The conversation didn’t have a chance to start. No sooner had Sophie sat down than Rachel picked up her own mug of tea and turned for the door.
‘Like I said, I’m feeling zonked, so I’m going to stretch out on one of the sofas in the lounge and take a little nap.’
And that was that.
Sophie almost got up and followed her, eager to see the rest of the castle for herself, but she forced herself to remain seated. Rachel had been polite, but little more, and from her tone Sophie could tell she was still wary. She sat there, sipping her tea and wondering whether this was just a result of a guilty conscience or something else. After all, Rachel had gone off six years ago leaving her to look after their ailing mother without a backward glance. The only information she had gleaned so far was that Rachel had been living in the USA. Assuming they managed to cohabit for three months, half of the value of this wonderful old building would pass to her, but Sophie had no idea what her sister’s plans would be after that. Would she stay in Europe or return to the USA?
She finished her tea and looked at her watch. It was gone half past five and she knew Jeeves deserved a decent walk in the fresh air after the long journey, so she decided to take the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and check out the garden.
It rapidly became clear that there was far more than just a garden around the castle. As she walked out into the late afternoon air, the trees resounded to the calls of a multitude of little birds high in the branches and, beyond the trees, the land stretched onwards. The stone perimeter wall extended all the way along to the right, concealing them from the road, while the trees soon gave way to an open area of very arid lawn dotted with peach and apricot trees laden with fruit, beyond which was the unexpectedly large vineyard. The castle was situated on top of the ridge and the land was remarkably level here – and there was a lot of it. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the far end of the grounds where the stone wall turned to the left and finally stopped. The wall was replaced by new-looking wire fencing that formed a formidable barrier but allowed sweeping views over Santa Rita in the valley below.
Strolling back towards the castle, she came to a modern galvanised iron gate part way along the fence, and from the vehicle tracks in the gravel, it occurred to her this was how the gardener gained access to the property.
The estate – because that’s what it was – was charming and very private, and after two full days cooped up in a car, Jeeves took full advantage, charging around and barking, begging for her to throw sticks and huge pine cones for him to retrieve and bring back to drop at her feet. She let him run about for as long as he wanted before he finally returned to her side and the two of them sat down – she on a bench and the dog stretched out in the dust at her feet.
A little while later she was just thinking about getting up again when she spotted a figure coming towards her. It was Rachel.
‘Soph, you need to come and see this.’ She sounded unexpectedly chirpy and Sophie jumped to her feet, as did Jeeves.
‘I thought you’d gone for a lie down.’
‘I did, but I couldn’t sleep after all. It’s a spooky old place so I came outside.’
Sophie followed her sister back until they could just about glimpse the rear of the castle through the trees once again. Here, off to one side, there were three stone outbuildings and it was in the first of these that she saw what it was that had excited her sister’s attention. It was a large, sleek and no doubt expensive Mercedes saloon – presumably Uncle George’s car. Sophie gawped at it in awe.
‘Wow! You could fit my car in the boot.’
‘It’s gorgeous. And the lawyer said we could use it?’ Rachel’s eyes were just about bulging out of her head.
‘That’s what he said.’ Sophie went over and peered in through the side window. It all looked amazingly luxurious with its leather-clad interior. ‘It seems almost improper to think of Jeeves sitting on the back seat.’
‘He’s a good boy. I’m sure he’ll behave.’
They were still ogling the car when a few minutes later they were surprised by a sudden short sharp woof from Jeeves and the sound of a male voice from behind them.
‘Excuse me, ladies, but I thought I’d better come and introduce myself. My name’s Dan.’
They both swung round in astonishment. The man was speaking in fluent English. He even had a soft American accent. More amazing was the fact that he was very good-looking and even more amazing was the fact that Sophie noticed. After her experiences with Claudio she had had very little interest in members of the other sex over the past twelve months. Such was her surprise, she actually took a step backwards, bumping into the wing mirror and banging her funny bone. Suppressing an expletive, she gave the man a welcoming smile, noticing out of the corner of her eye that her sister was also beaming at him.
‘Hello, Dan. I’m Sophie Elliot, and this is Rachel. We’re sisters.’
‘I can see the family resemblance. You must be George’s nieces. He often spoke about you.’
While he was speaking, Sophie took a better look at him. He was tall, with close-cropped fair hair and a stubbly chin. His shoulders were broad and he looked fit. He was wearing shorts and a faded T-shirt that bore the vestiges of a Harley Davidson logo on the front, and he looked very appealing. Sophie was almost annoyed at the unexpected ignition of a spark of attraction inside her. She soon discovered that she wasn’t the only one to find him attractive.
‘Hi, Dan, is that an East Coast accent I can hear?’ Rachel was looking especially pleased to see him.
‘It is. How did you work that out?’ By this time Jeeves had also decided that the tall American was a friend and was standing up on his back legs, scrabbling at him with his paws while Dan fondled his ears. From the expression on Rachel’s face she probably wouldn’t have minded having her own ears – or more – fondled by him and Sophie saw her smile broaden even more.
‘I recognise the accent because I live in the States. I’ve been living in Orlando for the past five years. Where’s home for you?’
‘Cambridge, Massachusetts, although I’m from New York originally.’
‘So how come somebody from the United States has ended up here, Dan?’ Sophie wondered if he was the gardener. And if he wasn’t, how was it he was wandering about on private property?
‘It’s a bit complicated, sort of a busman’s holiday, a mixture of work and leisure. I’m here on an extended summer vacation – it’s like a mini sabbatical. I teach history at Harvard and I’m trying to finish writing a book. Nothing too exciting: a historical treatise on the influence of the so-called Saracen raids on the Mediterranean coastline in the Middle Ages.’ He gave them a wink. ‘It isn’t likely to be a blockbuster. Anyway, George gave me a key to the gate back there and I’ve been keeping an eye on the castle since he passed away. I was walking up the track and I heard voices, so I thought I’d better check you weren’t thieves about to drive off in the Merc.’
‘Well, thank you very much. Is it you we have to thank for the beautiful flowerbeds?’
He shook his head. ‘That’s all down to Beppe. He does the garden. He comes in every Thursday.’
‘So you knew Uncle George well?’
‘We were good friends. I’ve known him for years. When he heard I was looking for somewhere to live along this part of the Ligurian coast for a few months, he told me about a house to rent just back along that way.’ He waved in the direction from which he had come. ‘He was a good guy and I was very sorry he died.’ Looking back at them again he addressed himself to both of them. ‘So how long are you staying?’
Rachel answered immediately. ‘Till the end of September.’
Sophie saw what might have been interest on his face. ‘That’s pretty much the same as me. I arrived a month or so ago and I’m planning on staying until early October before I have to go back to work. That should give us time to get acquainted.’
‘And where did you say you lived, Dan?’ Rachel was hanging on his every word.
He waved back towards the vineyard again. ‘About a half mile that way. I’m in the stone house by the top hairpin bend. You can’t miss it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get off. I’m sure I’ll see you around.’
He headed back towards the side gate and both girls found themselves watching his retreating back. Sophie gave a tiny little internal sigh. With his broad shoulders and strong tanned legs, she couldn’t deny that he did look good.
‘Blimey, Soph, I think I’m in love… or at least lust.’ Rachel kept her voice low but there was no hiding the feeling in her tone. ‘What a hunk!’
For a moment, Sophie was reminded of all the times in their teens, and even in Rachel’s first year at university when Sophie had been in her final year, when they had fallen out over random boyfriends. Time and time again Rachel, with her short skirts, cheeky grin and buoyant self-confidence had ended up the victor. Now they were almost ten years older, would history repeat itself? No sooner did the thought cross Sophie’s mind than she did her best to dismiss it. First, he was American and he was going to disappear back to the States in the autumn and, second, she had already announced to the world in general – or at least to Chris and a few other close friends – that she had no interest in hooking up with another man any time soon. Most importantly, however, although she and her sister might have been lusting after Dan, he had given no sign of reciprocating their interest. Rather than respond, she decided to change the subject.
‘I know it’s still early, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast and if I don’t get something to eat soon I’ll fall over. I think I’ll treat myself to dinner in the restaurant across the piazza. Do you feel like coming? Hopefully they’ll allow Jeeves in. I don’t really want to leave him in a strange house all on his own straightaway. Apart from anything else, he’ll probably bark the place down if he gets left behind.’
‘I’ll join you. I’m hungry too. Definitely a good idea.’ Sophie was pleased to hear Rachel sounding perkier than before. Hopefully this was a good sign. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to take Jeeves, although if you did have to leave him, inside those thick stone walls nobody’s likely to be disturbed.’
‘Apart from the resident ghosts, Rach.’ Sophie reflected that this was the first time in six years that she had referred to her sister by the abbreviated form of her name she used to use.
‘Don’t even joke about ghosts. The place gives me the creeps enough as it is.’ Rachel shuddered.
There was a welcome surprise in store for them as they came up past the side of the house. There, surrounded by a meticulously pruned hedge and protected by an enormous and clearly very ancient fig tree, was a swimming pool and, even more surprisingly, it was full of crystal clear, inviting water, ready for immediate use. Somebody must have readied it for them.
It was then that Sophie had a momentary lapse: instead of doing what she should have done – reaching for Jeeves’s collar – she turned towards her sister to say something and that was all it took. In that split second, the water-loving Labrador set off at a gallop and flung himself bodily into the pool, sending up a plume of water as he disappeared beneath the surface, only to emerge seconds later with a broad canine smile on his face.
‘Oh, God, Jeeves…!’
Sophie glanced across at her sister who erupted into fits of laughter as she watched Jeeves doggy-paddling happily around, snuffling to himself.
‘Your face, Soph! It’s a picture.’
‘Bugger! You know what this means? We now have a smelly wet dog. Any self-respecting restaurant won’t let us through the door I’m afraid.’
Sophie located the oldest towel she could find in the house and did her best to rub the worst of the water off the Labrador, but he was still very damp and decidedly whiffy as they went out of the gates and across the piazza to the Vecchio Ristoro. She was delighted to see that there were tables and chairs set up in front of the restaurant and, although it was fairly crowded, to her relief they were able to find a table to one side where her far from sweet-smelling dog wouldn’t put anybody off their dinner.
There wasn’t a written menu. The friendly elderly lady who came out to show them to their seats simply asked if they wanted the menù gastronomico or the menù normale. Sophie knew she was hungry, but she was also very conscious that she was short of cash. Until she discovered just what her uncle had meant by saying he had left them enough money to live in ‘comfortable style’, she opted for the normal menu just to be on the safe side, as did Rachel – and they didn’t regret it. They didn’t order any drinks, but a minute later the lady emerged carrying a carafe of red wine and a bottle of mineral water, along with a basket of lovely fresh-smelling ciabatta bread and a couple of packets of breadsticks. She deposited them on the table, gave a little bow and left them to it.
‘Wine, Rach?’ Sophie picked up the carafe.
‘Definitely. I think I’m going to need a fair bit of Dutch courage before spending the night in there.’ Rachel pointed towards the castle gates. ‘I never thought I believed in ghosts, but now I’m not so sure. Let’s face it, if they do exist, something tells me they’d live in a place like that.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ Instinctively Sophie knew she needed to offer encouragement to her little sister. ‘All you have to do is to think about our American neighbour and that’ll stop you worrying.’
A smile spread across Rachel’s face. ‘You’re right. I bet he’d come and protect us. Nothing beats a knight in shining armour… unless he takes it off, of course…’ Her voice dissolved into a dreamy sigh.
Sophie was delighted to hear her sister sounding cheerful and decided this might be the right moment for them to start talking. She just needed to think how to break the ice. As a displacement activity, she picked up one of the little packets of breadsticks, tore off the top and slid them out onto the tablecloth. Two seconds later a damp dog’s nose materialised at her side and plonked itself on her thigh. Hastily, she handed him a breadstick and saw him disappear under the table again. In the meantime, Rachel surprised her by launching into her tale without needing to be prompted.
‘You probably want to know what I’ve been doing with myself for the past six years.’
Sophie took a big mouthful of wine and swallowed it without tasting it. ‘I’d love to hear whatever you feel like telling me.’ What she really wanted to know was why Rachel had dropped out of the final year of her degree course at Exeter University.
‘Do you remember Manuel?’
‘Vaguely. Didn’t I meet him at that Christmas party? Wasn’t he the one with the pigtail?’
‘Yes, that’s him. He was at Exeter doing an English language course. He’s from Puerto Rico and I decided to go off with him when he went back home.’
‘But why? You were only a few months away from finishing your degree?’
‘It’s complicated, a combination of things. I’ll tell you about it some other time.’ Clearly this was not the time but Sophie didn’t press her. The important thing for now was that her sister had started talking. ‘I liked Manuel a lot, or at least I thought I did. We flew to Puerto Rico where he had told me he had a luxury yacht. The plan was to sail off into the sunset together and see the world.’ From the downturn at the corners of her mouth, it was clear things hadn’t gone according to plan.
‘How much of the world did you see?’
‘Not a lot. The luxury yacht turned out to be an ancient wooden thirty-footer held together by little more than faith and hope. We were only sailing for a couple of months altogether and I’d almost gone crazy, cooped up with him in the sticky heat, surrounded by sharks so we couldn’t even go for a swim to cool down. Some luxury cruise it turned out to be! Somehow we managed to get as far as Georgetown in Guyana before the yacht gave up the ghost. Along with it went my relationship with Manuel.’
‘So what did you do then?’
‘With the last of my savings I bought myself a one-way ticket to Florida. By this time, I was broke, so I thought I’d find a job so as to save enough to get myself a plane ticket back to the UK. I got a job working illegally at first and then realised that I enjoyed living in the US. I worked for almost two years in a pizzeria in downtown Orlando before I finally managed to find myself a real job that paid a half decent wage, and applied for a Green Card.’ She reached for her wineglass and took a sip. ‘When mum died at the end of my first year in Florida, I was stuck. I’d been barely scraping by, just about managing to make ends meet, but I didn’t have the money to fly home for the funeral. Besides, even if I had done, I would never have been allowed back into the US again. It’s only now that I’ve got all my papers in order that I’m free to travel out and in.’
Sophie was about to respond when their antipasti arrived – and there was a lot to choose from. There were slices of huge tomatoes topped with pieces of succulent fresh soft mozzarella and basil leaves, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. Alongside these were tiny fillets of anchovies and a cold seafood salad of baby octopus, mussels and clams. There was a wooden board loaded with different types of salami, from small spicy ones to large slices of what looked like mortadella laced with pistachio nuts. Unexpectedly there was also a piping-hot omelette whose bright yellow colour pointed to it having been made with real free range eggs – quite probably produced by the same hens she had heard when she first arrived. Sophie glanced across the table at her sister.
‘Thank the Lord we didn’t go for the menù gastronomico.’
It was excellent and as she ate, Sophie did a lot of thinking. She now knew where her sister had gone after leaving Exeter, but she still didn’t know why she had taken this drastic step only a few months before graduating. No doubt Rachel would tell her more as they began to feel more comfortable together. However, this didn’t alter the fact that their mother had received her terminal diagnosis only a few months after Rachel had left and yet she hadn’t returned to see her. The story of being broke rang true but was unacceptable. One way or another, in Sophie’s eyes, her sister should have begged, borrowed or stolen the money to fly home to be at her mother’s side. There was no doubt that Uncle George would have happily flown her over, but presumably her stubborn pride had prevented her from asking.
Instead, the physical and emotional burden of supporting their mother right through her illness until her last days had been left to Sophie alone, and she knew it would be a long time before she could forgive her sister – if ever. Part of her felt ready to explode with all the pent-up frustration she had been storing up for the last six years but she managed to control herself. They had to sleep under the same roof for another ninety-one nights and it made no sense to antagonise her touchy sister, so she concentrated on her meal and tried not to think about it too hard.
The food helped a lot. The next courses were equally superb. First there was a local speciality called farinata. Sophie had never come across this before and had to ask what it was. It turned out to be thin yellow pancakes made from chickpea flour, served hot, torn roughly into odd-shaped chunks, and they tasted delicious. These were followed by a heap of char-grilled prawns and a mixed salad. Sophie feared she wouldn’t have room for a little panna cotta at the end, but somehow managed, and it was divine. It was an exceptional meal and when the bill arrived, she was very pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn’t cost much more than her pizza and salad in France the previous night. She was all set to pay the whole thing, in spite of her money worries, but Rachel insisted on paying her half and was amazed that, unlike in the States, they didn’t have to add on a huge service charge.
They were sipping their little espresso coffees before heading back to the castle when they heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Harvard Dan emerge from the interior of the restaurant with a beautiful dark-haired woman at his side. When he recognised them, his face broke into a broad smile.
‘Hi, again. Enjoy your meal?’
Choking back her surprise and a twinge of what might even have been disappointment at the sight of the other woman, Sophie answered.
‘One of the best meals I’ve ever had. If I carry on like this for three months I’ll need a crane to get me out of here.’
He gave them a little wave and bade them goodnight. As he and his lady friend strolled off, Sophie heard her sister’s voice.
‘Bugger!’
‘Bugger, indeed.’