Page 32 of Far from Home
Pierpaolo giggled. ‘You English, you love the word “nice”, don’t you? If I wasn’t already spoken for, I’d think him more than nice.’
Danny gave her a meaningful look. ‘My brother likes you a lot, you know.’
Puzzled, all Amy could do was stare at him. ‘Your brother? Who’s your brother?’
‘Adam, of course. Didn’t you know?’
Amy shook her head, feeling distinctly silly. ‘Ah, I see. I had no idea. I just thought you were friends.’ That answered her other query most satisfactorily. She reflected on what he had just said. ‘What makes you think he likes me?’
‘Because he told me so, of course. And Pierpaolo and I totally agree with him; we like you too.’
Pierpaolo giggled again. ‘But maybe not in the same way.’
Amy thought it better not to pursue this topic so she moved the conversation along. ‘So why did he come over to Sant’Antonio?’
Pierpaolo answered. ‘Fate. He told me he came over looking for somewhere in Tuscany a bit off the beaten track and when he got here he liked what he saw. And when I saw his brother two years ago I liked what I saw, too.’
Danny shot him an affectionate glance. ‘Funny the way things work out, isn’t it?’
Chapter 18
On Monday the builders all returned as promised and Amy queried if they could spare her if she took a day off to go to London, but she didn’t specify what it was that was drawing her back to the UK. They told her that seeing as the electricity and water would be reconnected on Wednesday evening, the most sensible thing would be for her to fly over the next day or Wednesday and come back on Thursday so that by then she should be able to move straight into the house. They warned her they would still be finishing off, but they all agreed that she should be reasonably comfortable. The idea of moving in was very appealing so she took their advice and booked a flight to London on Wednesday afternoon, with a return flight the next day. She told the people at the Corona Grossa that she would be leaving them and she resolved to bring over some ‘nice’ – that word again – clothes, as Adam would be returning at the weekend.
She had been doing a lot of thinking about him since talking to his brother and Pierpaolo. It now seemed pretty clear that he liked her and that he didn’t share his brother’s sexual orientation. The trouble was that by her reckoning she should have just two weeks’ holiday left when he got back this weekend, and that wasn’t going to give them much time to get to know each other.
The big unknown, of course, was what would happen after that. There was no way she would be able to keep seeing him once she returned to her job – if she actually did return to her job. This was something else that had been occupying her mind for some time now. Should she take the massive decision to give up her job and settle here in Italy? On the one hand, this would resolve the whole taking it easy question and, at the same time, it would keep her closer to Adam. However, considering that he was a man she had only just met and that she had spent no more than a couple of hours in his company altogether, there were an awful lot of unanswered questions. So all she could do for now was to relegate that to the back burner while she sorted out the next most important thing on her agenda: Gavin.
On Wednesday afternoon she drove to Pisa airport and left her hire car there. The flight was only ten minutes late and she arrived back at her flat just after seven. Gavin wasn’t there but it came as no surprise to find the laundry basket overflowing with his shirts that he had brought round and dumped, and she felt her hackles rise. Taking a few deep breaths, she picked up her phone and called him, but it just went to voicemail. Unsure exactly what to say, she didn’t leave a message and sat down for a think. It would have been nice to make herself a cup of tea, but of course there was no fresh milk, so she settled for a double espresso, and as she sipped it she decided on her plan of action. The fact that he wasn’t answering his phone was probably because he was either playing squash, in the gym, or in a meeting, although the only meetings he tended to have after five o’clock in the afternoon normally involved cocktails and expense account meals. She knew she needed to speak to him face-to-face so as she had a key to his flat, she decided she would go round there and wait for him.
Finishing her coffee, she dug out a big black rubbish sack and filled it with all his dirty washing. There was no way she was going to spend her one night back in London doing his chores. Hitching this over her shoulder, she took the short fifteen-minute walk to his place. As she had expected, he wasn’t in, so she went to the bathroom to dump his washing.
It was here that she made her first discovery.
She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t been deliberately studying the contents of his waste bin but there, lying on top of the other rubbish, were a couple of crumpled tissues bearing the unmistakable marks of where somebody had used them to wipe away make-up. There were traces of a ruby red lipstick as well as mascara and, unless this was a whole new side to him that she hadn’t come across, the finger of suspicion pointed only in one direction. He had had female company.
She went through to the bedroom and continued her tour of inspection. She didn’t need to look too closely. As she walked into the room, the scent of an unfamiliar perfume was unmissable. When she flicked back the sheets, the scent became even stronger and she dropped the sheet in disgust and turned on her heel. Her instincts were telling her to get out and just forget about him although, having come all this way, she felt she needed to have it out with him once and for all, just so that she could get some kind of closure. She sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV, resisting the temptation to help herself to a glass of his vodka. She was halfway through a documentary about the shrinking ice caps when she heard his key in the lock, and she stood up to face him as the door opened.
‘Amy, hi, I didn’t know you were coming back. You should have said.’ Even without the evidence she had already accumulated, she would have known that the expression on his face was one of guilt.
‘Hello, Gavin.’ For a moment it looked as though he was about to come over to kiss her but something on her face must have registered, and she saw him falter and then stop halfway. She pointed towards the bathroom. ‘I brought you your dirty shirts. I’m going back to Italy tomorrow so there’s no way I can do them. Why don’t you ask your new lady friend or, here’s a radical thought, why don’t you wash them yourself?’
‘New lady friend?’ She could see he was doing his best to feign ignorance, but she knew him well enough by now to see through it.
‘Whoever the woman is whose perfume is making your bedroom reek.’ She caught his eye and held it. ‘And don’t try telling me your mum’s been to visit.’
‘No…but… look, Amy, you must understand…’ He stuttered to a halt. Even he must have realised that the evidence against him was overwhelming.
She had told Lucy that she wanted to look him in the eye when she accused him, and there could be no question now that his face had given him away. She headed for the door, deliberately skirting around him. When she got there, she turned back, doing her best to keep her voice level.
‘Your dirty washing’s in the bathroom. I’m going back to Italy tomorrow and I want you to go round to my place tomorrow night and remove anything else of yours that’s in there. When you’ve finished, just post the key through the letterbox. I don’t want to see you or hear from you again. Is that understood?’
‘Amy, look, it doesn’t have to be like this…’
He was interrupted by a soft tap at the door and she saw him blanch. Her hand was already on the handle so she turned it. As the door opened, she was confronted by what had to be the owner of the lipstick and the perfume: an attractive blonde with ruby red lips and a penchant for short skirts and high heels. Amy produced a smile as she brushed past her.
‘Hi, I’m Amy, and you’re welcome to him.’
Once she was back outside in the open air again she stopped and took a few deep breaths. Although she had come here expecting to have it out with him and to end things, his obvious indifference to the years they had known each other hit her hard and she could have found it very easy to burst into tears. But, instead, she just stood there and collected herself, determined not to let his behaviour make her cry. She’d done what she’d set out to do, and he was out of her life.
