Kate Fitzroy - Dreams Of Tuscany

‘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!’