He held his glass up to the light and inspected the gleaming amber liquid. ‘It’s what I’ve known since childhood. It’s what I love. I don’t really have a yen for anything else.’ He flicked her a glance. ‘As the Mum-Gran network travelled in both directions, I know things didn’t work out for you with your last boyfriend – Edoardo, was it? I heard he came to Lombardy from Umbria to work in his uncle’s business in Olgiate Comasco, taking over when his uncle retired. You never lived together and when Edoardo proposed, you turned him down.’ He leant forward to lodge his whisky glass on the table, pulled off his tie and jacket, then opened his top shirt button before retrieving his glass.
She found herself having to remove her eyes from the skin at the base of his throat. ‘Edoardo’s proposal was festooned with strings. While he took his uncle’s place at the head of the business, he wanted me to take on his aunt’s job – the paperwork – plainly not giving a fu... afigabout Gran or the pensione.’ Because Gran hadn’t said anything stronger than the occasional ‘dammit’, Jade found it difficult to swear in English. ‘Or my life at all really,’ she added, treating Leo to a pointed,just-like-youstare, although Edoardo couldn’t be said to haveleftJade. More he was sent on his way. ‘He’s already engaged to someone more suitable. I saw the engagement party photos on Insta. He looks happy.’ Maybe to have found a fiancée shorter than he was. He’d also grown a beard that was shot with grey and made him look older than his forty-two years.
‘Are you sad?’ His head tilted and he showed no sign of feeling the barb fired his way.
‘Not about Edoardo, though I think Gran was disappointed he was, as she called him, “a wee dud”, because she always wanted me to have more than her as my family.’Like two sisters. Jade emptied her glass, then poured more whisky over the remaining ice. Leo’s glass was still half full, so she replaced the cap on the bottle.
‘Joey didn’t come to the funeral,’ he observed.
‘Nope.’ The ‘p’ sound popped more loudly than she’d intended. Or maybe the whisky had somehow set up an echo in her ears. ‘Mary, thenotaio, informed him Gran had died. He said he was sorry.’
Leo nodded. There wasn’t much about her unsatisfactory history that he didn’t understand.
Maybe that was why she went on. ‘When I was a kid, I used to be fascinated by people’s attitudes when they spoke about him. Some said he was born under a wandering star. Others that he was an irresponsiblebastardowho’d messed with Geneva’s marriage.’
Leo ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, denim-blue eyes contemplative. ‘Did you ever try to trace her? Your mother?’
She snorted. ‘Why? She’s been able to find me any time in the past thirty-nine years. She could have come to this very hotel and even if we’d moved to the pensione by then, Sheenagh would have told Gran that she’d been asking.’ She spread her hands. ‘None of her family acknowledged me. Gran used to grumble about Geneva’s parents being big churchgoers, all the while pretending I didn’t exist. It’s odd to think I could have passed them in the street without knowing who they were. They’re dead now, anyway. And Geneva’s brother had moved to Milan by the time Joey and Geneva disgraced themselves, so he never had to worry about the presence of an inconvenient niece. It was Gran and Nonno who calmly took me in, giving me love and attention and all the things a kid needs.’ Her eyes misted over and twintears plopped onto her cheeks. Wiping them away with the sleeve of the robe, she polished off half of her fresh whisky.
Silently, Leo rose and fetched more ice.
‘Top up?’ She waved the whisky bottle in the direction of his glass.
‘I’m fine.’ He sat down again. ‘I remember some kid from the year above ours telling you that his mother said your father was a shit.’
‘And I answered, “Well, she obviously knew him and I didn’t. I’ll take her word for it.” Then you shoved him on his back in the dust,’ she said, remembering with a grin. ‘Being your friend helped at school. You were popular whereas I was odd, having a grandmother in place of a mother.’ She felt properly drunk now, even queasy, but, recklessly, she topped up her glass once more. The bottle cap slithered from her fingers and bounced across the rug. She let it.
Her vision whirled and she closed her eyes to slits. ‘Joey has two more daughters and Pensione Three Sisters will be split between us. I’ve made an appointment with a mortgage advisor. I’m going to buy them out.No,’ she said, holding up the whisky bottle as if it could pre-empt the questions she saw leap into his eyes. ‘I did not know Joey had other kids, though I’d wondered, of course.Yes, Gran knew.No, Gran did not tell me before she died for fear of Joey cutting ties with her.No– I mean,yes– I can see that they’re as much her granddaughters as I am. And,yes, I’m apprehensive about having contact with them, even though that will initially come via Gran’snotaio.’ Feeling she’d satisfactorily headed off all possible questions, she put the whisky bottle back on the table, catching it when it tried to topple, then leant back and shut her eyes.
‘How do you feel?’ His voice was soft with compassion.
She closed her eyes tighter to hold in the tears. ‘Bewildered. Shocked. Sad. Drunk.’
His voice only grew softer. ‘Understandable. Can I do anything?’
‘Nope.’ She popped the ‘p’ again.
He sighed. ‘Oh, Jade. I’m sorry this has happened.’ After several moments, she opened her eyes to see he’d risen and was gazing down at her. ‘Can I use your bathroom?’ he asked, like a courteous guest.
It took a moment, but she got her tongue around the words. ‘Of course.’
He was gone for a minute and as he returned, she became aware of a funny noise. Realising what it was, she sat bolt upright – well, maybe not quite upright – and glared at him. ‘You’re letting out my bathwater.’
He smiled faintly. ‘If you get in there, you’ll drown.’ He retrieved the bottle top and screwed it on the whisky.
Outraged, Jade staggered to her feet. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? Get out of my room. I mean, suite.’ Then she charged a not-quite straight line to the bathroom to repair the damage and top up the hot water in the bath. But the pop-up plug had been unscrewed and the water was circling and gurgling as it drained away.
‘Leonardo Sartori!’ Straightening up, she bellowed his name. She had to pause to clutch the wall to save herself from pitching into the emptying bathtub. ‘Bring back that damned plug.’
When he didn’t reply, she tottered back to the bedroom. Leo was gone.
And so was the bottle of Ledaig. And all the alcohol from the minibar. ‘Bastardo,’ she mumbled, because swearing in Italian she was no stranger to, having attended Italian schools. But maybe she should have eaten more at the funeral, judging by the spinning of the room. She dropped onto the bed and let her eyes close as she said into the air, ‘I’m not mourning, Gran. Not much. I’m trying to understand.’
At least the whisky gave her the only full night’s sleep she’d had since Mairead died.
In the morning, she was woken by a knock on the door. Slowly she opened her eyes, wondering where she was and how she’d got there. Her watch said it was already ten o’clock. Why did the light hurt her eyes? Why did she feel sick? What had happened to swell her head to melon-sized proportions?
Then she remembered the funeral and the whisky, and, lastly, that someone was waiting at the door. Still wearing the white robe, she staggered across the marble tiles to answer, managing not to trip over an exquisite pale-green rug. ‘I will kill Leo Sartori if it’s him,’ she muttered. Snatching open the door, she discovered the hall empty but for a covered tray on a stand. After a suspicious glare in each direction, she carried in the tray and lifted its chrome cover.
