Kate Fitzroy - Dreams Of Tuscany

Zoe looked doubtfully at the dog sound asleep on the sofa. Fidele didn’t look like a guard dog. Then she asked, ‘But why did Serena think that made you an idiot? It was very kind of you – if unnecessary.’

‘And then I kill the three birds with one stone – is English idiom, no?’ Paolo smiled nervously.

‘Yes but it’s normally two birds, Paolo. Why three birds? Anyway I am losing count of your great ideas. Just tell me the rest of your story.’

‘Well, when this Mr. Knight phoned after you left this morning – he phoned to ask if you can make earlier the appointment. I tell him you on your way and then, then – I don’t know why but I think it make you safer if – then I…’ He faltered to a stop.

‘Go on, Paolo – what did you do next?’ Zoe looked at him sternly.

‘Then…well, then I tell this Mr. Knight that you are my wife!’

That night Zoe lay awake, her window wide open, listening to the unceasing noise of the cicadas. In her head she played back her lunchtime conversation with Alex Knight. Over and over again she went through all that he had said. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. She remembered how he had reacted when she had mentioned ‘her boss’. Of course, he had thought she was talking about her husband. Zoe flung herself back on the bed in exasperation. And it was no wonder that he hadn’t made any moves…he was a decent guy who didn’t play around with other people’s wives. Zoe rolled onto her stomach and angrily pummelled her pillow, groaning in exasperation at Paolo’s kind attempt to protect her. Supposing Alex had gone away with the idea that she was the sort of wife who would play around? Looking into his eyes, blushing and behaving like a schoolgirl – Zoe squirmed at the thought. How could she let him know that she wasn’t married to Paolo or anyone else for that matter? She could hardly send an email saying ‘by the way I’m not married!’ Zoe curled up into a small ball and pulled the sheet over her head. Then she heard a soft movement in the darkness. She flung the sheet back and looked quickly around the room. Fidele had made his way softly up the stairs and was lying in the moonlight at the foot of her bed.

‘Fidele, you are the most beautiful dog in the world.’ she said aloud. She heard his tail thump the floor and then she fell into a deep sleep.

The next day Zoe was glad to be busy, too busy to think about Alex Knight, although she constantly checked her mobile for a message from him. She spent the entire morning in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Partridge, who had decided the mill house was the perfect property. They were pleasant enough company and Zoe was well-accustomed to falling in with people’s dreams. Alex Knight was not the only one with an Italian dream. As lunchtime drew near she knew the Partridges were hoping she would join them for an extended lunch. When they invited her she accepted. Why not? But she steered them away from da Luigi – that would be too much. When they suggested eating at the hotel where they were staying, Zoe agreed happily. The Hotel Bellapensieri was a wonderful hotel set in the peaceful hills to the south of Siena.

As they pulled into the entrance to the car park Zoe drew her breath in sharply. Could it be? In the far corner of the car park a shining, pale blue Mercedes coupé was just pulling out of the exit. Surely she had seen the distinctive dark, grey head of a tall man in the driver’s seat?

As she walked across the car park she asked the Partridges, ‘Do you know if that was a Mr. Knight just leaving the car park in the Mercedes?’ Zoe tried to make her voice as casual as possible.

‘Yes, it looked like it – we met him last night and had a brandy with him after dinner. Nice chap!’ Mr. Partridge said, cheerily.

‘So nice…’ agreed Mrs. Partridge, ‘and so talented. It must be wonderful to be able to write like that.’

‘Oh is he a writer?’ Zoe asked.

‘Oh yes, he writes film scripts,’ Mr. Partridge replied. ‘Must be worth a bob or two, but a very modest bloke. In the end, he gave us the names of quite a few of his film scripts and even we had heard of them, hadn’t we, Linda…although we’re not great film buffs. Real stick-at-homes we are, aren’t we, Linda?’ Mr. Partridge put his arm through his wife’s and they smiled at each other in contentment.

‘We like our own company and just a few books,’ said Mrs. Partridge, smiling at Zoe. ‘And now of course we spend a lot of time with our grandchildren. That’s why we want the mill house…for big family holidays. Our youngest daughter can’t be much older than you and she already has four children. We’re so proud of them aren’t we, John?’

The Partridges smiled at each other again in mutual satisfaction as they arrived in the cool entrance hall of the hotel and the conversation continued with Mrs. Partridge listing her grandchildren. With all the will in the world, there was no way that Zoe could reasonably turn the conversation back to Alex Knight. Why had he told her he was going to the airport last night?

Later that night the question returned to haunt her. She lay in the dark once again, turning over all the possibilities and even the most unlikely reasons for him to have lied to her. She flinched as the word resounded in her head, but he had lied. She spoke the hard word aloud, ‘Liar!’

Fidele, stretched out at the foot of the bed, sighed and seemed to give a yawn of agreement.

Well, she wasn’t going to spend another night tossing and turning and thinking about the elusive Mr. Knight. She turned on the reading light and for a moment watched the insects drawn to the outside of the mosquito netting in the window frame. Suddenly she felt an unexpected pang of something that could be homesickness. Not that she could actually miss home as such. Her parents lived in a beautiful Georgian house on the outskirts of Bath, surrounded by antique furniture and works of art. A beautiful house but she could not call it home. Maybe it was home to her parents. They lived a calm and elegant life together. A life that had never truly accepted a child. Zoe, a single child, had been sent away to school at what seemed to be the first possible opportunity. Her holidays had been spent at a number of foreign holiday resorts, skiing or by the sea. Au-pairs, ski instructors, tennis coaches and tutors played major roles in the holiday fun but her mother and father remained in the background. No, she couldn’t possibly be missing home. Maybe if her parents had been like the Partridges, exuding love and the warmth of a real family life, it would have been different? It must just be the heat that was making her long for the cool of England. She reached for her book and looked at the cover: Pride and Prejudice . She was definitely not in the mood for anything involving a romantic hero. She took another book from the bedside table. Early Italian Art . She sighed and practically threw it across the room. Did absolutely everything have to remind her of Alex Knight? Fidele shifted uneasily on the rug at the foot of the bed.

‘Sorry, Fidele, did I wake you again?’

The dog gave one of his noisy yawns that sounded just like a disapproving groan.

‘I know, it’s time to get to sleep and time to stop talking aloud, too!’ She turned on the bedside radio and soon the rapid Italian voices debating politics bored her to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

Another day, scorching hot but at least it was Sunday. Zoe awoke late and moved lazily around her small town house, making coffee and listening to music. She knew better than to eat breakfast when she was going to lunch with Paolo and his wife. Food would take up the rest of the day.

As she turned the jeep into the steep, rough road that led up to the Santinis’ sprawling farmhouse, Fidele stood up on the back seat and began an excited whimpering. As soon as the wheels stopped turning he leapt over to the front seat, jumped across Zoe, and galloped into the house. Zoe looked down and realised she had a large, dusty paw print in the middle of her white linen skirt.