Dreams Of Tuscany

‘Poor Massimo…well, at least he will have his friends to console him over losing you!’

‘And he always has his Mamma!’ added Zoe, laughing too.

Serena began to laugh all over again and could hardly get the words out,‘I’ve…oh dear…I’ve just thought of something…his Mamma chose his name well…oh dear….just change two letters…Massimo-mammissimo…oh dear…mamma mia!’ The two women were rocking with laughter as Paolo came into the kitchen, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. He looked at them fondly.

‘Coffee then?’

Refreshed from her lunch with such good friends, Zoe returned to her afternoon appointment with renewed energy and determined not to let herself dwell on the news that Alex Knight was a married man with a daughter. She was meeting the Partridges at 3pm, once more at their hotel. As she drove into the car park she thought back to her last visit – when she had seen Alex Knight just pulling away. Away and out of her life forever. Zoe sighed and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feelings he evoked in her. Why did life always have to be so difficult? Why did all the most interesting men have to be married? She blinked away a tear of self-pity and suddenly Fidele jumped through from the back seat and rested his big head on her shoulder. She stroked him for a moment then pulled herself together. She locked the car and, with Fidele close at her heels, she went into the cool foyer of the hotel. Why couldn’t Alex Knight suddenly appear on the terrace, unmarried and free to love her? Reality struck home as Mr. Partridge, very married, large and friendly, appeared in front of her. Zoe sighed wistfully, wondering for a moment why she was doomed to play the wrong part in a romantic novel, before giving all her attention to the Partridges and their purchase of the old mill house.

‘There you are, my dear! Always perfectly on time and as pretty as a picture, isn’t she, Geoffrey?’

‘She certainly is… Now, can we offer you a coffee or a cold drink?’ Mr. Partridge pulled out a chair for her and she joined them at their table set in the shade of a dark blue awning.

‘A cold juice would be very good, thank you.’ Zoe smiled at the Partridges as they beamed at her, feeling comforted by the homely good will they exuded. What must it be like to have parents like this, she wondered? As though reading her thoughts, Mrs. Partridge said, ‘It must be hard working away from home – all on your own at your age.’

‘Oh no, not at all…it’s the way of life I chose. I feel independent and perfectly happy,’ Zoe replied, her voice not ringing with as much conviction as she had hoped. ‘Anyway, my parents have always led their own lives and I have never been around them very much.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Mrs. Partridge said in a voice that sounded as though she wasn’t convinced, then she continued, ‘Do you mean you were away at school?’

‘Yes, I first boarded when I was only nine.’

‘Just fancy, nine years old! Well, I suppose it was what they thought best.’

‘I suppose so, they travelled a lot together – I don’t think I really fitted into their lifestyle. My father is an architect and he worked all over the world – India, Saudi, Hong Kong…bridges mostly.’

‘Well, that would explain it… I expect they went to some difficult places – not where a little girl would get a good education and they thought you’d be better off in a good solid school.’

‘Yes I suppose so,’ Zoe agreed reluctantly and then added in a voice stifled with anger, ‘More because they were everything to each other and I was just in the way!’

‘You may be right, Zoe…but it’s all in the past now and at least you had parents that did love each other. Not everyone can say that nowadays, with so many marriages ending in divorce.’

‘That’s true actually – when I was with them I certainly never heard a cross word between them and of course they loved me in their own vague way.’

‘I’m sure they did, Zoe or you wouldn’t be such a sweet girl now.’ Mrs. Partridge smiled fondly at Zoe and patted her on the arm. Zoe looked at her gratefully and a small part of a knot that she carried tied inside her began to dissolve. Maybe she would phone home this evening. As though, once again, she read her thoughts, Mrs. Partridge added, ‘If ever I have the chance to meet your mother I shall tell her that her daughter is a treasure. We’d have given up long ago on finding our Tuscan dream house without Zoe’s help, wouldn’t we, Geoffrey?’

‘Oh yes, you’ve been a wonder. Patient and kind – not like any estate agent I’ve ever met before! Now, here come those drinks and we can all do with wetting our whistles after all that philosophising. That’s what I call it when my Linda gets going.’ Mr. Partridge leant forward and planted a kiss on Mrs. Partridge’s cheek. ‘She sorts me out too, don’t you, my love?’

Mrs. Partridge giggled and gave him an affectionate slap. Zoe looked at them both and wondered if her parents’ marriage was anything at all like this. If she closed her eyes she could drag up a dim picture of her parents sitting in their study, one each side of a big desk, perfectly at one, passing each other books and nodding quietly. It was a long way from kissing and friendly slaps but it was a good marriage. A good example? Zoe didn’t have time to ponder her own question as Mr. Partridge was raising his glass.

‘Here’s to life in Italy and everybody’s dreams coming true!’

They all raised their glasses and then sipped the cold drinks. Zoe stood up and led Fidele over to the back of the villa to find him a bowl of water. When she returned to the table she spoke first.

‘I think I’m very lucky to be in Italy…especially when the clients are as kind as you are! But you’re right, Mrs. Partridge, only the other day I did feel some sort of homesickness for good old England and its grey skies and I think I’ll phone my parents tonight.’

‘Please call me Linda, my dear, and my husband is Geoffrey. I hope when we get the mill house all sorted out you’ll be a frequent visitor. We expect to spend several months of the year here.’

‘That would be very nice – thank you!’ replied Zoe, slightly surprised herself to find that she really meant it. She had sold many houses to English clients but had normally spent her time dodging them afterwards.

Linda Partridge smiled at her. ‘We said the same to that nice Mr. Knight, didn’t we, Geoffrey? We thought he was such a nice chap but very lonely.’

Zoe’s heart thumped as the mention of his name and she sipped her drink before answering as casually as she could.

‘But won’t he be out here with his wife…and I hear he has a little daughter, too?’

‘Didn’t you know? His wife was killed in a car accident just over a year ago. Of course, we didn’t mention it but as soon as I heard his name I remembered the incident. It was in all the papers – absolutely tragic, wasn’t it, Geoffrey?’

‘Tragic!’ agreed Mr. Partridge. ‘Young man like that left with a two-month-old baby and they’d hadn’t long been married…absolutely tragic!’

‘I couldn’t help thinking that’s why his hair was that dark grey – the shock you know!’ Mrs. Partridge shook her head sadly, then added, ‘Didn’t you know, Zoe?’

‘No, no I know nothing about him. He was just a client appearing out of the blue. I didn’t even know he was a film writer.’

‘Well, I believe he’s had difficulty getting back to work and, of course, that’s understandable. Still, with all the Agatha Christie film scripts he’s already done he certainly can’t need to work for a while.’ Mr. Partridge added, ‘Must have earned a packet already!’

‘He was so upset that night, wasn’t he, Geoffrey? When his flight was cancelled. He had wanted to get back to England to be with his little daughter for Saturday. That’s what he said, didn’t he, Geoffrey? Always took her out Saturday mornings – I thought that was so sweet, you know. Anyway he tried to get a flight from Pisa and then Rome but finally he gave up and settled for the flight from Florence the next day. Very aggravated he was – that’s why we asked him to join us for a drink. It was as though he needed to talk to someone, wasn’t it, Geoffrey?’

‘You calmed him down, my dear, in your own special way. Then he took up your idea, too. He phoned the nanny from his mobile and arranged to have her come in a taxi with the little girl to meet him at the London zoo for a day out. We could hear it all sorted out and Alex calmed down and began to relax. He told us then about the villa he wanted to buy…that dark old ruin you showed us, Zoe. My goodness he’ll need some vision and a lot of his film money to put that to rights!’

‘Oh, it’ll all sort out, you’ll see,’ said Mrs. Partridge comfortably.

Zoe’s mind reeled as she tried to absorb all the new information. So Alex Knight was a widower with a little daughter. He had really intended to fly back to England that night. She had been wrong to think he had lied about that. In fact, she had been wrong about practically everything concerning Alex Knight – except that she found him irresistible.

CHAPTER FIVE

Back in her little house, in the cool of the evening, Zoe sat on the sofa and looked at the telephone. To ring or not to ring? She closed her eyes and leant her head back against the cushions. Why was it so difficult to pick up the phone and ring home? She conjured up a mental picture of her parents sitting in the conservatory, sipping cocktails in elegant companionship. The phone would ring, a jarring noise interrupting their intimacy. Her mother would sigh and rise slowly to go over to answer the phone in the kitchen. Zoe’s eyes flashed open and she let out an exasperated, ‘Oh, for goodness sake! Mamma mia!’ Fidele opened one eye and regarded her with obvious impatience, before turning his back on her. ‘You’re quite right, Fidele! This is ridiculous. Mamma mia indeed – as if it can be so hard to phone my very own mamma mia. I’ll just ring and that’s that!’

She snatched up the receiver and impatiently punched the numbers into the phone. There was a long silence before the familiar English ringing tone began to sound. Zoe tensed, feeling her stomach turn over as she waited for one of her parents to answer. The ringing tone droned on and on until finally her mother’s recorded voice answered.

‘Sorry to miss your call, please leave your name and number and we’ll call back as soon as possible.’ The recording bleep sounded twice and Zoe began a hesitant message.

‘Hi, Ma, just me – er, phoning to see how you both are…er, I’ll call again soon. Bye now!’

Zoe slammed down the phone and blinked away unexpected tears from her eyes. Fidele rose from his rug and stretched, then ambled over to Zoe and rested his head in her lap. Zoe smiled down at the dog and stroked him for several minutes. Hadn’t she read somewhere that stroking pets was good for relieving stress? She allowed herself a wobbly smile before standing up and going over to the mirror above the stone fireplace. She looked at her reflection.

‘What a mess!’ she said aloud. Her eyes were pink-rimmed and her mouth looked a blur of misery and self-pity.

‘This won’t do at all – come on, Fidele, let’s go for a walk before we find something for dinner!’

Fidele leapt into activity, circling Zoe excitedly as she grabbed his lead and her door key.

She flung open the front door and the evening sun shone directly into her eyes, so it was a moment before she realised that she was standing face to face with Massimo. In fact, as he was on the lower step of the entrance she was almost staring straight over the top of his dark glistening hair. Not only that, he was practically hidden behind a vast bunch of dark red roses. In her surprise she said abruptly, ‘What are you doing?’

Massimo lowered the bouquet and hastily stepped up to her level. Now they really were eye to eye as he answered soulfully, ‘I had to see you, carissima!’ His dark brown eyes looked wistful as he offered her the flowers.

Zoe took them from him automatically and then hastily gave them back.

‘I’m sorry, Massimo, I can’t take your flowers…thank you, I am very flattered but…’ She faltered to a stop, words failing her as she tried to come up with an excuse. There he stood, the ridiculously perfect example of any girl’s dream. Not tall but muscled and handsome as a film star – an Italian film star. Impeccably dressed, Ferrari keys in hand and ready to love her. Why, why couldn’t she just fall in love with him and be done with it? At that moment Fidele pushed between them and Massimo bent down and impatiently brushed his trouser leg and inspected it for dog hairs. Now why should that annoy her so much?

‘I was just going to take Fidele for a walk – would you like to join us?’ Zoe asked politely enough, although she was fairly confident of his giving a negative answer.

‘I didn’t come here to walk a dog, Zoe. I came to tell you that I love you and want to marry you. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

‘Sorry, Massimo, but I have promised Fidele a walk and a promise to a dog just can’t be broken!’ Zoe gave a wide smile and pushed past the flowers, down the steps and into the street. Fidele gave an enthusiastic bound past Massimo and stood by her side, gently chewing on his lead and anxious to be off.

‘But, Zoe…’

‘Sorry, Massimo…I really am…about everything…but you know it just wouldn’t work between us.’ Zoe looked back up at Massimo as he looked down at her, his eyes now screwed up against the setting sunlight. For one awful moment she thought he was going to cry. Then he jumped down the steps and stood beside her again.

‘OK, I’ll walk with you. You will see that I don’t give up easily. When I really want something, I have to have it.’

Zoe walked off at a brisk pace, heading towards the rampart walls of the town. It didn’t seem to occur to Massimo that sometimes life didn’t work out quite like that. Zoe marched on, trying to quell the annoyance she felt at Massimo’s intrusion into her life. Fidele trotted between them and the pace quickened as though they had entered in some ridiculous walking race. Massimo tossed the huge bouquet of roses onto the bonnet of a parked car as they strode on, shoulder to shoulder. Zoe was now walking as fast as she could without breaking into an undignified run. Massimo was slowly pulling ahead and Zoe watched his athletic shoulders and strong legs with grudging admiration. Massimo might be a mother’s boy but he was no wimp. When he was several metres ahead of her he suddenly turned and laughed, throwing his head back and stretching his arms wide.

‘It’s no good, Zoe! I love you and that’s that. I love you even more when you are angry!’

Zoe stopped in her tracks and bent over, holding her sides as she regained her breath. She laughed reluctantly and looked up at him.

‘Massimo, I do so wish I could fall in love with you but…’

Massimo interrupted her.

‘Don’t say another word – especially “but”. It’s the worst word in any language. I have enough love for both of us for now and I can be very, very patient. Let’s be friends, amici!’

He held out his hand and she took it. They walked on again, slower now and side by side. When Zoe gently removed her hand from his grasp, he made no comment but sighed quietly. Zoe smiled and admitted to herself that Massimo was very persuasive. No wonder he was a top lawyer at such a young age. They reached the outskirts of the town and Zoe took the path that circled the ancient town walls. The last rays of the hot sun shone on them as they walked. Massimo talked fluently in English and was an amusing companion. It was undeniably good to have someone to be with. Zoe began to enjoy herself just as she had at the party in Florence. Massimo was relaxed too and played with Fidele, running along the dusty path and throwing bits of wood for the dog to retrieve. He now didn’t seem at all worried about his impeccable clothes. Maybe she had reacted too quickly before. As dusk fell across the town roofs they were wending their way through the narrow alleys back towards Zoe’s house.

‘Dare I ask you to join me for dinner, Zoe?’ Massimo asked, his dark eyebrows raised in amused query.

‘I don’t know…’ Zoe hesitated.

At that moment they arrived in the little piazza where she had lunched with Alex Knight at da Luigi. Before she could say anything, Massimo was half way across the piazza heading for the restaurant. He stopped outside and looked at the menu displayed in the window. He turned back to Zoe who was following him reluctantly.

'Zoe, do you know this little old place? It looks interesting – the menu reads well.’

She was surprised that he would be interested in eating anywhere so ordinary and said, ‘Actually, I eat here quite often – it is very good…well, I think so anyway.’

‘Excellent, then shall we go in and see if they have a table?’

Massimo moved ahead of her and Zoe followed, only briefly thinking that she didn’t remember agreeing to eat with Massimo at all. Then, Luigi was greeting her enthusiastically and showing them to a table for two. The very same table she had shared with Alex. Massimo held her chair as she sat down and Fidele curled himself into a ball at her feet. Massimo excused himself and disappeared. Zoe looked at the familiar menu and tried to dispel the memories of the meal she had shared with Alex. Why did she keep going over and over the short time she had spent with him? Why was she so fascinated, even obsessed with the idea of seeing him again? Massimo returned to the table, freshly washed and brushed and leading Luigi who carried a tray with glasses and an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne.

‘This place is amazing!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘There’s a great wine list and a choice of several excellent French champagnes. Luigi was born in the hills near Rome – not far from my mother’s home town of Frascati. Amazing!’

Zoe smiled and accepted the tall, chilled glass of golden champagne. Oh yes, the mother. She had quite forgotten Massimo’s Mamma, but she was sure she would hear plenty more about her now.

Massimo raised his glass to her and said, ‘Cin cin! Let’s drink to friendship and a beautiful walk in the sunset.’ They clinked glasses and Zoe was relieved that Massimo seemed to have given up on romance. She in her turn went to wash the dust from her hands before the food arrived. She looked in the dark old mirror hanging above the wash basin and caught a smile playing around her lips. Maybe friendship with Massimo was not such a bad idea. Better than looking in a mirror that reflected a tear-stained face. She ran her damp fingers through her long hair in an attempt to smooth it down. Her cheeks were flushed from the energetic walk in the evening sun and she returned to the table ready to enjoy the rest of the evening in Massimo’s company. Massimo stood up as she reached the table and held her chair again. Zoe thanked him and sat down. There was a lot to be said for a young man well brought up by his mother. She reached for her napkin and found a dark red rose lying across it. She looked at Massimo in surprise.

‘How on earth did you retrieve one of the roses from that bouquet? It is one of them, isn’t it? They are so distinctive – so very dark and velvety and so perfumed.’ She raised the flower to her nose and breathed in the heavy scent.

‘Yes, one from the bouquet.’ Massimo smiled mysteriously. ‘I can make anything happen – haven’t you realised it yet? Black Baccara – they are the only roses beautiful enough for you. I would like to plant you a rose garden of them…’ At that point, Luigi arrived at the table and lit the candle. The dinner was becoming impossibly romantic. Massimo reached across the table and enclosed her hand in his as she held the rose.

‘I can’t help telling you that I love you, cara Zoe.’ He leaned across the table, his head close to hers. ‘I won’t give up, you know.’

Zoe moved her head slightly aside and at that very moment the door to the restaurant opened and Alex Knight walked in. Larger than life – larger and more alive than she remembered him. Their eyes met in recognition and for one moment she saw his face register shock, and then he smiled sadly and turned to hold the door for his companion. Into the restaurant walked one of the most beautiful women that Zoe had ever seen. Not pretty but truly beautiful. She moved gracefully into the small restaurant, ahead of Alex, confident and serene. She simply radiated loveliness. Zoe’s head reeled with shock and she felt a sharp pain as a rose thorn pierced her finger. She realised she was clutching the flower tight in her hand. The pain brought her back to reality, the reality of dodging a kiss from Massimo. He had noticed her sharp movement and was studiously studying the tiny pinprick of blood that had formed on her finger. He was talking but Zoe was deaf to his words. All she could think was how well Alex and his beautiful companion looked together. They were now seated at a table near the window and talking animatedly. Alex’s slate-grey hair was close to the sleek black hair of the woman. As close as her own head had been to Massimo’s when Alex had seen them. Zoe closed her eyes momentarily and felt a pain so sharp that the rose could have pierced her heart. She opened her eyes again, determined not to look in the direction of Alex. She smiled across at Massimo and caught the end of what he had been saying.

‘… and we could meet up with Flavio there, if you’d like to?’

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Zoe replied.

‘Are you all right, cara? You have suddenly gone quite pale.’ Massimo looked at her anxiously.

Zoe grabbed at the opportunity to excuse her odd behaviour.

‘Actually, it’s so hot in here – I do feel a bit faint.’

‘Drink some water. That’s the trouble with these small trattorie – no air-conditioning. Would you like to go somewhere else?’

‘Oh no, Luigi will bring the pasta soon. I expect I’m hungry too!’ Zoe tried to smile at Massimo but it was an enormous effort. In one way she wanted to run from the restaurant and in another she couldn’t leave. She was irresistibly drawn to watching the couple in the window. Now they were looking at the menu together, joking and laughing as though they knew each other well, very well indeed. Then, Luigi arrived with the pasta and Zoe forced herself to begin to eat. The first few mouthfuls stuck in her throat but then it became easier. She couldn’t believe how rude she was being to Massimo. She must make an effort – none of this was his fault.

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