She nods sagely as she sips the tea. I do the same, and only as I take the first gulp do I realise how thirsty I am, finishing thewhole thirst-quenching drink. Without a word, she leans over and refills my glass.
“You will, of course, stay here.” Once again, I am unsure if she is asking a question or making a statement. Her gaze scans the grounds again. “The master bedroom is ready to be used. And I will introduce you to Lorenzo when he returns.”
“Lorenzo?”
“My son,” she says, looking back towards the kitchen. “He does work to maintain the house, but mainly makes sure the grounds are kept in order.”
“A groundskeeper?” I offer, and she nods.
“He does not like to speak. If you need anything, come to me. During the day, I am usually in the kitchen.” She stands from the table and beckons me. “Come now. I will show you to your room. Give you time to freshen up and relax. Dr Romano will arrive at seven-thirty, and he will want to talk to you. I will serve dinner for you both here on the veranda. Is there anything you do not eat?”
“No. I am grateful for anything put in front of me.”
“That is good. And eight o’clock is acceptable?”
“Whatever suits you.”
“Mr Redbrick, this is your home now. And I am employed by the estate.Il dottorewill explain more later. And theprofessoreinsisted that if you ever came here with him, you were to be made welcome. You are, after all, the co-owner. Well, the owner now.”
I collect my luggage, and we move back into the coolness of the house. I follow her up the broad, low rise of stairs to the first floor, where she stops before an open door. Inside the vast bedroom, the walnut four-poster bed with a white, gold-embroidered bedspread is almost lost. Plump white towels are already laid out on a leather storage bench at the end of the bed.
“This is your room. Please move around the house freely. The only place I ask you not to go into is our private annexe, where Lorenzo and I live.ProfessoreCallico was happy with this arrangement, and I hope you will be, too.”
“I am more than grateful to have a roof over my head.”
I sense her eyes rest on me then and wonder what might be going through her mind, and what Albert might have told her about me.
“There is a bathroom at the back of your room. I am sure you will want to shower and change. I will see you downstairs for dinner at eight.”
She departs without waiting for a response, and I step into the coolness of the bedroom. Once again, the simplicity of the decor and furnishings strikes me as being very Albert. I dump my rucksack onto the leather bench and pull out a change of clothes. Only as I sift through the clothing do I realise I packed for cold Belgium, not temperate Italy, with a woollen sweater, jeans and thick socks. Fortunately, I have a couple of polo shirts, a few T-shirts and a pair of chinos that are thin enough for the warmer weather. Before anything, I pull out my wash bag and head to the bathroom.
At odds with the understated bedroom, the bathroom is a modern mix of light brown marble and chrome. A freestanding bath has been installed opposite dual sinks, and—thank you, Albert—a walk-in shower is built into one corner. I set the water running first before peeling off the clothes I have worn for the past few days. Checking myself in the bathroom mirror, I realise I need a shave.
Trimmed, showered and refreshed, I tie the towel around my waist and open the balcony doors in the bedroom. Cool breezesruffle the drapes and dry my damp skin, as the vague scent of lemons and wild lavender creeps into the room. After laying out clothes on the bed, I realise I have not checked in with Josh and Nishan and fish the phone from my trouser pocket.
Nishan answers after only two rings, with a remarkably clear line. I can tell he has put me on speaker because my voice echoes from the other end.
“Hi, Gabe. Perfect timing. Josh just walked in the door.”
“What time is it there?”
“Six. Why?”
“Is Josh working part-time?”
“Oi, you cheeky sod,” comes Josh’s voice.
“He just finished a twelve-hour shift,” said Nishan. “Started at five this morning. Be nice to him. Anyway, before we let you tell us all about your adventures, all is good this end. Not sure if I mentioned, but my dad has a furnished flat across town which is currently vacant. We’ve stowed your mobile phone there in a charger, and I pop over every day to pick up post and check and reply to any of your texts. You’ve had no calls, and only a couple of people have texted. Alice, of course, to check you’re fine, and someone called Tim from the charity to ask when you’ll be returning to work. I think they’re missing you. Anyway, I used your own wording to reply to Alice, saying you’re doing okay but need this time out to regroup. And Josh told me I should tell Tim to fuck off—”
“Don’t tell him that!” says Josh, laughing in the background.
“But I did the sensible thing and said you’re not sure right now, but will let him know as soon as things settle down.”
“Nice,” I answer, taking the phone onto the balcony.
“Where are you staying?” asks Josh. “Please tell me you’re not camping out in that leaky tent of mine. Was the guest house open?”
“Okay. You may want to sit down for this. A lot has happened.”