Chapter 13 Rosie – Day 3
The sun beats down on Rosie’s shoulders.
She knew Italy in August would be hot, but she didn’t expect it to be so uncomfortable and oppressive.
None of the Frasers complain about how sweltering it is, whereas she is constantly damp with sweat and hunting for shade.
She needed fresh air, though it’s not much cooler out in the garden than in the house.
What should she do about the kiss? Should she tell Theo?
The brothers seem to be getting on and she doesn’t want to rock the boat.
Why did she have to stumble into this situation?
She wishes she could call her mum or her best friend; they would know what to do.
She can pretty much picture Lydia’s pursed lips ordering Rosie to confront Luke. The idea makes her stomach churn.
Surviving the first holiday with her boyfriend’s family is stressful enough, let alone with this added dilemma on top. Perhaps it’s best if she wipes what she saw from her mind. After all, it was dark, she’d had a drink and it’s none of her business.
She’s too busy worrying to realise where she is.
The morning heat rises from the gravel path, licking her bare legs.
She stops walking and takes in the olive grove, which has been left to nature.
The eco garden. Colourful wildflowers are everywhere.
The rest of the extensive grounds are immaculate, except this space, which hasn’t seen a lawnmower in years.
A little further ahead is a marble statue of a woman, hedged in by a thicket of laurel leaves.
Her limestone face is partially shrouded by the folds of a veil.
A chunk of her exposed shoulder has gone.
There’s a forest green stain across her milky bust. Her almond-shaped eyes rest on the house with an insolent gaze.
Her rosebud lips are pinched in a frozen half smile.
Rosie spends a long time staring at the mesmerising statue and fails to notice that she’s not alone in the wild garden.
Half hidden behind a narrow Tuscan Cypress tree, is Marianne. She sits at a stone bench and is writing something in a notebook. Her right hand moves with alarming speed, as if she can’t jot the words down fast enough. There is a pensive look on her drawn face.
Rosie freezes. What should she do? She doesn’t want to disturb this moment. Marianne hasn’t seen her yet. Theo told her his mum was funny about people coming into this wildflower garden. Indecision plagues her. She holds her breath and doesn’t move a muscle.
Marianne is too engrossed in her work to realise she’s being watched. Every so often she stops writing to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but she doesn’t once glance up. She looks like a lost little girl with a weight of secrets zipped into the folds of her lips.
What could Marianne Fraser cry about? She lives a life many dream of.
Rosie doesn’t know how much time has passed but she is sweaty and dehydrated. She debates turning around and retracing her steps, but Marianne senses someone is there and turns with a start.
Rosie instinctively crouches down behind a spiky thorn bush.
Now what?
She thinks someone shouts her name but she doesn’t want to turn her head and risk being seen.
How would she explain this compromising position?
She focuses on the procession of woodlice scuttling in the cracks of the paving slab and ignores the pins and needles that fizz across her legs. Sweat trickles down her neck.
When the pain in her thighs gets too much, she stands, furtively glancing around to check that she’s alone. It’s just her and the statue. Marianne has vanished.
She walks past the empty bench and spots something glinting from the ground, caught in the petals of a weed. A bronze-coloured key. It’s small but solid. It looks antique.
A memory rushes back. Her first mini-break with Theo was to Bath where they wandered along a bridge covered in love locks.
Theo produced an engraved ruby-red lock from his pocket.
He had carried it around all day and she’d had no idea.
He clicked the clasp shut and threw the key into the murky brown water.
‘We’re locked in forever,’ he’d told her with a wink. Her heart soared with a rush of love, ignoring the unwanted negative emotions that bubbled under the surface.
Marianne must have dropped the small key.
Rosie quickly looks around, expecting to see a locked box or chest hiding somewhere amongst the knee-height wildflowers that scratch her bare legs. There’s nothing here. A bee buzzes past and she instinctively jerks away.
‘Rosie?’ Theo calls her name from a distance.
She puts the key into her pocket and scurries out of the wildflower garden. Her head pounds with questions.
‘I thought that was you. What are you doing here?’ Theo jogs over, panting. There’s mud on his tomato-red cheeks.
‘I got lost on the way to the swimming pool. I must have taken a wrong turn,’ she says, her tongue thick in her parched mouth. Her top has stuck to her back with sweat.
‘Sorry, I forgot to tell you there’s another path down here that takes you straight there.’ He pushes open a low wooden gate. He’s limping a little.
‘Are you ok?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, I took a tumble.’
‘Theo, you’re bleeding,’ she says.
His t-shirt has a rip in it. There’s another smaller tear on his running shorts. His knees are grazed and muddy. Blood seeps through the thin fabric.
‘I tripped over a tree root and fell. Don’t worry; nothing is broken, except my ego,’ he says with a laugh.
He uses his sports top to wipe the sweat from his face, flashing his toned stomach. He’s losing too much weight in his training. The little fat he had before appears to be melting before her eyes. It’s like he’s becoming a different person.
‘Let’s go and find Julietta. She must have a first-aid kit?’ she offers.
‘I’m fine, I’m made of strong stuff.’ Theo brushes off her concern, making light of the injury with a bicep flex. The gesture makes her laugh. ‘Don’t you worry about me. Are you ok? My family aren’t getting on your nerves yet?’
‘No. They’re all lovely.’ She takes his clammy hand and their palms glue together. ‘Well, there was something I wanted to mention—’
‘Buongiorno,’ Paulo calls, interrupting Rosie. He’s standing next to a ride-on lawnmower, a black plastic trug filled with wood chippings by his feet.
Theo raises an arm in acknowledgement. He leans closer and whispers, ‘There’s something about him that gives me the creeps. Always has done.’
Paulo gives them the thumbs up and says something else but it’s drowned out by the sound of his mower.
‘Sorry babe, what were you going to say?’ Theo asks her as they walk away.
She thinks about telling him about Luke and Carla and what she saw at the bar. But she stops herself. Gossiping is not going to help her win this family’s affections.
‘I can’t remember,’ she lies.