Summer at the Lake (38 page)

They had opened a bottle of wine and were in a reflective mood. Their voices low, they were discussing Esme.

‘I can’t stop thinking how broken-hearted she must have been to have experienced all that pain and suffering at so young an age,’ Floriana said sadly. ‘How different her life could have been.’

‘Life’s like that,’ Adam said, closely observing Floriana’s upturned face as she regarded the inky sky. ‘It’s nothing but a series of what ifs. What if Esme had never met Marco? Or what if he hadn’t been a priest in the making? Or what if the baby had lived?’

Lowering her gaze, Floriana sipped from her glass of wine, her expression thoughtful. ‘What’s your greatest
what if
moment?’ she asked.

He considered the question, but chose to avoid answering it by turning the tables. ‘I’m not really sure. How about you? What’s yours?’

She drew her legs up, tucked her bare feet under her. ‘I don’t know about the greatest or most significant
what if
, but certainly I can’t help but think what if I’d never received Seb’s wedding invitation? If I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have got hit by that car and you and Esme wouldn’t have come to my rescue, which means I wouldn’t be here now with you both.’

‘There are definitely better ways to meet people,’ he said with a smile, ‘but I’m also glad that sequence of events happened. My life’s been a lot more fun since I got to know the two of you.’
You in particular
, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.

‘For me too,’ she said softly, half turning to look at him.

He stared back at her nervously – at the face he was fast coming to know as well as his own. Right now her hazel eyes were like liquid pools of darkness and stirred within him the same desire he’d felt when he’d been rubbing sun cream onto her shoulders earlier that morning. His mouth suddenly dry, he wondered what the sequence of events would be if he was brave enough to put a hand to her cheek and kiss her lightly on the mouth. Would there ever be a better moment – a more romantic moment – than this to make his feelings clear, to tell her that he wanted to be so much more than friends?

But he couldn’t do it. It was too big a risk. If she turned him down, their friendship would be as good as over no matter how hard they pretended otherwise. So instead, he cowardly raised his glass of wine. ‘Here’s to
what if
moments,’ he said.

Awake before anyone else, Floriana crept downstairs as quietly as she could. She made herself a mug of tea and went outside.

The soft morning air was tantalisingly fragrant. The scent was coming from the luscious velvety-red roses in front of the terrace; long arching sprays were heavily laden with blousy blooms that were intensely perfumed. Stepping barefoot down from the terrace onto the parched coarse grass, she stooped to a lavender bush and ran her hand through the flowers. She breathed in the delicious fragrance thinking that when she was back at home, she really must make more of an effort with her own small garden. It would be heavenly to fill it with wonderfully scented flowers.

But home wasn’t what she wanted to think of right now. She just wanted to go on losing herself in this enchanting paradise where everything felt different. Not to say distinctly perplexing.

And that was thanks to Esme and her accusation that basically Floriana didn’t have a clue what was going on right under her nose and that Adam wasn’t here solely for Esme’s benefit. Just what was Floriana supposed to make of that? Other than to be completely confused.

It was a matter of pure conjecture on Esme’s part as to whether Adam had wanted to punch a cheeky Italian on the nose for looking at Floriana inappropriately, but it did beg the question why she hadn’t noticed Giovanni Zazzaroni checking her out. And if she’d missed that, what else had she missed? Particularly when it came to Adam?

Since that extraordinary conversation with Esme in her old bedroom at Villa Margherita, and with every chance she had when she could do so unobserved, Floriana had found herself studying Adam, searching for a sign from him that would corroborate what Esme had said. Yet try as she might, she could detect nothing in his manner that proved he viewed her any more than as a friend.

But then late last night, there was that moment on the swing seat when, out of the blue, she had truly believed he was about to kiss her. But he hadn’t. She had gone to bed not long afterwards wondering if that had been a
what if
moment between them. Would Esme class that as a lost opportunity?

Or was it no more than this magical place casting a bewitching spell on its visitors and putting thoughts into their heads that had no right to be there?

Oh, Esme, Floriana thought with a heartfelt sigh, how muddled you’ve made me feel.

Twenty-four hours ago and the idea of Adam kissing her hadn’t crossed her mind, now she couldn’t shake the thought of him out of her head!

But why would he be interested in her? They were chalk and cheese. Besides, she’d seen that photograph of Jesse with her stunning catwalk figure and her glossy long hair; there wasn’t a chance in hell of Floriana following an act like that. It was a great pity Esme hadn’t seen the photo as then she wouldn’t be so keen to fan the flames of romance, she’d give it up as a lost cause. Because one thing was a definite in this life, attractive men like Adam sought out equally attractive women, they didn’t settle for less.

She went over to the pool, sat down and dangled her feet into the cool water. Sipping her tea, she couldn’t resist replaying the cosy little scene in her mind of sitting on the swing seat with Adam last night. Whichever way she viewed it, she couldn’t rule out the gut feeling she’d had, that Adam really had been on the verge of kissing her. So why hadn’t he?

More importantly, would she have kissed him back? Yes, she would have, and for two reasons. Firstly out of curiosity, because let’s face it, who wouldn’t mind being kissed by such an attractive man? And secondly, nobody knew better than her that to be rebuffed was hideously humiliating. If afterwards Adam had shown any regret or embarrassment, she would have laughed it off as though being kissed by accident happened to her all the time.

It was a shame Seb couldn’t have done the same, she thought with sadness. If he had reacted with less horror when she’d made the mistake of kissing him, their friendship might not have suffered the way it had.

A short distance away, further up the hillside, a church bell chimed the hour – it was seven o’clock. The bells were different here, not at all like the ones in Oxford; these bells had a softer less intrusive clang to them.

With her head tilted back and her eyes closed against the bright sun, she thought of Oxford and a young heartbroken Esme moving there to start a new life. Imagining the strength it must have taken for her to put her grief behind her, Floriana realised that the heartbreak she had gone through with Seb was nothing compared to what Esme had endured.

She opened her eyes and sat up, suddenly understanding very clearly that the time had come for her to let go of Seb. He was the past. She had to look to the future now.

After breakfast, and after he’d touched base with Denise in the office, Adam announced his intention to find Villa Belmonte where Mussolini and his mistress had been shot. As far as he could work out, the scene of the execution in Giulino di Mezzegra was practically on their doorstep.

Esme pulled a face when he asked her if she’d like to join him. ‘I’ll pass on that grisly outing, if you don’t mind,’ she said.

He looked at Floriana over in the pool. ‘It’s probably not your kind of thing either, so don’t feel you have to come,’ he said. ‘I had the misfortune to go there once before.’

Putting the book down that she was reading, Esme regarded him over the top of her reading glasses. ‘Really, Adam,’ she said, ‘could you make the poor girl feel any less welcome?’

Thinking that Esme was more her usual self this morning, he frowned. ‘I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant that I’d understand if no one fancied coming with me. As you said, it’s a bit grisly wanting to see where two people were executed. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’

‘I wouldn’t mind going,’ Floriana said, swimming towards the edge of the pool, ‘but if you’d rather I stayed here with you, Esme, I’m—’

‘I’m not in need of babysitting if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ Esme interrupted her. ‘I’ll be quite happy here on my own saving my energy for this afternoon when we go to Villa Balbianello. So off you go, the pair of you. Go on,
shoo!
’

The hot sun was already high in the sky and blazing down on them when they set off on foot with a roughly drawn map – a map which Adam had found in the file of local information provided by the owner of the villa.

Having caught the sun yesterday on her shoulders, Floriana was wearing a white long-sleeved top with shorts and a pair of flip-flops. Her head was covered with a large floppy-brimmed hat that Esme had insisted she borrow from her. ‘I’m not having you come down with heatstroke,’ she’d fussed. The downside of the hat was that Adam couldn’t see Floriana’s face, or more to the point, her expression, which he was anxious at all times to read. More than ever now.

‘Does it feel weird being a tourist and not being in charge as a guide?’ he asked her.

He winced at how dumb the question sounded, like they’d only just met and he was making polite small talk. But that’s what he had been reduced to. He was so busy watching himself around her, he’d become awkward and self-conscious and didn’t seem able to say anything right. Especially after last night. In some ways he wished he’d just seized the moment and kissed her. At least then he’d know where he stood. As it was, he was behaving like an idiot with the situation fast spinning out of his control. And likely to get a lot worse if he didn’t do something about it. He couldn’t go on like this. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was a novice in these matters, there had been plenty of girlfriends before Jesse. But none like Floriana, he reminded himself, she was in a class of her own. He could honestly say he’d never known anyone like her, or admired anyone as much. There were times when he wanted to say, ‘Go on, just once make me feel half as clever as you!’

‘You didn’t hear a word of what I just said, did you?’

Oh hell!
What was happening to him? He couldn’t even keep up with a simple conversation now. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘what did you say?’

‘I was saying I have no problem switching off from work. Unlike you. I bet that’s what you were just thinking about, wasn’t it?’

He made a half-hearted murmur of apologetic assent.

‘So exactly how many work phone calls have you made this morning?’ she asked.

‘A few.’

‘And how many emails have you sent?’

Her questions were an echo of what Denise had said earlier, when he’d called to check she’d spoken with the electrician about the faulty wiring in the house on Walton Street. ‘This may come as a shock to you, Adam,’ she’d said, ‘but I can manage perfectly well without you. Now get on with enjoying your holiday and leave me alone!’

Indicating the turning to the right which they needed to take according to the map, he said, ‘I’m not a workaholic or a control freak, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s just in my nature to get things done.’

‘I know,’ she said. Then lifting up the floppy brim of her hat, she peered out at him, the corners of her mouth twitching with a smile. ‘But you know what happens to control freaks and dictators round here, don’t you?’ She mimed a gun raised to her temple. ‘
Pop!
’

He laughed, and at last felt himself relax. ‘Actually, I think my assistant, Denise, is more of a dictator than me. But thanks for the warning, I’ll be on my guard.’

When she heard the sound of their voices approaching, Esme felt like jumping from her seat and rushing to greet Adam and Floriana.

For the last thirty minutes she had sat here patiently waiting for their return, bursting to tell them her news. Domenico had visited shortly after they’d left, bringing with him the name and address of someone who might be able to throw some light on the whereabouts of the Bassani family.

With their afternoon trip to the Villa Balbianello cancelled they were on their way to Bellagio.

At Tremezzo they boarded the crowded
traghetto
and with a protective hand placed at Esme’s elbow, Adam – part Moses, part Superman – cleared a path for them to squeeze through the tightly packed tourists to get to the prow of the boat. There were no empty seats, but luckily an Australian man kindly offered his to Esme and immediately struck up conversation with Adam, while the woman he was with started chatting to Esme.

Standing a few feet away from Adam, Floriana caught the odd word of his conversation with the other man – cricket seemed to the topic of interest. Adam liked cricket? That was news to her. But then as she was rapidly discovering, there was a lot about him she was learning this week.

Partially hidden behind a couple of girls with huge rucksacks on their backs, she continued to watch Adam. Since Esme had put the cat amongst the pigeons yesterday afternoon, Floriana kept looking at him through new eyes and unnervingly always came back to the same thing: she could no longer regard him in the way she once had. His attractiveness, which familiarity had ensured she had taken for granted, now had a habit of catching her unawares, forcing her to sit up and take extra notice. Right now he stood out from just about every other man on the boat because he wasn’t dressed as a tourist in unattractive sandals, ill-fitting baggy shorts and a T-shirt boasting a previous holiday destination. In contrast, he was wearing slim-fit jeans and a pair of deck shoes, and a smart blue and white check shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with the creases from where it had been folded in his case just discernible. Clean-shaven, his light-brown hair ruffled by the wind and with Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses in place, he looked effortlessly cool.

Not for the first time Floriana wondered if his ex-girlfriend ever regretted ending their relationship. From what Adam had said, Jesse had simply stopped fancying him. It happened. It had happened to Floriana with a number of her old boyfriends. With hindsight it had been because she was always trying to kid herself that they were as fun to be with as Seb; eventually she would accept they weren’t and the attraction she had originally felt would die in an instant.