Next morning they had two early visitors. The first came when it was still only around seven o’clock. Katie was woken by the sound of scratching, coming from downstairs. Although she was getting used to the house and no longer felt creeped out by the dustsheets and shadowy corridors, the noise had her wide awake in a flash. She tiptoed downstairs and was soon relieved to discover the source of the noise. Upon unlocking the back door she found none other than Dante the Labrador standing on the step, wagging his tail furiously.
‘So you managed to find a way in, did you?’ As she said it, she found herself wondering how a dog could get over a four-metre wall. Presumably he had some secret canine entrance. And how was it he knew they were staying in the villa? She scratched his head. ‘Come on in. It’s breakfast time.’
She put on the kettle and dug out the paper bag containing yesterday’s bread. She carved off a generous chunk and passed it down to him. He took it with his usual delicacy and sprawled out on the floor to eat it. As she made the tea, she spared a thought for Victoria, presumably still upstairs in bed.
Tom and Victoria had returned from their date the previous night just before midnight. Katie heard his car pull up outside the opera singer’s villa, but she tactfully stayed in the kitchen. Victoria came in a full ten minutes later looking like the cat that had got the cream.
‘Did you have a good evening?’ Katie could see the answer written all over Vicky’s face.
‘Fantastic, awesome.’
‘So, where did he take you? Are you sure you weren’t seen?’
Victoria smiled. ‘Quite safe. He took me on a picnic. There’s this amazing place on a hill, with views across to the towers of San Gimignano. There are just four umbrella pines up there, and nobody anywhere about.’ She caught Katie’s eye. ‘Nobody at all. We could have done anything, anything we wanted.’ She blushed.
‘And the food?’
‘Cold roast chicken and champagne, followed by strawberries. I can’t fault the man’s taste.’ She looked across at Katie. ‘He’s a very, very nice man, you know.’
‘So you think you might quite fancy him?’
‘I think I might even have the hots for him.’ Katie had beamed at the appropriate use of vocabulary by her star pupil.
Katie was brought back to the present by footsteps on the wooden floor of the corridor. Vicky was awake.
‘Hello, Dante. You’ve come for breakfast, have you?’ He thumped his tail on the ground but didn’t interrupt his meal. Victoria perched on the tabletop and looked across at Katie.
‘Morning, Katie. Sleep well?’
‘Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. The best night’s sleep I’ve had for weeks.’
At that moment, their second visitor of the day appeared. They were both surprised to hear the front door open. They looked at each other in surprise for a moment before Katie went out into the corridor to see what was happening. There, standing just inside the door was Paul Taylor, looking as astonished to see her as she was to see him. She glanced down at her T-shirt and shorts, rather regretting not having put on pants or a bra, such had been her haste to find the source of the mysterious scratching. Surreptitiously she let her fingers run down to her front. Luckily she had, at least, buttoned up her fly.
‘Well, well, well. And here’s me thinking the squatters had moved in.’ Paul walked down the corridor towards her. At the sound of his voice, Dante came running out of the kitchen to greet him. The big black dog stood up on his hind legs and licked his hands. Paul scratched the Labrador’s nose. ‘Ciao, bello.’
‘Hi, Paul. It’s good to see you.’ And it was. Before she could stop herself, Katie found herself adding, ‘It’s very good to see you.’ She restrained a sudden urge to kiss him and led him into the kitchen where she was amused to see Vicky desperately doing up the buttons of her stripy pyjamas.
‘Sorry if I’ve arrived at an awkward time, ladies. I’m afraid I didn’t realise anybody was in here. I drop in every now and then to check up on the place.’ He smiled at Katie. ‘But of course, you know that. That’s how we met the other day, after all. So this is where you girls are hiding out. What a good idea. It never occurred to me last night to ask you, Katie.’
She smiled back at him, really pleased to see him again so soon. ‘I could have told you myself, but I got sidetracked. I’m afraid I quite forgot to let you know.’ Minor details like where she was now living hadn’t even crossed her mind the previous night as the sun went down over the River Arno and the shadows lengthened across his handsome face.
‘I wondered how you were going to avoid all the newsmen and photographers and this is the perfect place.’ Paul turned to Victoria. ‘I’m very sorry about all the publicity. I’m afraid it must have been somebody at Marco’s party the other night who passed on the photos. I’ve been doing my best to think who it might have been, and although there are a couple of possible culprits, so far I’ve had no success.’
Victoria gave him a smile. ‘Don’t worry about it. Sooner or later it would have come out.’ She glanced across at Katie. ‘The papers seem fascinated by the story. I suppose I’m a bit of a queer fish, after all. The “reclusive millionairess” thing wasn’t of my making. I’m afraid it was my father’s doing.’ Unaware of Paul’s connection with her father she explained. ‘He was a strange man.’
A shadow passed across Paul Taylor’s face and disappeared without trace. He caught her eye and smiled back at her. ‘You can say that again. We’ll have to have a talk about him one of these days.’
Katie had the teapot in her hand. ‘I’ve just made tea. Fancy a cup or does your Italian blood insist on coffee at this hour?’
‘I’d love a cup of tea, thanks. Just a drop of milk in it, no sugar.’
‘Well, take a seat. As you can see, we’ve made this our hiding place until the paparazzi go off in search of a juicier subject.’ She passed the cups of tea across the table.
‘No sign of that happening yet, I’m afraid. There’s a regular little favela set up down by your gates. Everybody who goes up or down the road gets photographed and interviewed.’
‘Have you been interviewed?’ Victoria sounded very interested.
‘Oh yes. I told them I heard you talking about a visit to Iceland to see the volcanoes. You never know, some of the more gullible ones may have bought it.’
‘Well, thanks for trying. That was very kind.’ Katie reached for the bread and jam, conscious of the dog’s eyes following her every move. In spite of herself, she smiled.
‘Breakfast, Paul?’
‘No thanks. I’ve got a banana in the truck. So how are you two passing the time while you are in purdah?’ Before they could comment, Paul revealed that he knew a good bit about what went on up there on his hillside. ‘My spies tell me a certain young lady was seen in a certain red Ferrari a few days ago. Now, I wonder which one of you that was?’
Victoria raised her hand. ‘That was me, Paul. Filippo took me out for lunch.’ Katie was delighted to glimpse what could have been a brief expression of relief on Paul’s face. She met his eyes for a second and what she saw confirmed her feeling. He had a thought.
‘I forgot to give you girls my phone number. If Victoria goes off again, Katie, and you’re left on your own, give me a call. I’ll look after you.’ He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and tore off a piece of the paper bag that had contained the bread. ‘Here’s my mobile number.’ He scribbled it down and the girls gave him their numbers in return.
Paul scooped both pieces of paper up and put them carefully in his shirt pocket, along with the pen. As he did so, a thought struck him. ‘What day are we today? Wednesday, isn’t it? Well, I’ve got to go down to a big olive grower by the coast tomorrow. If you like, I could call and pick you up and see that you get a day on the beach. You’ll be far enough away from the paparazzi not to have to worry about sneaking around. It’s a lovely place, near Populonia, full of Etruscan remains and with a phenomenal sandy beach. Interested?’
‘That sounds marvellous.’ Vicky sounded dead keen. Katie was quick to add her agreement. A day on the beach would be very nice. And it should, hopefully, result in Paul Taylor taking his shirt off!
‘Fine. That’s a date, then. I’ll call by and pick you up at eight, if that’s not too early.’ He glanced at his watch, finished his tea and stood up. ‘Thank you for the tea. I’ve got to be off. I’ve got all sorts of things that need doing today. I’ll let myself out.’ He turned and went off, leaving Katie wondering if she should have jumped up and kissed him.
No sooner had Paul let himself out of the front door than a bleep announced the arrival of a text on Vicky’s phone. She glanced at the caller ID and gave a little squeal. ‘It’s Filippo.’ She read the message and looked across at Katie. ‘He’s invited me to go to his house for lunch and a swim. This time I’ll remember to take my bikini. He says he can come and pick me up from wherever we’re hiding, but I can just walk down to his house, can’t I?’
Katie thought about it for a moment. On the one hand, Victoria would normally be less conspicuous in a car, but a throaty, snorting, bright red Ferrari driven by a flashy, long-haired aristocrat was anything but inconspicuous. Walking would definitely be safer, but some form of disguise, a bit better than a headscarf, was essential. She looked across at Vicky. ‘Definitely walking is the answer, but we need to get you dressed up a bit. Without going the whole hog and sticking you in a burka, some sort of disguise is essential. Wait a minute, I think I’ve got it. We’ll turn you into a man.’
‘A man?’ Victoria sounded surprised, but not unwilling. ‘Ooh, I’ve always loved dressing up. But where can we find men’s clothes?’ Katie had already thought of that.
‘There’s a huge cupboard at the end of the upstairs corridor. I was snooping around yesterday and I saw that it’s full of men’s clothes. Come on, let’s see what we can find.’
They left a bemused Labrador in the kitchen as they disappeared upstairs, giggling like schoolgirls. He waited for a while and then nosed the back door open and disappeared back to Rosina’s kitchen. There was always the chance of a second breakfast.
A bit later on, it occurred to Katie, as they were experimenting with disguises for Victoria, that of the two of them, Vicky’s was the only face to have appeared in the newspapers. As far as the paparazzi were concerned, Katie was an unknown quantity. She mentioned it to Vicky.
‘In fact, I haven’t seen my name mentioned anywhere. It’s only you they’re onto.’
Vicky nodded. ‘You’re right. You should be able to walk around untroubled.’ Following on from that thought, she had an idea. ‘Why don’t you go into Florence and rent us an anonymous-looking little car. That way we can have transport that’s a bit less recognisable than the BMW.’
‘Terrific idea. I tell you what. Once we’ve got you dressed up as a man, I’ll accompany you down to Filippo’s house and then I’ll walk on down to the station. From there I can take the train into Florence and pick up a car.’
While Vicky continued trying on men’s clothes, Katie dug out her computer and booked a car. She deliberately chose a little Fiat as it should blend in easily among all the others on the Italian roads. Job done, she put the computer away and returned to Vicky’s room to inspect progress. She stopped at the doorway to her room and gawped. It was an amazing transformation.
‘Hello, mate. How’s it going?’ Vicky even managed to get the voice right.
‘Oh, yes, sorry. I was looking for a young lady called Victoria.’
‘No girls in here, mate. My name’s Vic.’ Vicky giggled and returned to her normal voice. ‘So, do you think this’ll do? Am I convincing enough?’
She had found a pair of brown cord trousers and a baggy jacket that completely concealed her shape. She was wearing a pair of enormous Wellington boots and on her head she had bundled her hair into a scruffy old straw hat. The pièce de résistance, however, was the moustache and the unshaven jowls. She explained. ‘In the little cupboard out in the corridor I found the old lady’s painting set, complete with charcoal. As long as I don’t touch it, this should be convincing enough, at least as long as I don’t get too near anybody.’
‘Somehow, I think Filippo may be in for a surprise when he sees you.’
‘That’s if I make it down the road. I’ve had to stuff so many newspapers down these boots, I’m not sure I can feel my feet.’ She clomped around a bit to make her point.
In the end she did manage to make it to Filippo’s house, but she was complaining by the time she got there. As it happened, they encountered nobody on their way down, but both agreed it had been better to be safe than sorry. Katie left her with the words. ‘Don’t let Filippo bring you home in the Ferrari. It’s too conspicuous. Just call me when you’re ready, and I’ll come and pick you up in the hire car.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I should be home by three or four, maybe even earlier.’
After Vicky had disappeared through the gate into the count’s house, Katie walked on down the road. As she passed the gates to the Chalker-Pyne villa, she saw only a handful of people lingering around the entrance. Compared to the scrum of previous days, this was good news. Maybe all the fuss would have died down before too long. As it was, nobody spared her a second glance, apart from one younger man who was probably just making a conditioned Italian response to a woman in shorts. He raised his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. She had spent long enough in Italy to know that the only sensible reaction to that was to ignore it, totally.
The train trip was quickly accomplished and she found herself at Florence main station by one o’clock. As ever, it was heaving with people and it was a struggle to fight her way through the crowds. Conscious that she had passport, driving licence and purse all in her bag, she hugged it to her, particularly when a gang of noisy, poorly-dressed little children surrounded her. She gripped the bag tightly and pushed her way through and down the steps into the sunshine. Even the kids weren’t silly enough to go out in the noonday heat, so she gave a sigh of relief and escaped. It was only when she was already in Borgo Ognissanti, searching for the car rental agency, that she realised that her phone, that had been in her shorts pocket, was no longer there.
‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!’ A couple of people gave her curious looks, but she hardly noticed. She was furious, mainly with herself for being so stupid. She had lived for a whole year in Florence without losing anything and now, on only her second visit to the city in a short time, she had lost her phone. And, with it, she had lost her SIM card and all her contacts. With a heavy heart, she realised that the first thing she should do was to report the theft to the police. She went back up the steps into the station, unsurprised to notice that the gang of kids had disappeared. No doubt they were at a safe distance, negotiating the sale of her phone to some adult.
By the time she had completed all the formalities at the little police office inside the station, she was exhausted. She looked at her watch and was annoyed to see that she had wasted over an hour. Above all, she came out even more furious. The policeman, once he could be persuaded to interrupt his lunch long enough to deal with her case, had made it quite clear by his expression just how stupid he thought she had been. His only saving grace had been his kind offer, probably in response to the tears in her eyes, to let her use his phone to call the phone people before somebody started making calls to Australia at her expense. The tears were tears of anger at herself, but at least they had achieved something.
She went into an ice cream shop and bought herself a huge dish of chocolate and meringue flavour ice cream and a bottle of water. She sat in the air-conditioned interior and consumed it slowly, gradually calming down as she did so. Of course it wasn’t the end of the world. She had taken out travel insurance before leaving the UK, after all. It was the sheer stupidity of it, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Slowly, but surely, she regained her equilibrium.
It was almost three o’clock when she retraced her steps to the car rental office and picked up a smart little Cinquecento. This, at least, was what she had been expecting, and she began to feel a bit better about things. She set off into the near-stationary traffic, travelling at less than walking pace, slowly inching her way out of town.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sight. Or rather two familiar sights; two familiar people. There, ahead of her on the pavement, going in the same direction as she was, but managing to do so faster than the cars, was unmistakably Paul Taylor. She recognised his blond hair, his clothes and she recognised his suntanned legs sticking out of his shorts. And alongside him was a woman. Almost certainly, it looked like Loretta. What was funny was that he had got his arm around her shoulders and she was hugging him affectionately around the waist.
Considering what Marco had told her, Paul and Loretta’s period as a couple had been some years previously. It now seemed very strange that the two of them should be back together and providing such a public exhibition of affection. Katie found herself very interested indeed and, if she were honest, just a little bit jealous as well; maybe even more than a little bit jealous. She continued to watch them as the line of cars was gradually outpaced by those on foot.
Then something amazing happened. From right in front of her, a car indicated and pulled out. She had before her that most precious of finds. She had been handed a parking space in the centre of Florence! Maybe, she thought with a wry smile, her luck had changed. She didn’t hesitate. She pulled in and switched off the engine. Collecting her bag, she jumped out and locked the car.
She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t consciously meant to follow them, but that’s exactly what she found herself doing. Staying at a discreet distance, she trailed them as they crossed the road and turned left, heading towards the river. As they turned side-on to her, there could be no doubt about it. The woman was definitely Loretta. At one point she reached up with her mouth and kissed him on the neck. She saw him hug her even tighter to him. Two blocks later, they were on the Lungarno Vespucci. As Katie cautiously rounded the corner after them, she was just in time to see them disappear, still in their passionate embrace, into an apartment block. She waited for a full minute then walked along to the door and saw a set of eight doorbells. Although she had no idea of Loretta’s surname, only one of the bells had a name alongside it with that initial; L Moretti. Katie filed the name away, determined to check the next time she saw Marco. He would be sure to know.
She turned and walked slowly away. So Paul Taylor had taken up with his old flame again. So what? she asked herself sternly. What’s he to me and what am I to him? It’s not as if anything at all has happened between the two of us yet. She carried on walking back in the direction of the car, her mind churning over the conflicting emotions she was feeling. In particular, she found herself wondering why she had added the word “yet” to her unspoken question. Still in a daze, she found herself back at the car before she realised it. Any further reflection, however, was swiftly interrupted as soon as she pressed the key and opened the driver’s door. Immediately, the car directly behind her on the road jammed on his brakes and flashed his lights, waving her out into the traffic. She jumped into the car and made haste to get away, leaving the invaluable parking space to another lucky occupant.
The drive back to Monte a Signa gave her time to reflect upon the events of the day so far. One of the complications of losing her phone was the question of collecting Vicky. Katie’s parting words to her had been to phone her when she needed a lift. That wasn’t going to be possible now that her phone had been stolen. Although she was loath to interrupt Vicky’s tryst with Filippo, she though the best solution would be to call in at the count’s house as she returned to the opera singer’s villa. That way she could fix up a time with Vicky when she could come and collect her.
It was almost four o’clock when she drove up past the gates to the Chalker-Pyne villa. There appeared to be even fewer paparazzi lurking around now, which boded well for a return home before too long. She carried on until she reached the count’s house. She squeezed the little car onto the verge directly opposite and climbed out. The gate was closed, but not locked. She pushed it open, walked in and up the short drive to the house. The pool was in the back garden and she headed straight there. She turned the corner and found herself faced with another unexpected and this time even more unwelcome surprise.
Vicky was lying on her back on a sunbed, her eyes closed. Bending over her was the count, wearing truly obscene black thong bathing trunks that exposed a frighteningly graphic amount of his hairy buttocks. Even more disturbing, however, was the fact that he appeared to have just removed the top part of Vicky’s bikini and was holding it in his hand. Katie squeaked. And then, after squeaking, she found herself screaming.
‘What in the name of fuck is going on here?’
Count Filippo jumped as if he had been scalded, the bikini top flying out of his hand. He leapt backwards, caught his foot against the leg of the sunbed and fell heavily onto his side. He let out an agonised cry as he hit the ground. Katie ignored him completely and ran across to Vicky. In spite of all the screaming and shouting, she hadn’t moved. She was unconscious. Vicky knelt down beside her and cradled her head. She was out like a light. Barely able to contain her fury, Katie turned to the man writhing on the ground.
‘What the fuck have you done to her, you bastard?’ She didn’t swear very often, but here was a situation that cried out for strong language.
‘I think I’ve broken my ankle.’ The words were barely audible among his groans. Katie had no sympathy.
‘I said, you miserable piece of lowlife scrum, what have you done to my friend?’ Her voice was loud enough to make him wince even more, but he made no reply.
She snorted and glanced back at Vicky’s face. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Beside the sunbed was an unopened bottle of water. Also beside the sunbed was a camera. She didn’t register the significance of that until later. She picked up the bottle, broke the seal and poured half of it onto Vicky’s face. After a few seconds, Vicky stirred and began to move. Carefully, Katie raised her head until she could pour some of the water into her mouth. Bit by bit, she emptied the bottle into her and, as she did so, she saw Vicky begin to revive.
‘Oh, hi, Katie. I must have dozed off.’ She sounded a million miles away. ‘What are you doing here?’ She was running her hands over herself. ‘And why haven’t I got my top on?’
‘I think you should ask that question to the bastard who drugged you.’
‘Drugged me?’ Victoria gawped as Katie retrieved the bikini top and helped her into a sitting position. Katie fed her arms into the straps and then reached behind to do up the clip. Vicky’s head was beginning to clear by this time. ‘What’s Filippo doing on the ground?’
‘Hopefully suffering the fires of hell.’ Katie came very close to reaching out with her foot and kicking the count’s ankle, which by this time had swollen to the size of a melon. He was as white as a sheet and moaning incoherently. She returned her attention to Vicky. ‘Come on, let’s get you home.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Just one thing, Vicky. I want you to try to remember this scene for me. Can you do that?’
Vicky nodded weakly. ‘Yes, I think so. What’s happened?’
‘You remember waking up with no top on?’ Vicky nodded. ‘Can you see this camera here?’ She nodded again. ‘Right, just hang on a moment while I see if he’d already started taking pictures before I arrived.’ She picked up the camera and managed to turn it on. A series of photos appeared before their eyes. Some were of Victoria’s face, very close up, but half a dozen were of her lying stretched out, naked breasts very much in evidence. She looked across at Vicky. ‘See these photos? Do you know what was going on here?’
‘Oh my God.’ Vicky sounded completely appalled.
After a bit of fiddling, Katie managed to locate the memory card and she removed it, slipping it into her pocket. She held the camera in her hands for a few more seconds, and then lobbed it into the pool.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ She glanced back down at the writhing figure on the ground. She turned to Vicky. ‘I suppose we’d better do something about him. Where are your clothes? Have you got your phone?’ Vicky pointed over to the other side of the pool. There, in a pile, was Vicky’s disguise, including the enormous boots. Katie went over and retrieved them. In the trouser pocket she located the phone. She came back over and looked down at the count.
‘You’re not worth it, but I’m going to phone for an ambulance for you. What’s the exact address of this house?’ She had to shout at him a few times, but in the end she got through to him and received the information. While Vicky pulled on her jacket and stuffed her hair back into the straw hat, Katie phoned the emergency services. Mission accomplished, she helped Vicky to her feet, picked up the Wellington boots and accompanied her to the gate. After a quick look in both directions, they hurried across the road and she helped Vicky into the passenger seat.
They passed a couple of people as they drove back up the hill, but nobody gave any sign of recognition. When they reached the opera singer’s villa, they were able to slip through the gates unobserved. Finally back home, Katie helped Vicky inside, sat her down in the kitchen and set about making some coffee. It had been a momentous day. In spite of the heat, she found she was feeling cold. Presumably some form of delayed shock was setting in. She roused herself from her seat as the coffee pot started to bubble and ran upstairs to collect a pair of woolly jumpers.
Back in the kitchen, she wrapped one around Vicky’s shoulders and pulled the other one on herself. She poured two generous black coffees, toyed with the idea of adding a shot of Nando’s homemade grappa, but decided it was probably best avoided. She pushed Vicky’s cup across the table to her and added a word of warning. ‘Be careful, it’s very hot.’
‘Thanks, Katie.’ Vicky looked up, her face very pale. ‘I was just thinking. My father wasn’t so wrong after all, was he? What happened today was exactly the sort of thing he was so terrified might happen to me. I suppose I didn’t really think that sort of person existed outside the pages of books. Now I know. The world can be a perilous place, can’t it?’
‘Scary place or dangerous place, Vicky. Perilous went out with the dinosaurs.’ Katie did her best to keep it light. Inside she was still struggling to accept the gravity of what had happened and what might have happened to Vicky. She tried to put herself in Vicky’s place and imagine the welter of feelings that must be coursing through her. It was the stuff of nightmares. Vicky reached out and laid her hand on Katie’s arm.
‘And thank you so very much for coming along when you did. I shudder to think what might have happened if you hadn’t.’
Katie tried to banish her thoughts and did her best to keep her tone positive. ‘Well, at least having my phone nicked in Florence served a good purpose.’ While she explained what had happened, part of her mind was still amazed at the synchronicity of the day’s events. If she hadn’t lost her phone, Victoria might have been raped or blackmailed or both. Maybe even kidnapped! It didn’t bear thinking about, but she knew they had to. She caught Vicky’s eye. ‘So what do we do about our friend the count?’
‘Friend?’ Vicky shook her head in annoyance. Katie was pleased to see that she now had a little more colour in her face. ‘You were right again, Katie. There was definitely something not quite right about him.’
‘So, what do we do?’ Katie was doing her best to think it through. ‘Under normal circumstances you and I would be on our way to the police by now. The problem is this whole media, paparazzi thing. The more I think about it, the more I reckon it was Filippo, if that’s his real name, who sold the story to the papers in the first place. This afternoon was, in all probability, designed to get some naughty nudie pics of the debauched millionairess sunbathing topless or in the all together. Whether he would have gone so far as to assault you sexually or even kidnap you, I really don’t know.’ She looked across the table. ‘Drink some coffee. You need to wake right up and get whatever it was he gave you out of your system. Given that we’re trying to keep your whereabouts a secret, I don’t think there’s much we can do. What do you think?’
Vicky nodded her head slowly as she followed the instruction to drink. She gradually emptied the whole cup and, only then, did she look up. ‘You’re absolutely right. There’s nothing we can do without opening us up to a media scrum.’ She sounded deflated. ‘So he’s won, hasn’t he?’ Katie shook her head violently.
‘No, he bloody hasn’t.’ Victoria looked up as she heard the sharp note to Katie’s voice. ‘First, he’s broken his ankle. That should go some way towards teaching him a lesson, but more importantly, we know his game now. And we’ll ensure that everybody round here gets to hear about it. I wouldn’t mind betting that Nando’s reaction will be to head round there with a trailer full of manure and dump it on his precious Ferrari.’
Vicky was brightening up. ‘And we can tell Paul all about it tomorrow. He knows everybody on the hillside. He’ll see that Filippo gets the treatment he deserves.’
Thought of Paul Taylor reminded Katie of the other surprise she had received that afternoon. She decided not to mention anything about seeing him back with Loretta. Vicky had quite enough on her mind as it was. Katie also decided not to broach the subject with him the next day. After all, what he did in his private life was his concern, not hers.