Olivia slid the phone into her jeans pocket. ‘Will, that just proves to me that you really don’t know me. What makes you think you always know what’s best for me? What do you know about what I need? Why would I want to start a family when I’m not even in a relationship with a man who loves and supports me, who makes the effort to see me? I’m not going back on my decision, so if you don’t mind, I will get on with my packing. I still have lots to do.’

She noticed the near-empty pack of contraceptive pills stacked with the new one and threw them in the bin. ‘I won’t even need these. Thank you for returning the key. I’ll see you out.’

***

On the train as she made her way to the airport, Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about Will. He did seem genuinely hurt, and whilst the break-up was sad, there was no point in continuing to harbour guilt. She had done the right thing and therefore she should now embark on a journey that would certainly force her to think for herself. Or, at least try.

Dealing with her grandmother’s death ten years ago in England was going to be quite different to Italy. She wanted to do the best for her nonna but she hadn’t a clue about the legalities and would be relying on the lawyer her nonna had appointed. Her Italian was fairly good but she dreaded having to deal with legal documents.

As she anticipated the journey ahead, her nerves felt jagged. Someone had always travelled with her, sharing the responsibility of it all. Nearing her stop, she bit her lip, opened her handbag once more and flicked through it. Passport, phone, charger in bag and one in case, flight check-in on phone, a flight check-in printout, car hire confirmation details on phone, car hire printout, insurances on phone and in print, and two purses.

At the airport, after checking in her large case, she raced across the hall to security. The train journey had been delayed twenty minutes due to an ‘incident’, which had been announced on the train line from Bermondsey to Canning Town, and she was cursing as she rifled through her hand luggage to take out her Kindle, laptop, and phone, which all had to go separately into the security box.

‘Oh damn,’ she cursed again, as her Chanel sunglasses dropped to the floor. She bent down in a harassed stupor. Twisting around to grab them, she saw a large olive-skinned hand retrieve them and she stood back up.

‘Thank you,’ she said, grasping them and peering up, catching a sparkling glint from dark eyes behind heavy-rimmed specs. She stared for a few seconds. Too long, then in a fluster as the queue behind her seemed to be bustling, she thrust the glasses, along with her handbag, into another box and pushed it forward on to the small rollers in the security machine.

‘Prego,’ he muttered in Italian and proceeded to concentrate on his own box.

Olivia continued in a fluster through security, gathering her belongings on the other side and moving to an out-of-the-way area to reorganize herself before checking the screen and heading for the right gate. It was so chaotic and for some reason, being on her own, she felt so much more self-conscious. Maybe it was the handsome Italian who was making her more so.

Relieved to be on the plane, snuggled away in a seat next to the window, she blew out a sigh, placed her handbag by her feet, lifted out her Kindle, and switched it on. She was just starting to read the prologue of the book she had deliberately downloaded for her trip to Italy when a small hand waving in front of her face appeared.

‘Hello, Lady,’ the small child said peering over the chairs in front.

Olivia looked up. ‘Hello.’

‘Freddie, sit down. So sorry,’ said his harassed mother who was stashing bags into the overhead locker and carrying a baby on her back. ‘I’ll buckle him down as soon as I’ve put these away.’

‘No worries. He’s excited I imagine.’

‘Very.’

Olivia smiled and began the page again struggling to ignore the child as he began telling her about his baby sister. His large blue eyes soon had her hooked as he told her about his sister crying because she hadn’t had her dinner and his mummy crying because it was the wrong milk.

‘Oh dear, poor Mummy – she’s having a tough morning,’ Olivia told him, feeling helpless as his mother closed her eyes probably wishing the ground would swallow her up.

‘Can I help?’ she asked watching her wriggle the baby carrier off.

‘Here. Allow me,’ a deep Italian voice intervened. The man reached his tanned arms up to shut an overhead locker and then he reached for the baby carrier on the woman’s back. He held the weight of the baby in the carrier so that the woman could slip out her arms with ease.

‘Thank you. You’re very kind,’ she told him. Then the woman steered her eyes to Olivia. ‘You have a gem of a husband here.’

‘Oh, he’s not with me.’

‘Oh.’ The woman sniggered, covering her mouth. ‘Sorry, well, enjoy your journey. Hope we don’t disrupt it too much,’ she said squeezing in to the seat in the row in front, next to the toddler, and trying to get herself organized with the infant on her lap.

Olivia buried her head back into her Kindle, feeling slightly exhausted herself after watching the woman try to manage. It couldn’t be easy trying to cope with more than one child, she imagined. She wondered why the woman was travelling alone. Was her husband too busy with work or football to accompany her with the children?

Feeling satisfied her decision was sound at least, her mind centred on the long legs and rather pert bottom nearing her face. Sliding up to the seat beside her, was the man who had helped the woman, and retrieved her glasses, the mop of near-black hair and his thick-rimmed glasses seemed increasingly sexy as well as familiar, she thought, as she looked up and smiled.

‘Buongiorno, are you staying in Florence?’ he asked.

Olivia’s eyes once again met the Italian’s, which lit up as he smiled. She guessed his age to be less than her own.

‘Actually no. I’m heading a little way south, to a village up in the hills.’

He held out a hand. ‘Alberto Luciano.’

‘Olivia. Call me Liv.’ She took his hand and shook it. At the touch, notes of sophisticated aftershave raced up her nostrils, dispersing inside her and stirring rumblings of desire she barely recognized.

‘Ah, beautiful,’ he said placing his folded newspaper on his knees. Careful not to crease the quality fabric of his shirt, he slid the seat-belt locks together.

She gripped her Kindle, unable to control jittering, nervous hands.

‘And Olivia is also a beautiful Italian name. You should not shorten it. Do you live in the village?’

She cleared her throat. ‘No. My nonna – well, she did.’

‘Ah, that’s doesn’t sound good. So, you had family there?’

‘Yes, Nonna died. My mamma is still in Italy though.’

His brows furrowed, sincerely. ‘I’m very sorry. But it’s good that you are still part of the living masterpiece that is Chianti. I live in Florence and have got to know much of Tuscany: its villages, towns, the scenic vineyards. My mamma is also Tuscan, from north of Siena.’

‘How lovely,’ she said, meeting those luring eyes again and then clutching her hands suddenly either side of the seat as the aircraft lifted. ‘Well …’

‘You’ll be OK. We are up,’ he assured her.

‘It’s still unnerving, the take-off and landing,’ she told him, fanning her face. ‘Yes, Nonna was always urging me to go and see the region. She told me it was lovely. I just enjoyed seeing her and Mamma – Nonno too when he was alive at her villa. Their farm is so warm and welcoming, and the landscape is certainly spectacular.’

More heat rose to her head as she gazed at his succulent moist lips, which revealed a sensitive smile. She guessed although pretty confident on the outside he was levering outside his comfort zone within. She went on. ‘Oh, I believe I went to see the Duomo in Florence when I was younger with my nonna and my friend Chiara. The thing is, I only ever got to visit a few days at a time usually. I know I’ve been to the village on several occasions, and I remember the leaning tower in Pisa. We flew in to Pisa last time we came so, Wi … we walked around the town and around the cathedral, went up the tower. A rather gruelling day.’

‘Is we the husband?’ His gaze rested on her hands.

‘No, he was a boyfriend.’

‘Was. I’m sorry. You have now broken up?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, do you come to Italy to restock?’

Olivia chuckled and realizing the plane was now moving took a deep breath. ‘What – the boyfriend or the mind?’

Alberto’s lips relaxed too. ‘Yes, well either, I suppose.’

‘I’ve Nonna’s business to attend to mainly. What about you? What’s the reason for your journey today?’ she asked, not wishing to discuss too much of her private business with a total stranger.

‘I’m working with a university in London. We are teaching one another really. I’m exchanging my knowledge with theirs. They are helping me refine development of an electric autonomous car my company have designed.’

‘What is that, exactly?’

‘Have you heard of driverless cars?’

‘They’ve been in the news lately. The industry still having problems with them; well, totally controlling every potential hazardous scenario, I gather. Rather like the robots and artificial intelligence.’

‘That’s it. And the wireless charging is another issue.’

‘Totally out of my realm,’ Olivia said feeling the subject could quite easily fly over her head with no power required whatsoever. She did find his geekiness attractive though. ‘It sounds amazing and very interesting. I’d love a car to drive me. It would be nice to be chauffeured everywhere, especially in Italy. I’ve never driven there before and I’m not looking forward to it.’