From Italy With Love

‘So why leave you a bloody car?’

For a moment she stared bemused at him, but then he hadn’t had much to do with Miles and had only been to the house on the day of the funeral.

She wanted to smile but worried Robert would take it the wrong way. The whole will was so typical of Miles and if she were totally honest, deep down inside, a tiny almost invisible speck of her was ever so slightly amused and intrigued by the idea of driving a high performance sports car as recognisable as a Ferrari across Europe. Something most people would never expect dull old Laurie Browne to do.

His shoulders sagged and his face twisted in disgust. ‘Bummer. Thought you might get something decent … with you being a blood relative …

‘So who gets the house?’ he demanded, a trace of belligerence tinging his voice. ‘That must be worth a fortune … at least 4 mill current market value. Especially with that amount of land.’

What amount of land? Laurie stared at him.

‘Forty acres! Can you imagine? You could flog half of it and still have loads. And it’s all prime development land.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t tell me, all the ex-wives cleaned him out. Bet he was in debt up to his eyeballs. All flash no cash. I suspected as much. I should have known it was too good to be true when you got the letter. Good job we aren’t planning a fancy wedding.’

Laurie gripped her tea mug wondering if it might shatter if she held it any harder. She felt as fragile as the china under her fingers. Grief warred with anger but all she could summon was utter weariness. No wonder he’d been so understanding when she’d finally explained she wanted more than a quickie ceremony at lunch time at the registry office.

‘Ron didn’t say anything about the house. I’ve no idea what’s happening to that. I don’t know what will happen to it. He just talked about my bequest.’

‘Bequest. Is that what they’re calling it now? Hardly a bequest, leaving you his old car. Sorry Laurie, love. You’ve been left with a right old lemon. Not even that generous is it; not like he’s using it now. Don’t suppose he left you the money to tax and insure it. So what kind of car? It’s not as if you even drive. I suppose we could flog it, get a bit of money for it.’

Laurie shook her head, a half-smile hovering on her lips at the thought of the ‘old car’. ‘Actually, it’s one of his classic cars.’ Miles had loved that car. ‘I helped him track it down.’ Despite being gadget mad, her uncle wasn’t actually very good at using them and she’d helped him research and find the Benelli family who’d been the last known owners of that particular model.

Robert looked even more disappointed. ‘You’re kidding. That’s a white elephant then. You won’t be able to keep it.’

Uncharacteristic temper flashed and Laurie bristled. ‘Why not?’

‘Don’t be daft. What for?’

He laid a hand over hers as if to soften the words but she found the gesture patronising and overbearing. ‘It’d be a complete money pit for one thing. Will cost a fortune to run. God only knows what it would cost to insure and can you imagine the repair bills? We couldn’t afford to run it. Besides it’s probably worth something, if we sell it.’

Funny how things went so quickly from you to we.

‘Thing is …’ she heard her voice, it sounded cool and brittle, ‘the condition of the will is that I’m not allowed to sell it—’

‘What?’ Robert slammed down his mug and tea splashed across the table. ‘I bloody hope he’s left you something for the upkeep then. That’s crap. What a bloody cheek.’ His voice tailed off as he stared angrily at her.

She returned his gaze, her chin lifting and her eyes narrowing. Controlled fury pounded, shocking her. Losing your temper was something other people did. Other people who let emotion rule without thinking of the consequences or taking responsibility for the fallout. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. ‘If you’d let me finish,’ she said slowly, feeling the control slipping back into place, ‘I can explain.’

Folding his arms, Robert leant back in his chair raising one eyebrow. She refused to be cowed by the deliberately patronising stance he’d adopted and waited a moment or two, holding his gaze until he dropped his arms.

‘Sorry,’ he said sulkily.

‘I can sell the car—’

‘I just thought you said you couldn’t.’

His face reminded her of an unhappy toddler complete with sulky lower lip.

‘Make up your mind.’

‘I can sell it …’she paused. In Ron’s office she’d wondered how he’d take it, now uncharacte‌ristically she no longer cared, ‘once I’ve been to Italy in it first.’

‘What?’

‘Miles wanted the car to have one last outing back to its birthplace.’

‘So the old boy was bonkers then.’

‘No!’ She sighed. How did you explain Miles to someone like Robert who was as conventional as they came? Sitting in his winged leather chair offering her cigars and port, teaching her to taste wine, change spark plugs and polish chrome. ‘Just a bit sentimental about his cars … and this one was his favourite.’

Robert shook his head and leaned onto the table. ‘And how was he expecting that to happen? We’d have to take a couple of days off work. Use up our holiday allowance.’

Make a change from decorating then, she thought, tracing the track of the wood grain on the table in front of her.

‘You don’t expect me to drop everything to do that do you? You know what it’s like at work at the moment.’

‘No of course not,’ said Laurie, gnawing at her lip, she knew how difficult things were at the office at the moment. Poor Robert hated his boss, who’d pretty much slept her way to promotion, leap-frogging him, and now took all the credit for the work he did.

She leaned forward and touched his hand. She still had to tell him the worst bit.

Robert shook his head in disgust. ‘What was your uncle thinking? You can’t even drive to Dunstable let alone across Europe.’

Laurie felt the blush of temper staining her cheeks and fought again to tamp it back.

‘Whatever. It’s still a ridiculous idea. Those old cars drink petrol. It’ll cost an absolute fortune. Cost more in petrol than we’d get selling it. And think of the practicalities. We’d have to pay for hotels, food, the ferry crossing. What if it breaks down?’

Like she hadn’t been thinking that ever since Mr Leversedge had been through the exact conditions that went with her inheritance. It was scaring the crap out of her. The practicalities …

Robert shook his head. ‘No, it’s out of the question. It wouldn’t be worth it. I mean, at most, what’s this car going to be worth? A couple of grand.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea but that’s not the point.’

‘Well enlighten me, what is the point?’

She was sure he didn’t mean it to sound quite so disparaging when he adopted that low, superior tone.

‘Uncle Miles asked me to do it. He was good to me when I was younger.’

‘Good to you? That sounds dodgy.’

‘Robert!’ she said snatching her hand away. ‘Before my parents split up it was hell at home; it was a miracle we had a single plate left in the place. Going to Miles’ house got me away from all that during the school holidays.’

Robert shrugged. He thought her childhood odd but then he’d come from a respectable, normal family with parents who’d celebrated their silver wedding anniversary, two point two children, a dog and a cat. It sounded perfect. And anyone accusing Mr and Mrs Evans of occasionally seeming a little dull were just uncharitable. There was a lot to be said for creating a stable home life for your children.

‘He wants me to take his favourite car on one last journey across Europe to its original home in Italy. He said he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.’

‘He didn’t trust anyone else?’ Robert shouted with laughter. ‘That’s a joke. What a heap of sentimental crap.’

‘It’s not …’ Laurie began hotly.

‘Although a couple of thousand in the bank, now that would be nice … we’d have to do some sums,’ his eyes scrunched in thought, ‘but if we drove all day, stayed in cheap motels we could probably make a profit.’

There was that ‘we’ again.

‘There are conditions.’ She interrupted. ‘I don’t just have to … get the car to Italy …’ The wince on her face must have finally communicated to him that not everything was that straightforward.

‘You have to go somewhere else too?’ He’d sobered now. ‘Sounds like a con to me? I might have known it would be too good to be true.’

‘Nothing like that, it’s just that I have to … take a certain route and complete it within a—’

‘What do you mean a ‘certain’ route?’ Robert frowned.

‘I have to visit certain places on the way and …’ she had his attention now, she dropped her voice, ‘it’s got to be done within three weeks.’

‘But that’s impossible!’ He began to pace the tiny kitchen, three strides and then back again. ‘There’s no way I can get that additional time off work.’ He wheeled again, another three paces. ‘Even if I explained to Gavin …. And you said they were looking to make redundancies at the library. You can kiss your job goodbye if you decide to go gallivanting off across Europe.’

Like she hadn’t been thinking that ever since Ron had spelled out the full terms of the complex will.

Laurie worried for the lino as he span on his heel and paced the length of the room … and she still hadn’t explained about Cameron Matthews.

He wheeled to face her. ‘You’ll have to contest the will. That’s it. He was clearly barking. It’s totally unreasonable to expect us to drive a car across Europe. That’s ridiculous. And frankly quite weird. Controlling from the grave. I don’t like it all. I’m sure no one in their right mind is going to enforce it.’

‘I’m pretty sure that Miles had it all worked out,’ her voice dropped as she remembered how ill he’d been the last time she’d seen him. ‘In fact …’ she stopped struggling to find the right words, ‘he … organised … er … a mechanic to … go along too.’

‘And this mechanic would just do it for … what? Love? Fresh air?’ Robert shook his head at her naivety.

He had a point. ‘I’m not sure … I think he’s being paid for it. I know it all sounds strange but Uncle Miles had lots of time to think it all through and Ron, Mr Leversedge, the solicitor helped him draft the will. I don’t think it can be contested.’

Robert lapsed into thought, his mouth twisting this way and that as if ruminating every angle.

After several minutes, he huffed out a sigh. ‘Hmph, I’m not very happy about it, but you’re probably right. He’s got us over a barrel but for that money it’s worth doing, I guess. You’ll have to do it on your own. At least if you’ve got this mechanic chappie along, if you break down or anything you won’t get ripped off.

‘There’s no point me giving up my job. It’s not like yours brings in much, so if we have to sacrifice that in the short term for the bigger gain, it’s a gamble worth taking … they might always take you back on or you could get an office job somewhere round here.’

‘But …’ She loved her job and he hated his. What about what she wanted?

‘And you’d be happy me going on my own in a car worth thousands?’ asked Laurie, wanting him to say it was out of the question and he would have to give up his job to come with her.

‘Don’t take that tone. Of course I’m not happy. The pension at the library is a good one. And with the cuts you might have got a payoff. I wonder if there’s any chance they might give you a sabbatical or offer you voluntary redundancy.’

She closed her eyes. The library was the only job she’d ever known; the thought of giving it up made her feel quite panicky. Leaving Leighton Buzzard made her feel sick. Once she was old enough to stop the obligatory trips to France to see her mother, she hadn’t been out of England for the last twelve years.

She thought of the envelope Ron had given her. And that wasn’t even the half of the problem.

Chapter 5

Cam gritted his teeth and gave the wheel nut another half turn. His shoulder ached like a bitch and he was cooking but he’d keep his T shirt on. He’d kept his promise and sorted Kerry’s car out today. He’d feel easier about her making the trip to Birmingham to see her Mum. Bald tyres were an accident waiting to happen. And it was him that pointed it out to her. Damn fool thing to do, as he then ended up offering to buy the new tyre and fit it for her. Last thing he needed was to encourage her.

That should do it. Rolling his aching shoulder he hauled himself to his feet and wiped his grimy hands down his jeans. Despite breaking his shoulder over five years ago, it still hurt like a bitch every now and then.

From inside the house that butted up next to his, he could hear Josh, Kerry’s three-year-old revving up with an unhappy, I need food and sleep cry. No wonder she looked so tired all the time. It had to be hard work raising Josh alone.

But there was a difference between being neighbourly and playing Daddy, and despite the signals she’d been sending his way, he had no intention of signing up for that gig. Thank God for Josh’s return from playgroup; the cleavage on display was most definitely for his benefit. He liked Kerry well enough, but a guy like him wasn’t the answer. He wasn’t the settling down type … well not anymore. He’d tried it once and look what a disaster that had been. He’d made himself and Sylvie, his ex-wife, miserable. Kerry needed someone who would stick around.

He shoved the spanner into the tool box and gently pumped the jack to bring the aging Nissan back to earth. At least he could help her out with a spot of mechanical engineering from time to time. And didn’t that just sound like one heck of a euphemism?

And it wasn’t lack of sex that made him feel irritable and scratchy, although it had been a while. Maybe scratching that itch might help. There were any number of women he could hook up with, a lot more sophisticated and less needy than young Kerry. Maybe he should make a few calls, anything to put off the one call he was going to have to make. Damn Miles. What the hell had he been playing at?

Cam gave a rueful grimace, tempted to pull out the white envelope which was still folded in four and rammed it in the back pocket of his jeans. The contents had offered some relief but he wasn’t home and dry by a long shot. He’d debated all week whether to phone Nick and forewarn him that the deal might not be a definite but he was loath to do that just yet. Miles had tied things up neatly. Cam had to ensure that Laurie completed the journey across Europe to the Ferrari factory in Maranello. If he did that, he got first dibs on buying the car at the price they’d agreed. All well and good as long as she made it all the way to Maranello. Piece of cake … provided she sold. Although that was pretty much a foregone conclusion but he needed to make damn sure. Closing the tool box, he gave the new tyre a quick kick. He hoped Kerry would gracefully accept the tyre and not want to pay him.

A slow grin crossed his face. And that was what he needed to do with Laurie. Make her overcome with gratitude and totally reliant on him to get her across Europe. So much so, that she would see how impractical it was to even consider keeping a car that kept breaking down, needed so much maintenance, was cold and draughty, and horribly expensive. There’d be no harm in charming her along the way, just to make sure she couldn’t say no to him at the end of the trip. The relationship with the boyfriend looked a pretty joyless affair. He was a bit of a knob − some male attention would probably be quite welcome. Cam was sure that despite the shaky meeting at the solicitors, he could turn things around − after all they’d had that shared moment of empathy in the church. She obviously had a bit of a sense of humour.

So maybe his intentions were less than honourable but what had Miles intended the outcome to be, if not for Cam to have the car in the end?

Tucking the jack away in the boot, he slammed down the door and pressed the automatic lock. On cue at the sound of the beep, Kerry appeared in the doorway, a tear-stained Josh at her hip.

‘You’ve finished,’ she beamed at him. ‘Can I feed you as a thank you? I’ve got a lasagne on the go and there’s plenty there.’

The right thing would have been to say no but a suitable excuse evaded him. Besides, this might be a good opportunity to talk to her and make it clear that he wasn’t in the market for any sort of relationship. Or he could show her what a real bastard he was and decline. Looking at her hopeful expression, he opened his arms to the boy.

‘Hand him over and I’ll keep him occupied while you do what you need to.’ He might be a bastard but he wasn’t cruel with it and the poor kid looked like she could do with a second pair of hands. There were still a couple of hours before his appointment to meet Miles’ niece.

With a grateful smile, she complied and led the way into the house.

Josh shoved a sticky hand into Cam’s hair, as he took him. ‘Come on fella, let’s give your ma a break.’ He went into the lounge to find the big box of toy cars. Within minutes he had the little boy in fits of giggles as he showed him how to race the cars, taking them on two wheels, running them up his arms, crashing them, complete with sound effects.

Hell, life was so much easier at this level. Could Miles have made his will more damn convoluted? Cagey devil.

‘Lunch’s ready. Sorry I haven’t got any beer or anything.’ Kerry shrugged apologetically. For a moment he thought about nipping next door to grab one from his own fridge. A cold lager would slip down a treat, but then it might change the tone of the meal.

‘I can’t stay too long. I’ve got an appointment and then I’m going to be going away for a couple of weeks, so I need to start sorting things out.’

‘Is it a job?’

‘Yeah, sort of.’ Cam pulled a face.

‘Doesn’t sound like you’re too keen?’

Frankly, he’d rather get married again. ‘It’s one of those jobs where there’s no pay off until you get to the end of the trip. Kind of puts all sorts of obligations on you. I prefer jobs where I agree the fee up front, do the job, get paid and everyone’s happy.’

‘Can’t you say no? I mean …’ She coloured up. ‘Well, you’re organising this big festival, I heard you’d got all the sponsorship in place. Do you need the money?’

He grinned, unembarrassed. ‘No secrets living in this village.’

Except she didn’t know that all the sponsorship was based on the Ferrari being the centre piece of the show. That it was the car that would elevate the event into a serious contender and attract the enthusiasts. If only he hadn’t got his brother involved. If he lost everything there was only him. He could make ends meet. If Nick lost his home … it would be all his fault.

The call of racing had long ceased for him but he had an affinity with cars. Eric liked to say that Cam could make engines sing and while he wasn’t sure about the romantic sentiment, he knew he was damn good with a rock solid rep which counted. Money was money. He only lived in the poky one up, one down because he hadn’t done anything about finding a proper place to live since the divorce.

‘So,’ she persisted, taking a moment to redirect Josh’s spoon of mashed potato which was being waved in the air. ‘Why don’t you say no?’

Because he couldn’t. He needed that car and he’d made a promise to Miles. He said he’d look after Laurie. End of story.

The house looked exactly the same as it had on the day of the funeral. For some reason he’d expected it to look faded and dusty, as if it had been mothballed. He lifted the heavy knocker and to his surprise Eric opened the door.

‘Ah Cam, good to see you.’ Eric ushered him in, just like old times, and the smell of roasting chicken drifted up the hall.

Cam shook the older man’s hand.

‘Still here? I thought you’d been pensioned off with the cottage.’

‘So did we, so did we. Turns out Miles had other ideas. Will asked us to stay on and run the big house for a couple of months. Cottage is ours to do with what we like but he wanted the house kept up.’

And it had been. Norah’s diligence meant it looked exactly as if Miles might stroll in any second.

Cam shook his head in wonderment. Typical Miles, no doubt leaving the place ticking over just in case anyone called by not realising he’d passed on. The house had always been open to all. You never knew who’d be visiting. Miles had an eclectic set of friends and acquaintances including wine merchants, wine growers, sommeliers from renowned restaurants, the racing set. Even his extended family of ex-wives and their new husbands, offspring and other relatives were equally welcome.

‘Norah has set tea up in the drawing room. Miss Laurie should be here soon. Taking her for a test drive, Ron says. And you’re going to go with her across Europe. You take care of her.’

Cam wasn’t sure whether Eric referred to the car or Laurie.

‘I’ve got the keys for the garage block for you; you know the codes.’ Eric handed over the slim set of keys. ‘You know where all the keys are kept in the cupboard. Which car are you taking out?’

Cam felt the car keys weighing heavily in his pocket. So much for presumption. That night he’d been so sure the Ferrari was his. He clenched the garage keys in his hand for a moment. Some people would kill for these. What was going to happen to the rest of the car collection? The Ferrari had been accounted for, but what about the others? Nothing had been said about them or the house. He’d always thought that despite Miles’ oft-aired view that cars had been designed to be driven, he might one day turn the place into a museum like Beaulieu.

Christ, if he was happy to put the best car of the lot into the hands of a complete amateur, he hadn’t changed his philosophy much.

Hopefully she wouldn’t wreck the engine. At least if he agreed to going along he could teach her to drive the damn thing properly … or, a slow smile slid across his face. Of course he could put her off driving it for good today. Frighten her a little. That would save the engine and ensure she sold the car. Miles’ will and its conditions had been prescriptive to say the least but as far as he could see, and he’d read it carefully to check, there was nothing in it that said specifically she had to drive the car. Maybe it was the legal jargon but the phrase relating to the car said Laurie had to take the car across Europe.

All he had to do was show her what a difficult car it was to drive. And how much damage you could do if you didn’t do it right.

It wasn’t as if it was all that underhand − after all, if he wanted to be a real bastard, he could play any number of dirty tricks. Get lost along the route … miss out a place or two. Ensure she missed a couple of postcards. Make the journey twice as long as it needed to be. Get her to give up en-route.

He couldn’t do that. He’d made a promise to Miles but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make Laurie face up to the huge impracticalities of owning and driving a high performance sports car. He suspected that she would be surprised by just how fast it could go. She’d probably never been in anything with an engine bigger than one point four litres. He smiled again. Today he’d take her out in the Ferrari, scare the shit out of her … and then, his mouth twisted wryly, he’d do the right thing. Sometimes he just hated that nagging conscience. He’d offer to drive it across Italy for her and show her along the way the realities and difficulties involved with owning and driving a classic car. She had to sell the car to him. There was no alternative.

Pleased with his plan, he swung down the corridor, keen to reach the stable block and reacquaint himself with the Ferrari.

Even if she hadn’t known where to go, the signature growl of the engine would have guided her. Like the roar of a dragon about to strike, the noise vibrated around the courtyard. Her skin reacted, goose bumps erupting, and she stood upright, the air reverberating around her.