The Secrets of Villa Rosso: Escape to Italy for a summer romance to remember. Linn Halton B.
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your coat on the chair and moan about the drizzly rain making your hair frizzy.’
He’s joking with me and I appreciate the effort he’s making.
‘Did the girls do their homework?’
‘Yes, all done. Rosie has a geography test tomorrow. Hettie had to write about a new skill she has acquired, recently. We spent the best part of an hour throwing suggestions around, including some quite inspiring ones, and then she ended up writing half a page about the time she helped you paint her bedroom walls.’
Aww, a sudden flashback makes my chest constrict.
‘That’s nice, but if my memory serves me right it was at least two years ago and she spent most of the time painting shapes and graffiti, while I followed behind her with the roller. Kids, eh?’
‘I know. It’s not the same when you aren’t here and knowing that you’re so far away is a little unsettling. You are the glue that holds us together, Ellie, and this has reminded us not to take you for granted. Anyway, enough about life in the Maddison household, how’s Italy?’
‘I can’t even begin to describe it, Josh. It’s so beautiful; and yet there’s also a feeling of sadness, when you see how hard life is for the people who depend on the land to earn their living. Today I toured a ceramics workshop and then a textile business which was set up in a sprawling church annex. Everyone was nervous about my visit because they need buyers, or the money they’ve invested will be wasted. I think the owner of the villa has probably extended loans to some of the farmers who wanted to branch out and get involved with the cooperative. When you walk among the workers it’s not just about appreciation of their skilled craftsmanship, but you get caught up in the emotional investment; their hopes and dreams.’
‘Ellie, you are Livvie’s eyes and ears out there but the ultimate business decision will be hers. It’s out of your hands and you can’t shoulder that responsibility. It’s beginning to worry you already, isn’t it? You need to develop a thicker skin, darling, or you’ll never survive in the business world.’
Josh knows me better than I know myself.
‘I hear what you are saying. I love you for understanding and not simply criticising me for being unduly sensitive. Livvie emailed early this morning but hasn’t been in touch since. I’ve sent her about two dozen photos, but I guess it’s unfair of me to expect her to respond quickly. I suspect her mum is back in the ward by now recovering from her op, so maybe I’ll hear something after dinner. I would just feel much better being able to give Max an idea of Livvie’s reaction, in case I’m getting it all wrong.’
‘Well, you’ve done all you can for today and I’m proud of you. It’s quite a thing to step into Livvie’s expert shoes at such short notice. You are bound to feel a little intimidated. I know you will also be feeling a little out of your comfort zone. So try to relax, enjoy your meal and get a good night’s sleep, honey. And don’t stress about things. Love you and miss you. See you later, alligator.’
I smile at his parting words. That’s our code – a pact we made after Josh’s grandmother died. When the day arrives and we find ourselves facing the inevitable; we want to know for sure that love survives even death. We use that old, childhood saying, so we will never forget the only words that will leave us in no doubt whatsoever. ‘In a while, crocodile.’
I’m left listening to static and a feeling of emptiness makes my stomach drop to the floor. The world has never felt quite as enormous as it does to me right now and I really wish Josh was here to wrap his arms around me. I know it’s only tiredness so I lie back, throwing the phone onto the bed cover beside me. It’s time for a nap before I shower and dress for dinner.
~
When I make my way into the dining room I’m surprised to see virtually all of the tables are full. Max immediately gives me a little wave and hurries over to escort me to a table. The dress code seems to be quite casual and I’m glad I kept it simple, as all of the tables are occupied by families.
‘We’re busy tonight,’ Max explains. ‘Once a month we have a dinner that honours the matriarch of the family. It’s a tradition now, and our chef puts together a very special menu. But if it’s not quite to your liking, then I can bring over the à la carte menu.’
A waiter hovers, pulling out a chair for me. I sit, feeling rather self-conscious as heads turn in our direction. Max is fussing with the table, moving a bowl of fresh flowers and giving one of the tall wine glasses a light polish, as if I’m someone of importance.
‘I’m sure the special menu will be fine.’ I glance at the list of dishes, not sure whether they are separate courses, or a selection from which you choose. Of course, everything is in Italian. ‘I’m in your hands, Max.’ I pass the printed menu back to him, smiling gratefully.
‘It won’t disappoint, I promise.’ And with a broad smile he disappears in what I assume is the direction of the kitchen.
There are half a dozen staff members, including Bella, ferrying meals and taking away empty plates. Thankfully, there is quite a buzz in the room and now that I’m seated I’m no longer a source of distraction. Or perhaps the interest was more about Max than an Englishwoman travelling alone.
I can smell rich, sweet tomatoes and something tantalisingly spicy. A young waiter approaches the table bearing a bottle of wine. He holds up the label for me to inspect it and I nod my head, no idea at all if it’s the finest wine I’m ever likely to drink, or a celebrated local vintage. Either way, when I’m invited to taste the rich, dark-red liquid it slips down easily. Dry and intensely fruity, my mouth is left with a zing of flavours and an aftertaste of cherries.
Each course is beautifully presented in small and appealing portion sizes. Every dish is a first for me, bearing little or no resemblance at all to food I’ve eaten over the years in Italian restaurants back home. From the aperitivo, with Aperol Spritz, olives and crackers, to a mushroom dish with peppers and then, what Bella informs me is black pig fillet with strawberries. Each course is truly delicious.
Towards the end of the meal Max reappears as a willowy, older woman in a simple, yet elegant, silver-grey dress is clearing away the plate in front of me. He speaks to her in rapid Italian and she smiles, then nods, placing the plate back down on the table and extending her hand towards me.
‘Trista Ormanni. You enjoy your visit ’ere, yes?’
The words are stilted and her cheeks colour slightly as she speaks.
‘Yes, it’s truly wonderful. And dinner was heavenly.’
I’m not sure she can understand what I’m saying, but my broad smile reflects the sentiments. She hurries away quickly, leaving us to chat.
‘Trista is my fiancée’s mother. All of the staff here are family members except Bella, whose mother was born just a few kilometres away. Now things have calmed down a little I wondered if you would like to join me for coffee out on the terrace? Unless you are tired and prefer to retire for the night.’
‘No, that would be lovely, thank you.’
Max extends his hand to help me out of my seat. For a brief moment, as our hands touch, everything seems to stand still. I falter slightly and his grasp tightens.
‘The wine seems to have gone to my head.’ A laugh that ends up sounding more like a giggle doesn’t really cover a moment of embarrassment. As he withdraws his hand and extends his arm in the direction of the door, he walks alongside me. His other arm is curled behind me at waist height, but without actually touching me. For some inexplicable reason I feel this is a walk I’ve done before. How ludicrous is that?
Outside, the balmy evening air is sweet, but there is an undercurrent of a rich woodland scent and a slightly musty, earthy smell. It’s comforting, in a familiar way; like a smell from one’s childhood. Except that I’ve never been to Italy before, or anywhere quite like this.
Max notices my reaction. ‘Tonight the breeze carries with it the scent of the forests from the mountain