Chapter Six #4
They didn’t look much like her . . . but they did a bit.
Each, in their different ways, reminded her of Gran – Erin for her build and hair; Rosalie because she had that cheerful demeanour, like a ray of sunshine let loose in the world.
Jade had always been happy with the life she’d known in this beautiful lakeside city, whereas Erin appeared aspirational and ambitious, and Rosalie as self-sufficient a wanderer as Joey.
One moment Jade had found Erin too career-minded and immaculate, so that casual Rosalie was more appealing with her big eyes and her tattoo.
The next, Rosalie called Joey ‘Dad’ and Jade found herself more aligned with Erin.
The major area of commonality was one father and two grandparents.
An elderly German man arrived at the desk to ask in laboured English about the funiculare up to the village of Brunate, and, also, how he could travel to Villa Olmo, the majestic exhibition centre on the east lakeshore.
He didn’t look as if he’d make it on foot to Villa Olmo along Passeggiata Gelpi, so she flicked open a leaflet with a map inside labelled Lago di Como (Lario) – Lario being the old name for Lake Como.
‘You can catch a bus or take a taxi, but I think the central building’s closed for renovation.
There’s a very nice café and lido, though.
’ She wrote the bus number on the leaflet and passed it to him.
Most people would discover this stuff by checking Tripadvisor or Yelp on their smartphones, but she quite enjoyed the guests who didn’t – usually the older ones, like this.
They gave her an opportunity to chat about the city she loved.
The old gentleman rumbled, ‘Danke,’ with a delightful smile that lifted his red-veined cheeks and fluffy grey eyebrows, before he shuffled off. He made heavy weather of the stairs to the first floor, so she was glad he hadn’t been allocated a room higher up.
Then a woman whisked in through the front doors and Jade saw with relief that it was dear, lovely Vittoria back again. Her straight dark hair hung either side of a face filled with both concern and apprehension. ‘Stai bene?’ she asked in a murmur.
Jade found herself shaking her head. No.
She was not OK. Her eyes filled with tears and in a moment Vittoria had rounded the desk and Jade was in her friend’s soft embrace, glad of a literal shoulder to cry on.
Vittoria steered her through the apartment door so no one could happen upon Jade in tears, before rocking her gently.
‘Are they so bad, these sisters?’ Her forehead was a concertina of worry.
‘No. But they’re strangers. They know nothing about the pensione, but it’s going to be theirs as much as mine.’ Jade clutched Vittoria more tightly.
Vittoria squeezed her in return. ‘Do you think that sharing Three Sisters feels like sharing your grandmother?’
Jade didn’t even have to examine her conscience. ‘Yes.’
Vittoria made a sympathetic noise. ‘It’s shit. Shall we get drunk?’
Jade managed a laugh. ‘Maybe on Monday, after they’ve gone.’
At 7 p.m., Jade ended her work day.
After that long hug from Vittoria, she’d taken some thinking time as she’d stared around Reception at the tiled floor, the glinting crystal of the chandelier, the glass doors and marble stairs, and had faced facts.
Erin Ferguson would soon own one third of all this.
So would Rosalie Beretta. Both women were here in Como.
Gran used to have a saying – she seemed to possess a saying for every occasion – about getting over rough ground lightly.
It meant that even if you didn’t like sharing the gracious, beautiful place you lived and worked in, it paid to deal with it in the way that made it easiest for yourself.
Sighing, she procured Erin and Rosalie’s phone numbers from their bookings and sent each a message.
If you’ve no plans for dinner, do you fancy a meal on the lakefront?
Then she added Jade, as she realised that they’d have no way of recognising her number.
Two responses flew back.
Yes, please, from Rosalie.
And, from Erin: Now? I’m starving!
Their promptitude was reassuring, as if they, too, were ready to deal with the situation they were stuck with.
Let’s meet in Reception in ten minutes, she returned to each, then retreated to the apartment to change into a cool lavender-coloured top teamed with black cropped trousers.
It was a safe option – neither too dowdy if Erin appeared in designer silk, nor overdressed if Rosalie chose ripped jeans or frayed shorts.
Maybe she was destined to be the middle-of-the road one, while Erin looked expensive and Rosalie cheerfully distinctive.
Taking down her updo, she restyled the mass with a casual bunch of curls atop her head and the rest loose.
Leaving the apartment, she found Rosalie and Erin hovering in Reception.
Erin wore a fitted, plain red summer dress – not silk, but well-tailored crepe with a sharply pointed collar.
Rosalie’s white top hung off one shoulder above cut-off denims. And yes, they were ripped in a ladder of raw edges up each leg.
The front was blue denim and the back was black.
‘Hi.’ Jade greeted the two women lightly. ‘Have you been out exploring?’
‘Sat in the sun on the piazza, catching up with emails,’ Erin said.
Rosalie grinned. ‘Had a gelato and then a nap.’
Jade led them across Piazza Cavour and then turned right along Lungo Lario Trento, busy with evening traffic. A ferry was returning, bathed in early evening sunlight.
‘Where’s that other hotel?’ Erin asked. ‘The one Gran and Nonno used to own?’ She enunciated ‘Nonno’ self-consciously, making Jade wonder whether she’d ever had occasion to say the Italian word for ‘grandad’ before.
Jade pointed along the curve of the lake, beneath where Brunate sat, looking like a toy village up on the mountain. ‘There, look. Painted pale apricot, with the iron arch and the yews, between the villa with the double-height portico and the one with green piping.’
Erin and Rosalie edged closer to her to follow her pointing finger. Rosalie locked onto it first. ‘Wow. That’s awesome.’ She sounded dazed.
Jade swelled with sudden pride. ‘Nonno Rocco was entrepreneurial and bold. When he died, Gran downshifted to avoid a vast mortgage and twenty-four-hour days.’
‘Sounds a realistic decision.’ Erin gave Villa Panorama a last look, then followed Jade along the pavement to Cavalla, a modest café near Como Lago station, inexpensive and plain, but comfortable and friendly.
If appearances were anything to go by, Erin probably didn’t have to worry too much about the cost of a meal, but Rosalie might.
Jade didn’t feel she knew them well enough to ask.
They found a vacant table decorated by a miniature silk sunflower in a jar.
The blue canopy blind above them was wound with twinkle lights.
A waiter in a white T-shirt and black trousers brought menus.
When they’d chosen, Jade told Rosalie and Erin more about her life in Como, about growing up with Gran and Nonno and going to school here.
Just facts. Nothing about how she and Joey had shared a mutual desire not to meet, how deeply Jade had loved Gran, and what a bad bargain it seemed to lose her but gain two co-inheritors.
Then Rosalie remarked, ‘So. Three sisters.’ Jade assumed she was about to link the comment to the pensione until she added, ‘Rosalie and Jade are tallish, Erin an elf.’
Erin corrected her. ‘Petite.’
With a grin, Rosalie went on. ‘Rosalie and Erin get half their genes from Italy, and Jade gets three-quarters of hers. Jade lives in Italy; Rosalie and Erin live in England.’
‘But I’m from Scotland.’ Erin interrupted again.
Jade couldn’t resist adding, ‘Jade and Erin never knew Joey. Rosalie does.’
Rosalie laughed, honey-brown eyes alight. ‘And Jade knew Gran and Nonno; Erin and Rosalie did not.’ Then, smile fading, she sighed. ‘Jade, you must hate us.’
Erin frowned. ‘Why must she?’
Rosalie made a palms-up, how-can-you-not-understand gesture. ‘Because she didn’t know we’d pop up and get a share in Pensione Three Sisters. She’d think it was all hers.’