What Happens in the Alps... (12 page)

He nodded approvingly. ‘Yes, indeed. And if you came back here at midnight, you would see a display of stars and galaxies that would take your breath away. Sometimes I just sit here in the dark for hours and stare.' He caught her eye. ‘You realise just how insignificant we all are in the face of that immensity.'

Annie gave him a warm smile. She rather liked Signor Lago.

‘Here you are.' Alex arrived with a glass of champagne for each of them and a half-glass for himself. He gave Annie an apologetic look. ‘Sorry about that. I'm afraid I have to rush off to a conference call in my office in the hotel, but you know your way back to your car from here, don't you?'

Annie nodded, but was quick to protest. ‘I can come away now if you like. I don't want to be any trouble.' But Signor Lago wouldn't hear of it.

‘I'll get Romeo to give you a lift back to your car.'

‘Romeo?' Annie had always loved that name.

Alex explained. ‘He's been looking after my father for so long now, he's part of the family.'

Annie turned to Signor Lago. ‘But there's no need for that. I can go off now with Alex. I really don't want to disturb you.'

The old man gave her a little smile. ‘Alessandro has probably told you, I don't get out much these days. It's a pleasure for me to meet a beautiful, intelligent woman like you. If you can spare me a little of your time, I would be honoured.'

After Alex had left, Annie and the old man sat on a long sofa, facing out of the window, and talked. The lights of Santorso twinkled below them and she gradually began to see lights higher up, on the slopes behind the town. Distant headlights flashed as drivers inched their way up the tortuous roads as far as the little clusters of lights that marked the last villages before the inhospitable rocky peaks. Above those, there was only the deep dark blue of the sky.

Signor Lago asked her about her new school and why she had decided to go it alone. Before long, she found herself telling him all about Steve and the ensuing years of misery. In return, he told her of his grief at the death of his wife of over forty years, and the two of them found they had a lot in common.

‘Immediately after my wife's death, I found myself wondering whether there was any point in carrying on with my life. When you lose somebody that close, it's hard, terribly hard.'

Annie knew that feeling and she told him so. She told him how it had taken her two full years to come to terms with Steve's death and to reach the decision to make a fresh start. He reached across and squeezed her hand.

‘I know, I know.' Changing the subject, he asked her where she was living and she told him the trouble she was having finding somewhere to rent on a long-term basis. He nodded in agreement. He complimented her on her Italian and she complimented him on his amazing house. The time passed so fast, she could hardly believe it was almost eight o'clock when Signor Lago made her a proposition. ‘Do you like rabbit stew?'

Annie loved rabbit stew and she told him so.

‘Excellent. Well, listen… Romeo has made rabbit stew for my dinner tonight. How would you feel about sharing it with me? We need to drink this champagne because it won't be any good tomorrow. How about I get one of the boys to give you a lift down to Santorso later on. That way you don't have to worry about drinking and driving. I'll see that your car's delivered to you first thing in the morning.'

Annie was only too happy to accept and the two of them had a splendid evening. Throughout the meal, Leo the Labrador lay across Annie's feet, snoring loudly, so even if she had wanted to get up and help, she would have been unable to do so. As it was, Romeo, who turned out to be a white-haired old gentleman only a few years younger than Signor Lago, was a perfect chef, waiter and sommelier. With the rabbit, Signor Lago insisted on opening a bottle of excellent Barbera, strong and a deep red colour, which, he told her, was the perfect accompaniment to the meat. He was right. Finally, as they reached the end of the meal, the conversation turned to Alex, or Alessandro as his father often called him. Although they were speaking Italian together, Annie was fascinated to hear the old man referring to his son sometimes by his English name and sometimes his Italian one. They were a truly bilingual family and she liked that a lot.

‘Alessandro tells me he took you out for dinner the other night.' His eyes twinkled in the flickering light of the fire. ‘I think he rather likes you. What are your feelings towards him, if you don't mind an old man prying?'

Annie had drunk enough by this time to be able to field the question without embarrassment. ‘I like him a lot, Signor Lago. He's kind, he's courteous, he's generous and he's as handsome as his father.'

Signor Lago chuckled. ‘I can tell a compliment when I hear one. Please don't stop. Anyway, I think you should know that he's a good boy.' Considering Alex had told Annie he was thirty-nine,
boy
was pushing it a bit, but she made no comment. ‘He's very committed to the business and he's forever on that damn telephone.'

Annie grinned. ‘I had noticed.'

‘Will you be seeing him again?'

Annie hesitated. ‘I should think so, if he asks me.'

‘He'll ask you, I'm sure of that.' He grinned at her in the firelight. ‘I would.'

At ten o'clock, Signor Lago summoned one of the men from the hotel to drive her home. His parting words to her were for her to come and visit him any time she liked. He had enjoyed her company and would be delighted to see her again. She promised to do just that and she knew that she would keep her promise. She, too, had enjoyed their conversation immensely. There was something about him that reminded her of her grandfather: kindly, wise and generous. Outside it was so cold that it took her breath away, as did the unimpeded view of the night sky, now ablaze with innumerable stars. She remembered what the old man had said about the vastness of the cosmos and their tiny, insignificant part of it. She knew just exactly what he meant.

She left her car key with the man who drove her home and received a promise that her car would be delivered to her next morning. She went to bed in remarkably good spirits, having had a really good, happy day. As she drifted off to sleep she told herself she would have to remember to email Karen, to tell her.

Chapter 9

Annie's car was already parked outside the school when she got up next morning, and the keys were in a pristine Hotel Montalto envelope, lying on the inside doormat, below the letter box. When Paolina arrived at work that day, she was wearing what looked suspiciously like a Victorian gentleman's swimming costume with broad blue strips. Either that or a convict's uniform from Dartmoor Prison. Remarkably, it actually looked quite good on her. Annie recounted the events of the previous day and watched as Paolina's eyes brightened as Annie mentioned having gone swimming with Alex.

Annie spent most of the morning at her computer, dividing the hotel and ski staff into four levels, spread between elementary and advanced. She and her new teachers were going to be pretty busy.

Matt phoned just before lunchtime to say he would be dropping in later that afternoon with some books for his office and Annie made the mistake of relaying this news to Paolina. When Paolina returned to work after lunch, Annie was surprised to see that she had changed out of the shapeless stripy number she had been wearing that morning into an outfit that wouldn't have looked out of place on a Hollywood femme fatale. She was now wearing a faux pearl necklace and a slinky black dress, quite probably made of silk, that plunged near vertically from her shoulders almost to her navel. It left so little to the imagination that Annie felt she had to say something.

‘Erm, Paolina, aren't you cold in that dress?'

Paolina smiled cheerfully. ‘You know, that's exactly what my mum said.' She grinned. ‘And, no, I'm not.'

‘Just do me a favour, would you? In case anybody comes in to enquire about courses, could you maybe use a safety pin or something in case they trip and fall into your cleavage.'

‘Oh, do you think it's a bit over the top?' Paolina stood up and studied her reflection in the window.

‘Paolina, I can practically see your belly button. I think a pin might be prudent. We don't want any gentleman callers to have a seizure when they see you.'

Regretfully, Paolina had to admit that she was maybe exposing a little too much flesh, and a few minutes' work with a needle lessened the impact somewhat, although Annie desperately hoped no mothers of small children would come along that afternoon. As for the intended recipient of this fashion statement, Annie had little doubt what the effect would be upon Matt when he saw her.

In fact, when Matt arrived, just after four o'clock, his reaction was not so much one of stimulation as bemusement. He made three or four trips down to his truck, returning each time with a pile of books that he deposited in the corner of his office. When she saw that he had finished, Paolina offered to make him a cup of tea and he wandered along to Annie's office while she did so. He poked his head round the door.

‘Hi, Annie, how's things? Here, tell me something. Are you two moonlighting as a house of ill repute by any chance? I swear I can see daylight down your secretary's neckline.'

Annie dropped her pen and waved to him from her desk. ‘I rather fear that Paolina's decided you're going to be her next conquest.' She shook her head sadly. ‘She's a lovely girl. You will remember our little agreement, won't you?'

Matt came into the room and crossed himself theatrically. ‘Testicles, spectacles, wallet and watch. I promise to be a good boy, even if she uses all her feminine wiles upon me.'

‘That's what I like to hear.'

‘So what've you been doing since I last saw you?'

Annie told him about the amazing swimming pool at the Hotel Montalto. She didn't mention her dinner with Signor Lago, nor the fact that her swim had been in the company of his handsome son. As it turned out, Matt was already familiar with the pool. ‘Massimo told me all about it. I was thinking of going up there one day soon to try it for myself.'

‘Of course, you and Massimo go way back, don't you?'

Matt nodded. ‘Must be ten, twelve years now, I should think, although I've rather let the climbing go over the past couple of years. I've just been so busy and of course it's a four-hour drive up here from Florence. Still, we've kept in touch by email and the odd Christmas card. So, are you still up for dinner tonight?'

Annie gave him a smile. ‘Yes, indeed, but let's make it early rather than late.'

‘How about I pick you up at seven? That early enough?'

‘Perfect.'

The contrast between the place where Matt took her for dinner and the Michelin-starred
Piazza
where she had eaten with Alex couldn't have been greater. Matt's choice was reached up a narrow road that zigzagged up the mountain on the opposite side of the valley to Montalto. Although a snowplough had cleared the worst of the snow from the road, there were still patches of icy slush from time to time and Annie had no doubt that they would be frozen by morning. His decision to buy a vehicle with four-wheel drive was probably a good move. As they drove up there in his pickup, Annie checked the interior of the vehicle for signs of celebrity blood, but without success. It all looked very smart and tidy, in distinct contrast to Matt's previous vehicle, which had looked like an accident ready to happen.

There was no car park and he parked in a snowdrift at the side of the road, before leading her across to what looked and smelt like a working farm. If he hadn't told her there was a restaurant here, she would have driven straight past. There was no visible sign advertising the fact, but inside there were half a dozen tables, crammed into a low-ceilinged room. Unsurprisingly at barely half past seven, they were the first to arrive but, as the evening progressed, a procession of other guests arrived until every seat was taken.

‘What an amazing place, Matt. How on earth did you find it?' There was no doubt. She felt far, far happier in a place like this than in the glitz of the Michelin-starred restaurant.

He smiled across the table at her. ‘We often used to come here with the climbing club. Bruno, the owner's son, is one of the members. Ah, here he is.' Matt jumped to his feet and greeted the short, stocky man who emerged from the kitchen. He was probably younger than them, with a thick head of jet black hair and forearms like an arm wrestler. He and Matt embraced and then Matt introduced Annie to him. Bruno's face clouded as he heard her name. He took her hand in both of his, mercifully gently, and looked into her eyes.

‘My condolences, signora. Steven was a good friend and a lovely man.'

Annie was pleased to be able to meet his eye and even summon a weak smile. ‘Thank you, Bruno. That means a lot.'

He retired to the kitchen only to emerge seconds later with an anonymous bottle of red wine and a similar bottle containing cold spring water. Behind him came his mother, a large older lady with an even broader smile, carrying a basket of bread and long, handmade grissini. She set the bread down on the table and enveloped Matt in her arms, kissing him noisily on the cheeks.

‘
Ciao, bello
. And how's my special man tonight?' Matt hugged her in return and whispered something in her ear. She erupted into a fit of giggles, shook Annie absently by the hand, and retired to the kitchen, still laughing.

Annie caught Matt's eye. ‘What exactly did you say to her?'

‘Maidenly modesty prevents me from repeating it.'

‘Maidenly… right…'

Matt grinned at her. ‘Tired you may be, but you're looking very good, Annie. You've got colour in your face and a spring in your step.' His expression became more pointed. ‘Almost as if you'd got yourself a gentleman friend.' Seeing something in her face, he resumed the attack. ‘I'm right, aren't I?'