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Signor Lagrange nodded. ‘Yes, for many years.’ His face became more serious. ‘I was fortunate to know your late husband very well. We were all devastated by his death.’
Annie nodded, but made no response apart from murmuring, ‘Thank you.’
He leant forward. ‘Anyway, I’ve come to see you in your professional capacity as the director of this new school of English. I have a problem and Matt tells me you’re the person to solve it for me.’
‘Anything I can do to help.’
‘Are you, by any chance, familiar with the new Montalto Hotel?’ Annie certainly was. The ski resort of Montalto was situated directly above the town; a fifteen-minute drive up a series of tight hairpin bends that climbed hundreds of metres in a short distance. In fact, one of the places she was planning to visit in her search for an apartment was Montalto. The new hotel was being heralded as the valley’s latest five-star hotel, offering luxurious accommodation to visitors, as well as employment to a good number of local people.
‘I certainly am. It must be nearly finished by now.’
Signor Lagrange nodded. ‘Yes, indeed. Anyway, I’m the general manager of the hotel. As part of my duties, I have to ensure that our staff all have a satisfactory command of English.’ Annie leant forward in her turn. This was sounding promising. ‘This is where you come in.’
Annie resisted the temptation to get up and hug Signor Lagrange, but it took willpower. Here she was, the school not yet open, being presented with the sort of contract she could only dream of. ‘I’d be delighted to help.’
Together, they discussed the details and Annie soon realised that there was going to be enough work in this one contract alone to keep a teacher fully occupied for months and months. She spared a thought for the two new teachers she had engaged to start in January. It looked as if she was going to need them both. She and Signor Lagrange discussed everything and she arranged to come up to the hotel the following week to meet the staff and do a preliminary assessment of their levels. Finally, they shook hands on it and she promised to email him everything that afternoon. He looked relieved.
‘That’s excellent. The hotel opens to the public in March, so if lessons can begin early in the New Year, so much the better.’
Annie thanked him and stood up. But, before leaving, Signor Lagrange had one more surprise for her. He dropped an envelope on her desk. ‘It’s very important you get to know the hotel and the ski resort as well as possible. That’ll help a lot when you’re teaching my staff. I thought you might like one of these.’
Intrigued, Annie opened the envelope and pulled out what looked like a big credit card attached to a blue ribbon. It took her a moment to work out what it was. As she realised, her breath whistled out. ‘A season ticket?’ She looked up at him in wonder. ‘You’re giving me a season ticket to the ski lifts?’
He was smiling more broadly. ‘It’s a full season lift pass. Matt tells me you’re a very keen skier and I thought you might like one. I’ve got half a dozen to give to VIPs. You’re the first.’
Annie very nearly kissed him. She had been skiing for as long as she could remember and she always bought a season ticket. A split-second calculation told her this little piece of plastic was worth hundreds and hundreds of euros. She felt quite overwhelmed.
‘But… really, this is too much.’
He waved away her protestations and then caught her eye. ‘Your husband and I were good friends. It’s the least I can do.’
This time Annie did hug him. ‘Thank you so very much, Signor Lagrange.’
‘Massimo. Please call me Massimo.’
‘Thank you, Massimo. And I’m Annie.’
He saw the expression on her face and smiled at her. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Annie.’
Matt arrived, as arranged, just after one o’clock and Annie’s first act was to hug him as well. When she released him he took a step back and smiled at her. ‘And I’m pleased to see you, too.’
She smiled back and told him about her visit from Massimo Lagrange and the amazing business opportunity he had offered. ‘So, lunch is on me, Matt.’
She showed him round the school, giving him his pick of rooms for his translation business. He chose the first room on the left, opposite the reception area. This was a medium-sized room looking out over the car park and it had its own little bathroom. Annie apologised for the garish colours on the walls, but he declared himself perfectly happy to redecorate if he felt it necessary. She saw him looking hopefully towards the reception desk and she explained that he would have to wait to meet Paolina until another time as her lunch break started at twelve-thirty. She gave him a serious look. ‘But, remember what you promised. All right?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He affected a totally unconvincing air of servility.
They went across the road to the pizzeria. She ordered a mixed salad while he chose a bistecca alla valdostana, and they nibbled olives and bread sticks while they waited for the food to arrive. Annie decided to steer clear of the subject of blonde Luisa and, instead, she told him all about her plans for the future. She avoided talking about Steve and told him how she had reached the decision to go it alone.
‘I’d been working in the same place in Turin for seven years and I’d just had enough of it. The trouble with teaching is that it’s so cyclical. You’re there at the beginning of term, you teach the class until the end of term and then they leave and move on, but you stay put. And, to be honest, I was pretty much running the school, but getting paid peanuts. It was getting me down.’
He nodded, sipping his water. ‘I can imagine. My life in Florence has been getting me down, too. The trouble with working from home is that you never get out. Nobody cares whether you’ve shaved that morning or whether you’re even wearing clothes.’ Annie’s eyes flicked over his stubbly face and he grinned. ‘All right, that was a bad analogy. I don’t shave every day anyway, but you know what I mean. That’s why I specifically want my office to be separate this time. This way I live in one place and I work in another, almost like a normal person.’
‘Nobody could accuse you of being a normal person, Matt.’ She was remembering just what easy company he was. After he left Turin years ago, Steve had missed him a lot; and so had she. In fact she had missed him more than she had ever admitted, even to herself. She looked up at him, a smile on her face. Over the past few years, she reflected, smiles had been in very short supply.
After lunch, Annie insisted upon driving him out of town to say hello to Janet at their new B&B. As she turned into the narrow road leading up to the old house, she looked across at him. ‘I’d love to find somewhere like this for myself. Can you imagine?’
Matt shook his head ruefully. ‘Some hopes. I’ve started asking around, but I’ll probably just have to take what’s going. There’s so little on the market up here and I’m so tight for time at the moment. And I’ve just heard that I’ve to get back to Florence today. So I’ve got a four-hour drive back down there when we get out of here, but I’m planning to come back at the weekend for a few days to see if I can find an apartment to rent.’
When Janet saw Matt, she rushed across and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Matt, you don’t look a day older.’
‘And you, Janet, look as gorgeous as ever.’ Matt turned to Annie with a smile. ‘It must be the mountain air. You both look fantastic. I can barely keep my hands off the two of you.’
The girls exchanged glances. No, Matt hadn’t changed.
‘Matt! Ciao, caro.’ Guido emerged from the corridor and came over to give him a hug. ‘How long’s it been? A year, two years?’
‘At least two, Guido.’ Matt shot a glance across at Annie. ‘The last time you and I climbed together was with Steve.’ Annie did her best to remain impassive.
‘You must come and see us more often, Matt.’ Janet caught his eye. ‘Annie’s told us you’re coming to live up here. It’ll be just like old times.’
Again, Matt glanced at Annie. ‘Not quite like old times.’ His voice was low. Annie took a deep breath and managed to make an effort to reply.
‘Not like old times, but time goes on. It’s the future that’s important now.’ The more she said it, the more she found she was starting to believe it.
After coffee and biscuits with Guido and Janet, Annie drove Matt back to where he had parked his car. This turned out to be a rugged-looking pickup truck. She looked across at him with a grin. ‘So what happened to your old Land Rover?’
He shrugged. ‘When it finally packed up on me, I sold it to a chap in Lucca for spares. But I managed to get this thing cheap. One of my jobs this year was down in Cinecittà in Rome. They’d acquired two or three of these for some movie and they were selling them off at the end of production for a fraction of list price. It’s got a few dents and scratches.’ He caught her eye. ‘There’s a mark on the dashboard that they told me is Johnny Depp’s blood.’ Annie wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. ‘Anyway, if the predicted heavy snow really does arrive tonight, I’ll need the four-wheel drive.’ He leant over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks for lunch and thanks for renting me the room for my office.’ He opened the door of her little Panda and hauled himself out into the cold. ‘I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on. You know, Annie, I’m glad; really glad.’
‘Me, too, Matt.’ And she meant it. It was a wonderful coincidence that they had both chosen this time to relocate to the mountains. The past two years had been so terribly lonely for Annie. It was going to be so very good to have an old friend at her side. And a very handsome old friend at that. Which reminded her. ‘Just remember you promised you’d keep your hands off Paolina.’
That evening, Annie had promised to take Janet out for dinner. She offered Janet her choice of restaurants and was surprised to hear that she wanted a pizza. As they drove down to Santorso, Janet explained that she so rarely had pizza these days, she was only too happy. Secretly, Annie wondered whether it was just because she knew that Annie’s finances were stretched and she wanted to keep the cost of the meal down.
Annie took her to her local pizzeria where Signora Toniolo and her husband greeted her as an old friend. As they ate their pizzas, they chatted and Annie got a surprise.
‘I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but Matt phoned us a long time ago, asking about you.’
Annie looked up from her Margherita. ‘Asking about me?’
Janet nodded. ‘It wasn’t that long after Steve’s death and he wanted to know how you were coping. He was asking if you were still living in Turin, still working and all right for money.’
‘Matt was asking you about me?’ Annie put her fork down and took a sip of red wine. ‘I wonder why he didn’t contact me direct.’
‘I suppose he was afraid he might disturb you or something. Of course, we couldn’t tell him very much as we hadn’t seen you either.’ Annie nodded. After Steve’s death she had more or less gone into voluntary purdah for months, unwilling to meet people, not wanting to face the inevitable expressions of concern and condolence. Janet went on. ‘All I could say to him was that you’re a tough cookie and I was sure you’d be okay.’ Janet caught Annie’s eye. ‘And I was right.’
Annie sat and thought for a while before answering. ‘I suppose you are right. I am okay, now. But I’m not sure how tough I am. The last two years have been the worst of my life. There were times when I just didn’t know how to go on.’
‘I can imagine. We were devastated when we heard the news. But you’ve got over it and you’re getting on with your life.’
‘I couldn’t just carry on moping. But, Matt? That was sweet of him.’
‘Matt’s a good man. And he likes you a lot.’
‘My sister said the same thing. It’s just a pity he’s such a bastard with women.’
‘He’s getting older, just like the rest of us. He’ll change, I’m sure.’
Annie shook her head. ‘I very much doubt it.’
Chapter 3 (#ulink_8a469388-3dd4-5a5c-aa64-eb4e608a6a8a)
That night it started snowing again, this time seriously, and it didn’t stop for forty-eight hours. By the time Friday came along, the whole town was underneath a thick layer of the white stuff and strangely quiet, everyday noises muffled by the snow. But, among the inhabitants of Santorso, things were buzzing. Signora Toniolo in the bar told Annie first and then Paolina confirmed it; the ski lifts had started working all around the valley. The skiing season had begun and it was still just the beginning of December.
By eleven o’clock, Annie had done everything that needed doing at the school and she couldn’t wait to take advantage of her wonderful new ski pass. Leaving Paolina in charge, she pulled on her skiing clothes, strapped her skis to the roof of her little Panda and set off for Montalto.
The snowploughs had been working hard and, with the aid of her winter tyres, she found it quite easy to drive right up the winding road to Montalto through the pine trees and grassy meadows, now buried under a thick layer of snow. She parked close to the big chairlift, carefully avoiding leaving the car under any of the trees, all of which were laden with snow. She and Steve had made that mistake years ago with their old cinquecento. When they returned, they found it nearly buried in a huge pile of snow that had then frozen. It had taken them almost an hour to hack their way into the car and then reverse out again.
It was almost lunchtime by now, but it was still bitterly cold. The sun was just beginning to burn off the low cloud, but it would be an hour or two before the temperature rose above freezing. Her visit to the slopes didn’t start too auspiciously. As she stepped out of the car onto the frozen ground, her feet slid out from underneath her and she almost did the splits, ending up on her bottom on the very cold ground. She pulled herself to her feet, her breath forming clouds in front of her in the frozen air, dusted herself off and reflected that it was just as well her sister hadn’t been there to witness that little scene. She made her way gingerly around to the back and sat down on the rear bumper to put on her ski boots. As she did so, she noted that there was no queue for the main lift. Tomorrow, Saturday, once skiers from Turin and Milan had made their way up the motorway, it would be busier, but for the moment she felt as if she had the place to herself.
Once she had tightened her ski boots and fastened her jacket, she pulled on her hat and released her skis from the rack on the roof of her faithful old car. Then, finally, she was able to put her gloves on and she began to feel life returning to her frozen fingers. Feeling rather grand, she flashed her new ski pass and took the chairlift up to the first station. Below her, the pistes had been cleared, but there were very few people on the slopes. After years of riding in chairlifts, she was no longer scared stiff. Although she knew that in all probability she might be killed if she fell off one of these lifts, she wasn’t anything like as scared as when she was hundreds and hundreds of feet off the ground in a cable car. It was a question of degree. She was just grateful that Montalto didn’t have any cable cars.
Evidently, she was going to be one of the first skiers of the season. That, too, was exciting. As she skied off the lift at the top and stopped to adjust her goggles and gloves, she found she was humming to herself. She hadn’t done that for a very long time. It felt good, really good. She stood there for a few moments, staring out across the snow-covered mountains, and she felt the familiar stinging in her eyes, but this time, she didn’t cry and she didn’t stop humming. She ran a gloved hand across her face, pulled her goggles into place, and set off.
An hour later, after a few fast downhill runs, she had warmed up and decided to ski down a particularly difficult black run; a steep mogul field of dips and bumps, bordered on both sides by thick forest. It was tough, technical skiing and she was concentrating hard. As she reached the left-hand side of the piste, within touching distance of the thick canopy of conifers, she threw herself into a sharp turn back in the opposite direction, her knees flexing hard under the compression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another skier flash past, bouncing over the bumps, hopelessly out of control. At the same time, a movement further down the slope caused her to jam in the edges of her skis and stop dead, her hand over her mouth in silent horror.
A big black dog came running out of the trees, right in the path of the other skier. The man was powerless to take evasive action and the two figures converged with an awful inevitability. She clearly heard a cry and a yelp as the skier smashed into the dog, sending both of them flying into the air. The dog landed several metres further down the slope, its body limp and lifeless like a rag doll. The man bounced, rolled, and finally ended up on his face, perilously close to the trees, one ski still attached, the other stuck upright in the soft snow at the side of the piste. As Annie looked on, he stirred, sat up and then, without making any effort to help the injured dog, pulled himself to his feet, clipped on his missing ski, and set off down the hill once more.
Annie was appalled.
She skied down to where the body of the dog lay motionless in the snow. She stepped out of her skis, sticking them into the snow in the form of a cross to warn any other skiers of the danger, and went over to the dog. He was a fine-looking black Labrador, but he was quite unconscious. She knelt closer and was relieved to see he was still alive; his white, steamy breath clearly visible in the frozen air. His tongue was hanging out and blood was running from his mouth into the snow. She sat down beside him, her hand resting on the dog’s head, and debated what to do. Then she spotted a silver medallion attached to his collar. On it was a phone number. She pulled out her phone and dialled the number. It was answered almost immediately.
‘Pronto.’ It was an old man’s voice. He was speaking Italian, so she spoke to him in the same language.
‘Hello, I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’ Annie found she was panting and had to stop for breath before being able to carry on and give the man the story of what had happened. Luckily, both he and she were very familiar with the layout of the ski runs and he understood immediately when she described where the accident had happened.
‘Thank you very much for your kindness. Somebody’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you wait?’
‘Of course.’ Just at that moment, she saw a movement. The dog’s eyes fluttered, and then opened. She was quick to relay the good news. ‘He’s just opened his eyes. I think he’s going to be all right.’
‘That’s marvellous.’ She couldn’t miss the relief in the man’s voice. ‘His name’s Leo, by the way. Ten minutes.’ He rang off.
Annie pushed her phone back into her pocket and bent down closer to Leo the dog. His eyes were rolling and he was panting for breath, but he was conscious. She reached out and cradled his big furry head in one arm, stroking his cheek with the other. Gradually, he began to come round. After a few minutes, he managed to turn his head towards her. Her eyes met his and her heart went out to him. He really was gorgeous; and all the more gorgeous for being so vulnerable.
‘How’re you feeling, handsome?’ She found she was speaking Italian to him. Remembering what his owner had told her, she tried his name, still in Italian, seeing as he was an Italian dog. ‘You okay, Leo? Are you all right, Leo?’ This time there was a definite response from him. He stirred and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull himself to his feet. He struggled for a few moments before slumping back down again, exhausted by the effort. ‘You’ll be all right, Leo. Good dog, Leo.’ Annie was still talking to him some minutes later when she heard sounds behind her. She looked up as two men appeared, one wearing a bright blue jacket and the other a ski instructor, manhandling a metal stretcher sledge. She looked up and greeted them, naturally in Italian.
The man in the blue jacket gave her a big smile and murmured his thanks as he unclipped his skis and settled down beside the dog. He was probably around her age, mid or maybe late thirties, and looked very friendly, although he was clearly concerned for the dog.
‘Ciao, Leo.’ He knelt beside the dog and ran his hands gently along the length of his body. Annie was delighted to see the end of the dog’s tail wag weakly. She shifted slightly to one side, but left her arm supporting the big dog’s head.
‘Are you all right?’ The young ski instructor’s accent was local, with a slight French inflexion. She was thankful he was speaking to her in Italian, rather than the local patois that she found almost incomprehensible. He sounded genuinely concerned for her well-being. She looked up and gave him a smile, answering in Italian that came quite naturally to her now after ten years in the country.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I’ve just got a cold bottom from sitting on the snow too long.’ She glanced down at the dog and back up again. ‘What are you going to do with him?’
The man in the blue jacket looked across at her. His face was only a few feet from hers and she couldn’t help noticing his brilliant blue eyes, the exact same colour as his jacket. ‘I don’t think he’s broken anything. He’s let me touch him all over without jumping or yelping. We’ll just have to hope he hasn’t sustained any internal injuries. He’s very groggy, but you said the impact knocked him out, didn’t you?’
Annie nodded. ‘Out like a light for a few minutes, I’m afraid.’
‘That would explain his weak state. I think it should be okay to put him on the toboggan.’ He glanced up at the other man. ‘Paul, we’ll take him down to the car park and then I’ll run him down to the vet in Santorso.’ There was authority in his voice. His accent was northern Italian and well-educated. Annie found herself wondering just what it was he did up here.
‘Sure thing.’ Paul nodded and slid the sledge as close as possible to the dog. The man in the blue jacket reached his arms underneath the Labrador and then, with Annie still cradling Leo’s head, he straightened up and lifted the dog onto the sledge. Leo didn’t make a sound. They wedged him in with a blanket and straps to stop him rolling off and then Paul didn’t waste any time. He eased the sledge out onto the piste and slipped away down the hill. As he went, he gave Annie a big smile. ‘See you again, I hope.’ Annie watched him with considerable admiration. The sledge was solid and heavy, and Paul was skiing without the use of sticks, just steering by hanging on to the handles, for all the world like skiing with a long wheelbarrow behind him.
The dog’s owner stood up and held out his hand to Annie. She took it and he helped her to her feet. Only when she was standing did she realise how tall he was for an Italian, probably as tall as Matt. As for her, she hadn’t been joking about her cold bottom. Not only was it cold; it felt as though her right buttock had gone to sleep. Surreptitiously, she hopped from one leg to the other to get the circulation flowing.
‘Thank you again, most warmly.’ The man shook her by the hand and the bright blue eyes caught hers. ‘Really, thank you. Leo’s my father’s dog and dad lets him run free all over the place. Normally he manages to keep out of trouble, but not this time. My name’s Alessandro, by the way.’
‘And I’m Annie.’ For a moment, it looked as if he was going to make a comment but then, without any more ado, he stepped into his ski bindings and headed off down the slope in the wake of the stretcher, leaving her still wondering who he was.
Annie watched him go, one hand kneading her backside to warm it up, worried for the Labrador, hoping his injuries wouldn’t prove to be too serious. The man with the blue eyes was skiing fast and well, clearly at home on the slopes. Hopefully, she would see the dog again before too long and, she realised with some considerable surprise, she found she was hoping she would also see the man with the blue eyes again. This was a very new sensation for her after her years of marriage and then two grim years of mourning. Just then, for the first time that day, a ray of sunlight cut through the cloud and illuminated the piste and the trees all around her. For the second time that day, she found she was humming to herself.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_741cde5e-0d37-563f-90c7-01d3b2b1cbf4)
Annie got back to the school just before dark and was fortunate to find a parking space very close to the front door. She rang the bell and waited for the buzzing sound that announced that the door was unlocked. The first thing she saw when she pushed the door open and stepped into the reception area was a pile of cardboard boxes and her heart lifted. The brochures had arrived.
She stood her skis up against the wall and dumped the heavy boots on the floor. Paolina got up from her desk and smiled. ‘You look as though you’ve had a good day. You’re glowing.’ This afternoon Paolina was wearing an amazingly hairy grey sweater that had evidently started life on the back of somebody a good few sizes bigger than her. She looked like an Old English sheepdog but, at least, the heating had been working less as a result and the temperature in the room was sub-tropical rather than tropical.
Annie smiled back. ‘Absolutely great and quite exciting. I’ll tell you all about it once I’ve had a look at the brochures. Everything all right?’ Annie had had a recurring dream, more of a nightmare, over the past weeks that the five thousand brochures either wouldn’t arrive in time or, if they did, that there would be some terrible typo on the cover. She picked up a copy from an open box and took a deep breath, hardly daring to look.
‘They’re perfect, Annie, and the SEA logo looks really good.’ Paolina sounded enthusiastic.
Annie braced herself and took a good look at the brochure. Paolina was right. It looked perfect. After flicking through it, she released her breath and gave Paolina a big smile.
‘Fantastic, Paolina. They look fantastic. We need to celebrate. I’ve got just the thing.’ Annie ran through to the kitchen, soon to become the teachers’ room, and pulled a bottle of Prosecco out of the fridge. She grabbed two tumblers and took them back to Paolina. She was just tearing the foil off the top when the doorbell rang. She hastily stuffed the bottle into a drawer as Paolina pressed the button to open the door. To their surprise, a man appeared, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Paolina’s eyes widened.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Flowers for you.’
‘For me?’ Paolina’s eyes were even wider now. The man pulled out a pair of reading glasses and studied the clipboard in his other hand, then looked up first at Paolina and then at Annie. He glanced back at Paolina.
‘It’s for somebody called Annie Brewer.’ He pronounced it Brevver.
‘That’s me.’ Annie gave the disappointed Paolina an apologetic look as she took the huge bunch of flowers from his hand.
‘Sign here, please.’ The man handed her a clipboard and she signed it absently. As he was about to go back out of the door a thought occurred to her.
‘Does it say who the flowers are from?’ He shook his head.
‘Not on my sheet, it doesn’t. There’s an envelope inside the cellophane. It’ll be in there. Goodbye, ladies.’
