Page 31 of Far from Home
He asked her if she would like to have a try and, dismissing the famous pottery scene with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze fromGhostfrom her mind, she accepted the clean apron Pierpaolo offered her and then spent an unexpectedly happy half hour making mud pies. At least, she felt sure that’s how her mother would have described it. By the end she had produced two roughly oval plates, both a bit bigger than dinner plates and which, if you didn’t look too closely, were almost flat in the middle, although the edges looked decidedly dodgy. Danny assured her that this would only add to the rustic charm of the items although she wasn’t so sure. These were then put safely to one side to begin to dry before being fired in the oven while Danny took her through the rest of the process including painting, glazing and finally firing them.
‘This means you have to come back and see us next week when they’re bone dry and hard and ready to paint and glaze. What sort of pattern are you going to put on them?’
The idea had been growing in her mind as she made the dishes. ‘I thought a series of tiny black Labradors. I want to give one to my neighbour, Signora Grande, as a present for letting me take her lovely dog for walks. He’s great company and she’s a sweetie. Do you know her?’
Pierpaolo shot her a grin. ‘Know her? She’s my auntie.’ Seeing the surprise on Amy’s face, he carried on. ‘Everybody knows everybody here in Sant’Antonio. I bumped into her the other day and she told me that having you to take Max for walks has been a blessing for her. Max was my uncle’s dog and since his death a few months back she’s really been struggling. I bet if you offered to take him off her hands full-time she’d be relieved and delighted.’
This rather stopped Amy in her tracks. The idea of having the big friendly dog as a permanent companion was immensely appealing but, of course, when she went back to London there was no way he’d be able to come with her. Apart from the fact that she lived in a third-floor flat with no balcony or terrace, it wouldn’t be fair to leave him cooped up all day on his own while she went back to working all hours again. Or would she? She remembered only too well what the specialist had told her about trying to take life a bit easier and this had been playing on her mind over the past couple of weeks. Was she really ready to trade down to a more boring, but less full-on, job?
‘You should do that, Amy. Come and live here full-time and take over Max.’ Oblivious to her reservations, Danny sounded enthusiastic. ‘You’ve got all that land where he could run around and, as a woman on her own, having a guard dog would make a lot of sense.’
‘Yes, but…’ She thought back to the conversation she had had with Gavin. He had, of course, been dead right: she would be bored stiff within a matter of weeks if she were to just give up the day job, move here to this admittedly lovely place, and sit around doing nothing all day. ‘It’s complicated. I have a job back in London that I love doing and I’m not the sort of person who could just sit around drinking wine and spending my days taking the dog for walks, nice as that sounds for a few weeks.’
Danny nodded. ‘You need to get yourself an occupation. Try something new. That’s what I did when I gave up the day job.’
‘What was it you did?’
‘I worked for the New York Stock Exchange. I gave it up two years ago.’
‘Well, well, that’s a bit like me. I’m in foreign exchange. Why did you give it up to come here?’
‘I already told you, and the reason’s here alongside me.’ He gave Pierpaolo an affectionate hug. ‘Best thing I ever did. You can’t imagine the pressure there was in that job.’ He stopped and corrected himself. ‘In fact, if you were in forex, you probably can. I’d probably have had a coronary by now if I’d stayed on.’
Amy caught his eye. ‘This sounds horribly familiar. I didn’t have a heart attack, but I had a sort of collapse a few weeks back, and everybody’s been telling me to try and take life a bit easier.’
Danny reached over and gave her arm a little squeeze. ‘And you need to listen to them. Trust me, Amy, life’s too short.’ He released his hold on her and surveyed the dirty marks he had left on her skin. ‘Sorry about that. I need to wash up and then why don’t we go and sit in the garden and have a drink?’
Pierpaolo took her arm and led her through to an ultramodern kitchen composed almost entirely of stainless steel, where she washed the clay off her hands and arms. Unlike the chaotic and messy pottery studio, this place looked as though it had just come from the pages ofVogue Maison. There wasn’t even a teaspoon left lying on the polished worktops. She surveyed it critically, having decided that the units for her new kitchen should be simple smooth gloss white, and decided that steel was too clinical, too sober. She definitely wanted something a bit more inviting but she envied them a room without a trace of dust to be seen anywhere – unlike l’Ospedaletto.
Pierpaolo handed her a perfectly ironed hand towel to dry herself and took back her apron in return. ‘What shall we drink? We have cold beer and wine in the fridge or my homemade lemonade – made with our own lemons. Or would you prefer tea? I bought some English Breakfast tea specially for you.’
‘That was sweet of you, but it’s too hot for tea. I think if you don’t mind I’d like to try your homemade lemonade.’
They sat outside in the shade of an ancient olive tree whose trunk was the thickness of a post box and which, according to Pierpaolo, had been in existence for over two hundred years. He told her how he had grown up just outside of Sant’Antonio before going to UCLA to study design art. Amy was fascinated.
‘And did you meet Danny over there?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I met him here two summers ago. He’d just thrown in his job and he was staying with Adam.’
‘And where does Adam live?’
‘He has a beautiful apartment above his studio. You’ve been to his office, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but not to his apartment.’ Although it sounded inviting. ‘And what do you do now? Do you and Danny work together in the pottery studio?’
He shook his head. ‘No, that’s Danny’s thing, though I do help out if he needs a hand. I’m a graphic designer. I do all my work on the computer screen.’ He laughed. ‘It keeps my fingernails a lot cleaner than Danny’s.’
A minute or two later Danny reappeared, showered and changed into a clean T-shirt and shorts. He picked up a glass of lemonade and toasted Amy. ‘Thanks again for letting me help myself to your wonderful clay and for coming to see us. Don’t forget, you need to come back next week to paint and glaze your dishes.’
‘That’s very kind, thanks.’ Amy took another mouthful of the excellent lemonade and risked bringing up the subject that had been on her lips ever since she had walked in. ‘Any word from Adam?’
Danny shook his head. ‘No, but I wasn’t expecting to hear anything. He’s way out somewhere in the depths of the Amazon rain forest and he told me before he set off that he was likely to be incommunicado for most of the time.’
‘Oh, I see.’
He must have picked up something in her voice and he shot her a little smile. ‘Are you missing him?’
Amy wasn’t too sure how to answer that so she just kept it vague. ‘He’s nice. I’m looking forward to seeing again when he gets back.’
