Dreaming of Italy: A stunning and heartwarming holiday romance Page 6

  ‘Hello, good afternoon, Emma. Sorry I couldn’t join you in Turin, but something came up. I’m at your disposal from now on though, for as long as you need me.’ He had an educated British accent, but without any noticeable regional inflection.

  ‘Thanks a lot. I imagine you know what we’re in Italy for, don’t you?’ She was relieved to hear her voice sounding pretty normal, although she could still feel where his hand had touched hers.

  ‘My friend Gianluca told me you’re scouting locations for a new movie. And he said it’s to be set around the beginning of the twentieth century. Is that right?’

  ‘Pretty much. We’re actually looking at the days immediately before the outbreak of World War I – June 1914.’

  He nodded again. ‘Ah, yes, the end of the Belle Époque, one of my favourites. That was the time when everybody thought everything was going right for the world, while the spectre of what would be the bloodiest war in history loomed before them. My period’s pretty much any time between the Risorgimento – that’s the unification of Italy in the mid-eighteen-hundreds – and the Second World War.’

  ‘Your period? Are you a teacher?’

  ‘No, but I did a degree in history and that period was my favourite. I’ve kept up an interest in it ever since. You maybe know I’m part-Italian, so I’ve always been fascinated by the history of this country.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘And, boy, does Italy have a lot of history!’

  As he was speaking, Emma found herself surreptitiously checking him out. He was tall – not as tall as Rich or his father, but over six feet. He looked as if he was around her age or maybe a year or two older, maybe even nudging forty. His hair was light brown and cropped fairly short. His eyes were an unusual blue-grey colour and he looked as though he had been out in the sun. His face and his strong forearms were tanned a light golden colour which contrasted well against the crumpled white linen shirt he was wearing. His shoulders were broad and he appeared fit and healthy. There was no doubt about it, he was a very good-looking man, and Emma couldn’t deny the annoying feeling of attraction building inside her.

  It was annoying because this sort of thing just didn’t happen to her.

  After years without any but the most casual – mainly just physical – interest in men, she couldn’t understand why her brain had suddenly reacted like this, and before he had even spoken to her. She did her best to ignore the confusion in her head, but it was far from easy. Taking a firm grip on her emotions, she waved to the waitress to order a drink as a distraction from the turmoil swirling inside her after her reaction to meeting this man. As the waitress arrived at their table, the girl gave him a far broader smile of welcome than she had given Emma. Clearly, Emma wasn’t the only one to find this man attractive.

  Shrugging off what could only be explained as a spark of jealousy, Emma waited until he had ordered a cold beer in perfect Italian and the girl had retired before asking about the history of Bordighera. His reply confirmed that he knew what he was talking about.

  ‘This part of the coast was pretty much invented, or at least discovered, by the English. In the late eighteen hundreds, the railway finally linked this part of the coast to Paris and then, in 1885, to London. Instead of weeks bumping about in a horse-drawn carriage, people could travel from London to Bordighera in comfort in less than twenty-four hours. As word got out of the mild winters down here, more and more wealthy Englishmen started building villas here. Up until then, there had been little more than fishing villages along this coast, but within a few years, around the turn of the century, they were transformed into chic watering holes for the very well off.’

  ‘So the villas we saw on our way into town would have already been here in 1910?’

  He nodded. ‘Many of them, yes. Like this place.’ The waitress returned with his beer and he rewarded her with a smile that actually made the girl blush. He, however, appeared totally unaware of her reaction and turned back to Emma, raising the beer bottle before putting it to his lips and taking a sip. ‘Cheers. I needed that. It’s taken me six hours to get here, and the trains were crowded.’

  ‘Where’ve you come from?’

  ‘Umbria.’ Seeing the expression on her face, he elaborated. ‘The most beautiful region in Italy – well, in my humble opinion anyway. It’s to the south and east of Florence. You must have heard of places like Assisi and Perugia. And then, of course, there’s Orvieto.’

  Emma nodded. ‘And you live in Umbria?’

  He nodded. ‘I do now. As of a year ago.’

  ‘And you say it’s very beautiful. Maybe we should swing through there as part of this tour.’ At that moment Marina reappeared and Emma turned the question to her. ‘What do you think, Marina? Mark says Umbria’s gorgeous. Could we add a visit to that region or is it out of our way?’

  Marina sat down and nodded. ‘Of course we can. In fact, it’s already on my list with a question mark alongside it. Mark’s right about it being very, very lovely.’

  As Marina spoke his name, that same ridiculous sensation of jealousy struck Emma once more. What on earth was going on? She was jealous of another woman saying his name? Without thinking, she took a big spoonful of ice cream, followed by an even larger mouthful of sparkling water and only then realised this had been a serious mistake. As the freezing cold mixture in her mouth fizzed and bubbled and threatened to go up her nose, she had a horrible feeling she might be about to spit it out across the table and the result of that was too awful to contemplate. She was reaching for a handful of paper napkins from the chrome dispenser on the table when she heard Mark’s voice, his question directed at her, apparently unaware of her agitation.

  ‘Can you tell me a bit about the movie, Emma, or is it a secret?’

  One thing was for sure: speaking was out of the question for now, unless she wanted to sandblast everybody around the table. Holding the napkins to her mouth, she looked desperately towards Rich and was mightily relieved to see him realise she was in difficulty and pick up the gauntlet. He gave Mark a sketchy outline of the plot and Emma had time to collect herself and finally clear her mouth. As the ice cream disappeared down her throat, she took a couple of big breaths and a much smaller sip of water, gradually recovering her composure. When Rich came to the end of his exposé, she shot him a grateful look and picked up the conversation.

  ‘The girl in the movie, Emily, has been involved with the suffragette movement and she’s here not because she wants to be, but because her father said so.’

  ‘Fascinating.’ He sounded as if he meant it. ‘Who came up with that idea?’

  ‘My boss, Rich’s father.’

  Mark nodded across the table at Rich. ‘Great idea.’ He returned his attention towards Emma. ‘I’d better read up on the suffragette movement, I think.’

  ‘You do that.’ Emma did her best to sound like a Hollywood executive after her moments of unexpected disorientation. ‘Anyway, I’m delighted we’re going to visit Umbria after what you’ve said. That sounds great. It’s not such a big name as Tuscany and that’s what we’re looking for. Our brief is to find beautiful places that aren’t as familiar as more famous ones.’ She caught Marina’s eye. ‘What about tomorrow? Can you think of anywhere around here that’s a bit off the grid, but beautiful?’

  Marina nodded. It didn’t surprise Emma to hear she had already thought about this. ‘Yes, I have something in mind that I believe would suit, but can you remind me where we’re at in the movie?’

  ‘Emily’s either just met or she’s about to meet Robert, the young British army officer she falls in love with.’

  ‘So it needs to be somewhere particularly romantic. Unless you find somewhere here in Bordighera that particularly appeals to you, I think we could take a trip inland to the little town of Dolceacqua. It’s only ten kilometres or so from here and it looks very historic, very scenic and, although I’ve never been there, very romantic with its narrow, winding streets, old buildings, a medieval castle on the hill, that sort of thing.’ She glan
ced across at Mark. ‘Do you know it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Like you I’ve heard about it and it sounds like the sort of place you’re looking for, and it was certainly there in 1914. I look forward to seeing it.’

  ‘And then, if there’s time, I thought we could drop into the Hanbury Gardens in the afternoon.’ Marina was checking details on her phone. ‘It’s the same kind of distance from here as well.’

  ‘Hanbury? That doesn’t sound like an Italian name.’

  Emma was pleasantly surprised to hear Rich speaking up and sounding interested. Although gradually loosening up, he still had a tendency to be quiet and reserved and it was good to see him getting involved.

  Marina gave him a smile. ‘It isn’t. He was another Englishman. He built a villa right on the coast along to the west of here and he laid out some lovely subtropical gardens. They’re open to the public.’ She stopped. ‘Assuming they were there in 1914, of course.’

  Mark was quick to confirm this. ‘I think I’m right in saying that Sir Thomas Hanbury built the gardens in the last half of the nineteenth century, so they would indeed have been in existence in time for the events of your movie. Not necessarily open to the public back then, but a bit of poetic licence would get your Emily and Robert in there, I’m sure.’

  Emma sat back contentedly. ‘Great. That’s tomorrow planned.’ She glanced at her watch. It was almost six o’clock. ‘I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m going down to the beach for a swim.’

  Whether the idea of seeing Mark with his shirt off was in any way responsible for her opening up the idea to the group was something she was not prepared to debate at this point.

  As it turned out, she did not, after all, have that experience. She and Rich went swimming by themselves and she couldn’t help a feeling of disappointment as she floated about, checking the beach in vain for any sign of Mark. After a while, she deliberately ducked her head into the cold water and shook it. She had only just met this man, so why was she letting him mess with her head? Besides, as she had told herself many times, she had no interest in finding herself a man. For now, work had to come first. Hadn’t it?

  Chapter 6

  That evening they went out to a fish restaurant in the centre of town and afterwards Emma and Mark went for a stroll along the promenade in the fading light. Rich and Marina disappeared back to the hotel and Emma found herself wondering whether they might end up together, but she decided to ignore that relationship for now while she tried to work out what was happening inside her own head.

  The railway line that Mark had mentioned ran along parallel with the coast directly behind the promenade, and from time to time they heard trains coming past. It was a warm evening without a breath of wind, and the tiny waves barely sighed as they brushed against the shore. The beach itself was made up of pebbles rather than sand, but the water that afternoon had been crystal clear and just about an acceptable temperature; certainly a lot cooler than the temperature of the average California pool, but all the more refreshing as a result. Presumably the water temperature in the Mediterranean would rise as the summer wore on.

  As they walked along, they chatted about inconsequential matters like the meal, the weather and the sea temperature, while at the back of her mind, Emma found herself wondering what was happening to her. Finding herself so struck by a man was so unusual and unexpected to be almost worrying. What on earth was going on? And the other thought running through her head was whether Mark felt the same spark. For his part, he showed no sign of developing anything but a working relationship with her and the others, and there certainly hadn’t been anything remotely flirtatious in his behaviour over dinner. Doing her best – at least for now – to banish any further conjecture, she asked how he had come to live in Italy.

  He told her his parents had been killed in a car crash when he was still just a little boy and he had been brought up partly in Umbria and partly in the UK by the two sets of grandparents. As a result, he was effectively bilingual. He was clearly intelligent as he had won a bursary to Oxford University and, from there, he had moved on to working for the British government. Now, after the recent death of his Italian grandfather, he had given up his job in Britain and had returned to Italy where he was currently living in the house he had inherited from him.

  ‘So you aren’t working at the moment?’

  ‘I’ve been pretty busy supervising the renovations and alterations at my grandfather’s place but, apart from this interlude with you guys, I’m not doing anything else of a historical nature.’

  ‘Can I ask why you left the old job?’

  ‘I was invalided out.’ He gave her a slightly odd smile. ‘Repetitive Strain Injury – from typing in too many thousands when doing the MP’s expenses.’

  She didn’t comment. He was clearly joking, but it did make her wonder just what might have happened; however, that was his business. ‘So what would you like to do? You’re a bit young for retirement.’

  ‘I’m thirty-eight, which makes me about ten years older than you.’ Emma liked the sound of that and didn’t disabuse him for now. ‘As for work, I don’t know, really. As I say, I’ve been fairly busy tying up granddad’s affairs and sorting out his old house, but I’ve been thinking about maybe going back to university in a couple of years to do a doctorate. Something’ll come up. I’m in no hurry.’ He glanced across at her as they walked along the promenade. ‘And what about you? Gianluca said you’re a high flier.’

  ‘People keep telling me that, but I’m not sure. What I do know is that there’s a lot riding on the success or failure of this trip. If we can find the right locations, it’ll do wonders for the movie’s chances. If I screw up, there could be serious consequences.’

  ‘For you or for the company?’

  ‘For everybody.’

  ‘Are you telling me your job’s on the line?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think anybody would fire me, but let’s just say it wouldn’t do a lot for my chances of promotion.’

  ‘And that’s what you want – promotion?’

  ‘I love my job, Mark, and I’m good at it. At least, that’s what people keep telling me. I’ve been working really hard for the company and it would be good to rise up the food chain – not least as the movie business is still very much a man’s world.’

  ‘Sounds like a situation the heroine of Dreaming of Italy would have recognised. That’s what the suffragettes were all about, after all.’

  ‘Things have moved on a lot since 1900, but there’s still some way to go.’

  ‘Do you think you’d have been a suffragette if you’d been around way back then?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d have been brave enough. They got themselves beaten up and arrested, you know, but I’d like to think that even back then I would have felt as I do now – women are equal to men. That’s why I work hard and want to do my best. Don’t get me wrong, Mark, I do it because I love it. In spite of what some people might think, I’m not really a workaholic. Yes, I do work hard, but it’s because I enjoy my job. You’ve got to understand that I was dreaming about Hollywood when I was still in my teens. To find myself part of it now is awesome.’

  ‘And how about your personal life? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, after all.’

  ‘I play. A bit. I’ve never been that interested in going out just for the hell of it. My parents taught me to work hard and find my reward in that. All right, I took that with a pinch of salt growing up, but I do see what they were talking about now. Like I say, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it.’

  She waited for him to ask her about any men in her life but he said nothing. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The plain fact was that over the years she had consistently put her career first and in so doing had probably missed out on numerous opportunities to meet new people and forge new relationships but, like she had told him, it had been her choice and she didn’t regret it. Or did she? If she had been asked that question jus
t twenty-four hours earlier, she wouldn’t have hesitated but now, ever since meeting this man, she suddenly didn’t feel so sure. For somebody usually so clear in her thinking and decision-making, it felt weird.

  Her musings were interrupted as he changed the subject.

  ‘And what’s the deal with Richard? I gather he’s the boss’s son, but he doesn’t act like the next in line to the throne. In fact it’s quite clear you’re his boss here.’

  Emma wasn’t going to mention Rich’s drug problem, so she improvised. ‘He had some health problems in the past and dropped out of college, I believe, and he’s only just graduated at the age of twenty-seven. I think the trouble now is he’s a bit low on confidence. Hopefully he’ll get himself together and I can see a definite improvement already. His father wants him to experience all branches of the business, so that’s why he’s here with me.’ She decided it was better to get off the subject of the boss’s son. ‘So why did you decide to come on this trip?’

  ‘I’m doing a favour for a friend and I liked the sound of it. I’m not really employed by them. I was at university with the guy who set the whole thing up and we’ve stayed in touch. Gianluca’s very bright. He’s a hundred percent Italian but I sometimes think he speaks better English than I do. He came back to Italy after Oxford and opened his agency. He spotted a gap in the market and he makes a good living supplying logistical support to people like yourselves, or international firms thinking of setting up in Italy and so on. He’s built himself a great reputation and he employs really good people.’ He stopped and glanced across at her in the dwindling light of the setting sun. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t referring to myself. I was thinking of Marina. She’s very smart. Like I say, I’m not really a proper employee, but I can tell you this, I’m glad I decided to come along.’

  Annoyingly, she immediately found herself wondering what he meant by that remark. Was he glad he had come for her sake, for the sake of the food, the surroundings, the historical element, or what? A few hours earlier, Hollywood exec Emma would have asked him straight out but not this new, uncertain Emma. She suppressed a little snort of frustration. What on earth was happening to her?