T A Williams - What Happens In Tuscany...

At the same time, there were, inevitably, a number of disadvantages to living in the great house. In particular, as Katie had already discovered, there was no mobile phone reception and, worse still, no internet connection. In fact, there was no sign of a computer in the whole place. Although Victoria invited her to use the landline whenever she wanted, she only made a short call to her parents. What she really wanted to do was to call Jenny, to recount the wonders of this amazing place and to describe the unique person for whom she was now working. She had to admit that it would also be rather nice to call Martin to see how he was and just to chat to him, but she could hardly do that from the venerable Bakelite telephone in the study with Victoria standing by.

Otherwise, as far as she could work out, the only other telephone was in the kitchen, under the watchful eye and curious ears of Mrs Milliner. Mrs Milliner was the housekeeper, cook and butler, and clearly responsible for the daily running of the household. She was kind and friendly, but there was no way Katie could have the sort of cosy chat she wanted with Jenny or Martin under these circumstances. After two days, Katie resorted to snail mail and wrote a long and fairly incoherent letter to Jenny, which was taken by Mr Mackintosh to the post box at the station in Nymptonford.

But, above all, what Katie found truly fascinating was her young employer. As the days passed, Katie slowly began to build up a clearer picture of Victoria’s background. It was bizarre, to say the least. Gradually, as they got to know and trust each other, Victoria added more flesh to the bones of her past.

One of Victoria’s favourite places, Katie soon discovered, was the boathouse down by the lake. While the July weather stayed fine, the two girls got into the habit of going there most afternoons. It was down here, more than anywhere else, that Victoria felt most relaxed and most willing to talk.

‘My mother died when I was ten.’ In answer to something she read in Katie’s face, she explained. ‘They were both involved in a car accident, on the corniche above Monaco, not far from where Princess Grace died. Father survived, but he spent ages in intensive care in Monte Carlo before they let him travel home. He had received a massive blow to the head in the crash and he was never the same again. Ask Mrs Milliner. She knew him before the accident. His behaviour became very peculiar. Above all, he became increasingly,’ she looked across at Katie, ‘some would say, obsessively, concerned for my security.’

‘You weren’t with them?’

‘No.’ Victoria raised her eyebrows as if that were the most ridiculous idea. ‘Me travel abroad? I hardly ever left Iddlescombe. Do you know something?’ Katie caught a look of great sadness in her eyes. ‘I sometimes used to think I was in a prison here. All right, it was a very comfortable, spacious prison, but a prison all the same.’

‘You mean he kept you locked up here?’ Katie was appalled.

Now, along with the sadness, there was a spark of anger in Victoria’s eyes. ‘Not in so many words, but in effect yes, I was a prisoner here. You know, Katie, I never went to school or university.’ She was gripping the armrest of her deckchair so tightly that Katie could see her wrist shaking with the tension. She reached across and laid a calming hand upon Victoria’s and felt her fingers slowly relax.

‘But you’re clearly very well educated.’ Katie was finding this hard to digest. ‘You know all about history, art, all kinds of stuff. And I did a languages degree at university and your French and Italian sound better than mine.’

‘ Grazie tanto! ’ Victoria allowed herself a wry smile. ‘I’ve had a succession of really good tutors all my life. The Italian was from Signorina Belluno and the French came from Mademoiselle Lemarchand. I’ve had history teachers, literature teachers, you name it. Of course, what I haven’t had is much in the way of scientific tuition.’ She could see the surprise on Katie’s face. ‘I’m a girl, you see. My father was very, very old-fashioned. As far as he was concerned, girls shouldn’t involve themselves with science. I’ve got all sorts of useless knowledge. I can recite the names of all the popes from St Linus to the present day if I concentrate hard, but I couldn’t tell you how jet propulsion works.’

‘Linus?’ The name sounded familiar to Katie. ‘Wasn’t Linus one of Snoopy’s friends?’

‘Snoopy?’ Victoria looked up. ‘Who’s Snoopy?’

Katie stared back at her blankly. ‘You haven’t heard of Snoopy? But what books did you read as a kid?’

‘Oh, you know, the usual; Black Beauty, Alice in Wonderland , that sort of thing.’

‘And Harry Potter ?’

‘Now I have heard of him. I’ve often seen him mentioned in the newspaper, but I’ve never read any of the books. And you still haven’t told me who Snoopy was.’

Katie came to a decision. ‘Victoria, we need to go shopping. We need to get you some books, and not just about jet propulsion.’

‘Shopping?’ There was a different note in Victoria’s voice now. Maybe excitement. ‘You mean we go to Exeter or somewhere to buy things?’

‘Exeter’ll be good for starters. We’ve got to get you some books. Anything else you want?’ There was a pause before Victoria replied, and there was no disguising the timidity in her voice. ‘Erm, I was wondering if maybe I should buy some clothes.’

Katie beamed. This was saving her a potentially difficult conversation. She had been dreading having The Clothes Talk. In the days since getting to Iddlescombe, she had only ever seen Victoria in riding clothes, formal clothes or cotton frocks. And the sort of cotton frocks she wore looked like something out of Goldilocks’ wardrobe. And as for shoes…

‘Listen, why don’t we start with a trip to Exeter? It’s only about an hour away. We could head off one morning and make a day of it. Maybe have lunch in a pub somewhere?’ And , she thought to herself, find somewhere with mobile reception .

‘We could do that?’ There was wonder in Victoria’s voice. There was a pause before she repeated her words, this time in stronger tones. ‘We could do that. We can do that.’ She caught Katie’s eye. ‘I’m twenty-five years old and I can do what I want. I keep forgetting that. Yes, we can and we must go shopping. Thank you, Katie.’

Katie was composing a shopping list in her head. ‘Books, clothes, shoes. One thing I haven’t seen here is a computer. I didn’t think there were many households left these days without one. Have I been looking in the wrong places?’

Victoria shook her head. ‘No, you’re right, no computer here.’ She hesitated, uncertain how to explain. Katie thought she knew the answer and offered a suggestion.

‘Your father wasn’t a fan of technology?’

‘I think that’s understating the situation.’ Victoria smiled weakly. ‘He hated, loathed and detested what he described as the insanity of modernity. Have you seen his collection of cars? Ask Mackintosh to show them to you some time. There isn’t one under fifty years old.’ Victoria lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Mackintosh is a marvel, managing to look after them as he does, but sometimes, particularly in winter, the tractor’s about the only vehicle that’ll start.’

‘So no modern things at all?’ Katie realised there was another item, apart from a computer, that she hadn’t spotted yet. ‘What about a television?’

Victoria shook her head again. ‘They bought one in 1953 so they could all watch the coronation. We’ve still got it somewhere. Of course it doesn’t work now.’

‘No TV? So if I said Eastenders or Coronation Street to you…?’