Chapter 8 Rosie – Day 2
Rosie self-consciously tugs her cotton kimono cover-up across her stomach and follows Theo to the swimming pool.
Her tropical leaf print swimming costume is a little more snug than she’d like.
She wished she’d skipped dessert last night but Julietta had kept generously adding more torta della nonna, a vanilla and lemon-filled tart topped with toasted Tuscan pinenuts, to her plate and she couldn’t resist.
The pool is a little way from the main house, down a stone path, littered with fallen pinecones from the tall firs above. She grips onto a wooden railing when she reaches the uneven steps.
‘So, you survived your first night,’ Theo says, ahead of her. ‘Thirteen more to get through.’
‘It is a test?’ She laughs.
‘No. Not a test. Although spending time with grumpy Gerry can be an ordeal, but everyone else is alright. Luke has mellowed out since I last saw him . . .’
Rosie remembers Fenna side-eye Luke as he uncorked another bottle of Italian red at dinner, that might have something to do with it.
‘. . . Fenna had better watch out.’
‘Hmm?’
‘I mean she needs to be careful. I think my mum has a new favourite.’ He nudges her gently.
Rosie laughs. She had picked up on a hint of friction between the two women.
In fact, there seemed to be a lot of things going unsaid at the dinner table last night, but she hadn’t had a chance to ask Theo about any of it.
The travelling had caught up with both of them as they collapsed into bed after dinner and he was soon fast asleep.
Along with the pent-up nerves she should have been equally wiped out, but she barely slept.
Her head buzzed with names and details, trying to build a picture of this family.
The locks and the cameras and the disappearance of that schoolgirl spun through her mind.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask.
It’s the first night. There will be plenty of time.
There is a happy shriek of a child and a splash of water. A few more steps past a wall of leafy bamboo and suddenly they are greeted with a picture-perfect vista.
The swimming pool is set against the backdrop of rolling hills that go on for miles.
A lone stone church sits in the distance.
Uninterrupted shades of green fields are punctuated with skinny, pointed, cypress trees.
Clusters of olive groves follow the curves of the hillside.
It doesn’t look real. She’s so absorbed by the breathtaking view that she doesn’t hear Alba calling her name.
The little girl’s face lights up seeing them. She’s bobbing on the surface of the turquoise water in a unicorn inflatable.
‘Here they come, the lovebirds.’ Luke heaves himself out of the water and onto the pool’s edge. ‘You missed breakfast. Alba’s been waiting for you to get out of bed and play with her.’
Rosie tries not to look at the smattering of brown hair on his chest or the tight red trunks that have bunched up around his thighs.
He has the physique of a man who once religiously went to the gym but has now gone soft.
A classic dad bod. There is a faded tribal tattoo on the underside of his left bicep.
‘Morning, trouble!’ Theo calls to Alba. ‘Sorry, I had to go for a run but I’m ready to play now.’
‘You planning on running every morning?’ Luke looks up from the pair of neon pink sparkly goggles in his hands that he’s trying to fix.
‘Yeah, most days. I’ve got a training plan to follow.’
‘Doesn’t sound like much of a holiday.’ Luke hands the goggles to Alba.
‘I know, tell me about it,’ Rosie says. He’s sprung this new challenge on her not that long ago.
‘I did a marathon once. Never again.’ Luke groans.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Fenna calls from a padded sun lounger, an arm stretched over her head.
Rosie does a double take. It looks like she’s posing for a fashion magazine shoot in her classic black all-in-one.
Raffi is asleep in the pushchair under a parasol, the fringed edges dancing in the occasional whisper of a warm breeze.
‘You coming in, babe?’ Theo asks Rosie, pulling his t-shirt off. She catches Luke watching them before darting his eyes away and slipping under the surface of the water.
‘I need my suncream to sink in first.’ She’s not ready to lose her kimono yet.
‘No problem.’ He turns to the pool. ‘Right, Alba. Count to three.’
Cool droplets of water flick across Rosie’s bare legs as he dives into the pool. There’s a rush of chlorine in the disturbed air. Alba asks Theo to do it again and again.
Fenna smiles as Rosie walks over. ‘I’m glad Theo’s here to entertain Alba; he’s a natural with children. I think she was getting bored of just Daddy.’
Rosie perches on a padded lounger, tugging her cover-up tighter, and watches Theo lift Alba in the air, pretending to make her fly. A pang of pride blooms inside her. He would make a wonderful dad. She brushes the thought away. It’s not healthy to think too far into the future.
‘I still can’t get over this place. It’s amazing.’
She’s never had a holiday like this before.
It’s like she’s on a film set. An extravagant fruit platter sits on the table beside them.
Juicy pink watermelon slices glisten invitingly.
There’s a large bottle of chilled lemon-infused water and a bowl of fat green olives with sharp wooden cocktail sticks.
‘We love it here. And the food . . .’ Fenna mimes a chef’s kiss. ‘Julietta was here picking herbs for whatever she’s knocking up for lunch.’ She nods to the fragrant rosemary bushes nearby. ‘I never want to leave.’
Luke is baiting Theo to do his best belly flop into the pool. It’s all good-natured but Rosie can see the brothers’ bravado starting to show. Alba has lost interest in the men and is dipping a Peppa Pig toy in the water.
Rosie clears her throat. ‘I was going to ask about the missing girl that was mentioned at the dinner table last night. I didn’t want to seem rude by asking loads of questions, but I can’t stop thinking about it.’
‘If I’m honest, I was surprised by how open Marianne was.
Normally she shuts down any conversation where Danielle Dixon is mentioned.
Clearly, she trusts you,’ Fenna says. ‘Do you not remember the story? It made the news back home, but you’re a few years younger than me so maybe it wasn’t on your radar. ’
‘I vaguely remember something about a British teenager vanishing in Italy.’ Rosie fiddles with her sunglasses, wishing the sudden butterflies in her stomach would calm down. ‘I had no idea it was here. You wouldn’t expect it in a place like this.’
‘I know. It goes to show, it can happen anywhere.’ Fenna leans across to adjust the clip-on stroller fan that’s blowing softly over Raffi. ‘I can see why Marianne wanted to change the subject last night; she won’t want you thinking this is an unsafe place.’
The locks. The security cameras. The missing girl.
‘Do people think she’s still alive? Is that why they’re appealing for witnesses?’
Fenna checks no one is listening. ‘The general consensus is that she was murdered but who knows. They’ve never found her body.
She vanished into thin air. Some say she ran away – by all accounts she was a tearaway, problems at home – but I suppose we’ll never know what she was going through.
People keep secrets for all sorts of reasons.
I heard a rumour that she’s living with a new identity.
Others even say she’s being held somewhere—’
‘God, you’re not still talking about Danielle Dixon are you?’ Luke steps in front of the sun, casting a shadow.
Fenna sits taller. ‘Rosie was asking if people think she’s still alive.’
‘No chance.’ There is a satisfying hiss as Luke pulls the ring pull from a can of Italian beer. ‘The pervert teacher killed her.’
Rosie frowns. ‘Her teacher?’
Luke sits on the lounger opposite Rosie, his legs spread. ‘A few weeks after the traumatised class returned home, minus Danielle, the fella who had organised the exchange, the Italian language teacher, took his life. God, what was his name?’
‘Alba – come and get a snack, honey,’ Fenna calls, before turning to Luke. ‘I thought that was a rumour? We don’t know if he killed himself because he had something to do with Danielle’s disappearance.’
Luke stares at his wife as if she’s deluded. ‘Err. Don’t you remember he had her phone? He claimed it was an innocent mistake and that he “forgot” he had confiscated it. Pfft. Sounds like the guilt got too much for him, if you ask me.’
‘I’d forgotten about that part . . .’ Fenna muses. ‘Alba. Snack time.’
Luke throws a plump black grape into his mouth.
‘This new appeal is pointless if you ask me. I don’t know what they’re expecting to find after fifteen years.
Everyone knows she’s in the lake and that’s why the birds vanished.
And so did the tourists. The locals think that if the mystery is solved they can clear the town’s reputation and bring money back to the area.
But the damage has been done. Plus, who wants a load of tourists taking over?
The roads will be gridlocked and it’ll be a nightmare when we come on holiday.
’ He stands up and clicks a muscle in his back.
‘Anyway, at least the sicko teacher did the world a favour so no other girls could be hurt.’
He nonchalantly wanders back to the pool, challenging Theo to a diving competition.
‘The whole thing makes my skin scrawl.’ Fenna closes her eyes and angles her face to the sun.
‘I know that the town suffered after she disappeared. The locals became wary of everyone who was here at the time; that’s why Marianne isn’t keen to dwell on it.
It must have been hard staying here that summer.
Luke once told me that they had journalists at their door most days .
. . well, until the teacher was linked to it.
I bet Theo was grateful he was away when it all happened.
’ She fans her face. ‘I don’t know if Danielle’s family will ever get answers and—’
‘Ah, here you all are.’ Marianne emerges from the steps. She looks fabulous in a wide-brimmed sun hat, silky mint green Palazzo trousers and a pretty cream-coloured scalloped-edge t-shirt.
Fenna stops talking immediately.
‘What’s everyone’s plans for this week? A vineyard tour?
Olive oil tasting? We must take a visit to Florence and Lucca .
. . oh, and Siena. What about Pisa? That’s not too far away,’ Marianne says, without taking a breath, sinking to the sun lounger beside Rosie.
‘Or we could have a girls’ trip to a spa one day? That would be wonderful.’
‘We don’t need an agenda, Mum. This is meant to be a holiday,’ Theo calls from the pool. ‘What’s that saying? Dolce far niente – the sweetness of doing nothing.’
‘Alright, show off.’ Luke grins. ‘But yeah, who the hell wants to taste olive oil?’
‘I want us to make lots of lovely memories. I’m so happy to have you here. All of you,’ Marianne says. ‘Fenna, why isn’t Alba wearing her sun hat? Tell me that you’ve not forgotten to pack one for her?’
‘Nope, she just doesn’t like wearing it. I’ve asked her three times already to put it back on,’ Fenna replies.
‘Well if she refuses she should be inside. Tell me she’s got factor fifty on? Ideally she shouldn’t be in the sun during eleven to three anyway. I wish you would make her put her sun hat on.’
Fenna sighs and gets to her feet, muttering to herself.
‘Good. That wasn’t hard, was it?’ Marianne lies back, her hands behind her head, her lips pulled into a satisfied smile. ‘Ah, this is the life, isn’t it, Rosie? Or should that be la dolce vita!’
Rosie mumbles in agreement. Clearly Marianne didn’t hear what her daughter-in-law called her.