Page 12 of Wicked

There and then, he made me promise to keep my money far from the family.

To ensure money was never used to splash around, spoil family members and rot the clan like a disease.

The idea of losing the family castle where I’d grown up with my grandfather, and where he’d educated me, was making my stomach turn. I must save the castle another way.

“There’s no other way?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not. Times are changing, and the taxes and rates from Rome are through the roof. The upkeep is horrific. Your aunt, uncle, and grandmother have sadly also agreed. We all have equal shares; it has to be done.”

I nod, expecting as much. I feel sick, and my fists ball as my jaw clenches.

“I’ll load up and drive up the coast,” I say, knowing I have to tidy up the castle and buy time to plan. “I may stay at the hotel. The villa.”

“Wonderful. We’re only an hour away, but it’s best to be close for on-site time. Much is already done, but we need the castle prepared for sale.”

“And you might enjoy being oceanside,” my mother says, chipping in.

It’s best we’re not under the same roof. We had explosive arguments as I aged and got thrown out of the elite boarding schools for standing up to bullies and questioning the rigid system designed to crush individuals.

“It will likely take a month,” my father says, giving me the eye.

My personal radar, activated flying into Rome, just turned up a notch, with his words. Stay-in-Italy traps will not work.

Meanwhile, it’s time for rugged outdoor clothing, and no doubt time to carry paintings, swords, shields, and relocate statues, all whilst trying to find a way to stop the sale.

After trying on the old-fashioned,old money-styled conservative clothes my parents have secured, I walk downstairs. I likely look like just another drone in the old Italian money rural system, or a gamekeeper trying to fit in.

In saying that, I am not driving to Florence, Rome, or Milan to buy modern thermals. The other thing is who the hell is going to see me in Italy over the next two weeks?

The last thing I want is to be dressed up in stuffy old-fashioned clothes of the privileged,predictable, and produced, but I’m in a corner.

I walk downstairs with the other clothes over my shoulder, and I feel like the rest of the old money formal community. The uniform of the wealthy. The fucking aristocrats.

The front door is open, and my father is loading things into his old black Range Rover.

“Thanks,” I say gruffly, half-meaning it. I place my things in the Range Rover as he adds more tools to a pile in the back.

I check the tools as my mother walks out and hands me a set of old-fashioned keys on a brass antler ring.

She then points out my old black suit in the Range Rover and reminds me of the upcoming local weddings.

I dislike weddings like no one else, but I mumble a thanks.

They explain they booked me into the local villa near the castle, and I try to get on the road. After an awkward farewell and hug with my mother, I drive down the lane. It is hard leaving the rented Ferrari, but it won’t do the job. It will be picked up tomorrow and returned to the airport.

I drive around the coast and get a feel for the large, old vehicle. I have mixed emotions, even if the Tuscan coast is glorious. The sun is out, and the light glints off old statues, villas, and vineyards. There really is nowhere more beautiful in the world.

An hour later,I enter the small seaside village. It is gorgeous and half a mile from the large castle on the clifftop that overlooks the village and cove.

I’ve not been back for years, and it oddly feels good. It’s also where my mother’s side of the family have lived and farmed for generations.

As I slow and pass the few shops, I head for the old-fashioned villa ahead. It has arched windows and steeples, and it is stunning.

Pulling over, I look at the nearby sea and dunes that run down the coast into the distance. Here is the only place Ifeel at homein Italy.

Again, there is the strong connection to my Nonno, or grandfather, who I stayed with as a teen. When not being thrown out of Italy’s top private schools, I spent a lot of time with him here.

He and his wife, my Nonna, or grandmother, plus my sister are the people I call close family.

---