At the end of May, Alice drove over to Italy in the little Mini she had bought four years earlier. It had already been pretty old when she had bought it, and she was relieved that it managed the journey without mishap. The trip itself took two full days and cost a lot more than her air ticket to Bologna the previous month had done, but because she had to bring clothes and all the other bits and pieces she would need for a prolonged stay, she had no choice in the matter. As they had told her she would have a car provided, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with this one, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it – as long as it got her there. When she finally turned onto the narrow road up the valley towards the castle and got her first sight of it on the hillside ahead she was filled with mixed emotions: relief at having got here intact, coupled with considerable apprehension for what now awaited her.
Simonetta had sent over the details of the apartment to rent in Varaldo, so Alice drove straight there. She hadn’t been sure what to expect and it came as a welcome relief to find that this was in a pleasant, if bland, small nineteen-seventies block of four apartments just on the edge of the small town. She drew up outside, climbed out of the car and stretched. Her leg was feeling a bit stiff but after two days of driving that was to be expected. She went up to the front door and saw that set into the wall alongside the door was a panel with four bell pushes. Beside each was a name and it was immediately clear that the four flats all belonged to the same family. The names were: Rossi Francesco, Rossi Antonio, Rossi Guido and Rossi Emilio. Simonetta had given Alice the name Luisella Rossi, so she was momentarily puzzled. While she was still standing there, debating which bell to ring, she heard a car pull up behind her. The door slammed and she heard a voice.
‘Signora Sterling?’
Alice turned to see a friendly looking lady carrying a big bag of groceries in each hand.
‘Good afternoon. Are you Signora Luisella Rossi?’
The lady came up to the door and set her bags down at her feet before holding out her hand towards Alice. ‘That’s me. Did you have a good journey? It’s a terribly long way from England, isn’t it?’
‘It was a long drive, but I’ve seen some beautiful scenery and the trip wasn’t too tiring. I’ve just been trying to work out which of the doorbells belongs to you.’
‘My husband and I live on the top floor. He’s Francesco and I’m Luisella. My brother-in-law and his wife have the other top floor flat and his son Guido and his wife live on the ground floor. Your apartment’s opposite theirs. It used to belong to my father-in-law, Emilio. He passed away two months ago and we haven’t changed the name on the bell yet. Do come inside and I’ll show you where everything is. Just let me take these groceries upstairs first.’
Alice insisted on helping Luisella carry her bags up the stairs to the first floor and they were greeted at the door of the apartment by an elderly terrier who eyed Alice suspiciously before waddling over to sniff her hand. Reassured that she didn’t smell too bad, the dog began to wag its tail and Luisella nodded approvingly.
‘Geronimo likes you. That’s good. He’s a good judge of character. Come in and let me make you a cup of coffee, or would you like something cold?’
‘A coffee would be wonderful, thanks.’ Alice sat down at the kitchen table and the little dog came and joined her. She scratched his ears as Luisella filled a much-used moka coffee pot and set it on the stove. As Luisella started putting away the groceries, they chatted and Alice asked about shops and shopping in the area. Luisella was a mine of information.
‘Tonino in the minimarket in the piazza stocks a bit of everything, and the baker makes wonderful cakes as well as bread, and if Vincenzo in the hardware shop doesn’t have it, you don’t need it. It’s like a labyrinth in there. I tend to do a big shop once a week at the supermarket down in the main valley. You can’t miss it. Anyway, knowing you were coming, I’ve bought you some basics to get you started. Here…’ She placed one of the bags on the floor alongside Alice who was quick to thank her and offer to pay, but Luisella waved away her money and her thanks.
‘You’re very welcome. Call it a housewarming present.’ The coffee pot started bubbling on the stove and Luisella brought it over to the table and filled two little cups with steaming hot black coffee. Along with it she produced a tin of biscuits that looked very similar to those made by Ines up at the castle. Clearly this was the traditional local variety that appealed to people here in the valley. Luisella took a seat opposite Alice and offered her a biscuit. ‘I understand from Simonetta that you’re going to be working up at the castle. She told me they’re hoping to open it to the public. How exciting.’ She lowered her voice and looked around almost furtively. ‘Of course, not everybody’s happy at the idea.’
Alice’s ears pricked up. ‘Is that so? I would have thought people would welcome the prospect of new job opportunities, and maybe being able to make some extra money from tourists.’
‘Some people are never happy, always complaining about something. They’re saying this’ll bring in more cars and maybe coaches as well, and cause chaos on the roads.’
‘Would you say that’s the opinion of the majority of the people around here or just a few?’ Alice remembered how important the local mayor could be in small communities like this. ‘What about the town authorities? What does the mayor think?’
Luisella shook her head. ‘I’m afraid he’s the ringleader and it’s nothing to do with traffic or anything like that. The fact is that Cesare, the mayor, is a Montorso, and they’ve been fighting the Varaldo family for centuries. Even if Baron Lodovico was offering to build a new hospital or donate a million euros to the town, I’m sure Cesare would be against it just on principle. You know how it is: these feuds go way back, and after so long people probably can’t even remember why they’re fighting, but they still do.’
‘So the Montorso family and the Varaldo family are at daggers drawn…’ Alice shook her head slowly as she digested this news. This could be awkward. ‘Where does the mayor live? Is there another castle around here somewhere? I haven’t seen one.’
‘There used to be one centuries ago, but there’s nothing left now except a pile of rubble. The Montorso family still have a farm and a lot of land, but no castle. Cesare Montorso farms over on the other side of the valley. You’ll be able to see the farmhouse from the castle. It’s a long red brick building surrounded by fields.’
Alice weighed up what she had just heard. In order to get all the permits the castle would need, she felt sure not having the support of the local mayor could prove to be a major impediment. Maybe she could play the part of neutral peacemaker but, if the two families had been fighting for centuries, it was going to be an uphill struggle to bring such a long-standing feud to an end. She suppressed a sigh. She hadn’t even started work yet and she had already encountered what might prove to be an insurmountable obstacle.
Once they had finished their coffees, Luisella led Alice downstairs and showed her the flat where she would be spending the next few months. To Alice’s relief, it was clean and comfortable and the furniture was functional and more than sufficient for her needs. She even had her own little piece of lawned garden at the rear of the property and from there she could look directly up and see the tops of the towers of the castle on the hillside above. She reckoned she should easily be able to walk up there in ten or fifteen minutes, so she wouldn’t need to use a car every day and it would be valuable exercise, just like the physio kept telling her. Before Luisella left, Alice asked her about the restaurant she had spotted in the piazza and received a positive review.
‘The Casa Rosa’s very good. Giorgio who owns it used to work in one of the really posh restaurants in Venice and now his son is taking over in the kitchen, but Giorgio still keeps an eye on things. Why don’t you go there this evening and see what it’s like, or maybe you prefer to have an early night after your long drive? I’ve bought ham and cheese and salad for you and there’s fresh bread.’ She opened a cupboard door revealing two huge two-litre bottles of red wine without labels. ‘That’s good. Francesco said he’d put some wine in for you. He gets it from a man in the Veneto region and it’s very good. The water here’s perfectly pure so you can drink from the tap.’
‘That’s really kind of you and your husband, thank you so much.’ Alice glanced at her watch. It was almost six o’clock. ‘I must say though that the idea of a good meal cooked by somebody else and then an early night sounds perfect. What time do you think the restaurant opens?’
‘Well, the bar’s open all day, but the restaurant starts serving at seven, so if you go in then you should be able to have a meal and still get your early night.’
By the time Alice had finished unloading the car and unpacking her things it was almost seven and she headed off on foot to the Casa Rosa. Although she had left cool, damp weather in England, here in Varaldo it was a pleasantly warm, late May day. She took off her jumper and slung it over her shoulders as she walked. It took barely ten minutes to get into the centre of the little town and she enjoyed checking out the various houses as she went along. The closer to the centre she got, the older the buildings became, and she saw that many of them had probably started life as smallholdings and still had an agricultural connection. Almost all of them had a courtyard, many had a noisy barking dog, and she counted at least half a dozen tractors. Farming was clearly still an important part of local life.
Just before she reached the main square, she passed a fine old stone building with an Italian flag fluttering from the façade. Above the door was a sign indicating that this was the Municipio, the town hall. She had a feeling she might end up spending quite a lot of time inside this building and she hoped the mayor wouldn’t cause too many problems for her but, from what Luisella had just said, this seemed like a forlorn hope. She carried on into Piazza San Giovanni and checked her watch. It was just after seven, so she headed straight for the restaurant.
This was a large old building, constructed of sun-bleached red bricks which presumably were the reason why it was called the Pink House. Across the façade, the words Hotel Restaurant had been painted in white and Alice wondered how much business they did up here. Of course, if the valley was still being used by pilgrims on the Pilgrims’ Way, then presumably there had to be a certain amount of passing trade – at least in the summer.
Most of the tables outside on the cobbles were occupied and she attracted a number of curious glances from the customers enjoying a Sunday evening drink. She walked into the bar and was greeted by the same friendly looking waitress from before who directed her through a fly curtain into the restaurant. Although it was early, three of the tables were already occupied. A circular table housed a noisy family gathering of seven or eight adults and half a dozen little children; another table was occupied by a couple of pensioners, and a fair-haired man was sitting on his own in the far corner, doing something on a laptop. As her eyes landed on him, she did a double take. She could only see his face side on, but there could be no doubt about it: it was the mystery man she had seen when she was last here. So much for him being a ship passing in the night. It looked as if he might be a regular client here. So what might that mean for her?
A tall waiter led her to a small table in the opposite corner from the fair-haired man. While she waited for the waiter to bring the menu, sight of the man’s laptop reminded her that she hadn’t asked about Wi-Fi at the apartment. She pulled out her phone and saw that there was good signal here so she sent a short message to her mum to reassure her that she had arrived safe and well. She had just pressed Send when the waiter returned with a jug of water, a basket of bread and a copy of the menu. He asked if he could get her anything else to drink and, considering that all she was going to do was to walk home and go straight to bed at the end of the meal, she asked for a small carafe of local red wine. She told herself she might as well start acclimatising right now.
When the waiter returned to take her order she opted for mixed antipasti followed by home-made tortelli di erbette alla parmigiana. He explained that these tiny ravioli-like pasta pockets were filled with local herbs, spinach, ricotta cheese and, of course, parmesan. Alice felt sure she wouldn’t need a main course after this and the waiter gave her a little smile.
‘If you find you have room for a dessert, the chef makes a wonderful semifreddo with zabaione and hazelnuts. See how much appetite you have left after the pasta.’
Alice’s taste buds told her that she might well be able to find room for what sounded like a delightful dessert.
She poured herself half a glass of dark red wine and sipped it slowly as she looked around. The noisy children at the round table had suddenly been silenced by the arrival of plates of pasta. The elderly couple on the other table were sitting in complete silence, but it didn’t look like uncomfortable silence. As she directed her attention towards the man with the laptop in the far corner he looked up and their eyes met for a moment. There might have been a hint of recognition on his face and he gave her a little smile. She hastily dropped her eyes to her glass, but she couldn’t ignore the same spark of attraction that shot through her.
He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans with what looked like big black boots on his feet, but he didn’t look as if he was a manual worker. He was very good-looking, but nobody who looked like he did would be interested in her once he knew her secret. That was the hard lesson she had learnt from Maurizio. Years ago, she had found herself not quite fighting the men off, but she had always had male company. Since the accident, everything had changed. She had gradually come to terms with it, but that didn’t make it any more palatable.
Several minutes later, when her eyes momentarily flicked across to him again, she realised that the big black boots were in fact a large black dog lying across the man’s feet. The man was concentrating on his computer, but this time, as if sensing that it was being watched, the dog raised its head and made eye contact with her, and she smiled at it. She’d always liked dogs – her parents had always kept them on the farm – and she had a soft spot for Labradors in particular. Raising her eyes again, the smile still on her face, she suddenly found that the dog’s master was looking straight at her and smiling. Fortunately, at that moment the waiter intervened.
‘Your antipasti, signora. Buon appetito.’
Alice murmured her thanks and concentrated on the food on her plate – and there was a lot of it. Needless to say, there was hand-carved Parma ham and along with it there were also three or four different types of sliced salami. Around the meat were neat heaps of pickled cauliflower, carrots and red peppers, wild mushrooms in olive oil and sundried tomatoes. Unusual little fried squares of pasta and a bowl of rocket leaves with oil and balsamic vinegar, sprinkled with slivers of parmesan cheese, completed the spread. It all tasted as good as it looked and Alice took her time, savouring the different but complementary tastes. It was delightful.
She deliberately kept her eyes on her food. All the time the thought that stubbornly refused to shift itself from her head was that she felt drawn to this unknown man. Of course, she told herself firmly, surely there was no great difference between appreciating the beauty of a building or a painting and admiring the physical appearance of a man or, indeed, a woman. The fact that she liked the look of this man didn’t have to mean anything more than aesthetic appreciation.
Did it?
She kept on eating, eyes locked on her plate, and did her best to think of her first day in her new job that would be starting in little over twelve hours’ time. For a moment, the butterflies threatened to return to her stomach, but she did her best to focus on her meal for now. There would be time to worry about work in the morning. Besides, she currently had something else – or someone else – on her mind. When she finally summoned the courage to look up from her plate and caught sight of him and his dog again, that same little electric charge ran through her. Before he could look up, she hastily dropped her eyes, reached for her wine glass and drained it in one, almost choking herself in the process. She had been expecting all manner of things to happen here in Italy but not this. She told herself it was probably just the effect of the glass of wine, but her subconscious treated that suggestion with the disdain it merited.
As a displacement activity she pulled out her phone again and checked out the local map, searching for the farm belonging to Cesare Montorso, the mayor of Varaldo and the sworn enemy of the baron and his family. It didn’t take long to find and she zoomed in on it. A gravel track led off to the left just as the road from down the valley reached the town, and the farm with its outbuildings lay about two or three hundred metres further along. By going into Street View she saw that this was perched on a hillside, on almost the same level as the castle on the opposite side of the valley. She found herself imagining the warring families surveying each other over the roofs of the town back through the centuries. She wondered what had started the feud, but it must have been something major and significant for the bad feelings to have lasted so long.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a huge plate of tortelli and she dedicated herself to the pasta for the next ten minutes. By the time she had cleared the plate she knew that she had done the right thing in deciding not to have a main course. She was feeling pleasantly full – but not so full that she was unable to face a portion of the chef’s special semifreddo. Once the waiter had removed her empty plate, she picked up her phone and sent a brief text to Simonetta, telling her she had arrived safe and well and asking what time they were expecting her next day. She received an answering call almost immediately.
‘Welcome to Varaldo, Alice. How was your journey?’
Alice told her how it had gone and thanked her again for finding her the apartment. She then asked Simonetta something that had been troubling her.
‘Please, so I don’t make a fool of myself when I meet your grandmother again, can you tell me how I should address her? And your father for that matter. He’s a baron and presumably your grandfather was also a baron so should I refer to your grandmother and your father as Your Excellency or something like that?’
‘Nonna would chew your head off if you started doing that, although Papà probably wouldn’t even notice. No, if you’re talking to them just call them Signore and Signora, or if you want to be very polite you can call her Lady Varaldo or even Lady Beatrice. Like I say, Papà wouldn’t even notice, but if it’s a more formal written communication, then you’d better refer to my father as Barone Lodovico di Varaldo, even though titles mean nothing in Italy anymore.’ Alice heard her give a little laugh. ‘Unless you’re trying to convince a police officer not to give you a speeding ticket.’
‘Thanks for clearing that up. And what about your brother? Presumably he’ll be the next Baron Varaldo. What should I call him? Come to think of it, are you happy if I call you Simonetta?’
‘Of course I am, and Achille’s just Achille. Everybody in the town calls us by our first names. We attended the same local elementary school as everybody else.’
Having cleared that up, Alice checked what time she was wanted in the morning and they arranged that she would go in early so as to have the opportunity to talk to Simonetta first, before facing the rest of the family.
The semifreddo was every bit as good as the waiter had said and Alice enjoyed every spoonful. Finally, as she sat back and sipped an espresso, she allowed herself to raise her eyes and shoot a quick glance across the room towards the table with the man and the dog.
But the table was empty.
The man and the Labrador had left and she didn’t know whether to feel relief or disappointment. What she was definitely feeling was bewilderment. How strange that just about the first man she had clapped eyes on here in Varaldo had aroused feelings in her of a kind that had been so completely absent from her life for so long.