Page 16 of Far from Home
He looked mightily relieved. ‘Thank you so much. I make all sorts, really. At the moment I’m making wall plates – you know, plates to hang on the wall – and a friend of mine in Volterra sells them. But I also do mugs and jugs and, like I say, all sorts.’
‘That sounds fascinating. I’d love to see them some time.’
He pulled out his phone and passed it across to her. ‘You can scroll through. These are my latest batch. They’re deliberately asymmetrical to accentuate the fact that they’re handmade.’
While the waitress returned with his coffee, Amy scrolled through the photos. The dishes were beautifully made and painted with intricate designs ranging from fleurs-de-lis to wild flowers and tiny, delicately drawn animals. She admired them before handing him back his phone.
‘So tell me, Danny, what brings an American here to Sant’Antonio?’
He gave her a little grin. ‘Love. The love of my life lives here.’
She smiled back at him, secretly a bit envious of his obvious infatuation. ‘Well, good for you. It’s a lovely place.’
‘It sure is.’
‘Did you know Martin well?’
He did that bobbing nod thing again. ‘Sort of. He wasn’t an easy guy to get to know. He kept himself to himself and he always seemed busy.’
‘Doing what?’
There was a long pause before he shook his head. ‘I don’t really know. Writing stuff, I think, but it was probably with pen and ink. I don’t think he had a computer. He was one of those technophobes – you know, people who hate modern-day gadgets – and he didn’t even have a phone. If I ever wanted to talk to him, I had to go round and bang on the door.’
‘And you don’t know what he was writing? Was it a book, or was he a journalist or an academic?’
‘I just don’t know.’
‘Nobody seems to know. Talk about a man of mystery…!’
Chapter 9
At half past seven on Monday morning Amy made her way up the road from the hotel to the house and arrived just as a van drove in through the open gates and parked on the gravel. A sign on the side of it indicated that it belonged to Angelo Rossi, allegedly the best plumber in Sant’Antonio. She was so pleased to see him, she almost kissed him instead of shaking his hand. He was probably aware of the effect his arrival could have on desperate clients so he didn’t look surprised at her enthusiastic welcome as he climbed out of the van.
‘Good morning, Signora. I’m Angelo Rossi. I believe you have some work for me.’
‘Signor Rossi, you can’t image how pleased I am to see you. Do come in.’ She unlocked the door and ushered him into the house.
When he was safely inside, she closed the door behind him. Remembering Rosa’s advice, she even considered locking the door to keep him in there but decided to draw the line at that.
‘So, what exactly would you like me to do, Signora?’ The plumber was probably about the same height as her, strongly built with spectacularly tattooed forearms and a straggly ponytail – his hair not nearly as lush as Danny the potter’s. His T-shirt had been washed so often she could only just make out the last letters of his name and part of a phone number on it but he had a friendly face. He looked around. ‘Quite a bit of modernisation and refurbishment, I imagine.’
‘Yes, definitely. I’ll need a central heating system and I also need you to take a look at the kitchen, the toilet, the washbasin, and see if you could create a new bathroom upstairs. I don’t think anything’s been touched in here for decades.’
Signor Rossi smiled. ‘My compliments, Signora. You speak impeccable Italian. I was rather concerned when I heard you were English. In fact, I’ve been wondering if I was going to need my new phone app that allegedly translates what I say into English.’ He grimaced good-naturedly. ‘I tried it last week with some English tourists who asked me the way and I have a feeling they may still be going round and round in circles.’
Amy grinned back, led him through to the kitchen, and offered him a cup of tea, apologising for not having a coffee machine. While she waited for the kettle to boil she explained to Signor Rossi about her mother being from the north of Italy and how they had always talked Italian together. He nodded sagely.
‘I thought I could detect a northern accent. If I didn’t know, I would have taken you for an Italian from Lombardy or Piedmont. You certainly don’t sound English.’
‘Thanks. All I need is a bit more practice, but it seems to be coming back pretty well.’
She indicated that he should sit down at the table and dug out the biscuits she had bought. As she did so, the plumber gave her his initial impression.
‘From a very brief preliminary glance at your kitchen, I get the feeling that we might be talking about a fairly major job here.’
Amy nodded, concentrating on locating two clean cups. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’
‘Maybe I could take a look around while you’re so kindly preparing the tea?’
