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‘He’s old...’
‘My point exactly! The stroke...the fractured pelvis... He can’t deal with this bloody great big mansion. He needs somewhere more compact. He needs to be able to make it to his bedroom from the kitchen in under three hours.’
‘Please don’t exaggerate. Like you said, Roberto could afford as much help as he wants to. At the moment he just has Freya and Fergus, but I’m sure he would employ someone else to help him if he thought he needed it.’
‘This isn’t a subject that’s open to debate. I’m not thrusting him into a rabbit hutch in the centre of the city. He’ll adjust. London is full of exciting things.’
‘Old people don’t want excitement,’ Laura said flatly. ‘They want routine. They want stability. They want to be surrounded by the people and faces they’re familiar with.’
Alessandro stared at her with incredulity. Were they talking about the same man?
‘And how often are you going to visit him?’ she pursued, ignoring his closed expression. ‘Are you going to make sure he settles in? Will you be taking him under your wing? Or will you be visiting him four times a year but happily with a much shorter journey?’
Alessandro scowled. ‘Your concern is touching but I assure you...he’ll be just fine. And, incidentally, who are these familiar faces he needs to surround himself with?’
‘He has lots of friends in the village.’
‘Aside from you?’
‘Yes, aside from me! What do you think he does during the days? I mean, I know his health hasn’t been great recently, but before that? And now that he’s on the mend?’
Alessandro looked at her blankly.
‘You don’t know, do you? You haven’t got a clue. You want to drag him away from his home and you can’t even be bothered to find out what he’ll be missing! What his life here is all about!’
‘You’re shouting.’
‘I never shout!’ Her voice reverberated in the silence and she glared at him. ‘I usually never shout,’ she amended, ‘but I’m just so...angry. And stop staring at me. I suppose you’ve never been shouted at by anyone in your life before?’
‘Correct.’
Drawn out of her state of shock, Laura peered suspiciously at him. ‘No one ever gets mad at you?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Ever?’
‘You’re looking at me as though you find that hard to believe,’ Alessandro returned coolly. Taking away the physical side of things, on every level this woman offended him on all fronts. He had no thoughts one way or another on other people and the choices they made in terms of relationships. As far as he was concerned, the rest of humanity could hurl themselves into pointless marriages like lemmings jumping off a cliff, only to find themselves picking up the pieces and counting the pennies when those marriages crashed and burned. Which most of them did.
As for himself, he had no intention, and never had, of getting wrapped up with any woman. He had led a life that was ruled by his head and he liked that. Maybe the cold withdrawal of his only parent had pointed him down that path. It wasn’t something he had wasted his time analysing. He just knew that, for him, women were there to be savoured and enjoyed until the time came for him to push on. They were his stress-free zone, a welcome break from the enjoyable frenzy of being at the top of the game in the world of business.
A woman who shouted did not constitute a stress-free zone.
‘I do,’ Laura said truthfully.
‘Women, especially, fall into that category.’
‘I find that even harder to believe.’
‘I don’t encourage temper tantrums,’ he said smoothly. ‘There’s something about a screaming woman I don’t find a turn-on.’
Just as well my aim isn’t to turn you on, Laura thought. The pulse in her throat kicked up a steady beat. She took in his lazy sprawl, the brooding night-dark gaze of his eyes, the harsh, perfect contours of his face, and something inside her flared into unwelcome, unexpected life.
Suddenly confused, she banked it down.
‘I just think that before you start trying to pull the rug from underneath someone’s feet, you should make an effort to understand where they’re coming from and what they would lose. Doesn’t your father have any say in this? Or are you going to stampede through his objections and do what you think is best?’
‘This conversation is going round in circles.’ Alessandro raked his fingers impatiently through his hair, spared her a searing glance and then stood up to help himself to a bottle of water from the fridge, which he drank in one long swallow. Then he leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at her. ‘I’ll do what I consider best for my father and you can pull all the hysterical, emotive language out of the bag, but nothing is going to change that. Like I told you, I’ve talked to my father about this. If he chose not to keep you in the loop, then what can I say?’ He shrugged and stared at her flushed face.
‘There’s something you should know,’ Laura said grudgingly, and Alessandro stilled.
‘I’m all ears.’
‘It’s not just that your father has a social life in the village, and if...’ she looked at him with a flare of uncharacteristic rebellion in her wide, green eyes ‘...he chose to keep you out of the loop, then what can I say? He’s also...well...you probably have cut-and-dried opinions on love, but he’s involved with someone locally...’
For a few seconds, and for maybe the first time in his life, Alessandro was rendered speechless. Her words filtered into his consciousness, tried to take shape but then dissolved before they could link up and make any sense.
‘Did you just hear what I said?’
‘I heard you. I’m just not following... You’re telling me that my father has a girlfriend?’
‘My gran.’
Perplexed, Alessandro shook his head in an attempt to get the connections in his brain to start working.
Laura saw his bewilderment and suddenly, out of nowhere, she felt a sharp pang of sympathy and compassion for him. Didn’t this say everything there was to say about the kind of relationship he had with Roberto? One in which nothing personal was ever discussed? In which no emotion was ever allowed to surface? How on earth had that happened?
‘My father is going out with your...your grandmother? How does that even make sense?’
‘It’s easy,’ Laura said drily. ‘They met ages ago and have been friends for a long time, but in the past few months, a bit longer, actually, they’ve begun seeing one another. Going on dates, that kind of thing...’
‘My father goes on dates?’
‘It happens. Two people have a solid friendship...one thing leads to another... He’s still an attractive guy. I’d bet there are a few ladies in the gardening club who have had their eye on him.’
Alessandro walked back to the table, sat down, stared off for a few frowning moments into space, then focused on the woman looking at him, head inclined, her soft lips parted.
‘Details.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘How long exactly has this dating game been going on? And your grandmother...where does she live? Widowed? Divorced? How old is she?’
Laura tensed, predicting the direction of his assumptions. ‘You’ve accused me of being a gold-digger,’ she said coldly. ‘You couldn’t have been further from the truth. And don’t you even dare think of implying that my grandmother is after your dad’s money, either! They’re just two people who get along and enjoy one another’s company. If you want the bare details, here they are.
‘My grandmother lives in a little house on the outskirts of the village about twenty minutes away. She’s lived here all her life and, yes, she’s widowed. My grandfather passed on more years ago than I care to think. She never really thought about ever finding anyone else, least of all someone she’s known since for ever, but, then, it’s really only in the past ten years or so that your father has really begun integrating himself into the community. He was quite reclusive before that. I guess work kept him away a lot...and of course my gran would have been busy working in the neighbouring town. She ran the garden centre there. Only gave up five years ago because the travel was getting a bit of a nuisance, especially in the winter. ’Course, she drove there, but you have no idea how freez—’
‘I’m getting the picture. Age?’
‘Huh? Oh. Right. Seventy-six. So that’s just one of the reasons why it would be heartbreaking for you to charge up here and try to force him to leave.’
‘Charge? Force? Heartbreaking?’
But this put a new spin on things. Maybe he should personally check out the situation. His father was dating someone whose granddaughter was his best buddy. Cynicism was ingrained in Alessandro, as much a vital part of him as drawing breath. Could this pair be working in tandem? It was far-fetched but sometimes far-fetched turned out to be reality and it always paid to be on the safe side, especially when tens of millions of pounds were at stake.
‘You’re right.’
‘I am?’ Laura looked at him warily, trying to see behind that thoughtful, speculative expression.
‘If my father is to leave this place, then it’s not up to me to be heavy-handed. I need to persuade him that there’s life beyond the Scottish boundaries...’
‘He won’t be persuaded, I’m sure of that.’
Alessandro dealt her a slashing smile. So this weekend might not happen, but that was fine. He was the kind of guy who could think outside the box when it came to dealing with unexpected situations. Like this. And, being perfectly honest, the lush appeal of the woman currently looking at him as though she expected him to produce a bomb from up his sleeve would certainly introduce a bit of entertainment to the menu.
‘But worth a try, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, you’ve spent the past hour wringing your hands and wailing that I’m being unfair. So I’m sure you’d have no objections to...showing me first-hand this fuzzy, warm social life my father would be so loath to leave behind...’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_30cb2aa1-3b1c-537b-a0b7-dea85971c622)
‘BOY’S LATE. PROBABLY changed his mind. Probably decided that it’d be better to airlift me out of my own damned house than go through this charade of pretending he’s interested in anything I do!’
Laura looked at Roberto anxiously. Alessandro was half an hour late and who better than she to know the vagaries of transport? Trains that laughed in the face of timetables. Cabs that got stuck in traffic and crawled along as though they were submerged in treacle. Planes that hovered and circled and hovered and circled because they were at the back of a queue.
‘He said he’d come,’ she told him firmly while sneaking a glance at her watch. It was nearly six and the two of them were hovering like maiden aunts waiting for their wayward charge to return home.
It was ridiculous.
‘My son has his own damned personal schedule! Lives for his work!’ He repositioned his tie and banged his walking stick on the wooden floor. ‘Probably got a call and, of course, any call would take precedence over coming to Scotland! Never could stand the place! Always preferred that namby-pamby London life!’ He threw her a sly look. ‘’Course, something else could have held him up!’
‘Yes?’ She looked at Roberto affectionately. He still belonged to an era when ties were de rigueur, whatever the occasion, and trousers were always belted firmly at the waist. He was dressed in a jumper with the crisp white shirt underneath neatly buttoned to the neck, the knot of his dark, striped tie crisply in place and a pair of his most casual slacks, which were still pressed into submission with no-nonsense creases down the middle of the legs. His shoes gleamed. He looked such a vision that she had taken a picture of him on her phone so that she could send it to her grandmother. He had, naturally, grumbled, although she’d noticed that he had surreptitiously neatened his thick silver hair with his hand before the shot.
‘Floozy.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Floozy. Has enough of them chasing behind him! Met one or two myself. Silly little airheads but sometimes even the smartest of men can’t resist a—’
‘I get the picture, Roberto!’ She led him away from that subject back to plants and gardens and the cookery club her grandmother wanted him to join.
The last thing she needed was to hear about Alessandro and his so-called floozies.
In fact, the last thing she wanted was to be here, on a Friday evening, wearing a long-sleeved, knee-length dress and boots and waiting for a guy who had managed to get under her skin in a very, very irritating way. She had spent the past week thinking about him, hadn’t been able to shake him out of her head, and having to face him again was not what she wanted.
But here she was because Roberto had told her that the three of them would be going out.
‘Got it into his head that the old man’s life’s suddenly interesting!’ Roberto had announced. ‘Told him it was a damned sight more interesting than one that was just work, work, work and some floozies in between!’ After that he had sat her down and explained the whole business of the move he didn’t want and wasn’t going to be forced into. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to discuss it with her grandmother and she wasn’t to say a word. He would talk to Edith himself when she returned, not, he insisted, that he was going anywhere.
‘But if the boy wants to try to move me, then he can try all he wants! He’ll soon find out that this old bugger won’t be going anywhere!’
Laura had picked up the thread of trepidation running through his bravado and had instantly agreed to be by his side when Alessandro arrived. She would not, emphatically would not, be sticking around for the entire weekend but, yes, she would accompany them to dinner at the newly opened fish restaurant in the neighbouring town.
Now Roberto was fretting but before she could start soothing him all over again they heard an overhead roar and they both hurried over to the big bay window, peered out and registered the presence of a helicopter, which was circling, finding the right spot in the immense garden outside, before landing. The blindingly bright beam cutting through the darkness was an impressive sight. Laura would put money on every single person in the town craning their necks out of their windows and wondering what the heck was going on.
‘Might have guessed he wouldn’t have come like any other person!’ He was already hobbling out of the sitting room, where they had been chatting in front of a pot of tea, and Laura sprinted after him, reaching the front door just as it was opened and there he was, as tall, as sinfully good-looking, as aristocratically arrogant as she remembered.
‘Hope you haven’t set that thing down on any of my plants!’ Roberto bellowed as the rotors wound down to a noisy din.
Alessandro glanced wryly past him to catch Laura’s eye and her skin was suddenly on fire.
‘And thank you for that warm welcome.’ Alessandro turned back to signal something to his pilot, then stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. His father still had the same mutinous expression on his face as he had had the weekend before, when Alessandro had tried to get him to talk about moving, and Laura...
She’d been on his mind. He hadn’t been able to work that one out. Was it because, in a sea of predictable women, she had been the only one to have ever contradicted him? Had the novelty of being criticised got under his skin and provoked a reaction? Like nettle rash? Something annoying you couldn’t ignore? Or had the lack of a female presence in his life had something to do with it? It had been a couple of months since he had seen off his last girlfriend.
He didn’t analyse the reaction. He just knew that the weekend planned had lain in front of him, glittering like a gem on the horizon. And that, in itself, was spectacular, considering how reluctant his visits had been in the past, obligatory visits to be endured before returning to the sanity of city life.
‘You’re late. Was about to head to the kitchen and take something out of the fridge!’
He glanced at Laura to see whether she, like him, was irritated with his father’s impatience, but when he looked at her it was to see that she was smiling indulgently at Roberto, her hand resting lightly on his forearm, a gesture of affection that his father appeared to take for granted.
‘If Freya stocks the fridge,’ Alessandro said evenly, ‘then I wouldn’t count on the contents to be inspiring. I’ll be ten minutes at the most. I need to send a quick email.’
Laura frowned. She knew that Roberto had been dressed and waiting for the past hour and a half. She’d helped him with his tie and she’d seen, from the other three ties draped over the back of the chair, that he’d had a task choosing the one he wanted to wear.
‘I think we should head off sooner rather than later,’ she murmured, catching Alessandro’s eye and holding it. ‘Roberto always has an early night.’
‘Roberto can go to bed whenever he damned well wants to!’ Roberto announced, but she felt him relax a little when Alessandro immediately nodded and dumped his case on the floor.
‘I’m having a car delivered to me in the morning.’ Alessandro fished his mobile out of his pocket. ‘What’s the number for the local taxi company?’
‘No need,’ Laura said briskly. She hooked her arm through Roberto’s and then turned to him and tucked his scarf neatly into his overcoat.
‘You’re always faffing and fussing, girl!’
But again Alessandro was made aware of a relationship he had never even known existed, a relationship from which he was made to feel like an outsider. His father, grumbling and chiding, was clearly pleased to have her fuss over him.
‘Someone has to when my grandmother isn’t around,’ she murmured, and Roberto shot his son a sidelong look before shooing her away. ‘There’s no need to call a taxi.’ She stood back, head cocked, making sure everything was up to her inspection with Roberto’s outfit. ‘I’ve brought my car.’
‘You’re going to drive us?’ Alessandro let them pass and slammed the door behind them.
‘Don’t tell me you don’t feel comfortable with a woman behind the wheel,’ she said with saccharine sweetness. ‘Because if that’s the case, then you’re a dinosaur.’
‘Girl speaks her mind!’ Roberto chortled smugly. ‘Something you’ll have to get used to, my boy!’ He absently patted her hand as they trundled towards the side of the house.
‘You intend to take us out in that?’ Squatting directly under one of the security lights that surrounded the house was an ageing Morris Minor. ‘I thought those cars were extinct,’ he murmured. ‘Along with the dinosaurs you mentioned.’
‘It’s very reliable,’ Laura told him tartly.
‘Except for last winter,’ Roberto pointed out, and for the duration of the drive they launched into an extended anecdote about the unpredictability of her car, which, Alessandro assumed, he was supposed to find uproariously hilarious. He wondered why his father didn’t just buy her something more reliable and then grimaced because had he done that, Alessandro knew that he would have been the first to point out that his father was being ripped off.
He had intended to bring up the matter of the move but, over a surprisingly good meal, he found every effort thwarted.
They had in-jokes. They talked about people in the village. They spent way too long discussing some orchids someone or other had done something or other with, only desisting when Alessandro was forced to butt in and shut down that particular topic or risk falling asleep. He heard his father laugh. Twice. The sound was so unusual that he wondered whether his ears had been playing up but, no, at the end of an hour and a half he could see for himself that the life he had envisioned his father having might have been slightly off target.
