Chapter 7
When Amy dropped Gavin at Pisa airport early next morning, she felt little or no sense of abandonment. Very much the opposite, in fact. As she waved goodbye to him and put the car into gear, the main feeling running through her was one of relief: relief that they had been able to spend a pleasant twenty-four hours together without arguing, but also relief that she was now free to do whatever she wanted. Since her health scare last week she had been doing a lot of reassessing of her personal life, on top of her working life. What had been emerging ever more clearly had been the fact that she and Gavin didn’t really have very much in common, apart from both thoroughly enjoying their respective jobs. Now that she found herself – for just about the first time in years – with time and leisure to think about something other than work, all the doubts that had been floating around inside her head for over a year had begun to coalesce.
She still liked him and, when he was being attentive and unselfish, she still probably loved him. He was very handsome – and he knew it – and he was the life and soul of any party, but she had started to see him for the thoughtless character he really was. She knew, for example, that when she got home from Italy in a few days’ time, she would find that he had spent more time at her apartment than at his – no doubt lured by the attraction of the big-screen TV – and her sink would be full of dirty dishes. It wouldn’t surprise her either if she found a pile of dirty laundry discarded by him that he would expect her to wash and iron. The idea of doing housework never even entered his head, and the closest he got to preparing food was ordering takeaways.
Yes, he’d made the effort to come and see her in hospital twice, but the day after she’d been discharged with orders to take it easy, he’d dropped in to see her at the end of an afternoon at a corporate golf event, clearly expecting her to make him dinner. When she’d told him she was still feeling washed-out and had just made herself a salad, he’d looked far from happy. The simple truth was that the most important character in Gavin’s life was Gavin, and unless she could make him change, she felt in her bones that the relationship was doomed.
When she got back to Sant’Antonio, she parked the car at l’Ospedaletto and looked across the road towards Signora Grande’s house. The shutters on the first-floor windows were open and, on impulse, she went across and knocked on the door. A volley of barking then ensued and she heard footsteps approaching and the old lady’s voice admonishing the dog in a stage whisper.
‘Max, do be quiet. Stop it, Max!’
The door opened to reveal Signora Grande clutching the excited dog by the collar. Amy was relieved to see that she was fully dressed, so she hadn’t been woken up.
‘Good morning, Signora Grande. Sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if you’d like me to take Max for a walk.’
At the sound of the word ‘walk’, the dog suddenly became even more excited and almost knocked his mistress over. She steadied herself and gave Amy a warm smile. ‘That’s very kind of you. He’d love that. Where are you thinking of going for your walk?’
‘I haven’t had a proper look at the land that belongs to the house yet, so I thought I’d go up the hill and through the fields with him.’
‘That’s an excellent idea. In that case you won’t need his lead, which will make life much easier for you. He does pull so, when he’s on the lead.’ She stepped back and released her hold on the dog, who came leaping out of the door and stood up on his hind legs, pawing at Amy’s waist as he produced excited little whining noises. She patted his head.
‘He won’t run away, will he?’
Signora Grande shook her head. ‘No, he’s very good. If you call him, he always comes back.’
Amy and the Labrador crossed the road and set out on a walking tour of the vineyards and fields above and around it. As she had told Signora Grande, she was interested to see the extent of the property that now belonged to her. The rows of vines occupying the land immediately above the house were clearly well looked after and underneath the new leaves she could already see the bunches of hard green grapes, little bigger than peas for now, but by the time of the autumn vendemmia – the grape harvest – she knew they would have quadrupled in size. There was no sign of Signor Montalcino, who tended the vines, so she and the dog had the vineyard to themselves.
There was almost complete silence, apart from the sound of the happy Labrador as he charged madly about between the rows of vines, emerging every now and then with a stick that he deposited at her feet. She obediently picked this up and threw it for him to retrieve and the game carried on as they climbed. Even though the town was no longer within shouting distance, she didn’t feel vulnerable or alone. If anything, it felt wonderfully relaxing after the hustle and bustle of life back in London, and the company of the big, friendly dog was reassuring. The sky was a deep cloudless blue and the air temperature at this time of the morning absolutely perfect. The higher up the hill she walked, the better the view became and she could feel a smile on her face.
In spite of having had to get up early to see Gavin off, she wasn’t feeling so tired today, and she walked all the way to the top of the vineyard and then into a series of open fields of rough grass and scrub. Clearly, although this was an agricultural area, Mr Slater hadn’t been interested in farming. She thought back to what Gavin had said yesterday about taking up farming, and on a beautiful day like today the idea was tempting, although she felt sure that on a cold wet winter’s day it would be a very different proposition entirely. Besides, as a Londoner born and bred, she didn’t know the first thing about animal husbandry, and precious little about crops or even gardening. Agriculture was probably best left to the experts. Mind you, she thought, if she ever did decide to move over here, the first thing she would do would be to get herself a pet. This was the most wonderful space for a dog and if she needed any proof, the broad smile on Max’s hairy face provided it.
Towards the far side of the second large field, she spotted a depression in the ground and saw what looked like the remains of an old earthwork or maybe a quarry. Interestingly, somebody had been digging here fairly recently as there was a little pile of rich orangey-red soil drying in the sun. A sturdy fence marked the end of her land and beyond it she could see that the neighbouring farmer had been busy planting what might have been maize, but she wasn’t sure. Whatever they were, the young plants were already coming up strongly.
She stopped and took a couple of photos showing the extent of the land and the wonderful old house down the hill in the far distance with the roofs of the town and the ruined castle beyond. She also called the dog and made him sit while she took a photo of him as well. She saw that she had both a phone signal and an Internet connection up here so she sent some photos of the house and grounds to Lucy in London and then settled down to call her as promised. Needless to say, Lucy was immensely impressed by the photos and insisted that Amy tell her all about what she’d learnt the previous day about her mystery benefactor, which wasn’t that much. Amy ended up sounding pretty clueless.
‘So I now know that the guy left me not only a phenomenal old house and a load of land but also a pile of money, but I’m no closer to knowing who he was. Everybody I’ve spoken to so far in the town says that he was well known, well liked and popular, but what the connection between him and me really was still remains to be seen.’
Lucy then went on to voice the same conjecture that Gavin had come up with about Mr Slater maybe even being Amy’s father, and once again all Amy could do was to give a frustrated sigh. ‘I honestly don’t know and there’s nobody left in the family that I can ask. Maybe he and Mum were close once upon a time, maybe even very close, but how do I find out?’
When the call ended, she made her way back through the vineyard to the top corner and out of a little gate in the fence onto the open hillside. Presumably this marked the boundary of her land. The Labrador, having exhausted his first burst of energy, trotted along beside her most obediently. Evidently Signor Grande had trained him well. There was a rough track leading upwards so she followed it up to an old hut high up on the hill that had presumably once contained somebody’s agricultural equipment. Now it looked as though the next gust of wind would blow the rotten timbers over. The shed faced down the hill, and a bench – fortunately still structurally sound – to one side looked welcoming, well positioned so as to catch the morning sun and provide valuable shade later in the day. Church bells were ringing in the town below and Amy remembered it was Saturday and wondered if there was a wedding taking place. She sat down, leant back cautiously against the sun-bleached planks of the rough wooden wall and, while Max set off on a mission to sniff and mark the surrounding area, she let her mind roam.
The bells reminded her that not that long ago she had been convinced that her relationship with Gavin would lead to a wedding, but that now felt less and less likely. They had never discussed the subject and he had shown no sign of wanting even to start the conversation. Of course, her mother’s sudden illness and death earlier in the year had served to relegate such things to the back of her mind, but now that she had time to think, she realised that she no longer felt the same way about marriage or about him. Maybe if he were prepared to make a few changes, but not the way he was.
She thought fondly of Lucy. She was a really good friend and she had been so helpful and supportive during the aftermath of the death of her mother. Although relations between Amy and her mum had never been that close, at the time it had felt to Amy as if her whole world had crumbled to dust, but Lucy had been a tower of strength, always there for her. And particularly over the last few months, helping her with all the paperwork and practical arrangements relating to winding up her mum’s affairs and selling her house, Lucy had been a rock. Amy remembered what Lucy had said about maybe coming over to join her for a few days and she decided that in view of the huge sum of money she had just been left, she would get in touch with her again and ask her if she’d like to come and stay with her at the hotel as her treat. Besides, a few days’ RR away from all her men friends might not be a bad idea.
She was shaken out of her thoughts by the sight of not one, but two, black Labradors charging up the hill towards her. As she dissuaded them from trying to climb onto her lap, she looked around to see where the other dog’s owner might be and saw the familiar face coming up the hill towards her. As she had suspected, it was Signora Grosseto from the restaurant. She waved and Amy waved back. A minute later she reached the hut and took a seat alongside Amy, while the dogs flopped down at their feet, tongues hanging out.
‘Hello, good to see you again, Amy. And this is Max, isn’t it? I’d recognise him anywhere. I haven’t seen him out and about since Signor Grande died.’ She sounded a bit out of breath after the climb.
‘That’s right, I told Signora Grande I’d take him for walks while I’m here. She finds it hard going. And you’re Signora Grosseto and that’s Coco.’
The other woman nodded. ‘Call me Rosa, please.’
‘Do you bring your dog up here often, Rosa?’
‘Coco and I come up the track to here most days. I live just over there, so we’re close by.’ She pointed down the hill towards a small cluster of fairly modern-looking villas, probably little more than three or four hundred metres from Amy’s new house. ‘I often used to meet Signor Grande and Max out here. Such a shame he died.’
‘We’re almost neighbours, then. My house is just down there… but of course you already know that.’
‘I know Martin’s house well. It’s the most amazing historic old place, isn’t it?’
‘It’s gorgeous. I just wish I knew more about Mr Slater, even just his job. What do you do, Rosa, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I used to teach history, but now I’m retired.’
‘I imagine Sant’Antonio’s a pretty good place to retire to. I love it already.’
‘Both Vincenzo and I were born here. We’ve known each other since nursery school. I’ve lived here all my life and I taught history at the liceo in Pontedera. Vincenzo had a spell in Rome for a few years but he soon came back. He’s an accountant. And what about you, Amy? What do you do?’
‘I work in finance. I’m based in London.’
‘How come you speak Italian like a native? Congratulations, by the way.’
‘Thanks. My mum and my grandparents were Italian and we always spoke Italian at home.’
‘Over here or over there?’
‘London, I’ve always lived in London.’
‘Sant’Antonio must seem very quiet in comparison.’
Amy answered honestly. ‘Yes, but quiet in a good way.’ She decided not to mention her health scare and just limited herself to adding, ‘Maybe my life’s been getting a bit too frenetic. It’s wonderful to relax, and Sant’Antonio’s a perfect spot for that.’
‘Martin used to say the exact same thing. How strange that you didn’t know him.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I know. I haven’t a clue who he was. Before I got the notary’s letter a week ago, I’d never even heard of him.’
‘And yet he left you his house? That’s incredible.’
‘You can say that again.’
Rosa turned her head and gave Amy a shrewd look. ‘But the fact remains that he knew you. Maybe Vincenzo’s idea of him living under an assumed name is closer to the mark than I thought.’
Amy snorted. ‘But even if he originally had another name, I just don’t know anybody well enough for them to leave me a house. I just can’t fathom it out.’
Rosa nodded. ‘In that case all you can do is try to enjoy it. Do you think you’ll move over here for good?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Like I said last night, whatever I decide, first of all I’m going to have to do an awful lot of work to get the house up to scratch.’
‘Martin didn’t do much to it. He lived quite a Spartan life, really, considering how wealthy he was. Of course it’s a very ancient building – the oldest in Sant’Antonio, even older than the castle.’
‘Do you have any idea how old?’ Amy was very pleased to have bumped into Rosa, who seemed to be a fount of local knowledge.
‘The house is early medieval; it used to be a hospice for pilgrims on their way to Rome.’
A lightbulb switched on in Amy’s brain. ‘Hence the name, l’Ospedaletto. Wow, so that means the place is, what, seven or eight hundred years old?’
‘1215, if I remember right, so that’s over eight hundred years. It’s a sobering thought that this place was standing before the Duomo in Florence.’ Rosa smiled. ‘That’s why I love history. And the stonework inside is a delight, isn’t it. Those arches are amazing.’
Clearly Rosa was no stranger to the house and its owner. ‘So you knew Mr Slater really well. Can you tell me any more about him?’
Rosa reached down to pat the head of her Labrador, and Max immediately crawled over to be petted as well. ‘Yes, Max, you’re a lovely dog as well.’ She glanced up. ‘Max and Coco are brother and sister. Martin got him the same time we got her. He was such a nice man. Vincenzo played tennis with him most weeks and we both saw a lot of him and liked him. We often met for a coffee or a drink. He used to come to our house for dinner at least once a month and every Christmas Day.’
‘On his own?’
‘Yes, that’s why we always invited him for Christmas dinner, to stop him being all alone.’
‘How sad.’
Rosa shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ‘We could never work out why he chose to be alone.’
‘Didn’t he have a wife or partner?’
Rosa hesitated for a few moments before replying. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m sure he must have had a few lady friends – he was a good-looking man after all – but I don’t think there was ever anything serious. He was just a very solitary person. Vincenzo and I felt awfully sorry for him really, but I suppose that was his choice.’
Amy was fascinated and would have asked for more information, but at that moment Rosa glanced at her watch and stood up.
‘Anyway, I’d better get back. Are you going on with your walk?’
Swallowing her disappointment, Amy shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I reckon Max has had enough for now and I need to start looking for a good plumber.’
‘The best plumber by a long way is Angelo Rossi. The trouble is that he’s always so terribly busy. I’ll give you his number anyway, but don’t be surprised if he can’t fit you in for months.’
They set off back down the hill together and Mr Slater was no longer discussed. Instead, they talked about tradesmen. Rosa had had a lot of work done on her house and she was able to rattle off quite a few names of people to use and those to avoid. Unfortunately, she also added a codicil to her endorsement of Signor Rossi the plumber. Apparently he had a reputation for not turning up when he said he would.
‘If you can get Angelo Rossi into your house, lock the doors and take his mobile phone away. It’s the only way.’
Amy gave her a smile. ‘I look forward to meeting him. Can you recommend a builder as well? I have a feeling I’m going to need one.’
‘The best in the area by far is Lorenzo Pozzovivo. He’s an absolute sweetheart. If you can get him, he’ll do everything to perfection.’ Rosa produced a remarkably cheeky grin. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous: intelligent, but muscular with it.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, to be thirty, or even forty again. As for Angelo, the plumber, he’s very good at his job, but let’s just say he’s not quite in the same league when it comes to physique and looks.’
‘I look forward to meeting them all – especially the handsome builder.’