“Hello?” a timid voice called out, causing Annie to lift her sunglasses and look up from her magazine.
As far as she knew she was the only one at the villa this afternoon. The French students had left around midday, and the German couple had said something about going off for the day to visit the ruins of Pompeii.
They had very politely asked Annie to join them, but wandering around in the heat looking at ancient dead people petrified in molten lava wasn’t her kind of holiday.
After last night’s exploits, she’d decided to just have a quiet day lazing by the pool. While Valentina had mentioned that there’d be more guests arriving, Annie certainly wasn’t anticipating having to do a meet and greet.
Standing up above the terrace now was the mousiest-looking girl she’d ever seen. She had luminous red hair tied up in bun, with plastic-framed glasses on her face, and pale freckled skin.
Her clothes were reminiscent of the kind of hand-me-downs Annie would’ve worn in her teens, but at least her figure wasn’t too bad. She had that and her flaming hair going for her—even if there was little else.
“I’m Annie. Are you staying here?” she asked, jumping up from the sun lounger. Poor thing looked harmless and a bit terrified, to be honest, and instinctively Annie’s heart went out to her.
“Colette,” the other woman answered in a very definite English accent. “And yes, I think I have a reservation here, but I’m not sure where I’m supposed to check in exactly.”
“Ah, things are pretty casual round here,” Annie commented airily. “There’s no check-in as such, but someone will be coming round later. You the one from England then?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I didn’t think you looked very American. The manager, landlady—or whatever they call them in Italy—told me that there were two other girls arriving this week,” Annie supplied, throwing on a sarong.
She put on her flip-flops, hopped up the steps and led the new girl through the courtyard and into the house.
“Oh. So how do I get my room key?” Colette was still holding on to her humongous suitcase for dear life as they went through to the kitchen. She looked to be a couple of years younger than her and so timid, Annie thought, even in the way she moved.
“Like I said, Valentina will be around this evening. In the meantime, just relax and rest up after the journey. It’s hot out there today. Did you have something to eat? Are you here for long?”
“Yes, three weeks. Just a break away from work, really.”
“Wow, you must have some job,” Annie chuckled, “if you can afford that much time off.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s a family business, a bakery in Brighton. My mother and sister arranged this trip for me as a gift,” Colette explained.
“So you’re here on your own?” Annie probed, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was the one asking all the questions. Hairdresser’s habit. But she was intrigued by the fact that she was a fellow lone traveler.
“Yes, it’s a bit of a dream of mine to come to Italy. I meant to after uni but it didn’t work out. But I know a bit of Italian, so...”
“Well, you’ll be handy to have around so. I haven’t a word. In fairness, I was lucky to get through school, let alone learn a foreign language,” she laughed. “I work as a hairdresser in Dublin.”
“Dublin, Ireland?” a third voice called out then, and Annie and Colette both turned to see a gorgeous blonde standing under the front door arch.
She was naturally tanned, model-thin, and looked as if she’d stepped straight out of the magazine Annie had been reading, with her expensive designer clothes, artfully tousled hair, designer bag on her arm and obligatory Louis Vuitton suitcases at her feet.
All this doe-eyed beauty yet unashamedly sensual, and with a confident air that made Annie feel threatened on sight.
“The American?” she asked rhetorically.
“Yeah, the American,” the other woman drawled. “Kimberley Weston. You guys can call me Kim,” she introduced herself as she glided into their midst, extending a hand to Colette and then Annie.
Colette greeted her eagerly, a look of undisguised wonderment on her face. Annie wasn’t so easily impressed, and she tried to restrain the naked envy crawling up her spine. Colette might not be a trust-fund baby, but this girl certainly was.
Annie had an innate issue with rich people. She wasn’t—obviously—and those who were had made her life hell every day for as long as she could remember. Especially in secondary school.
It was bad enough to be the adopted child of a lower working-class family with few lessons in etiquette, no friends and few prospects for improving your situation. The only reason Annie was even at that particular school was because her mother cleaned the parish priest’s house and everyone knew it. The mostly well-off pupils took particular delight in tormenting her because of it.
Kim looked exactly like one of those girls who took pleasure in Annie’s pain.
“So your own names?” the American asked, sitting down on a stool and crossing her long legs under the countertop. She casually flung her expensive bag on the seat next to Annie’s as if it had come from a high-street chain instead of a Fifth Avenue designer boutique.
“Annie O’Doherty,” she finally answered as the question began to loom uncomfortably in the air. “And this is Colette. She’s just arrived, too.”
“Turner,” she supplied. “Colette Turner, but Colette is fine.”
She really was too sweet, Annie thought as she looked at how the younger woman responded to questioning. Her words were soft, her eyes seemed to seek out anything but the gaze of others. She also watched how the younger girl covertly studied Kim’s attire and then her own. There was no comparing the two.
Kim was pure glamour. Colette was pure...twee.
“Where in America are you from?” Colette asked.
“Manhattan.”
“New York? Wow.”
Annie started to become self-conscious as she listened to Colette and Kim chat easily about their backgrounds and education. Annie couldn’t help it, she felt uneasy at being unable to join in the conversation. Grand when it had just been Colette, but Kim was so much more worldly and confident.
Then she thought of something and looked at her watch, having come up with an idea to help find common ground.
“Well, Valentina won’t be around for another while yet, and since we’re going to be sharing this place, I suppose we might as well get the party started. Drinks, anyone?” She slapped an exuberant hand against her thigh. “There’s a bottle of grappa in the press.” She winked.
She couldn’t help it; it was her fail-safe way of easing her anxiety. A few drinks to help get to know people had always been Annie’s social crutch.
And Colette certainly looked like she could do with some loosening up.
“Hey, sounds good to me,” Kim chimed in, and Annie automatically warmed to her a little more.
They moved back outside to the terrace and soon she and Kim were drinking up a storm, the alcohol loosening their inhibitions, just as Annie had anticipated.
Colette wouldn’t at first. She looked at the glasses of Italian liqueur as if it was some kind of poison.
“It won’t bite,” Annie urged. She’d promised herself to cut back on the drinking and she had, but she was on holiday after all. And it wasn’t as if she was in a position to get sloshed and into trouble. Not here anyway.
“Yes, go on,” Kim urged. “Have some fun. We’re in Italy, one of the most beautiful places on earth. And I think a toast is in order.”
“Great idea,” Annie enthused, thinking that maybe the American was OK after all.
The notion seemed to find a home with Colette, too, as she tentatively took a glass and had a measured sip.
“Here’s to la dolce vita!” Annie sang, raising her glass to the others.
“La dolce vita,” Kim and Colette chimed in return.