CATHERINE GEORGE - A Rumoured Engagement

‘And a knack of knowing what people want so you can supply it.’

‘True.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Do you realise, Saskia Ford, that you said something very important just now?’

‘Did I? What, exactly?’

‘You said you used to resent me.’

Saskia said nothing for a moment, her eyes on the ageless beauty of the scenery unfolding before her. ‘So I did,’ she said slowly. ‘Since you arrived at the Villa Rosa you’ve been very kind. Different, somehow. Especially last night. I feel better since I got all that stuff off my chest.’

‘Good.’ He glanced at her again. ‘Do you want me to put the hood up? Your haircut is suffering a bit.’

‘No fear!’ She laughed, thrusting her hands through her streaming hair. ‘All my cobwebs are blowing away.’

Luke drove her to one of the car parks below the town, and Saskia went off on foot to explore, promising to meet him in the Piazza della Cisterna at midday.

San Gimignano, the ‘city of beautiful towers’, had retained only fourteen of the original seventy-six, but otherwise looked much the same in the morning sunshine as it had done since the thirteenth century. Saskia’s previous visit here had been a brief one with her grandparents several years before, and she was glad to find the hilltop town unchanged. The two main streets still retained their medieval feel, with shops displaying boars’ heads and the local wine, others selling hand-woven fabrics and locally made ceramics. There were galleries selling jewellery and paintings, and here and there was an artist seated at an easel, painting watercolour views of the town.

She strolled through the streets, stopping to browse in the tempting shops every so often, wondering if Luke would fancy a visit to the duomo after lunch. There was a wealth of frescoed paintings to be seen in there, she knew, but exploration was better done in company in the awe-inspiring cathedrals of Italy.

Saskia lingered to watch one of the artists at work, and bought a watercolour for her mother and Sam. She chose a view of the many-towered skyline of San Gimignano, with a cleverly executed backdrop of the countryside beyond, exchanged a few words with the artist, then wandered on again and bought wild boar pâté in a dark cavern of a shop, postcards for the twins in another.

The entire town was a living museum, and it was pleasure enough just to wander through the streets in the cool sunshine, looking at the beauty of the ancient buildings, none of which dated from later than the fourteenth century.

When she reached the Piazza della Cisterna, Saskia ordered mineral water at one of the restaurants, and sat down to write her postcards at a table outside so she could keep an eye out for Luke. She scribbled away busily, and prompt to the minute, as midday began to toll, a shadow fell across her table, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her.

‘Hello, Sassy. Have you been waiting long?’

‘I was early, and who could mind hanging about in a place like this?’

‘What have you been doing?’

‘Just browsing in the shops, mainly. But I got this for Mother and Sam from the artist working near the duomo .’ She took out the watercolour to show him. ‘And I bought a present for you, too.’

Luke eyed her for a moment, surprised. ‘A present?’ he said guardedly.

Saskia chuckled, and handed him the pâté. ‘I hope you like it.’

His lips twitched as he thanked her gravely. ‘My favourite,’ he assured her. ‘Come on, I’m hungry. A gentle little stroll will take us to a place where we can eat under a pergola of vines.’

Because it was early they were given the best table in the restaurant, with a panoramic view of central Tuscany to add to the pleasure of the food.

‘But no wine at this time of day for me,’ said Saskia as she studied the menu.

‘We shall both keep to virtuous mineral water,’ he agreed. ‘The driver will content himself with thoughts of wild boar pâté for supper.’

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