Lucy Gordon - Italian Attraction

Jenny tried to smile but her tired eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t think I’ve slept for weeks,’ she admitted shakily.

‘Come on.’ As Maisie helped Jenny to her feet she found herself thinking that she would never have believed she’d be in this position a week ago—a strange country, a strange house and she was providing the shoulder to cry on. Life had suddenly gone topsy-turvy and it was all down to Blaine. She didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or blame him.

The next morning Maisie awoke to the sweet scent of honeysuckle and jasmine drifting in through the open window, and after she had padded across the room and peered out she saw the whole of the back of the house was engulfed in the rich-smelling flowers. ‘What a gorgeous place.’ She breathed the words out into the perfumed air and felt like pinching herself to make sure it was all real. This time yesterday she had been in a grotty little bedsit in London; today she was in another world.

After a quick shower she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light top, looped her hair into a high ponytail and was downstairs and in the breakfast room by ten to six. It was only as she was greeted by Liliana and led to the table where two places were set that she realised she might have committed her first faux pas. It was clear Liliana did not eat with the family and she had all but invited herself to share breakfast with Blaine’s mother. She was employed to do a job the same as the housekeeper. Why hadn’t she considered she might eat separately with Liliana the night before?

When Jenny joined her a moment later Maisie knew she had to set the record straight immediately. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She stared at Blaine’s mother in an agony of embarrassment. ‘I should have realised I wouldn’t eat in here with you. I just wasn’t thinking last night.’

‘Oh, Maisie.’ Jenny’s hand had gone to her breast. ‘I thought you were going to say you’d changed your mind and wanted to go home. Of course you will eat with me and Guiseppe when he comes home. We’ve been trying to persuade Liliana to sit with us for thirty-five years, but she’s adamantly stuck in the old ways and won’t budge from her kitchen.’

Jenny plumped herself down at the table, her voice soft when she added, ‘For the first time in ages I slept well last night. I’m sure it was because my mind was at rest about things here and I knew I could concentrate on Guiseppe without having to dash back and forth from the hospital.’

Maisie smiled. Blaine’s mother was a darling.

The two women talked through everything they needed to while they ate, and then Maisie and Liliana waved Jenny off and went back into the house, Liliana to see to her kitchen and housework, Maisie to see to the indoor pets and then the horses. Jenny had promised she would ring as soon as she knew Guiseppe was all right but it was almost evening before the call came.

Liliana answered the telephone and when after a moment or two the elderly housekeeper burst into tears, Maisie stared at her, horrified. Liliana passed her the phone before throwing her apron over her head and rocking herself to and fro. ‘Hallo?’ Maisie didn’t know what to say. ‘Is that you, Jenny?’

‘It’s Blaine.’ The deep rich voice was dry. ‘My father is doing very well after what turned out to be a bigger operation than they’d thought. I think you need to make Liliana a cup of coffee with something strong in it.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Maisie was so relieved her legs felt weak. ‘I’m so pleased, Blaine. Give your mother and Roberto my best wishes.’

‘How are you coping that end? Any problems?’

Maisie thought of the frenzied pace of the veterinary practice where she had worked and the hundred and one jobs, all urgent, which would pile up the minute her back was turned. Being here in Italy was a holiday in every sense of the word. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Tell your mother the children are all fed and watered and the dogs had a lovely long walk this afternoon.’

‘You took all seven out?’ he asked incredulously.

It felt good to have surprised him. ‘Of course,’ she said airily. ‘They were as good as gold.’

‘Even Humphrey?’

‘Especially Humphrey,’ she said firmly. The little mongrel was already her favourite. ‘He’s a perfect angel once you understand him.’

She thought she heard a slight groan before he said, ‘I feel like I’m talking to my mother.’

Well, that wasn’t very nice. ‘Goodnight, Blaine,’ she said evenly.

‘Goodnight, mia piccola.’

His voice had been very soft and Maisie hesitated a moment before she replaced the receiver. She glanced at Liliana, who had stopped crying long enough to wipe her eyes with her apron. ‘Come on,’ she said quietly. ‘Blaine says you’ve got to have a cup of coffee with a kick in it.’

‘Scusi? A kick?’

‘A spot of brandy,’ Maisie clarified. ‘And, before you say no, I’m going to make one for myself too.’

Somehow, though, she felt it was going to take more than the odd measure of brandy to help her deal with her increasingly disturbing feelings about life in general and Blaine in particular over the next weeks.

The fact that Liliana allowed her to make the coffee told Maisie the little elderly woman was even more shaken up than she appeared. It had only taken Maisie an hour or two to understand that the kitchen was utterly and totally Liliana’s domain; even Blaine’s mother had tiptoed about in it that morning before she had left the house. But Liliana was a softie under her capable and somewhat gruff exterior, Maisie thought, as she handed the older woman her coffee, which had a double shot of brandy in it. She had obviously been worried to death about Guiseppe and had been hiding her concern most of the time; hence the reaction when she’d learnt he was going to be all right.

Liliana said much the same as they sipped their coffee together on the veranda, Maisie digging into a batch of the wonderful sticky sugary pastries Liliana had made earlier that day. ‘I needed to be strong for Jennifer,’ Liliana explained as they looked out over the warm summer evening, the heady smell of honeysuckle and jasmine and climbing roses heavy in the slumbering air. ‘You understand? To be her, how do you say it, her rock?’

Maisie nodded. ‘Yes, I understand,’ she said, wondering what magic Liliana used to make such incredible melting pastry.

‘She is a good woman, and brave, but she has had so much to contend with.’

Maisie nodded again. It was clear Liliana needed to talk and to have her listen, and with the plate of pastries within reach she had no argument with that. The dogs were all spread out around their feet, Humphrey in prime position on her foot as usual, waiting for any crumbs that might fall. Like the cats, they knew enough to keep very quiet and still around Liliana unless they wanted to be shooed off.

‘It hit both of them very hard, the trouble with Blaine. He tried to shield his mother, of course, but …’ Liliana shrugged, her thin black-clad shoulders eloquent.

Maisie pricked up her ears. Liliana obviously thought that as a friend of the family—as she had been described, apparently—she knew more than she did. She wondered if she ought to warn Liliana that she didn’t know anything about Blaine—it would be the right thing to do. Morality warred with curiosity. No contest. Maisie bit into another pastry and looked sympathetic.

‘Not that I thought Francesca was right for him.’ Liliana had lowered her voice as though she thought if she spoke too loudly it would reach Blaine’s ears umpteen miles away. ‘She was a sweet girl, of course, well brought up, but just because the pair were childhood sweethearts it does not follow that all will be well. But Jennifer and Guiseppe being Francesca’s godparents, and the two families such friends …’ She sighed. ‘My poor Blaine. Tragic.’