Chapter Three #2
Before taking her chair, Jade glanced around the gracious room and for an instant he was skewered by her gold-speckled gaze.
Images of their joint history cycled through his mind.
Family friends. Schoolfriends. Sharing the distinction of speaking English fluently, but with the lilt of their mothers’ home country of Scotland.
Returning from uni, very pleased with his First, intending to stay in Como only a year or two to gain management experience at Villa Panorama.
Falling for Jade as if someone had dug a pit at her feet because, in his absence, she’d become stunning.
Her body had seemed to call to him. Look at me. I am curvy. My skin is silk.
And when he’d tried to compliment her and Mairead on their full reservation book, she’d exhibited her good sense.
‘Guests like big beds, hot showers, quality surroundings and excellent breakfasts. That’s what makes the stars pop up on review sites.
’ Then he’d referred to the boldly patterned feature walls of the pensione as boutique, and she’d reminded him of her dry wit.
‘I might not have a degree, but I can choose wallpaper and glue it.’
Consequently, he’d suggested brightly papered alcoves at Villa Panorama to his parents.
Smiling slightly, he remembered Sheenagh’s beaming response.
‘Jade’s done out Three Sisters like that.
You should ask her advice.’ It had given them the perfect excuse to spend time together, even if it was with magazines and sketchbooks across their laps.
Within weeks, they’d become lovers.
He felt himself stir at the memory, even as Jade turned away to face an arrangement of sunflowers and a woman in a dress strewn with poppies, who proved to be the celebrant.
Though he listened to the invitation to celebrate the life of lovely, lively Mairead Campbell, the Scotswoman who’d adopted Italy as her country, a bad memory followed the good: Jade’s stark expression of sorrow laced with determination. ‘I’m not going, Leo . . . I’m not abandoning Gran.’
Blind ambition had made him still take that post in the Birmingham events centre.
After the first months of missing Jade, he’d faced the fact that she wasn’t coming after him and he’d asked out other girls.
Over the years, as he’d moved on to posts in Manchester, Brighton, Cornwall and London, he’d had a couple of relationships.
Then had come Isabella, who’d dazzled him with her beautiful exterior, business brain and ambition.
They’d made their plans and everything had been great . . . until it was awful.
Dazedly, he realised the company was rising to its feet as organ music played ‘Auld Lang Syne’, the Scottish song of endings and beginnings. Sheenagh and a few other Brits sang lustily. He managed the chorus, learnt at long-ago Hogmanay celebrations.
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
The Italians in the room stared at the words in puzzlement.
As the music ended and everyone sank back into their seats, he watched Jade Beretta’s stiff back and wondered again what a life together would have looked like.
More comfortable, he had no doubt, but within the too familiar environs of Como and Italy rather than the pastures new that he’d once thought so crucial.
But Jade would never have ganged up against him, like Isabella. Spirited Jade might be, occasionally uncomfortably direct, but he’d bet she didn’t know how to be disloyal.
Jade wished that Gran hadn’t wanted Villa Panorama for her ‘celebration’.
Although Jade had visited on countless occasions since she and Mairead had moved out, now, looking over the colourfully dressed gathering tucking into refreshments, she felt sucked back in time as if at any moment Nonno would start serving drinks or Gran would check everybody had enough to eat.
Instead, it was the Sartoris who kept the event running smoothly within the white marble lounge walls, repositioning chairs into groups around tables and ensuring the serving staff circulated.
Wine, orange juice, water, beer or Scotch, tea or coffee, had been what Mairead deemed suitable, and British sandwiches, cakes and sausage rolls were served along with the meatballs, pasta, salad and pastries more familiar to Italians.
Mary Smith and other ex-pats mingled with those from the local hospitality trade, friends from yoga or elsewhere who’d been collected by Gran as she’d beamed and laughed her way through life.
Though Jade willed it not to, her attention kept straying to Leo, half a head taller than almost anyone else in the room.
Shoulders broader. Cheekbones sharper. Still able to chat easily with anyone.
Sixteen years older yet as good-looking as ever.
Older and wiser? Several times he’d looked her way, as if wondering whether to approach.
Not sure whether she wanted to talk to him, she’d pretended not to notice.
He’d come back to Como at the wrong time, when she was hurt and vulnerable, making her wary of acknowledging the occasional butterfly circling her stomach.
She’d once grieved his leaving like a bereavement.
She stared through the glass doors into the small sloping garden at the front of the hotel, with the stunning backdrop of the lake and the mountains, pretending to be fascinated by a white ferry churning frothily towards the breakwater that protruded across the lake.
Vittoria claimed Jade’s attention with a nudge.
‘At five, I’ll take over from Yara on Reception at the pensione.
I’ll sleep over, and then Carlotta and I will cover breakfast tomorrow.
’ One of them – often Jade – answered the reception bell for a couple of hours before and after Yara’s shift.
Between 7 p.m. and 7 a.m., guests had a phone number for emergencies or if they had booked late check-in ahead.
There was a sofa bed in the front office for when a member of staff other than Jade – and previously Gran – was on call through the night.
Vittoria’s friendly face shone with concern.
‘I’ll make you a meal this evening. I don’t want you to forget to eat. ’
Jade tried not to grimace. ‘You don’t have to keep providing food, Vittoria. I’m fine. And I can get up for guests’ breakfasts.’
Vittoria grinned, her fleshy top lip flattening, as if it had to do that to accommodate the size of her smile.
‘Come on, Jade. You know it’s the Italian way.
Let us look after you for a short time.’ She gave Jade a firm hug, as if to mark a full stop to the argument, and then made a beeline for a waitress with a tray of drinks.
As well as Vittoria and Carlotta, friends and people from neighbouring businesses had brought food and flowers in the past days.
Even her ex-boyfriend, Edoardo, had sent a mini hamper of tempting nibbles, despite the barest of contact between them since she’d decided, more than a year ago, that they wanted different things.
Every generous, warm gesture said, ‘Pause. Rest. Let yourself grieve,’ in flat contradiction of Mairead’s, ‘Don’t mourn.
’ It only added to Jade’s feelings of confusion and overwhelm.
Gran’s absence from the pensione yawned, even while Jade battled to understand the nursing of the massive secret that Jade’s life would explode when Gran’s ended.
It made her want to run away from this horrible day.
Old friends kept converging on Jade to share stories about how wonderful Mairead had been, obliging her to listen to reminiscences over events at Villa d’Este where her grandparents had spent their leisure time when young.
One of Jade’s schoolfriends, Bernardo, remembered Mairead explaining kilts to him.
‘Funny clothes for such a cold country as Scotland.’ He grinned.
Jade listened politely. Her head ached and she was glad that Mairead’s instructions for the funeral hadn’t extended to Jade being cheerful.
While the anecdotes raged, her gaze roved over the guests, dreading her mystery half-sisters – or even Joey!
– showing up. But she spotted no stranger who might be one of them.
She didn’t even know if Mary Smith had sent out the notifications of bequest yet, but, directly or indirectly, she was bound to hear from Joey’s other kids soon.
Massimo appeared before her. ‘OK?’ he said quietly in her ear, running a hand over his short, dark hair as if to check it was in place.
She nodded. ‘Perfect. Thank you.’
‘Shall I have the buffet refreshed?’ He tilted his head questioningly, a mannerism reminiscent of Leo.
She let her vision blur so she didn’t have to see the resemblance. ‘The buffet’s fine, thanks. It’s past four o’clock and people are beginning to leave.’
‘Can I get you anything?’ Massimo’s concern warmed her as he glanced at the empty juice glass she’d nursed for the past hour. ‘Cup of tea? Strong, with no sugar?’ He smiled, knowing that Mairead had passed her love of tea on to Jade.
‘I’m OK.’ Then, as he began to turn away, she added impulsively, ‘Massimo? Can I book a room here tonight? Vittoria said she’d hold the fort at the pensione.
I could use some alone time. Alone apart from a bottle of Ledaig, anyway .
. . if you’re not completely booked out,’ she added, realising that it might be the case in early July.
He looked first surprised and then pleased, as if he were glad he could do something for her. ‘I can find you a room.’
While he strode away, Jade crossed to tell Vittoria. Her friend looked bemused, but then squeezed Jade’s arm understandingly. ‘You know what’s best for you.’
‘Thanks.’ Gratefully, Jade hugged her.
A few minutes later, Massimo returned with a room keycard. ‘Top floor.’ He pressed the card into Jade’s hand.
She stared at the black-and-gold card, astonished. ‘Massi, I didn’t expect you to put me in a suite. If that’s all you have free, I’ll go home.’