What Happens in Tuscany... (9 page)

‘It's just that we're on a boat and we're going abroad. Katie, I've dreamt of this for years and years and now, at long last, it's happening. It's an amazing feeling of liberation.' She looked up, wiping her eyes with her forearm. ‘And it's you I've got to thank for making it happen.'

‘No you haven't.' Katie handed her a tissue and stepped back. ‘You're the one who decided the time was right to rejoin the real world. Don't forget, it was you who got yourself a passport months ago with this in mind. If it hadn't been me, it would have been somebody else here with you.' She reached out and caught Victoria's arm. ‘I'm just the means to the end and for what it's worth, it's an amazing experience for me to participate in this with you. For me it would just have been a boring old boat ride. Seeing it through your eyes makes me realise you should never take anything for granted in this life.'

Victoria looked up at her, an expression of sorrow on her face. ‘How could he keep me cooped up like that? I know he wasn't in his right mind, but that doesn't make it any easier.'

Katie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘But it's over now. You've got to move on. Look at it this way. Every single place we go from now on will be brand new to you. Every person you meet, every castle, every hotel, every church and cathedral. It's like going through the looking glass. You're in another world now. Don't look back, look forward. Just think of the wonders ahead of you.'

Victoria rubbed her hands across her face and dried her eyes. She met Katie's gaze and smiled. ‘Thanks, Katie, you're right. This is the first day of the rest of my life.'

They found seats on a bench and sat watching the English coast gradually recede into the haze. Once they had finished eating, they moved forward and saw the French coast already clear to the naked eye and drawing visibly nearer. Not long after, they docked in Calais and were driving eastwards along the motorway by four o'clock. In comparison to the overcrowded roads of south east England, the motorway was deserted and the drive was far more relaxing. They got down to near Reims before looking for a hotel. After a few weeks of intensive practice, Victoria was getting good at using the tablet computer and she easily managed to book a hotel online and directed Katie to it.

The hotel was a former chateau. Remarkably, because of its proximity to the battlefields of the First World War, it had suffered little or no damage and remained a fine old building which had now been transformed into a luxury hotel. Their rooms were immensely comfortable, although, as Katie couldn't help remarking, they weren't cheap. In fact, she had never in her life stayed anywhere even vaguely like this, with its marble bathrooms, fitness centre, spa and even a choice of different pillow fillings. The meal that evening was equally sumptuous. As they sat in the lounge, sipping champagne and consulting the heavy leather-bound menus, Katie couldn't help remarking upon it.

‘I'd better not get too used to this kind of luxury. I can see how it could become addictive.'

Victoria looked up in agreement. ‘I never really thought about it that hard until recently. I suppose to me it's always been natural to have people to look after me, things done for me, pretty much anything I ever wanted.' She caught Katie's eye. ‘Apart from the freedom to go anywhere I wanted. But, of course, you're right. It seems almost indecent to be living in the lap of luxury while so many people around the world are barely surviving.' The advent of the television at Iddlescombe Manor had had an amazing influence on Victoria. In spite of having read the
Telegraph
, the sight of poor refugees in war-torn countries all over the world had had a profound effect upon her.

That evening, over a spectacular dinner, they talked about just what Victoria could do to help balance the equation; how to use some of her vast wealth to help alleviate the suffering of others. Katie came up with a good idea.

‘You could set up a foundation. The sort of thing Bill Gates has done.' By this time, Victoria knew all about Bill Gates and other modern day legends. ‘Choose who you think needs the help most and then see that they get it.' She risked a direct question. ‘Are you really terribly, terribly rich? I mean, would there be money you could spare to set up something like that?'

Victoria took a sip of her Château Phélan Ségur 2005 and did her best to reply. ‘I really don't know. Of course father was terribly rich; no doubt about that. I just don't know how rich. In fact, that's the next thing on my list once we get back from Italy. I need to get Mr Evergreen to talk me through the family finances. But I'm sure we must have more than enough to set up a charitable concern.'

They carried on talking about possible projects all the way down the motorways the next day. The sky remained a clear blue and the temperature rose steadily until they reached the mountains. As they snaked along the Autoroute Blanche into the high Alps, both of them marvelled at the scenery. Victoria, in particular, was amazed at the scale of everything. By now, Katie was getting tired of driving, so they came off the French motorway, crossed the frontier into Switzerland and checked into a magnificent hotel on the lakeside at Geneva. Katie almost had a heart attack when she saw the cost of their rooms, but Victoria, now sporting her newly-acquired gold card, didn't appear to notice.

Katie, too, had been issued with a credit card for any expenses they might encounter from fuel to motorway tolls to hotels themselves. She soon found that if she ignored the figures and just concentrated on remembering her pin number, it became a little easier. Certainly easier than the calculation she had made that morning, that their overnight stay outside Reims had cost almost as much as she had been earning in a month as a secondary school teacher.

The hotel in Geneva boasted, amongst a host of other luxuries, a rooftop swimming pool and both girls decided to try it after two days sitting down in the car. For Victoria, swimming up till then had mostly been in their private lake. A pool was something she hadn't experienced since she was a little girl. They checked into their rooms, changed into their swimming things and, wrapped in their complimentary bathrobes, took the lift up to the roof terrace. They found themselves a couple of sunloungers and stripped off their robes. Katie hadn't seen Victoria's choice of bathing costume yet and she was in for a surprise. The costume had quite evidently come straight from a black and white movie. It started up around her throat and ended in a pair of semi-shorts. Inevitably, it was black. Katie noticed a few pairs of sunglasses around the pool being lifted in surprise. They climbed into the water and Katie swam up alongside.

‘Victoria, where did you get that costume? It's amazing!'

Victoria smiled. ‘I found it in my mother's room.' In answer to Katie's raised eyebrows, she explained. ‘Father kept all her belongings in a special room. There are her fur coats, her ball gowns, everything. I thought it fitted me fine so I took it years ago. Why do you ask? Don't you like it?'

Katie gave it some thought. ‘It's lovely, really lovely, but very different from what people are wearing these days. Maybe you'll start a new fashion.'

Victoria shook her head. ‘I don't want to start a new fashion, Katie. I want to fit in. There'll be time for me to think about innovating once I'm settled in the present. So, what should I be wearing?'

Katie thought the best thing to do was to get her to take a look around. There weren't many people by the pool, but a good number of them were women. ‘Just swim about a bit and check out the other women you can see. You'll notice quite a difference.'

It didn't take long. Victoria swam back alongside and caught her arm. ‘I think I see what sort of thing I should be wearing. Do you think they sell bathing costumes anywhere round here?'

Katie had been dazzled by the array of big name fashion houses who had shops down on the ground floor of the hotel. There would be no trouble finding something. If it were her, the trouble would be to pay for it. For Victoria that would not be a problem.

Katie nodded. ‘How about we climb out of the pool in a few minutes and head back downstairs? There are shops galore down there and you can take your pick.'

Victoria looked relieved. She caught Katie's eye. ‘While we're at it, is there anything else I need to buy to equip me for life on the outside?'

‘I daresay we'll find out as we go along.'

Chapter Nine

It was late the following afternoon when they finally got to the villa. It had got warmer and warmer from the moment they emerged from the Mont Blanc tunnel and headed south. The temperature gauge in the car was registering 36 degrees, almost blood temperature, as they crunched up the gravelled drive to the house. It had been a long and tiring day, fighting their way through heavy traffic and never-ending tunnels on the motorway as it snaked around the coast near Genoa. Luckily they had satnav to direct them from the motorway to their destination.

The entrance to the estate was through a pair of ancient wrought iron gates that looked as if they had never been closed. A gnarled old fig tree leant drunkenly against the high wall, its branches intertwined through the bars of the gate. The drive itself climbed up among rows of olive trees. A thick coating of dust covered their grey-green leaves. The soil all around was a light beige colour, and the grass had been bleached pale yellow by the sun. It evidently hadn't rained in this part of Italy for a good long time.

‘Look, there's the villa. I recognise it from the photos.' Victoria extended her arm to the right. As the drive curved round, Katie saw the house clearly. It was a magnificent Florentine villa, complete with a dovecot on the roof. It was a light ochre colour, with dusty green shutters on the windows. Although smaller than Iddlescombe Manor it was, nonetheless, huge. The drive turned sharply back on itself as they entered a grove of ancient trees that ringed the building, providing it with very welcome shelter from the full force of the summer sun. Then the trees gave way to a large flat area directly in front of the house, a balustraded terrace running the full width of the house above them.

An elaborate stone stairway curved up to the terrace and an olive-skinned lady was standing on the bottom step, holding an umbrella to protect her from the sun. Beside her was a large black dog, doing its best to take advantage of the little shade offered by the balustrade. As they drew up, the woman discarded the umbrella and hurried over to greet them. The dog followed her, his tail wagging lazily in greeting.

‘Welcome, welcome. How wonderful to see you, Signorina Vittoria. I'm Rosina. My husband will be here in a moment. He's been out in the vines.' Katy smiled to herself. It was so good to hear the wonderful Tuscan accent. She noted the Italian pronunciation of Victoria's name and reverted to her Italian alias when she was introduced.

‘Good afternoon, Signora Rosina. My name is Caterina. We are so pleased to meet you. Vittoria and I have just driven all the way from Switzerland today.'

‘Goodness me, you poor girls.' Rosina was very impressed. ‘You must both be exhausted. Do, please, come along inside. I'll get somebody to bring your things in. Don't you worry about anything. And don't worry about old Dante here. He's very friendly.' With that, she turned and scurried up the steps to the main entrance. She pushed the massive door open and waved them in, sticking out a foot to deter the dog from following. ‘Come in, come in. You must be tired out. Two girls, all the way from Switzerland in a car! Incredible! No, Dante, you don't come in the front door.'

Inside the villa it was blissfully cool. Their steps echoed on the tiled floor as they followed Rosina into a light and airy hallway, from which an amazing marble staircase rose to the upper floors. They turned left and found themselves in a cavernous living room, dominated by a wall of glazed doors at the far end. On closer inspection, these led out into an enclosed courtyard, surrounded by arches and punctuated by lemon trees in enormous terracotta pots. Bright yellow fruit covered the trees.

‘Come and have a seat down here in the cool.' Rosina indicated a number of wicker armchairs set around a low table. She was right. Here in the shade, the temperature was noticeably lower and a gentle breeze blew through the open doors and windows, keeping the courtyard unexpectedly cool. ‘Can I get you some coffee? Or a cold drink maybe?' A thought occurred to her. ‘I've got some English tea as well, if you like, Signorina Vittoria. Your father, he liked a cup of English tea with a slice of lemon at this time of the afternoon. Ah, the poor man.' She crossed herself sadly. ‘Such a pity. The last time we saw him was five long years ago.'

Victoria and Katie gratefully accepted the offer of tea and Rosina hurried off to make it. Before the girls could sit down, footsteps told them they had a visitor; or rather, two visitors. Dante the dog had managed to find a way in and arrived, wagging his tail amiably, just before his master. Nando was a swarthy man of medium height, his deeply tanned face smiling broadly. He had pretty obviously just thrown on a pristine white shirt, still marked with creases where it had been folded. He was still tucking the tails into his trousers as he came rushing in.

‘Signorina Vittoria, welcome. We have waited so very, very long to meet you in person. Every time your father came here he brought us photographs of you, ever since you were a tiny baby. Now,' he looked on appreciatively, ‘you have grown into a fine young lady.'

Victoria extended a hand to him and returned his smile. ‘You must be Nando. My father was very fond of you and your wife. Can I introduce you to my friend, Katie, Caterina.'

‘Signorina Caterina, I am honoured to meet you. But, please, sit down. You must be tired. Have you come far today?' When they told him, he raised his eyebrows in amazement. ‘
Maremma cane!
What a journey. And from England as well!'