For auld lang syne.
The Italians in the room stared at the words in puzzlement.
As the music ended and everyone sank back into their seats, he watched Jade Beretta’s stiff back and wondered again what a life together would have looked like. More comfortable, he had no doubt, but within the too familiar environs of Como and Italy rather than the pastures new that he’d once thought so crucial.
But Jade would never have ganged up against him, like Isabella. Spirited Jade might be, occasionally uncomfortably direct, but he’d bet she didn’t know how to be disloyal.
Jade wished that Gran hadn’t wanted Villa Panorama for her ‘celebration’. Although Jade had visited on countless occasions since she and Mairead had moved out, now, looking over the colourfully dressed gathering tucking into refreshments, she felt sucked back in time as if at any moment Nonno would start serving drinks or Gran would check everybody had enough to eat.
Instead, it was the Sartoris who kept the event running smoothly within the white marble lounge walls, repositioning chairs into groups around tables and ensuring the serving staff circulated. Wine, orange juice, water, beer or Scotch, tea or coffee, had been what Mairead deemed suitable, and British sandwiches, cakes and sausage rolls were served along with the meatballs, pasta, salad and pastries more familiar to Italians.
Mary Smith and other ex-pats mingled with those from the local hospitality trade, friends from yoga or elsewhere who’d been collected by Gran as she’d beamed and laughed her way through life. Though Jade willed it not to, her attention kept straying to Leo, half a head taller than almost anyone else inthe room. Shoulders broader. Cheekbones sharper. Still able to chat easily with anyone. Sixteen years older yet as good-looking as ever. Older and wiser? Several times he’d looked her way, as if wondering whether to approach. Not sure whether she wanted to talk to him, she’d pretended not to notice. He’d come back to Como at the wrong time, when she was hurt and vulnerable, making her wary of acknowledging the occasional butterfly circling her stomach. She’d once grieved his leaving like a bereavement. She stared through the glass doors into the small sloping garden at the front of the hotel, with the stunning backdrop of the lake and the mountains, pretending to be fascinated by a white ferry churning frothily towards the breakwater that protruded across the lake.
Vittoria claimed Jade’s attention with a nudge. ‘At five, I’ll take over from Yara on Reception at the pensione. I’ll sleep over, and then Carlotta and I will cover breakfast tomorrow.’ One of them – often Jade – answered the reception bell for a couple of hours before and after Yara’s shift. Between 7 p.m. and 7 a.m., guests had a phone number for emergencies or if they had booked late check-in ahead. There was a sofa bed in the front office for when a member of staff other than Jade – and previously Gran – was on call through the night. Vittoria’s friendly face shone with concern. ‘I’ll make you a meal this evening. I don’t want you to forget to eat.’
Jade tried not to grimace. ‘You don’t have to keep providing food, Vittoria. I’m fine. And I can get up for guests’ breakfasts.’
Vittoria grinned, her fleshy top lip flattening, as if it had to do that to accommodate the size of her smile. ‘Come on, Jade. You know it’s the Italian way. Let us look after you for a short time.’ She gave Jade a firm hug, as if to mark a full stop to the argument, and then made a beeline for a waitress with a tray of drinks.
As well as Vittoria and Carlotta, friends and people from neighbouring businesses had brought food and flowers in the past days. Even her ex-boyfriend, Edoardo, had sent a mini hamper of tempting nibbles, despite the barest of contact between them since she’d decided, more than a year ago, that they wanted different things. Every generous, warm gesture said, ‘Pause. Rest. Let yourself grieve,’ in flat contradiction of Mairead’s, ‘Don’t mourn.’ It only added to Jade’s feelings of confusion and overwhelm. Gran’s absence from the pensione yawned, even while Jade battled to understand the nursing of the massive secret that Jade’s life would explode when Gran’s ended. It made her want to run away from this horrible day.
Old friends kept converging on Jade to share stories about how wonderful Mairead had been, obliging her to listen to reminiscences over events at Villa d’Este where her grandparents had spent their leisure time when young. One of Jade’s schoolfriends, Bernardo, remembered Mairead explaining kilts to him. ‘Funny clothes for such a cold country as Scotland.’ He grinned.
Jade listened politely. Her head ached and she was glad that Mairead’s instructions for the funeral hadn’t extended to Jade being cheerful. While the anecdotes raged, her gaze roved over the guests, dreading her mystery half-sisters – or even Joey! – showing up. But she spotted no stranger who might be one of them. She didn’t even know if Mary Smith had sent out the notifications of bequest yet, but, directly or indirectly, she was bound to hear from Joey’s other kids soon.
Massimo appeared before her. ‘OK?’ he said quietly in her ear, running a hand over his short, dark hair as if to check it was in place.
She nodded. ‘Perfect. Thank you.’
‘Shall I have the buffet refreshed?’ He tilted his head questioningly, a mannerism reminiscent of Leo.
She let her vision blur so she didn’t have to see the resemblance. ‘The buffet’s fine, thanks. It’s past four o’clock and people are beginning to leave.’
‘Can I get you anything?’ Massimo’s concern warmed her as he glanced at the empty juice glass she’d nursed for the past hour. ‘Cup of tea? Strong, with no sugar?’ He smiled, knowing that Mairead had passed her love of tea on to Jade.
‘I’m OK.’ Then, as he began to turn away, she added impulsively, ‘Massimo? Can I book a room here tonight? Vittoria said she’d hold the fort at the pensione. I could use some alone time. Alone apart from a bottle of Ledaig, anyway... if you’re not completely booked out,’ she added, realising that it might be the case in early July.
He looked first surprised and then pleased, as if he were glad he could do something for her. ‘I can find you a room.’
While he strode away, Jade crossed to tell Vittoria. Her friend looked bemused, but then squeezed Jade’s arm understandingly. ‘You know what’s best for you.’
‘Thanks.’ Gratefully, Jade hugged her.
A few minutes later, Massimo returned with a room keycard. ‘Top floor.’ He pressed the card into Jade’s hand.
She stared at the black-and-gold card, astonished. ‘Massi, I didn’t expect you to put me in a suite. If that’s all you have free, I’ll go home.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘There are other vacancies, but Mum insists. You know how to access the correct lift?’
‘Sheenagh showed Gran and me once.’ Dumbfounded, her eyes filled with tears at the kindness of Mairead’s dearest friend, for decades her oasis of Scottishness in Italy. Wordlessly, she sought Sheenagh out and they exchanged a long, silent, understanding hug.
It was past 8 p.m. before the last guest departed Lounge Panorama and Jade was glad that no one had tried to extendproceedings into the night – though Mairead might have enjoyed that, had she been present in more than spirit. As Jade used the discreetly impressive keycard on the door in Reception that led to the side vestibule and the exclusive elevator, mentally she sent her grandmother a message.I’ll be sleeping in one of the posh suites on the top floor. I remember us standing in the windows to watch the boats when we were supposed to be fetching down the winter quilts.
A few minutes later, letting herself into Suite Two, she paused to admire what had once been storage rooms but was now a massive bedroom with a six-foot bed and expensive green rugs. A seating area boasted a low table and two cream chairs that swivelled so their occupants could either face the view or the room. A bistro table of opalescent marble with chrome-framed chairs stood near the glass doors. What a glorious set-up. And no doubt movie or rock stars had occupied this room before her. Or even the latest generation of Formula One drivers, who used to stay at Villa d’Este, years ago, and helicopter into Monza circuit.
From here, the view over the lake was more stunning than ever. The water was turning steely as the sun sank. A ferry departed the jetty, one of the express vessels with stabilisers either side of the bow, while sunlight danced on the rippling water and little boats lined the marinas like mismatched shoes. Even the surrounding mountains looked slightly smaller from so high up. Along the road below, people marched like ants.
The last thing to investigate was the bathroom, where she found an enormous oval bath and pristine white robes with towelling slippers in their pockets.
