Karen Aldous - Under a Tuscan Sky

Memories of sitting on the rug watching her grandfather build a frame of kindling came to her, the flesh of his fingers fearlessly feeding the flames with increasingly larger chunks of chopped wood until he was rewarded with a spread of flickering fire and heat. She knelt on the deep pile of the rug, feeling a sudden wave of warmth on her skin and a familiar touch, as though her nonna’s hand was stroking the back of her hair. She felt comforted, assured even that they were there and supporting her.

Minutes went by before Olivia stood and replaced the photo on the mantel beam.

‘I’d best get my phone and Alberto’s number, then get to work. There’s lots to do,’ she told the photograph firmly.

***

At one-thirty the following day, looking taller and even more handsome and more clean-shaven than she remembered, Alberto stood at the villa door. Her whole body trembled.

‘Ciao, beautiful lady.’ He beamed and took her hand before stepping forward to kiss both her cheeks. ‘I was so happy you called me. I don’t think I could have lasted much longer waiting to hear your voice.’

Without making too long a list of pros and cons, she’d carried out her promise, and producing a joyful smile, whilst trying to stay calm, she said, ‘Well, I’d pretty much made up my mind so I thought I should just do it. I’m looking forward to a tour. Step in while I lock up. What do you have planned?’

With the ground floor sparkling from all her rigorous cleaning and polishing, she left him to follow her as she closed the shutters and windows in the kitchen and sitting room.

‘First we’ll drive around to take in just some of the finest Tuscan landscape and then we’ll stop for lunch.’

‘Sounds wonderful.’ And so romantic, she wanted to add, but whilst she threw herself into scrubbing the floors this morning, she had promised herself that she would refrain from overloading her head with romantic notions and allow the relationship to gather its own momentum. She wouldn’t wish to reveal too much of herself at once and risk driving him away. She had done that too often and, in retrospect, must have sounded desperate.

The windows finally locked up, she grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around her neck, her fingers quivering as he followed her out the door and watched her lock it. ‘OK, I’m ready to go.’

He took her arm, and led her over to his car. Olivia’s eyes creased with curiosity as they approached the unusual compact car.

‘Don’t tell me. All electric?’

He opened the passenger door, revealing a clean and simple interior. ‘Isn’t she great?’ he said straightening his glasses. ‘I can plug her in anywhere. Her charger is on the car. And I can go up to two hundred kilometres for every full charge, which costs about two euros.’ Olivia recalled the wording on the business card as she sank into the passenger seat. ‘EV. Right. Electric Vehicle. Impressive. More than a hobby then?’

‘You could say, yes.’ Alberto leaned on the door, proudly. ‘I’ve always been gnarly as far as saving energy is concerned, probably a bit of a nerd. I was three when my dad built my first electric racing car, which was constantly running out of charge even with a huge great battery pack on the back. So, it’s fair to say we’ve come a long way since. We have five models so far, which are selling worldwide. It’s exciting.’

Running her fingers over the dash, she tapped it as she spoke. ‘That’s amazing. I imagine it’s very rewarding and I expect there’s a lot of resistance from petrol heads. Hats off to you, not only building the cars that will be a large part of the future but to have created demand around the world – just wow.’

He closed the door and when settled into the driver’s seat added, ‘It’s been challenging, and it is hard work, but worth it. We want to stay ahead with the technology. I’ve not had normal life for about fifteen years. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?’

Well that was a good start, she thought as he hit the start switch. He’s not just interested in his own world. As the car moved, the only sound was the tyres crunching on the gravel. ‘So quiet and so smooth.’

‘Yes, imagine how cool it will be when cars become autonomous. No driving, just lie back and relax.’

‘Really cool,’ she said levering back her chair and savouring the view.

‘So, we are straying. What is it you do?’

‘I’m an osteopath.’

Now he is going to wish he hadn’t asked, she thought, relishing the soft breeze skimming over her skin as they glided along country lanes, interspersed with narrow, steep hairpin bends. Olivia marvelled at the countless verdant rolling hills surrounding them, steeped in vines and the occasional villa along with landmark cypress trees and medieval hilltop villages. She was sure they were driving through heaven itself and, at some point, she would wake up and it would all be some mystical magical dream.

Chapter 5

Sweeping what seemed like miles of flagstone floor, Olivia was feeling very much like Cinderella early the next morning. Waking to her alarm that she’d set for six, she’d thrown on her scruffiest jeans and a T-shirt, still dreaming of her shining prince.

Her day with Alberto had been simply beautiful and everything he’d promised. Apart from driving through the breath-taking scenery, on – he claimed – the most romantic route in Tuscany, they drove through steep narrow roads of medieval cities and walled towns, some he told her founded by Etruscans: the Tuscans before the Romans, before he’d pulled into a charming hillside restaurant.

The waiter had shown them to a front table on the shaded terrace overlooking sun-drenched vineyards and there they had chatted like old friends as they soaked up the wine and many delicious Italian flavours such as the Caprese salad with sweet tomatoes and mozzarella splashed with fresh basil, ricotta ravioli pasta with a fusion of fresh herbs, and a delicious pork medallion with vegetables, all followed by a show-stopping and irresistible mille-feuille, or what Olivia recognized as a cream slice.

More than a dinner, it was a feast, and throughout Alberto entertained her with stories about his many failures as he attempted to find solutions to the numerous challenges involved in creating some of the greenest cars on earth. He also talked about how he enjoyed not only lecturing students, but engaging with them as well.

‘They believe anything is possible,’ he’d said, which is why he loved to learn from them as well as teach. Even younger kids had brought something to the table when he’d visited schools, whether ideas for fuelling future cars or designing them. She found it endearing that he drew so much of his inspiration from the younger generation, though was wholly ashamed at how little she knew about the subject herself.

She’d tried desperately to rack her brains for a name in car design and had said, ‘I’m sure Enzo Ferrari would have been wise to utilize wider resources for his research.’

Alberto had laughed, displaying beautifully strong teeth. ‘Ah, now that is interesting,’ he’d said, ‘and I won’t bog you down with all the detail but, although the industry was mainly selling speed and sex when Ferrari built and styled the V12 engine for racing, Enzo Ferrari also built a training institute for technicians; mainly for his company, but which still exists today. He was a big inspiration for me, in fact.

‘He realized too, I’m sure, that young minds can contribute to education and knowledge in the world of mechanics and physics. Perhaps it was because his son Alfredo – they called him Dino – died young. He was only in his early twenties when he died, and was still working to develop the 1500 cc V6 engine, which they released within a year. I know our cars sit on very different shelves in the supermarket,’ Alberto had said, providing her with a strong image of those magazines on top shelves in the shops, ‘but it’s not so dissimilar to your industry, really is it? A massage can have so many possible markets.’