‘That’s right.’
‘I wasn’t fishing, by the way. Even though we’re beside one of the largest lakes in this part of Europe, to complete the analogy I didn’t even bring a rod, or a box of flies, so you don’t need to worry about me having any ulterior motive.’ He leant in. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I adore gossip, always have. But these days I tend not to remember it long enough to be able to pass any of it on, and anyway…’ His light-hearted expression faltered, then faded. ‘There’s nobody to share it with. Not any longer.’
‘Oh. You don’t have any family?’
‘Never had any children and my partner died.’ He shook his head as Amy’s expression dipped. ‘No, don’t upset yourself. At my age everyone’s on borrowed time; it’s the way it goes. Every time I wake up, I dance a little jig of gratitude.’
‘Do you?’
‘Hardly. I’m eighty years old. A jig would probably hospitalise me.’ He tapped at the side of his head. ‘But in here I’m having a go at the Can-Can.’
Amy smiled. ‘I understand you are a regular guest at Casa del Cibo.’
‘Used to come regularly with my partner, Brian. Since he passed it’s been a battle to get back to normal life. Not sure I ever will, not properly. But I bet nothing’s very normal for you, working for someone like Billie Forsythe-Rogers?’
Amy grinned. ‘It does have its moments.’
‘You should stop trying to get the girl to drop herself in the koala pap, mister.’
‘I’m doing nothing of the sort, Kathleen.’ Hugh sounded outraged as he turned his attentions to the elderly lady sat to his left.
‘Oh, mate, you think I can’t see what you’re up to? Transparent.’ Kathleen raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll get yourself cancelled if you’re not careful.’
She grinned at Amy, who started to laugh as Hugh blustered and protested and then laughed too.
* * *
Tad glanced across as laughter rang out from across the table. There was something infectious about laughter, something hypnotic about watching people in their unguarded moments, enjoying themselves. And it was difficult to drag his gaze away from Amy, her smile intensifying as she made a comment, and they all laughed again.
‘She’s very pretty, isn’t she?’ Billie’s words pulled Tad away from the scene, and he shifted in his seat to face her.
He wasn’t sure what Billie expected him to say, so he opted for honesty. ‘If you’re referring to Amy, then it would be impossible not to agree.’
‘Hmm. I thought you might say that. Such a shame she’s still holding a flame for some man from her hometown. She doesn’t like to talk about it; I think it’s all a bit tricky, and I keep telling her she should forget about him, should make the most of being young and pert and have some fun. She’s always meeting eligible young men whenever we travel.’ Billie shook her head. ‘She won’t hear of it, though. Such a waste. When I was her age, I made the most of my opportunities, if you get my drift.’ She grinned. ‘Learnt a thing or two along the way, too.’
The news that Amy’s heart had already been snapped up by someone – even if her relationship with that someone wasn’t going smoothly – didn’t altogether surprise Tad. He had no doubt Amy drew attention wherever she went. She’d certainly caught his. But it also explained the way Amy was keeping him at arm’s length. He’d assumed it was nothing more than the fact the two of them were here to do their jobs – neither he nor Amy were here on holiday – but this information added another layer.
Tad had felt it himself, for years after Honor had died. The grief itself was enough to keep him at arm’s length from everyone to begin with, but there was more to it than that. Because while his situation might well be completely different to Amy and this nameless bloke from back home, Tad had continued to feel a loyalty to Honor long after her death. Continued to endure the feeling that if he was to be attracted to someone new, that it would be tantamount to cheating.
And then Tad had met Clare, and she’d managed to completely change his perception. She had dragged him from his dark, lonely pit and allowed him to look at the sunshine again. He loved Clare; it was as simple as that. Owed her so much. So, the fact that Amy was already involved with someone else, however rickety their relationship might be, should come as a relief to him. A load off, as it were.
‘If you ask me, it’s a pity when people go all in with someone when they’re too young – there’s so much life out there to live, and they never get to taste any of it until it’s too late.’ Billie leant close, glancing at her photographer who was chatting to one of the other guests before she said, ‘It’s like Malc and his ex-wife. They got married young, had three boys and of course it hasn’t lasted. He might be single and ready to mingle, but he’s also fifty-something, and – don’t say I said anything – he’s not exactly weathered well, has he?’
Somehow, Tad didn’t think this was the moment to interject, to tell Billie that he’d met Honor when they were both eighteen and working in a hotel in Edinburgh and that he would have happily stayed with her until they’d grown old together, if he’d been given the chance. Or that he thought Malcolm looked pretty fit for a man in his fifties. He pulled in a breath, deciding against asking her about her own relationship situation with Kelly Straker. Although he could feel his own feathers being ruffled by her lack of sensitivity, there was no need to ruffle back. No need to upset the most influential guest Casa del Cibo had hosted since he’d been working there.
Instead, he made a bland comment about lives being different for everybody, before shifting the focus onto the food, serving Billie some of the chopped salad, joining in with the amusement as Malcolm – who had been too busy taking photos to do any food preparation – asked if he could share Billie’s vinaigrette and she managed to tip the whole jugful into his bowl. Offers of spare vinaigrette ‘poured in’ from around the table, the pun provided by the thriller author, Ron, who in turn spun the conversation into explaining the details of a book he wanted to write in which the unwitting victim would meet their end in a vat of vinegar and Tad used the ensuing chatter to eat rapidly, before excusing himself to help Matteo plate up the mains.
8
As if Amy didn’t already have enough to do, somehow Hugh had managed to persuade her to assist Tad in their dinner preparations that evening.
‘But I’m not a chef,’ she’d said, minutes after arriving back from their visit to Limone Del Garda. She’d been desperate to spend a bit of time alone, making notes or – to be honest – to have a break, when she’d been ambushed by Hugh. It seemed he had a stealth mode, had appeared beside her lounger in Casa del Cibo’s luscious garden doing a great impression of a cat burglar in Velcro-fastened soft-soled shoes.
‘I know I’ve got no right to ask – it’s a complete imposition on my part,’ Hugh said. He looked tired, as though he’d spent all afternoon fretting about how Tad might cope with evening service.
‘And I’ve got loads of work still to do. I need to keep on top of my notes from today,’ she said.
‘I was relaxing out here with Kathleen earlier, went to get some tea and heard the chatter in the kitchen. I could tell something was wrong. Matteo – the sous-chef, he’s had some bad news about his grandmother. She’s been taken seriously ill. He had to rush straight to her.’ Hugh paled visibly. ‘I know how that feels, Amy. Hospitals when you’re old are terrible places to end up…’
