What Happens in Tuscany... (32 page)

Martin had decided to take himself off to the hotel once more, rather than stay at the villa and Katie was grateful for that. Although his last words to Vicky were that he would go to Rome to see his sister in the morning, Katie had texted him to invite him to the
Festa del Paese.
She was determined to show both Vicky and him how grown-ups should behave.

As they reached the old medieval heart of the village, they heard the peal of a trumpet.

‘Oh, look, it's the band!' Vicky sounded excited and Katie realised that this was another first for her after her years of seclusion. A marching band, sideshows and street performers were all new experiences. Katie set her thoughts aside and did her best to enter into the spirit of the event as the band went past.

‘Check out the triangle player.' Sure enough, the triangle was held by the smallest member of the band, a young girl only about half the height of the men playing the trumpets. As the band marched past, the little girl gave them a proud smile and they waved back. Katie had never seen a band like this before, row after row of drummers making up over half the number. The rhythmic beat echoed up between the walls of the houses on either side of the road. The drummers themselves were dressed in medieval costume, complete with pantaloons and big, broad flat caps. She and Vicky followed the band as they penetrated further into the medieval heart of the little town. The route grew ever narrower and the noise of the drums deafening. Luckily, a few hundred metres further on, the road opened out into the square.

‘I never realised the piazza was so big.' Vicky had to shout to make herself heard.

‘It's because there are no cars.' Katie had been thinking the same thing. Normally the square was a public car park, inevitably crammed with cars and vans all the time. ‘Shall we move up there, away from the band?'

Vicky nodded, and led the way diagonally across the stone-paved square, towards the far side, where a brightly-lit merry-go-round was entertaining the under sevens. The square itself had been set up with long tables and benches, with odd groups of people already scattered about, drinking and chatting. To one side, a stage had been erected, presumably in readiness for the promised music to come later on. As the noise of the band diminished behind them, the jingling of the carousel took over, the combination of the two conflicting tunes far from harmonious. But at least they could hear themselves think again.

‘Those drummers must be deaf. What a racket!' Vicky spotted a drinks counter set up under the old medieval arches. ‘Beer?'

‘Lovely. I'll sit down and save us a spot.'

While Vicky went off, Katie took a good look round. She saw a few vaguely familiar faces, but nobody she knew by name. Of Marco, Giuseppe and Franco there was no sign and, in particular, she couldn't see any trace of either Martin or Paul Taylor. She sat down at the end of one of the long tables and waited for Vicky to come back with the drinks. It was a glorious evening, still very hot, but not oppressively humid. The sky was royal blue and hungry groups of swallows wheeled overhead, screaming at each other as they performed their acrobatic display. It was almost the middle of August. Before too long, the birds would set off for warmer climes, while Katie and Vicky would head back north. Or would they? Katie was idly wondering what that would mean to her, when Vicky reappeared with two plastic beakers of beer and Martin.

‘Hi, Katie.' He looked and sounded very, very subdued. She looked up and gave him a smile.

‘Hi, Martin.'

‘Katie… Look, I'm so sorry. About yesterday, it was just the place… I don't know what… I just…' Jenny had described him as flailing about on the end of a hook, and, to Katie, he certainly looked like he was floundering. She found she was still smiling.

‘Forget it, Martin. Take a seat and enjoy the evening.' He did as he was bidden, an expression of bewilderment on his face. She looked across the table at him. Over the preceding twenty-four hours, she really had got a lot of things sorted out in her head. ‘It's all right. Really.' Vicky sat down on the bench beside Katie, a look of relief on her face, and handed her a beer.

‘Here, now that you're off the painkillers, you can drink as much as you like. Cheers.'

The three of them touched glasses.

‘Have you seen what's happening on the stage?' Vicky's voice was more animated now. ‘All that electrical stuff and coloured lights.' She sounded fascinated.

Katie took a mouthful of beer. It was blessedly cool and refreshing. She took a second, larger mouthful before replying. ‘I think we'd do well to stay a decent distance from the stage. From the size of those speakers, I would imagine the noise output is going to be pretty awesome.'

‘And that open area, in front of the stage, is that for dancing?'

Katie couldn't help smiling. This, too, was almost certainly going to be a new experience for Vicky. ‘I'm sure that's the idea. Have you been to a dance before?'

Vicky shook her head. ‘Not that I can remember. I suppose there might've been a bit of dancing when I was little, but certainly nothing like this.'

‘You've never been dancing? No disco, nothing?' Martin still sounded subdued, but fascinated. ‘That's amazing.' He glanced across at Katie. ‘Are you going to be well enough to dance? Is the tummy up to it?'

‘If I'm in the mood, I can give it a go.' She turned to Victoria. ‘So, Vicky, I was wondering what you've got planned for when you return to England. Thought any more about university?'

Vicky nodded. ‘Martin and I have been talking about it. I think a law degree would be a good thing for me to do. I was wondering about maybe applying to the London School of Economics.'

Katie looked across at Martin. ‘LSE? Is that a good place for law?' He nodded.

‘After Oxbridge, it's just about the best.'

Katie gave it some thought. If Vicky went to university in London, then maybe she should seriously consider looking for a job there as well. The problem was, what sort of job?

‘Well, if you're thinking about becoming a student, Vicky, you'd better get used to this stuff.' Martin raised his beer and proceeded to drink it down in one. He looked as if he needed it and Katie found herself smiling again. He slammed the empty tumbler onto the table top. ‘Now it's your turn.'

Victoria picked up her beer and did her best. She managed to drink just over half before she had to stop for breath. She paused briefly before raising it once more and emptying it. She beamed at them. ‘See, I should make a perfect student.' She tapped Katie on the arm. ‘Right, your turn now.'

Katie hadn't done any drinking games for the best part of ten years, but she was prepared to join in. She raised her glass and, rather to her surprise, found it remarkably easy to swallow it down in one go. Then she stood up and collected the empties. ‘My round.' She headed over to the drinks stand and Martin followed her. As they waited to be served, she turned towards him. He was still looking very nervous.

‘It's all right, Martin. I'm not going to scratch your eyes out. You can relax.' He hung his head.

‘Like I said, Katie, I'm just so very sorry.'

She nodded. ‘I know. I'm sure you are. Listen, Martin, this last week has been weird for all of us. What with my appendicitis, you and Vicky have been thrown together a lot. It was almost inevitable that you would develop feelings for each other.' As she spoke, she saw him nod slowly. ‘All I would ask of you is that you go easy on her. She's a lovely, lovely girl, but she's still wet behind the ears. She has no real experience of life, or sex or love, and it would be oh so easy for her to get hurt.' She caught Martin's eye. ‘Just promise me you won't break her heart.' She realised she was repeating Marco's words to her a week earlier about Paul Taylor.

He smiled for the first time that evening. ‘I promise, Katie. And, Katie, thank you.'

She gave him a smile, but was interrupted before she could say anything else.

‘
Ciao bella
.'

She suddenly felt a felt strong arm around her shoulders and a kiss on her neck. It was Franco, aka muscleman. Beside him was Giuseppe. Katie gave them both a broad smile and thought it best to introduce them to Martin, who was looking on in surprise.

‘Hello, boys. Can I introduce you to my friend from England? Martin, this is Giuseppe and this large lump of muscle is called Franco. Say hello, boys.'

Franco released his hold on her just as the people in front of them picked up their drinks and left. Katie dived in before anybody else could take her place in the free-for-all that Italians classify as a queue. ‘Beers all right?' The men nodded. ‘Five beers, please.' She caught Giuseppe's eye. ‘Or is Marco here as well?'

‘I haven't seen him yet, but he's always late. He loves making a big dramatic entrance and the town fair is his big night after all.' Katie had no idea what Giuseppe meant by that. The evening promised to be interesting.

As the beers were poured, Katie passed them back to the waiting men. By the time she had paid and grabbed the last one, she found Franco and Martin deep in conversation about rugby. They followed her back to the table where Vicky was in a state of growing excitement.

‘Hello there. Isn't this fantastic?' She turned to Katie with a smile before scooting up the bench to make way for the new arrivals. ‘It's an awesome setting, isn't it?'

It really was. The old heart of the town, normally a chaotic mass of cars, vans and trucks, was revealed for what it had always been; a fine stone-paved square, surrounded by medieval buildings. For hundreds of years it had been the meeting place of Monte a Signa. It was good to see it once again being used for its original purpose. Franco slid onto the bench beside Katie. ‘A penny for your thoughts.'

She smiled at him. ‘I was just thinking what a lovely place this is. Part of me would love to live here.'

‘I know what you mean. Specially on an evening like this. So you don't think you'll be going back to England, then?'

‘I'm trying to make up my mind. It's just so different back there. No home-made olive oil and wine, no home-reared ham, no evenings like this in such a beautiful setting. And none of you lot, either.'

‘So what are you planning to do if you do stay on?'

‘I thought I might teach…' They were interrupted by a voice she knew well.

‘Well, good evening everybody! I hope I haven't kept you waiting.' They all looked up to see Marco make his grand entrance. And it was really grand. He was wearing a very convincing medieval costume, complete with red tights and fur-trimmed jacket over pantaloons.

‘Oh bloody hell, Marco, trust you to turn up looking like Machiavelli himself.' Giuseppe sounded piqued, presumably because he hadn't thought of doing it.

‘Love the tights, darling.' Franco accompanied his comments with a wolf whistle.

‘Greetings, greetings.' Marco bowed low, flicking his jacket to one side as he did so to show an Indiana Jones-style coiled whip hanging at his side. ‘The person you see before you is not Machiavelli, but Marcovelli the magnificent, accompanied by his dancing bear.'

They all looked round, but there was no sign of a dancing bear.

‘Alas, the bear had a prior engagement and will be delayed. Fear not, before long it will be with us and the dancing can begin.' He glanced across the table, noted the smile on Katie's face, and gave a satisfied nod of the head. Reaching under his jacket he produced a straw-covered flask of red wine and a handful of glasses. ‘Here, let us drink to a most enjoyable evening.'

And it was a most enjoyable evening. The food, as usual in Tuscany, consisted mainly of meat. Along with the sausages and chops were piles of roast potatoes and an occasional bowl of salad for those who didn't want the carnivorous option. As Katie chewed her way through the meal, she wondered idly what the incidence of heart disease was over here.

The dancing bear didn't arrive until well past dark, by which time the square and all the tables were packed. No doubt the poor man inside the heavy costume had delayed making an appearance until the temperature had dropped a few degrees. Nevertheless, it must have been boiling in there. The bear did the rounds of the tables, prancing about and pretending to attack people. Once Marco had spotted him he went over and the two of them put on a fine show for the hundreds of people seated around the square. Soon the whip was cracking and the bear was cowering in mock fear or roaring ferociously. In the meantime the band was setting up on the stage. Finally, the music started and Marco and the bear brought the house down by performing a creditable quickstep together. As they left the dance floor, people from all over the square got up to take their turn at dancing.

‘Make way for the bear. Out of the way, please, this is a dangerous wild animal I have with me.' There was a jingling of chains and the two of them collapsed onto the bench. Marco was bathed in sweat and the man inside the bear costume must have been even hotter. Katie caught the flash of eyes and wondered if it was who she thought it was in there. In spite of the heat he didn't attempt to remove his bear head and that confirmed her suspicions even more.

‘Are you dancing?' Franco was already on his feet. Katie shook her head and decided to be sensible. ‘Thanks, Franco, but I'd better not.'

‘Come on then you two, let's show them how it's done.' Franco bullied Giuseppe and Marco to their feet and led them towards the music.

‘Erm, Katie, would it be all right if I ask Vicky to dance?' Martin sounded hesitant.

Katie smiled at him. ‘Of course it would. And make sure you dance well. She's new to it and she needs proper guidance.' Her eyes met his for a second.

‘Come on, Vicky. Let's see what you think of dancing.'

After they had all left, Katie found herself alone with the black bear. She waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. After a while she tried a little conversational opener.