Dreams Of Tuscany

‘Oh Paolo, don’t worry, it wasn’t like that…it’s an idiom…you see…’ But it was no good, she was laughing too much to explain the intricacies of the English language.

‘Idiot – who is idiot – me or this Mr. Knight?’ He looked at her with a pretence of hurt on his face as he clutched his heart.

‘Don’t – oh don’t!’ Zoe was trying to stop laughing as suddenly she had a strange desire to cry. She wiped her eyes and smiled at Paolo. ‘All men are idiots, you know that quite well, Paolo!’

‘My wife she say the very same thing to me at lunch…tutti gli uomini sono pazzi…imagine that…my own wife!’

‘What did you do to deserve it, Paolo? Confess!’

‘Well, we talking about you, cara!’

‘Talking about me – whatever for?’

‘I telling her how you look very, very sad this morning and she say is because you are lonely. That I am big idiot not to see that you are lonely.’

Zoe looked up sharply. ‘Lonely? Am I?’

‘Yes, you are – but you not to worry because I have solved it all. Two ways I have solved it. I am a genius!’

‘You are…you have?’ Zoe looked at him anxiously. She had worked with Paolo long enough to know that his sudden inspirations were usually disastrous.

‘My first big idea is you come to family lunch on Sunday.’

‘Well, thank you, Paolo, that would be great.’ Zoe looked at him in puzzlement. As she often spent Sundays with the Santini family this did not appear to be a big idea by Paolo’s standards. He was nodding and smiling a stagey, secret smile and tapping the side of his nose knowingly. Obviously very pleased with himself.

‘And your second big idea?’ Zoe asked.

‘Is in your jeep!’ Paolo leapt off the sofa and rushed out of the office, shouting, ‘Follow me, vieni vieni!’

Zoe obediently followed Paolo outside. He was already across the square and standing by her jeep, practically jumping up and down as he pointed to the back seat. Zoe glanced in and gasped. A very large and silky red setter looked up at her then stretched and lazily wagged his tail.

‘A dog! Paolo! A dog for me?’ Zoe said in amazement.

Paolo smiled happily and rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

‘His name is Fidele, he is son of my dog. Is very good race…very aristocrat. He very sweet, molto gentile, and very how you say, fidele…’

‘Faithful! He’s very faithful. Oh Paolo he’s so beautiful. Thank you, grazie mille!’ Zoe opened the jeep door and the dog gracefully jumped out. Zoe rested her hand on the dog’s smooth forehead and stroked him gently. They walked back to the office and Fidele trotted happily between them. As soon as they were in the office, the dog jumped onto the sofa and stretched out again. He raised his big, brown eyes to look at them, then sighed happily and fell asleep.

‘That is one very spoilt dog!’ Paolo shook his head in mock despair. ‘My wife, Serena, she spoil him from the moment he is born.’

‘But won’t you miss him – he looks like a hunting dog. Don’t you need him?’ Zoe had to ask, although she had already lost her heart to the big, gentle creature.

‘Well…tell you the truth. Fidele is very scared of the gun noise. When the gun it goes bang then Fidele he goes galloping home.’ Paolo shook his head sadly. ‘He has a very good nose…wonderful nose…but is not a good gun dog. I give him to you for not to be lonely and you no like the guns. You two happy together. Perfect result! Any time you not want him or go on holiday then you bring him back to me and Serena. OK?’

‘Very OK, Paolo, thank you and Serena.’ Zoe looked at Paolo and could tell he hadn’t quite finished.

‘And another thing is…’ Paolo hesitated and examined his nails. ‘My wife she say I am big idiot for another thing too.’

‘There’s more?’ Zoe sat down on the sofa beside Fidele, stroking him as she looked anxiously up at Paolo.

‘Is not my fault, Zoe. I worry about you like I am your father and I not like you go to meet clients all alone in the old country houses. Now you take Fidele and I feel you are safe.’

Zoe looked doubtfully at the dog sound asleep on the sofa. Fidele didn’t look like a guard dog. Then she asked, ‘But why did Serena think that made you an idiot? It was very kind of you – if unnecessary.’

‘And then I kill the three birds with one stone – is English idiom, no?’ Paolo smiled nervously.

‘Yes but it’s normally two birds, Paolo. Why three birds? Anyway I am losing count of your great ideas. Just tell me the rest of your story.’

‘Well, when this Mr. Knight phoned after you left this morning – he phoned to ask if you can make earlier the appointment. I tell him you on your way and then, then – I don’t know why but I think it make you safer if – then I…’ He faltered to a stop.

‘Go on, Paolo – what did you do next?’ Zoe looked at him sternly.

‘Then…well, then I tell this Mr. Knight that you are my wife!’

That night Zoe lay awake, her window wide open, listening to the unceasing noise of the cicadas. In her head she played back her lunchtime conversation with Alex Knight. Over and over again she went through all that he had said. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. She remembered how he had reacted when she had mentioned ‘her boss’. Of course, he had thought she was talking about her husband. Zoe flung herself back on the bed in exasperation. And it was no wonder that he hadn’t made any moves…he was a decent guy who didn’t play around with other people’s wives. Zoe rolled onto her stomach and angrily pummelled her pillow, groaning in exasperation at Paolo’s kind attempt to protect her. Supposing Alex had gone away with the idea that she was the sort of wife who would play around? Looking into his eyes, blushing and behaving like a schoolgirl – Zoe squirmed at the thought. How could she let him know that she wasn’t married to Paolo or anyone else for that matter? She could hardly send an email saying ‘by the way I’m not married!’ Zoe curled up into a small ball and pulled the sheet over her head. Then she heard a soft movement in the darkness. She flung the sheet back and looked quickly around the room. Fidele had made his way softly up the stairs and was lying in the moonlight at the foot of her bed.

‘Fidele, you are the most beautiful dog in the world.’ she said aloud. She heard his tail thump the floor and then she fell into a deep sleep.

The next day Zoe was glad to be busy, too busy to think about Alex Knight, although she constantly checked her mobile for a message from him. She spent the entire morning in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, who had decided the mill house was the perfect property. They were pleasant enough company and Zoe was well-accustomed to falling in with people’s dreams. Alex Knight was not the only one with an Italian dream. As lunchtime drew near she knew the Partridges were hoping she would join them for an extended lunch. When they invited her she accepted. Why not? But she steered them away from da Luigi – that would be too much. When they suggested eating at the hotel where they were staying, Zoe agreed happily. The Hotel Bellapensieri was a wonderful hotel set in the peaceful hills to the south of Siena.

As they pulled into the entrance to the car park Zoe drew her breath in sharply. Could it be? In the far corner of the car park a shining, pale blue Mercedes coupé was just pulling out of the exit. Surely she had seen the distinctive dark, grey head of a tall man in the driver’s seat?

As she walked across the car park she asked the Partridges, ‘Do you know if that was a Mr. Knight just leaving the car park in the Mercedes?’ Zoe tried to make her voice as casual as possible.

‘Yes, it looked like it – we met him last night and had a brandy with him after dinner. Nice chap!’ Mr. Partridge said, cheerily.

‘So nice…’ agreed Mrs. Partridge, ‘and so talented. It must be wonderful to be able to write like that.’

‘Oh is he a writer?’ Zoe asked.

‘Oh yes, he writes film scripts,’ Mr. Partridge replied. ‘Must be worth a bob or two, but a very modest bloke. In the end, he gave us the names of quite a few of his film scripts and even we had heard of them, hadn’t we, Linda…although we’re not great film buffs. Real stick-at-homes we are, aren’t we, Linda?’ Mr. Partridge put his arm through his wife’s and they smiled at each other in contentment.

‘We like our own company and just a few books,’ said Mrs. Partridge, smiling at Zoe. ‘And now of course we spend a lot of time with our grandchildren. That’s why we want the mill house…for big family holidays. Our youngest daughter can’t be much older than you and she already has four children. We’re so proud of them aren’t we, John?’

The Partridges smiled at each other again in mutual satisfaction as they arrived in the cool entrance hall of the hotel and the conversation continued with Mrs. Partridge listing her grandchildren. With all the will in the world, there was no way that Zoe could reasonably turn the conversation back to Alex Knight. Why had he told her he was going to the airport last night?

Later that night the question returned to haunt her. She lay in the dark once again, turning over all the possibilities and even the most unlikely reasons for him to have lied to her. She flinched as the word resounded in her head, but he had lied. She spoke the hard word aloud, ‘Liar!’

Fidele, stretched out at the foot of the bed, sighed and seemed to give a yawn of agreement.

Well, she wasn’t going to spend another night tossing and turning and thinking about the elusive Mr. Knight. She turned on the reading light and for a moment watched the insects drawn to the outside of the mosquito netting in the window frame. Suddenly she felt an unexpected pang of something that could be homesickness. Not that she could actually miss home as such. Her parents lived in a beautiful Georgian house on the outskirts of Bath, surrounded by antique furniture and works of art. A beautiful house but she could not call it home. Maybe it was home to her parents. They lived a calm and elegant life together. A life that had never truly accepted a child. Zoe, a single child, had been sent away to school at what seemed to be the first possible opportunity. Her holidays had been spent at a number of foreign holiday resorts, skiing or by the sea. Au-pairs, ski instructors, tennis coaches and tutors played major roles in the holiday fun but her mother and father remained in the background. No, she couldn’t possibly be missing home. Maybe if her parents had been like the Partridges, exuding love and the warmth of a real family life, it would have been different? It must just be the heat that was making her long for the cool of England. She reached for her book and looked at the cover: Pride and Prejudice. She was definitely not in the mood for anything involving a romantic hero. She took another book from the bedside table. Early Italian Art. She sighed and practically threw it across the room. Did absolutely everything have to remind her of Alex Knight? Fidele shifted uneasily on the rug at the foot of the bed.

‘Sorry, Fidele, did I wake you again?’

The dog gave one of his noisy yawns that sounded just like a disapproving groan.

‘I know, it’s time to get to sleep and time to stop talking aloud, too!’ She turned on the bedside radio and soon the rapid Italian voices debating politics bored her to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

Another day, scorching hot but at least it was Sunday. Zoe awoke late and moved lazily around her small town house, making coffee and listening to music. She knew better than to eat breakfast when she was going to lunch with Paolo and his wife. Food would take up the rest of the day.

As she turned the jeep into the steep, rough road that led up to the Santinis’ sprawling farmhouse, Fidele stood up on the back seat and began an excited whimpering. As soon as the wheels stopped turning he leapt over to the front seat, jumped across Zoe, and galloped into the house. Zoe looked down and realised she had a large, dusty paw print in the middle of her white linen skirt.

‘Grazie, Fidele!’ she called after him, laughing. At least it didn’t matter a bit when lunching at the Santini home. Paolo and Serena came out to greet her and they exchanged kisses. Zoe handed over the flowers she had bought for Serena and then the four Santini children were all around them. Zoe had spent some time teaching English to the children, Alicia, Fortunata, Grazie and little Matteo. They were just about the nicest children she had ever met, self-confident and yet very polite. She handed out four little presents and some honey lollipops that she always brought them. They all moved into the shade of an enormous parasol where aperitifs were waiting. Zoe always relaxed completely in the company of the Santini family and soon she was laughing and enjoying herself so much that she didn’t hear the arrival of another car in the driveway. Paolo jumped up and exchanged a quick glance with Serena.

She nodded and continued talking with Zoe.

A few moments later Paolo returned with his arm across the shoulders of a young man. He called out before he reached the group.

‘Serena, guardi…Massimo e qui…e arrivato! Zoe, I want you to meet my friend, Massimo Mendozzi. He is a big-time Roman lawyer and he has just come to live in our little town of Siena!’

Zoe stood up and realised that she was being introduced to one of Paolo’s inspirations. She tried not to sigh as she held out her hand and shook the strong, tanned hand that stretched to meet hers. Strong indeed, Massimo squeezed her hand in his as though he would never let it go.

‘Piacere, Signorina Bennett, pleased to meet you. Paolo has told me all about you!’ He dipped his dark head forward in a small bow. Zoe almost flinched at his words. What on earth had Paolo said about her? Surely he wouldn’t have said she was lonely? Zoe looked across at Serena who smiled, almost apologetically, and then raised her shoulders in mock despair. Zoe looked back at the newly-introduced Massimo. She could hardly complain about Paolo’s choice for her blind date. Massimo Mendozzi was a typical Roman, not very tall but squarely built, his shoulders and chest filling out his pale blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. The gleam of a gold chain showed around his strong neck and caught in the dark hair that curled on his chest. A perfect Roman nose between beautiful dark, brown eyes that shone with the confidence of a handsome and successful man. Immaculately dressed, even for a casual Sunday lunch in the country. Yes, he was any girl’s Italian dream. There were so many Italian dreams, Zoe thought idly to herself as they walked over to the long table set for lunch. Massimo deftly held her chair as she sat down and for one moment Zoe had the ridiculous idea that he was going to open up her napkin for her too. She almost giggled but managed to change it to a small cough. Why did good-looking Italian men always seem one step away from being waiters or hairdressers?

The lunch stretched long into the afternoon and the conversation, mainly in Italian, flew from one subject to another. Massimo lavished his attention on Zoe, but she noticed that he also listened and talked with all the children. She liked the way he gave them each his whole attention, taking them seriously and not talking down to them. It was an appealing quality and Zoe warmed to him. There was no doubt he was an attractive man. And there was even less doubt that he was interested in her. Unlike Alex Knight, Massimo jumped on every opportunity to look into her eyes and rest his hand over hers. All the approaches had been made, so it was no surprise when he asked her out.

‘My friend is giving a party tonight…what do you think, Zoe? Would you like to come? It would be the perfect way to end this lovely day! Do you like to dance?’

Maybe she had been in the countryside too long but the question struck her as almost funny.

‘Dance?’ she said in surprise. ‘Er – yes…I love dancing…but where?’ She looked around the wide view from Paolo’s house as though expecting to see a disco spring up in the middle of the fields. In fact, she knew there were clubs around in the countryside but it had never seemed to be her scene. She certainly couldn’t imagine the elegant and sophisticated Massimo Mendozzi hip-hopping in some rustic barn.

‘Not here…but near Florence. My friend is celebrating his thirtieth birthday… I’ve known him since we were at university together in Rome. Paolo, you must remember Flavio Luccio?’ Massimo turned to Paolo, as though for support.

‘Yes, si, si, certo, he study the environmental law…as you. I not know him well…me, I was in the most boring real estate department…not playing with the big rich boys. This Flavio, I remember well, he was the richest of the rich boys, no? His family from Florence…si, si…how do you say…Fiorentini ricchissimi!’

‘Yes, that’s right, Paolo, and the party’s in Florence.’

‘Florence!’ Zoe repeated. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She had lived in Italy long enough to know that they could jump in a fast car at any time of the day or night and head off in search of a good time.

‘Only an hour away. Come on, Zoe…just say yes…it will be fun.’ Massimo looked beseechingly at her with his shining, brown eyes.

Zoe looked doubtfully at Serena and Paolo, who both seemed to be holding their breath and waiting for her answer. She really couldn’t think of a sensible reason why she should say no. Why would she want to spend another restless, lonely night with only Fidele for company? Oh, Fidele…

‘What about Fidele?’ she burst out as a reply.

‘You want to bring your dog?’ Massimo asked in surprise. Everyone laughed at her words and his reply.

‘No, I was just thinking it would be a long time to leave him alone.’ Zoe smiled in embarrassment.

‘No problem, Fidele can have a sleep-over here with the kids!’ Serena smiled, seeming to give her approval to the whole idea.

‘Will you want to go home to change?’ Massimo asked.

‘Well, yes – I can’t go like this.’ Zoe looked down at her crumpled white linen skirt complete with Fidele’s paw mark.

‘I could pick you up about eight?’ Massimo offered.

‘Yes, that would be fine.’

And somehow it just seemed settled that she was going out with Massimo Mendozzi.

The conversation continued and soon, as the afternoon sun beat through the parasol, it was agreed that it was time for a swim.

Zoe went back to her jeep to find her swimsuit. There was a red Ferrari parked in the driveway. Yes, Zoe thought to herself, Massimo Mendozzi just had to have a Ferrari and it had to be red.

Serena came to meet her as Zoe walked back into the house.

‘Come and change in our bedroom,’ she said, leading the way. Zoe sensed there was some sisterly advice on its way and she wasn’t to be disappointed.

‘Are you happy to go out with Massimo tonight? I felt we rather talked you into it! Paolo and I have known Massimo’s family for as long as I can remember. He has been extremely well brought up. Too well if anything!’ Serena’s English was much better than her husband’s as she had worked for some years in the London fashion world before marrying Paolo. The rare occasions that she and Zoe got together on their own they enjoyed chatting in English.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Zoe, throwing her swim bag on the floor and sitting on the side of the large double bed that filled the Santinis’ low-ceilinged bedroom. Serena sat beside her and laughed.

‘Do you know what “mammismo” means?’

‘No, I’ve heard of machismo.’

‘Yes well if machismo means all-male virility and domination of women then mammismo means sort of the opposite.’

‘Are you trying to tell me that Massimo is gay?’ gasped Zoe. ‘He certainly doesn’t seem it!’

‘No, no!’ Serena giggled. ‘Definitely not gay…he’s always with some beautiful girl or other but it never lasts. Mammismo is when an Italian guy just can’t leave his mother’s influence…you say in English, tied to his mother’s apron strings. Massimo has a Mamma that is all the Italian mammas wrapped up in one. I can hardly believe he has managed this move to Siena without her. She rules his life!’

‘Oh right…he’s what we call a mummy’s boy!’ Zoe laughed too. ‘Is that all! Well, it could be worse nothing wrong with a young man respecting his Mamma! I am only going dancing with him and have no intention of competing to rule his life!’

‘You have no idea how bad it can get with these mammini or mummy’s boys. There are divorce cases nowadays where the mother-in-law’s intrusion is cited as a reason for breakdown of the marriage. I count myself lucky that my Paolo’s mother is a librarian and completely absorbed in her work.’

‘Well, anyway, I am not going to marry Massimo so his mother will have no need to worry!’

‘Well, you never know!’ Serena nudged Zoe with her elbow. ‘He is very dishy! Such beautiful eyes!’

‘Mmm!’ agreed Zoe. ‘He does have lovely eyes and good hands!’

‘Oh…you noticed his hands!’ giggled Serena. ‘He has a great body too!’

‘Really, Serena – you should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a respectable married woman!’

‘I know…and I’m quite satisfied with my lot. I’ll leave Massimo to you!’

She laughed as she stood up and left the room. A moment later she popped her head back and added, ‘I’ll leave him all to you…and his Mamma!’

Zoe changed quickly and then walked around the back of the house and towards the pool. She could hear the children’s high-pitched voices shouting with excitement. As she turned the corner she saw Massimo bouncing up and down on the diving board pretending to be too scared to dive in. Serena was right about his body, she thought, as she watched his outline against the clear, blue sky. He was wearing close-fitting dark blue swimming trunks and his dark, tanned skin glowed in the sunshine. As she watched he gave a final bounce and performed a neat somersault dive, entering the turquoise water with hardly a splash. Zoe watched as he swam fast underwater and then burst up through the surface between the children. With more shrieking and wild splashing he let them duck him under again. He surfaced with little Matteo on his shoulders and saw Zoe watching.

‘Eccola, here is la bella Zoe!’ he called out across the pool. ‘The water is perfect, Zoe, and so are you! Come on!’ He splashed her lightly with a spray of water.

Zoe ran to the end of the pool, along the diving board, bounced lightly and entered the water with a racing dive. Under the cool water she had just one moment to think to herself. ‘I rather like the mummy’s boy!’ before she surfaced and swam over to the children. Matteo, delighted to be on Massimo’s shoulders, waved excitedly to her.

‘See me, Zoe, guardami!’ He flipped a quick duck dive into the water and popped up beside Zoe, his face alight with laughter and energy, a miniature version of his father. Suddenly he saw his parents approaching the pool arm in arm.

‘Mamma, Mamma! Guardami, look at me, Mamma!’ he called out loudly. Serena sat on the steps of the pool and looked across at Zoe, shrugging her shoulders in mock despair. Zoe burst out laughing and so did Serena.

‘So what is so funny?’ asked Massimo.

Serena wiped tears of laughter from her face as she replied.

‘Come here, my little mammino, my little mummy’s boy!’ She scooped Matteo out of the water and gave him a big hug and then threw him back into the pool. Matteo bobbed up again and splashed his way back to Serena.

‘Encora, more – throw me in again! Mamma, Mamma!’ Serena did as he asked and then said to Zoe, ‘Mamma mia! It seems there is no way to get rid of my little mammino mummy’s boy!’ The two women laughed again and the two men remained puzzled.

‘I think is a girl joke thing, Massimo. Or some crazy English idiom?’ Paolo looked at Zoe in amusement and then bombed into the water just beside her, causing the water in the pool to lap over the sides.