Page 18 of Far from Home
‘Ciao, Rosa. How’s things?’
‘Fine. Can I get you anything?’
Amy pointed to her cup and shook her head. ‘No, thanks, I’m sorted. Time for a chat?’
Rosa raised her hand towards the waiter who was lurking by the door. No words were spoken but he nodded in acknowledgement. Rosa pulled up a chair and sat down. Amy closed her laptop, sat back and looked across at her. ‘You would appear to be a regular here.’
‘I come in most days for my caffeine fix. I saw the plumber’s van outside your house the other day. Did you lock him in like I said?’
Amy smiled and recounted what had transpired on Monday morning and Rosa nodded approvingly. ‘That’s excellent. I’m delighted they’re all coming so quickly but it’s like I said, everybody liked Martin. Remember, if you’re stuck for a bed for the night any time, we’ve got spare rooms.’
Amy thanked her and they chatted. Rosa was a mine of information on everything from where to buy kitchen and bathroom furniture to local bureaucracy. ‘Have you been to meet the mayor yet?’ Amy shook her head. ‘I would, if I were you. After all, his office is just across the piazza and his house is only a few hundred yards away.’ She caught Amy’s eye. ‘He’s an important person round here, and he knows it. He’s a career politician and we’re all convinced he’ll be running for parliament before too long. It wouldn’t hurt to keep him sweet.’
Amy nodded. She had been meaning to call into the Municipio to inform them that the house was once more occupied. ‘I’ll do that. I suppose I’ll have to start paying my taxes as well.’
‘You know what they say, there are two certainties in life – death and taxes.’
When Amy had finished her coffee and her email to Lucy, she decided to call into the town hall on her way back to the house. She went across the square to the Municipio, walked in through the glass doors and followed the sign to Reception. A young man – probably still in his early twenties – behind the desk told her the mayor was busy, but if she wanted to wait, he would take her through as soon as he was free. The man was very helpful, talking to her about all sorts of technical issues like refuse collection and access to the municipal dump. He also gave her details of local clubs and societies and the town’s Facebook page, where she could find information about upcoming events.
However, when she gave him her address, the funniest thing happened. The hitherto helpful young man suddenly turned into a disinterested civil servant who abruptly went off and left her. As she watched his retreating back she found herself wondering just what on earth this was all about. Somehow either her name or the address of l’Ospedaletto had sparked off a negative reaction in him and she couldn’t understand what it might have been.
After a short while a woman emerged through double doors on the other side of the entrance lobby and left the building. Reluctantly – or so it seemed to Amy – the receptionist, who had since returned to his desk, picked up the phone. A moment later, he indicated with a dismissive wave of the hand that the mayor would see Amy now, but he didn’t even bother getting off his seat.
The mayor’s office was even larger than the notary’s. The air conditioning was running and the mayor was in his shirt sleeves. He rose to his feet and held out his hand.
Amy shook it, and sat down opposite him. He was about her height, olive-skinned and with thick black hair. She was mildly surprised to see that he didn’t look much older than she was. He had a business-like air about him and his desk was piled high with files. She introduced herself but, unlike the man behind the counter at reception, this resulted in a hint of a smile.
‘Welcome to Sant’Antonio, Signora Sherwood.’
Amy smiled back. ‘Thank you. I just wanted to come in and introduce myself and to let you know that I’ve taken over Martin Slater’s house and I’m going to start renovations next week. I arrived last Friday and I’m staying at the Corona Grossa for now.’
He caught and held her gaze. ‘Thank you, but we already know that.’ Amy was quite taken aback. She saw a twinkle in his eye and realised he had enjoyed surprising her. Also, it was clear he wanted her to know that little escaped the mayor’s attention.
‘It was a great pity about Signor Slater. He was well-known here in Sant’Antonio and he was well-loved. Was he a close relative of yours, Signora?’
Amy shook her head. Pretty obviously there was little point in beating about the bush. In all likelihood the mayor already knew the situation, so she told him the truth.
‘No, we weren’t related. In fact, I never met him.’
She glimpsed something on his face confirming her suspicion that this information wasn’t new to him.
‘How strange that he should leave you his house, if you didn’t know him.’
‘Indeed, although I believe he might have known my mother.’ Just exactly how well was the big question, but she kept that to herself. ‘Alas, she died recently and so I haven’t been able to ask her about him.’ The more she thought about it, the more she felt sure her mother was the key.
She went on to explain about only recently receiving news of Mr Slater’s death. As she spoke, she definitely got the feeling the mayor already knew this, too. In all probability he and the notary, along with the local priest and maybe the doctor, knew all there was to know about the inhabitants of Sant’Antonio.
After a brief conversation lasting only a few minutes, he glanced at his watch. ‘I hope you enjoy your time here in Sant’Antonio. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to contact me.’
Taking this as a sign that the brief interview was over, Amy rose to her feet, shook his hand once more and headed back into the hall. She gave a friendly smile and a wave of the hand to the man behind the counter but he ignored her completely. Still mystified, she went out into the heat and returned to the house.
As she approached the house, she saw a man in tattered jeans and a blue T-shirt standing on the terrace outside the front door. His clothes were barely managing to contain the pressure of the muscular body beneath them. He was tall, he was dark and he was very, very handsome. She stopped and took a deep breath. He really was gorgeous. It didn’t need the name written on the door of his truck for her to realise that this must be Lorenzo Pozzovivo, the builder described by Rosa as an absolute sweetheart. Amy reflected that there was nothing wrong with Rosa’s judgement. He was probably about the same age as she was, or maybe in his mid- or late thirties, and a spontaneous smile appeared on her face as she walked up to him and stretched out her hand.
‘How good of you to come. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.’
He took her hand in a powerful fist but shook it surprisingly gently.
‘Good day, Signora.’ He was remarkably soft-spoken for such a huge hulk of a man and he looked friendly – which was just as well, as he could easily have torn her limb-from-limb if he had wanted. ‘I’m Lorenzo Pozzovivo. Angelo, the plumber, told me you’re in urgent need of some work. Is it the roof?’
