NINETEEN
A MAN WITH STEELY blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair greets us at Milan airport. Gio obviously knows him because there’s a lot of smiling and hugging and rapid talking, which the Italian language app I’ve been cramming for the past twenty-four hours hasn’t remotely prepared me for.
‘Maisie?’ Gio beckons to me. ‘This is my dad.’
I jerk my head back in surprise. Helmut Bauer doesn’t look anything like the photos Ava showed me, although since they were mostly taken two decades ago, when he was still racing, I guess he wouldn’t. ‘ Buongiorno. Felice di conoscerla .’
‘ Piacere .’ Helmut gives me an approving smile. ‘Welcome to Lombardy. Have you visited Italy before?’
‘No, never.’
‘Then I’m delighted you’re here now.’ He extends an arm. ‘Let Gio carry the bags. I have a car parked outside.’
The car, as it turns out, is a yellow Lamborghini Urus. It’s parked in the waiting area, which seems like it must be illegal, but given the friendly waves of the security guards Helmut Bauer can clearly park wherever he likes.
‘It’s about an hour’s drive to the villa.’ Gio opens the car door for me.
‘That’s fine.’ I slide into the back seat. ‘You two catch up. I’ll just gaze out of the window.’
It takes an hour and ten minutes due to traffic, which both Gio and his father seem to take as a personal affront, but I easily ignore their complaints because after my tearful breakdown three days ago I’m not quite so overwrought any more. Now that I’ve had a chance to process my emotions, I’m pretty sure I overreacted due to a combination of stress and misplaced attraction and, now I know that, I’m fairly confident that I can go back to the way things were between us and enjoy this holiday without any further drama. At least I hope I can, otherwise this fake relationship is definitely over.
Besides, it’s impossible to feel bad when the scenery outside seems to get more and more stunning. It’s like we’re driving into the pages of a holiday brochure, full of yellow fields and traditional stone houses with red-tiled roofs. Even the sunshine seems mellower here. I read that Lombardy is the industrial and commercial heartland of Italy, but it’s all so picture perfect it’s hard to believe this is where people live and lead normal lives.
At last we turn on to a tree-lined drive that winds up a gentle incline, then along a ridge, amidst rows of seemingly endless vines. I want to ask Helmut to stop the car so that I can go running barefoot between them, but I manage to repress the urge, mostly because I’ve just spotted a large, sandy-coloured house on top of the hill and I’m speechless with wonder. It’s a fantasy of an Italian villa come to life, ancient yet timeless, classical yet modern, with white wooden shutters, carved stone balconies, solar panels across the roof and a mass of trailing plants growing over the walls.
Alarmingly, there are also six cars parked at the front.
‘ Papà …?’ Gio’s tone, which has been cheerful and relaxed most of the way here, turns heavy. ‘I thought I said no fuss.’
‘This is your mother’s version of that.’ His father shrugs. ‘She wanted to welcome you home properly.’
‘ Merda .’ Gio glances over his shoulder at me. ‘Sorry.’
I don’t answer because I’m not sure what to say, except that I just spent five hours on a plane, followed by another in a car, and I’m not feeling at my most fragrant or attractive.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like I have any choice but to face the crowd of people waiting on the terrace to greet us, so I quickly send texts to Dad and Ava, telling them I’ve arrived safely, and then brace myself.
‘Giovanni!’ A woman rushes down the steps the moment we pull up. It takes me a minute to place her because, unlike the red-haired Ginevra, hers is long and sable, but there’s no mistaking those luminous brown eyes.
‘Mamma.’ Gio embraces her warmly.
‘ Sono molto felice che tu sia a casa .’ She clasps his face in her hands.
‘In English, Mamma.’
She turns towards me and suddenly I understand why so many men have been obsessed with her. She’s even more alluring in person than she is on screen, slightly mischievous too, judging by the twinkle in her eyes as she smiles at me, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
‘ Ciao! I’m Maisie.’ I hold a hand out. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me.’
She ignores my hand, enveloping me in a big, Chanel-scented hug. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m so happy to finally meet you. Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone.’ She links an arm through mine. ‘The whole family is here.’
‘I told you I wanted to keep this quiet.’ Gio gives her a pointed look.
‘But I have!’
‘I promised Maisie a relaxing break.’
‘It’s fine,’ I interject. ‘I don’t mind, really.’
‘ See! ’
‘Mamma, she’s just being polite.’
‘That’s good. Manners are important.’ Morena twinkles again, as she leads me up the steps to the terrace. ‘This is Lorenzo, Giovanni’s younger brother.’ She points to a chestnut-haired man, about the same age as me, sitting on a wall at the top, watching the proceedings with a wry smile.
‘And this is their older sister, Adele, with her husband, Tommaso, and their daughter, Giulia.’ She indicates a younger version of herself, standing with a handsome blonde man and a little tousle-haired girl who stares suspiciously at me while sucking her thumb.
‘ Ciao .’ I wave.
‘And this is Nonna, my mother, and her sister, Valeria.’ She leads me towards two elderly ladies, sitting on a bench.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ I feel like I should curtsey.
‘And this is my sister, Ilaria, and her husband, Antonio.’
‘ Ciao ,’ I say again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Behind me, I can hear the sound of Gio being repeatedly hugged.
‘And these are their sons, Dario and Ricco.’ She points to two teenage boys who grin at me. ‘Giovanni tells me you’ve already met their sister, Nadia, in London. Now, please come inside, you must be tired.’
Morena leads me into a circular-shaped atrium that looks like something out of a fairy tale, complete with a white-and-terracotta-tiled floor and a small indoor fountain, then up a large, spiral staircase that curves round the entire wall. The sound of lightly running water makes it feel like being inside a large shell.
‘The family rooms are that way –’ Morena points to the right, as we reach the landing – ‘and the guest rooms are along here.’ We turn left, walking past several closed doors towards a bedroom at the far end. I wonder what she thinks about Gio asking for separate rooms, but then I see mine and suddenly I don’t care. It’s decorated in white and lemon, with a rustic-looking dressing-table and wardrobe, as well as floor-length net curtains floating gently in the breeze. From the look of it, I even get my own balcony.
‘This is gorgeous!’ I look around in amazement.
‘I’m so glad you like it.’ She inclines her head. ‘If there’s anything you need, just let me know. You must think of this as your home for the next two weeks.’
‘Thank you. I actually brought you a present.’ I reach into my carry-on bag and pull out a Suds gift box filled with Optimism.
‘How thoughtful.’ Morena opens the box, unwraps the tissue paper inside and sniffs. ‘ Grazie , Maisie.’
‘It’s from the shop where I work,’ I explain. ‘Although it doesn’t seem like much in exchange for all this.’
‘It’s more than enough when you’re making my Giovanni so happy.’ She beams at me.
‘Oh …’ Guilt makes my stomach twist. ‘I don’t know about that. I mean, Gio and I … that is, we’re—’
‘He brought you home.’ She puts a hand over mine. ‘He’s never done that with a girlfriend before.’
‘He hasn’t?’ I blink in surprise. I shouldn’t read too much into it, but I can feel my mind wanting to whirl.
‘Not once.’ She squeezes my fingers and then takes a step back. ‘Now, I’ll let you rest. Dinner will be ready in an hour.’
‘A TOAST!’ HELMUT BAUER lifts his wine glass, as all fourteen of us gather round a long table on the terrace at the back of the house. ‘ Salute. Prost . Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ everyone echoes.
‘Please sit.’ Morena waves her hands. ‘We have a lot of food to eat. I’ve made a traditional dinner for our guest.’
‘Traditional?’ Gio groans as he pulls a chair out for me. I’m wearing a sunflower print dress that he gallantly said was bellissima , while he’s changed into a casual outfit of khaki combats and white T-shirt. ‘Mamma, you know I have to be careful with my diet during the season.’
‘Yes, but why should everyone else suffer?’ Morena shrugs. ‘Just watch the rest of us eat, if you feel so strongly.’
‘ Perfetto! If Gio’s not eating, that means more for the rest of us.’ Adele grins conspiratorially at me across the table. ‘That’s the real reason we’re here. Nobody cares about Gio, it’s just Mamma’s food we want.’
‘Hush.’ Morena looks indignant and pleased at the same time. ‘You can love your brother and my cooking.’
It’s a good thing I really am hungry because after aperitivo there’s a plate of charcuterie, accompanied by freshly made bread and cheese, then risotto, then beef with vegetables, then a salad, then a lemon pannacotta, all washed down by espresso. By the end of the meal, my stomach is stretched to capacity and I seriously doubt my ability to move for the rest of the evening, although I don’t care because the view from the terrace is incredible. If someone could just roll me into one of the hammocks I can see hanging in the garden below, I would happily sleep out here.
Most of the conversation revolves around Gio and the F1 season, which everyone seems to follow with enthusiasm. Everyone speaks in English too, which I appreciate and am faintly embarrassed about. I wish I’d been better prepared for this trip, but it never occurred to me that I would ever visit Gio’s family. I’m still slightly conflicted about deceiving them, especially his mother, who clearly thinks our relationship is serious, but the atmosphere is so cosy and warm-hearted I’m genuinely glad to be here. The only downside is a pang of nostalgia for my own family, not just Dad, Briony and Daisy, but my mother too. I still miss her so much.
‘So Maisie,’ Morena says at the end of the meal, handing me a digestivo, a small glass of limoncello. ‘Tell us about yourself.’
There’s a snort from the far end of the table, where Lorenzo is sitting, before he, Gio, Adele and the two teenage boys all erupt into laughter. Even Helmut looks like he’s trying not to smile.
‘What?’ Morena looks affronted. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Only that it’s taken you this long.’ Gio smirks.
‘What’s wrong with getting to know each other?’
‘She’s not here to be interrogated, Mamma.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ I say, tossing my head at Gio. ‘But there’s not much to tell. I’m from the Lake District in the north of England, I’m an only child, although I have a younger stepsister now, and I study psychology.’
‘How interesting.’ Morena gives her son a superior look before turning back to me. ‘Giovanni told me you lost your mother. I’m so sorry to hear that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘What about your father? Are you close? Does he like Formula 1? Maybe you should invite him to Monza, Gio?’
‘We are close,’ I say, even though I know I’ve neglected Dad for the past few months, especially recently. ‘But he’s not really into engines. He’s more of a bike person. He actually owns a bike shop.’
‘At least studying psychology should be useful for dating Gio.’ Lorenzo grins at me. ‘These drivers are all crazy.’
‘I’ve noticed.’ I laugh, glad of the change of subject. ‘Does that make you the sane brother? Gio says you’re training to be a doctor?’
‘Yes, in Bologna. I spent so much time fixing his injuries while we were growing up, it seemed like the next natural step.’
‘He’s exaggerating.’ Gio squirms in his seat next to me.
‘He isn’t.’ Adele snorts. ‘Gio must have sprained or damaged every part of his body at some point. When he was twelve, he even jumped from the roof of the house into the pool.’
‘What pool?’ I look around.
‘It’s beyond those trees, in the garden now, but the old pool was just over there.’ She points to the end of the terrace. ‘Mamma had it moved.’
‘Because I couldn’t risk him doing the same stupid thing again. I still can’t believe he did something so dangerous.’ Morena glares at Gio like it happened yesterday. ‘You could have broken every bone in your body.’
‘I know.’ He looks shame-faced. ‘I’m sorry, Mamma.’
‘It’s amazing my hair didn’t fall out from the stress of raising him.’ She lifts her eyes skyward. ‘But it’s not his fault really. It’s his father’s. Racing drivers have far too much adrenaline in their blood. If you want a calm life, Maisie, marry a man who likes chess.’
‘You’re right.’ I turn and look solemnly at Gio. ‘We should break up.’
There’s a heavy moment of silence before I grin at him.
‘Ha!’ Adele clasps a hand to her chest. ‘You should have seen your face, Gio!’
‘That’s it.’ Gio puts his glass down and stands up from the table. ‘We’re going for a walk before she decides she actually means it.’
‘What?’ His mother objects. ‘But it’s still early!’
‘You can find out her blood type and how many children she wants another night. Come on.’ He holds a hand out to me. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’
There’s another round of snickering, as Dario and Ricco mutter something I don’t understand, though judging by the way Ilaria squeaks at them I can guess.
‘Sorry about that.’ Gio tips his head towards mine as we walk down some stone steps into the garden.
‘Don’t be.’ I sway sideways because the warmth of his breath on my neck is undermining my resolve to be friends. It seems to affect my vocal cords too, because my voice comes out so high-pitched I have to clear my throat before I go on. ‘The meal was wonderful and your family are really nice. Your parents are so in love too. Whenever they weren’t eating, they were holding hands over the table.’
‘I know.’ He makes a face. ‘It’s kind of gross.’
‘It’s lovely!’
‘If you say so.’
‘Your mum isn’t remotely what I expected.’
‘Because you expected Ginevra ?’ He pretends to wield a dagger.
‘No!’ I bat his hand away, laughing as we cross a lawn, then turn down an avenue between two tall hedges so we’re hidden from view of the terrace. ‘Well, maybe a little, but I assumed she’d be more guarded. She was one of the biggest film stars in the world and she gave me a hug.’
‘She’s a big hugger. Maybe it’s part of the recluse thing. She’s so desperate for human interaction, she overcompensates.’
‘Woah.’ I give him a sharp look. ‘That’s kind of harsh.’
‘Sorry. I just wish she’d leave here occasionally. I worry about her.’
‘That’s understandable. But honestly, I might not leave either, if I lived here. There’s everything a person could ever want. Cheese, wine, more cheese … It’s bliss.’
‘True.’ Gio stops, as we reach a rope swing hanging from the bough of a chestnut tree. ‘This is what I wanted to show you. It’s for two.’
‘Oh.’ I hesitate, looking at it with trepidation. If we were a real couple, I’d think that bringing me here was a romantic gesture, but we’re not, so …
We sit down together, taking hold of a rope each, then, because it seems too intimate to wrap my arm round him for balance, I offer him my other hand. He takes it, lacing his fingers through mine as we kick off into the air.
I grit my teeth and think impassive thoughts, concentrating on the view instead of the feeling of his body next to mine. There’s a low stone wall ahead of us, marking the edge of the garden, but beyond it the view is even more spectacular than it was from the terrace. The sun is sinking slowly over the hills in the distance, spreading orange-gold tendrils over the vines, and there’s no wind at all, just the sound of birds singing and laughter from the terrace above us.
‘How do you like your room?’ Gio asks after a few moments.
‘It’s exquisite,’ I answer, tipping my head back as we swing. ‘I can’t believe I have a whole wing to myself.’
‘Better than a second bedroom?’ He gives my fingers a playful squeeze.
‘Even better.’ I laugh, turning to look at him. ‘Thank you for bringing me. I’ve had the best evening.’
‘Good.’ His eyes lock on to mine, his gaze deep and unfathomable. ‘I’m glad.’
We both stop swinging our legs at the same moment, though I keep on staring at him like I’m hypnotized. So much for being impassive. Desire hits me hard in the stomach and I inhale deeply because I want to be entirely present, absorbing every last bit of this moment. It seems so perfect – I could almost believe that we’re completely in tune, that our hearts are beating in the exact same rhythm. But we’re not and they’re not. We’re just friends. That’s all either of us want. I have to remember that and not do anything stupid again.
‘Ahhh.’ I feign a yawn, slipping my hand out of his to cover my mouth. ‘I think I’d better go up. I’m more tired than I realized.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ He starts to stand up.
‘No.’ I put a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. ‘You stay here and enjoy the view. Buona notte , Gio.’
I walk away, wondering if I imagined the look of disappointment on his face.