Learning to Dance Again Page 8

  Julia pulled a wooden sun-lounger into the shade of the veranda and lay down on it, not even bothering to find a book to read. She shut her eyes and was asleep within minutes.

  She woke up three hours later, at the sound of someone speaking to her. The sun had almost set behind the mountain and it was noticeably cooler. She sat up and turned to see a woman standing by the gate to the property.

  ‘Scusi, Signora. I’m Signor Hugo’s housekeeper, Maria. I go shopping; you want a list?’

  Julia stood up and smiled. She reached out to shake hands.

  ‘I’m Julia; lovely to meet you. I would love to get some groceries; could I come with you?’

  Maria took a moment to translate this then shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, I go home now. I go shopping in morning when I come to work. I get what you need tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course, Maria. Let me write a list; do come in won’t you.’

  Julia found a notebook and pen in her handbag and started to write a couple of things down.

  Maria watched for a moment then frowned.

  ‘I’m sorry, I not read English.’

  ‘Ah, OK, how about if I tell you and you write it down.’

  Maria smiled and took the pen from Julia.

  ‘Bread, milk, coffee, butter …..’ Julia paused for a moment. She couldn’t really think what she needed and had no idea what was available in an Italian supermarket. Would she look stupid if she asked for dried pasta? And even more stupid if she asked for a jar of Dolmio pasta sauce? Of course she would.

  ‘I buy you things for breakfast, and some meat and vegetables, and some rice and pasta?’ Maria said helpfully.

  ‘Yes, how about if I just give you some money and you buy what you think I need for a few days. That would be lovely. Then I will find my own way to the supermarket.’

  Julia handed Maria two fifty euro notes, making a mental note to ask Tony how much she should pay Maria for doing the shopping.

  ‘You are having dinner with Signor Hugo tonight? I make roast lamb for him; his favourite.’

  Julia didn’t want to have dinner with Tony and his friends, but she didn’t want to tell Maria that, in case she thought she was snubbing her cooking.

  ‘Oh yes, that would be very nice. Thank you.’

  She followed Maria out to the veranda to say goodbye.

  ‘I show you herb garden,’ Maria said, taking Julia’s arm and leading her to the side of the villa.

  Tucked away out of sight was a fairly large vegetable plot, surrounded by fig and olive trees. Trained against the boundary wall was a grapevine and further along the wall was a wigwam structure weighed down by tomato plants. In a variety of pots and stone planters were a selection of herbs, garlic bulbs and onions.

  Maria led the way towards the back of the garden to a wooden shed. As they got closer Julia realised it was a hen house. The hens had been put away for the night, but they started to cluck anxiously as Julia and Maria approached.

  Maria lifted a lid of a box that jutted out from the side of the hen house. Inside was a bundle of straw and in the centre were two brown eggs. Maria took the eggs out and handed them to Julia. One of them was still warm. Maria lifted another lid and inside was a hen sitting there staring back at them. Maria pushed it gently out of the way and retrieved another egg and passed it to Julia.

  ‘You take eggs every day and any vegetables you want.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s brilliant,’ Julia replied, realising with relief she now had everything she needed to make herself something for dinner without having to go next door. She grinned at Maria and they turned back towards the house.

  After Maria had gone, Julia went back to the garden and picked a handful of tomatoes, pulled up some garlic and then found some onions and potatoes which she helped herself to. She picked some oregano and carried her raided goodies back to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out the bottle of Prosecco.

  She poured herself a glass of the sparkling wine and set about making frittata. She put the radio on and found a station playing Italian pop music interspersed with some British and American songs. She sang along as she chopped vegetables.

  She felt inexplicably cheerful as she stirred the garlic and onions in the frying pan. She took a sip of wine and stared out of the window at the unfamiliar but beautiful view. She thought of Duncan and wished he was here to see how lovely Sicily really was. But for the first time in months she didn’t feel as if she had been stabbed through the heart when she thought of him. She could only imagine it was because of the novel surroundings.

  She served up her frittata and carried the plate outside with her wine and sat down and admired the view in the twilight. She could see the lights of Cefalu in the distance and in the dusk the sweet mixture of scents from the pots of lavender and climbing honeysuckle was intoxicating. The evening air was still and warm and she knew she would enjoy her month in Sicily. She raised her glass to the sky.

  ‘Thank you Duncan. This was a great idea of yours.’

  When Julia had finished her dinner and the best part of the bottle of wine, she decided to find her iPad and send a message back home to tell everyone how she was getting on. However, the Wi-Fi would not connect. She looked at her watch. It was only just after eight and she knew Tony wouldn’t be eating for another hour, so she decided to go over and ask him how to switch on the Wi-Fi.

  She went to the bathroom and brushed her hair and slicked on a tiny bit of lip gloss. She looked down at her dress; it was a little crumpled from where she had slept in it, but it was presentable enough for a five minute visit to her landlord. But to be on the safe side she slipped on a cropped cardigan to cover up her bare arms.

  She put on her leather flip flops and strolled up to the house. Her path was illuminated by solar lights nestled in the fragrant lavender hedges. There were no signs of life in the garden as she made her way to Tony’s villa, so Julia walked around the house to look for the front door. There were stone steps leading up to a large imposing double door, which had an old fashioned bell pull. Julia reached up to ring it, but stopped before it made a sound. She suddenly felt shy and didn’t want to disturb Tony. She decided she would just send Bryden and Jamie a text instead of emails. She could wait until tomorrow.

  She turned to leave, but as she did the front door opened and Tony appeared, holding a cat in his arms. He bent down to put the cat outside and looked up and saw Julia.

  ‘Oh good, you changed your mind. Come in, do; I was just putting Gatto out for the night.’

  The cat slunk off into the dark undergrowth of the garden as Julia watched.

  She followed Tony into the house.

  ‘I was trying to connect up to the Wi-Fi; I just came over to see if it was switched on. It doesn’t seem to be working.’

  ‘I’m so sorry; I did switch it off this morning. It’s a habit of mine when I’m writing; otherwise I get distracted by the internet. I lose hours of my life looking at nonsense on Twitter. I’ll put it on for you now, and try and remember not to switch it off while you’re here.’

  He disappeared into his office and came back seconds later.

  ‘There, it’s back on. Now, what can I offer you to drink? A gin and tonic or perhaps a glass of wine. I have some lovely Prosecco chilling in the fridge.’

  He walked away into the kitchen as he spoke, which forced Julia to follow him.

  ‘Um, well actually, I wasn’t going to stay for dinner…’

  ‘Nonsense, you’re here now. Maria has made a lovely Sicilian roast lamb. You really must try it. Sebastian and Lydia will be here in a little while. I think Jürgen and Christine will be coming with them. Lovely people; you must meet them.’

  Julia realised she was trapped, without any viable excuse not to stay. She really wasn’t very hungry now, and was feeling a little tipsy already.

  Tony stood beside a huge silver fridge holding an opened bottle of Prosecco in his hand.

  ‘Will this do?’

  ‘
Lovely thanks!’

  ‘You know I never normally socialise with my guests in the holiday villa, but then I’ve never had anyone stay here on their own. This is a lovely change for me.’

  He handed Julia the glass of wine.

  She took a sip and looked around the kitchen. It was the largest kitchen she had ever seen; with acres of spotless black marble worktops on top of hand-crafted cream wooden units. An eight burner range-cooker took pride of place along one wall, a large crystal vase of lilies stood in the centre of a farmhouse style table. It had not been set for dinner; although it was still early.

  ‘Maria has done most of the cooking, it just needs serving up. I’m such a cheat aren’t I?’

  ‘Well it all smells delicious and I’m sure your friends come to see you rather than what you’re serving for dinner.’

  ‘Oh no; they definitely come for Maria’s cooking. Although I think Eleonora was an even better cook; and a much better hostess too. I do my best though. And I’d be interested in your thoughts about how I manage later.’

  Julia smiled, although she was rather puzzled by this remark. It seemed a little weird, but then again he was a best-selling author. He was the closest to a celebrity she had ever met; perhaps weird was the norm in these circles.

  ‘Can I do anything to help? Lay the table perhaps?’

  ‘It’s all done thanks. We’re eating in the conservatory. Maria set the table out there. Come and see.’

  Julia followed him through the adjoining lounge and into a huge conservatory lit with fairy lights and candles. The French doors were open, and in the garden she could see a large pond with underwater lighting. It looked like something out of a Hollywood film.

  ‘What do you think? Is it still too warm in here? I could put on the fan.’

  ‘No, it’s perfect; and very pretty.’

  Suddenly Julia felt rather privileged to be invited for dinner. The food smelt gorgeous, the setting was beyond glamorous, and her only regret was she had eaten so much of her frittata earlier on. She did not have much of an appetite for dinner, although the wine was certainly helping her feel a little more peckish.

  Julia noticed the table had only been set for five people, which made her realise Tony had not taken her presence for granted. He picked up some china and cutlery from a hostess trolley parked in the corner of the room.

  ‘I’m glad you decided to come over, I hate odd numbers at the table. As you can see everything was here ready for you if you changed your mind.’

  Julia helped him set the place at the other end of the oval table.

  Just as they had finished they heard the doorbell.

  ‘Ah that will be the rest of our guests; let’s go and meet them.’

  Julia followed him out to the hall. If his guests were surprised to find a stranger in their midst, they did not show it. They shook hands, kissed Julia, hugged and kissed Tony, handed him a huge box of handmade chocolates, exclaimed over the smell of food, and introduced themselves to Julia, as they made their way to the conservatory. Julia was left playing hostess while Tony went back to the kitchen to fetch wine for his guests.

  ‘So Julia, where are you from; that’s such an unusual accent? Are you Scottish?’ Lydia said, as she stepped outside onto the terrace, followed by the others.

  ‘I’m from Shetland actually, so yes I am Scottish, although my accent is probably a little different from most other Scots.’

  ‘Ah yes, there’s something almost Norwegian about your accent,’ Jürgen said.

  ‘Well, we did use to belong to Norway, and there are still lots of Old Norse words in our dialect, although I have to say, if I was speaking in dialect, you probably wouldn’t understand me at all.’

  ‘Oh really, oh do say something in your dialect for us,’ Lydia said.

  Before Julia could reply Tony came back holding a tray of Champagne flutes and another bottle of Prosecco which he opened with a flourish. He passed his new guests a glass each and then topped up Julia’s glass.

  ‘To old friends, new friends and friends who are no longer with us. Salut!’

  ‘Salut!’

  He winked at Julia and took a sip of his wine.

  ‘Well, shall we all sit down? I’m sure you’re all starving after your long drive.’

  ‘Where have you come from?’ Julia asked Lydia.

  ‘Only from Palermo. Tony is just having a go at us because we haven’t seen him for quite a while.’

  ‘It’s been six months. I feel betrayed by you all,’ Tony said, as he took a seat at the head of the table.

  ‘Some of us have real jobs you know. There’s nothing stopping you coming over to Palermo to see us,’ Sebastian said, as he sat down next to Lydia who had taken the seat on Tony’s left. Christine quickly took a seat opposite Lydia and Jürgen sat next to his wife. Julia was left to take the seat opposite Tony. She suddenly felt exposed and inadequate amongst these glossy elegant people. She wished she had put on more make-up, or at least ironed her dress after sleeping in it.

  ‘Julia, weren’t you going to say something in your own language?’ Christine said, in the moment of silence as they took their seats.

  ‘Really? Did I miss something?’ Tony said, looking down the table and smiling at her.

  ‘I was just telling them Shetlanders speak a dialect most people wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Well we must have a demonstration. We all speak English and Italian, Christine and Jürgen obviously speak German too, so we’re all interested in languages.’

  Julia looked out of the window for inspiration, she had no idea what to say and hated being put on the spot. She watched Gatto mooching along by the pond and remembered a poem she had written, many years ago. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Da cat wheeches doon tae da loch and stauns peerie wyes

  He watches sleekit for da peerie mootie deuk

  Up in da skies a muckle bonxie skröls a warning

  Tiger skelps back tae da hoose, greetin aa da way

  Back tae neeb aside da roose

  Nae more work fa dee, du bonny langsome cat.’

  She took a sip of her wine and smiled shyly at Tony, ‘so did you understand any of that?’

  ‘Something about a cat, or a tiger?’

  ‘It’s about a cat called Tiger, so yes.’

  ‘Fascinating!’ Tony said, ‘right, time for dinner I think.’

  He stood up and left the room. Sebastian asked Jürgen a question about his work, from which Julia deduced Jürgen was an architect. The two men spoke across the table to each other, effectively cutting her off from starting a conversation with either of the women. She sat in silence and studied the two women. They did not look like they were particularly good friends with each other. Christine was a tall, athletic looking woman, probably in her late forties. Naturally blonde, she was dressed in a white silk sleeveless blouse and terracotta linen cropped trousers. She wore flat leather sandals and no jewellery at all. She didn’t appear to be wearing make-up, which made Julia feel marginally better about her own casual appearance.

  Lydia on the other hand, was wearing what looked like a very expensive silk jersey dress. Julia’s addiction to women’s magazines meant she was able to discern it was probably a Diane Von Furstenberg. Lydia was definitely wearing make-up, and possibly even false eyelashes, and she was probably on the wrong side of fifty, but making a brave attempt to hide it.

  She turned her attention to the men. They were definitely in their fifties, but looking good on it. Jürgen wore a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, exposing a chunky Tag Heure watch. Sebastian was wearing a black Paul Smith polo shirt and the most ostentatious Rolex watch she had ever seen.

  Tony returned to the room with a tray which he set down on the trolley. Then he handed out plates of antipasto; gleaming olives, grilled figs, prosciutto ham and artichokes. Julia smiled with relief it was something she recognised. Tony passed around a basket of fresh bread and Julia took a slice and put it on her side plate. The food looked del
icious but she was still not desperately hungry; taking the bread was a mistake, she thought. Then the scent of rosemary wafted up to her nose and she decided she might enjoy it after all.

  ‘What have I missed?’ Tony said, as he sat down and picked up his glass.

  ‘Jürgen was just telling me about that development he’s working on in Agrigento. I think I might have to go and look at it sometime. Sounds fascinating,’ Sebastian replied.

  ‘Isn’t that the project where the builders unearthed some Roman ruins?’

  Jürgen shrugged, ‘everywhere you turn on this island there is some kind of ancient ruin. Every one of my building projects has been built on something that was there before.’

  ‘What kind of projects do you do?’ Julia asked.

  Jürgen turned towards her and half smiled, ‘I build villas, like this one.’

  ‘This is one of Jürgen’s designs,’ Tony said, waving his hand in the air to encompass his house. ‘Italian styling with German efficiency; the perfect combination!’

  ‘It’s lovely. Is that how you know each other?’

  ‘Eleonora was a good friend of mine,’ Christine said, joining in with the conversation.

  The mention of Tony’s wife seemed to make everyone go quiet for a moment. Julia wanted to know how Sebastian and Lydia fitted into this group of friends. They seemed an odd bunch.

  ‘What brought you over to Sicily on your own?’ Lydia asked Julia. ‘Tony tells me you booked the villa for a whole month. Are you a writer too?’

  Julia laughed. ‘No, whatever gave you that idea? I came over here to avoid my fiftieth birthday.’

  Lydia smiled, as she stared at Julia; blatantly judging her age in relation to how she looked. ‘That does sound a bit extreme. Turning fifty isn’t so bad; you soon get used to it.’

  Sebastian grinned. ‘Yes indeed, Lydia has had lots of practice at turning fifty; she’s been doing it for at least five years now.’

  Lydia elbowed him in his ribs.

  ‘Wow, you don’t look it.’ Julia said politely.