Next morning Sophie gave Jeeves a longish walk first thing and then left him with Rita while she and Rachel headed for the beach for a swim in the sea and to check the place out. Although it was still relatively early when they got down to Santa Rita, it was already heaving with people. Italian schools were now on holiday and there were holidaymakers all over the place. Sophie had taken her little car rather than the big Mercedes but even so it took two or three tours of the streets behind the seafront before they found a parking space. Goodness only knew how much busier it would become as August arrived and so many Italian companies and businesses closed down for some or all of the month. They made their way through the side streets to the promenade and walked along until they spotted the sign for Bagni Aurelia.
They descended a flight of steps to the sandy beach where a cheerful suntanned man, Rita’s nephew, greeted them and showed them to their ombrellone – literally big umbrella. This blue and white striped parasol had two sunbeds laid out neatly beneath it side-by-side, arranged directly perpendicular to the sea, the sand around them meticulously raked. This place wasn’t cheap, but it did offer a lot of amenities. The beach was maybe ten feet or so below the level of the promenade and changing rooms had been created underneath the walkway. Sophie and Rachel had their own lockable changing room and the use of hot showers and even a washing line to hang their wet costumes to dry. It was all very organised, but maybe a bit too regimented for Sophie’s liking, although she had to admit that being able to change without scrabbling about under a towel was a real bonus.
They left their street clothes in the changing room and set off down the beach to the sea. In fact, as soon as they came out of the shelter of the forest of parasols, the sand was so blisteringly hot they hopped as quickly as possible down to the water’s edge and splashed in gratefully.
‘Blimey, Soph, that sand’s scorching.’
‘The water’s great though. It feels a bit cooler than our pool, but that might just be after the hot beach.’
Together they waded out into the remarkably clean and clear water. The beach shelved gradually and they walked some way before it was deep enough to duck down and swim. The sea was flat calm and there were virtually no waves to disturb the glassy surface. Looking back at the beach, they could see it was made up of a series of sunbed encampments, each laid out with mathematical precision and each with its own set of colours. The spiagge libere, tiny ‘public’ areas of sand between each bagno, were packed with those unable, or unwilling, to undertake the considerable investment necessary to rent one of the coloured parasols. The water’s edge was a mixture of children splashing about while matronly ladies and paunchy elderly gentlemen strolled slowly up and down in the shallows and vendors of all nationalities, carrying everything from sarongs to counterfeit watches and hand-carved African figurines, plied their trade.
By this time Sophie and Rachel had acclimatised to the temperature and it was delightful to float lazily about, the salty water so much more buoyant than their pool. Sophie was bobbing gently in the water when she heard Rachel’s voice and glanced across to see her face looking suddenly serious.
‘Soph, will you tell me about mum, please?’
Sophie’s state of lazy relaxation changed abruptly. She had been trying to find the right time to bring up this subject but had kept putting it off. Now it had come.
‘You mean about her illness and her death?’
‘Yes. I feel so terribly guilty for not coming home to see her before she died, but I was in a bad place… in my head. Tell me, was it awful?’
Sophie felt a whole lot closer to her sister now, but she couldn’t help the host of dreadful memories that came bubbling up inside her head.
‘It was awful. Maybe not so bad towards the end – at least for mum, as she was drugged up – but for me it was ten months of hell. I had to put my life on hold and give up my studies for a whole year so I could look after her. Thank goodness I was able to do that. If I’d been working, I could have lost my job. Of course, by the time I went back to uni again, all my friends had moved on. As for mum, the thing she couldn’t understand was why you didn’t come to see her.’ She glanced over at Rachel again and was not surprised to see tears running down her sister’s cheeks. ‘Couldn’t you have borrowed the money or something?’
Rachel nodded. ‘I know. That’s what I should have done but it was so complicated. Like I said, I was working illegally and if I’d left the country they’d never have let me back in but, truth be told, I was afraid of what mum would say. Mum and I always had a bit of a love–hate relationship. We both know you were always her favourite.’
Sophie was about to object but she stopped herself. While she had no doubt that their mum had loved both daughters, there was no getting away from the fact that her firstborn, the sensible, boring, hardworking one, had always been uppermost in her mind, if not her affections. Looking back on it now, it was so clear and so unfair, but at the time she had just accepted it as the natural order. Taking her silence for agreement, Rachel continued.
‘So if I’d come home I was afraid I’d have burned my bridges, or boats, or whatever it is you burn, as far as working in the States was concerned, and I knew what she would have said: “Look at you, ruining your life, wasting your time, while your sister’s such a success.” She never was one to mince her words when she thought I’d screwed up. I know she had every right to tell me off, but it didn’t stop it hurting.’ She ducked her face into the water to wash away the tears. When she emerged, she reached over and caught hold of one of Sophie’s hands. ‘I’m really, really sorry, Soph. I should have come home and I know that now. In fact, I knew that then, but I was too pig-headed to accept it. Above all, I’m sorry that you had to do everything. I should have been there for you and for her, and the guilt I still feel will be with me forever.’
Sophie clung onto her hand as she felt the tears spring to her own eyes. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and she could understand everything her sister had told her. She did her best to reassure her.
‘Mum had her problems, Rach, we both know that. It can’t have been easy bringing up two children all on her own and there’s no getting away from the fact that you weren’t the easiest, at least when you were in your teens.’ She caught her sister’s eye to show there was no sting intended in her words. ‘After you’d left, she asked after you at first but then she became so introspective she wasn’t really interested in much apart from herself and the cancer. By the end, she barely knew who I was and I’m sure she hardly noticed your absence. For me it was tough and, yes, I would have liked your help but I managed, and it all worked out. Just try to forget about it and use the experience to help you in the future.’
Rachel pulled Sophie to her and they hugged. After that, by tacit agreement, they didn’t speak about it any further but Sophie felt the air had finally been cleared and she knew she could now move on. They had lost their mum, but she had got her sister back at last.
Around mid-morning, they showered to remove the salt that had dried on their bodies and changed out of their swimming things. After that they set out on a walking tour of the town. Apart from modern shops, cafes and restaurants, there wasn’t much to see until they came to a steep flight of old stone steps leading sharply upwards towards a church built almost into the near vertical cliff face. The church itself was obviously not terribly old but the panel outside informed them that although this building had been constructed in the late nineteenth century, it had been built to replace a much earlier medieval church which had been destroyed by a powerful earthquake in 1887. Inside it was all fairly bland but there was an ancient baptismal font, probably salvaged from the old church, carved out of pink marble. The carvings appeared to show boats and armed figures who might even have been wearing turbans or similar headdresses, and Sophie took a few photos and resolved to mention it to Dan, in case it was a reference to his marauding Saracen pirates.
Above the church was the old part of town and they climbed yet more steps, squeezing between ancient houses, mostly white, cream or faded pink in colour, until they emerged above the rooftops and had a clear view down across the town and the beach to the headland beyond. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sea was an almost unbelievable cerulean blue, with strange whitish swirls where currents moved the waters. A flotilla of little sailing boats with red sails, a massive multi-million dollar yacht and a faded green fishing boat added extra touches of colour to the scene, while the cluster of pink roofs of Paradiso, above them amid the trees, looked almost magical. Sophie breathed deeply – not just because of the hundred steps they had just climbed.
‘It’s a gorgeous area, isn’t it? I can see why Uncle George loved it.’
‘I was thinking the same thing. Although I’m looking forward to the financial security the proceeds of the sale of the castle will provide, it’ll be sad to lose the connection with Paradiso.’
‘How’s this for an idea? Let’s see how much we get for the castle but maybe we might have enough left over to buy ourselves a little piece of paradise of our own, somewhere we could come for holidays or just to chill out.’
‘I think that’s a great idea. And when you become a famous writer I can imagine you up there at your typewriter, Jeeves at your feet, looking out over this view as you plan your next bestseller while Chris, stripped to the waist and oiled, gently fans you with a palm frond.’
Sophie couldn’t help laughing. ‘We live in hope – although the only oil that interests me at the moment is the oil I’d like to pour onto my former boyfriend if he’s stupid enough to turn up at the door.’
Before returning to Paradiso, they went to a big supermarket on the outskirts of town and bought a load of provisions in readiness for Chris’s arrival on Friday. Thought of him once again raised the question in Sophie’s head of just what sort of relationship she had, and might have, with him. Pleased as she was at the thought of seeing her best friend again, she was feeling unusually nervous at the prospect.