Chapter 36
Amy added a last dab of green paint. She still wasn’t completely happy with the floral design she’d created but that didn’t matter too much when she had a teetering pile of unglazed wall tiles at her disposal.
Being given free rein to mess around with the tiles Leo had no use for, she could afford to make mistakes.
And she knew from her pot-making escapades with Grandpa that flaws, botched experiments and frustration were an inevitable part of the creative process.
Leo, on the other hand, was working on the final, crucial details of the memorial plaque.
He’d even stopped playing the radio these last couple of days, fearful that a catchy tune might break his focus.
At first, she’d been reluctant to join him in his workshop for fear of distracting him but he’d assured her that if she worked in silence, the way she’d done back home, he would be able to lose himself in his work.
She paused for a moment and sat watching him put down his chisel, step back and survey his morning’s work.
Even from her far corner of the workshop she could sense he was satisfied.
A smile spread across his face, the same smile that used to cross her grandpa’s face when he’d successfully nailed a roof to a birdbox or helped her form the lip of a tricky jug to get it just so.
It wasn’t the only similarity between the pair of them.
Leo, like Lance, understood why she wanted to tie a navy apron over her sundress even though the day was beautiful, the countryside enticing and the beach at Sanremo just a bus ride away.
Despite the dust from Leo’s work, which forced her to wear a mask over her face, there was nowhere she’d rather be.
With him she’d found the contentment and feeling of belonging she’d only found in Grandpa’s shed.
Thinking of him, her hand strayed to the place where the coin necklace had nestled under her shirt yesterday, a momentary wave of panic hitting her before remembering she’d decided it was too precious to risk wearing every day.
But though Leo and her grandpa had some traits in common, being with Leo was something quite different.
When she’d worked side by side with Grandpa, she’d feel her heartbeat slow down and the tensions of the week melt away.
Being close to Leo had quite the opposite effect.
Her heart raced, her nerves jangled and sometimes she realised she was holding her breath.
If he hadn’t offered her a pitch in the furthest corner of his premises, she wouldn’t have a hope of creating the delicate patterns she was trying to execute.
And now she realised it was time to take a break outside before she acted on the desire bubbling inside her to pull off his dust mask and goggles, flip the chisel from his hand and press her mouth against his.
The almost peck on the lips he’d given her just days ago had promised so much more, hadn’t it?
She laid down her brush, untied her apron and made to slip out quietly.
‘Amy?’
She stopped halfway to the workshop’s open door.
‘Are you taking a walk? Will you wait for me?’ He took off his safety goggles, giving them a quick wipe with a rag.
‘I thought you didn’t have time.’
‘I don’t. It’s so important to get this memorial finished but there’s something on my mind and if I don’t do it soon, I’ll regret it.’
She waited for him to expand further but even as they started to walk along he didn’t offer any explanation and the sunglasses he’d put on made it hard to read his expression.
He hadn’t even said where they were going but she recognised it as the route that led to the edge of the village and the crumbling steps that had taken them up to the Old Chapel.
Ahead of them stood the stone archway and he stopped when they got there, looking out over the countryside.
‘This is my favourite of all the views here,’ he said. ‘Like a painting but one that’s subtly different every day.’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘I’m glad you think so. I wanted to bring you somewhere memorable.’ He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair.
‘For what?’ Amy said, but looking into his eyes she already knew. And he’d already moved a little closer. She breathed in his scent of woody cologne and stone dust.
‘For this.’ He touched her bottom lip with one work-roughened finger.
Warmth flooded though her. He wrapped his arms around her, his bare arms touching hers where the sleeves of his overall were rolled up above the elbows.
She closed her eyes. His mouth sought hers.
The ground seemed to shift as though the stone archway itself might crumble.
They kissed for a long time. Eventually he broke away.
She opened her eyes. Through the archway the sun bleached the red rooftops, the sky above the dark green hills a pure bright blue.
But even if they’d been standing in the bin-lined alleyway behind the pizzeria, the view would have been equally memorable.
This was a moment she would never forget.