Hearts On Fire Episode 01
Julia Morton buckled her belt and gazed out through the oval window.
Grey drizzle and low cloud had settled over the airport terminal building.
Whatever the next few weeks brought, at least they would be warm.
She’d never heard of Umbria until Marianna Rossetti from Villa Davide had e-mailed to ask if she might become their resident expert at a retreat for watercolour artists.
From what she’d seen from the photos Marianna had sent, Julia was sure she would love it.
Except for the teaching. That was a different matter.
She tried to push out of her head the negative voice she’d lived with for so long.
But as so often when she was nervous, Jason’s voice popped up.
“Are you out of your mind? What could you teach people who paint better than you already?”
“Cabin crew, prepare for take-off.” The captain’s voice cut into Julia’s thoughts.
The flight attendants buckled themselves in and soon they were hurtling along the runway, then tipping up into the air.
Suffolk fell away beneath a misty film that rapidly became impenetrable fog.
The woman next to her shifted away slightly, and Julia realised she’d been muttering to herself.
The woman must think she was mad.
Julia smiled at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”
The woman hesitated, then smiled.
“I used to be afraid of flying, too.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Julia explained. “I’m going to Italy to teach on a residential art course. I’ve never taught for more than a day before.
“I’m a bit of an introvert, so I like my own space, but I’ll be working with other artists for a month.”
The woman nodded.
“How wonderful. I wish I could paint.”
Julia’s shoulders tensed.
“You’re not on the course, are you?”
“Me? No.” The woman laughed. “I got an F for art at school.”
Julia’s shoulders relaxed.
“I think some of my pupils are on this flight.”
The woman smiled.
“I’m sure they’ll all be very nice and you’ll love it.”
Julia gave her a tight smile.
From what Marianna had told her, two of them were likely to be a nightmare.
Two old public school friends, they’d been chummy with the previous tutor and were likely to be antagonistic.
She opened her laptop and looked through the pictures Marianna had sent her of Villa Davide and its surrounding countryside.
They showed endless forest of holm oak and pine, spacious gardens with olive trees, a huge swimming pool, lemon trees, chickens and vegetables.
The nearest town stood on a distant green hilltop as a stony blur.
Views like that made Julia itch to start sketching.
“Is that where you’re going?”
The woman was looking at the pictures, too.
Julia nodded.
“I can see why you want to go there,” the woman remarked.
A flight attendant interrupted them.
“Would you like a drink or any snacks?” she asked.
Julia looked up in surprise. She hadn’t noticed the service trolley approaching.
“No, thank you,” she replied.
The hostess served Julia’s neighbour with a coffee and a sandwich and moved on.
Julia put her laptop away and took her home-made sandwiches from her bag.
Since the divorce from Jason, she’d become used to these penny savers.
Money was stretched.
This trip to Villa Davide was the nearest she’d come to a holiday this year.
She bit into her sandwich and tried to find the holiday frame of mind.
This was just what she needed after a difficult year: selling the house, finding somewhere suitable to continue working, getting over Jason.
A month in an Italian villa was perfect: unlimited sun, wine and good food with no washing-up.
With a swimming pool and painting six days a week, what was a tiny bit of tuition on top of that?
And if this year went well, she would have another month in the sun next year.
“Haven’t you any Orvieto Classico?” A strident female voice cut into her reverie.
“I’m afraid not, madam,” the patient flight attendant replied. “Just Sauvignon Blanc or a Chardonnay.”
“You should offer local wines, shouldn’t they, Wizzy?”
Wizzy, Julia thought. What an odd name.
“Well, I expect they fly all over, Charlie,” her quieter companion replied.
“I think it very odd. Give me the Sauvignon Blanc. I suppose it’s in one of those dreadful plastic bottles.”
“Yes, madam.”
Julia tried and failed to block out the rest of the exchange.
Charlie had one of those voices that carried, and she continued to moan about the service for ages.
Her neighbour caught Julia’s eye.
“Let’s hope she’s not on your course.”
“I don’t recognise those names,” Julia replied. “And they’re quite peculiar, aren’t they?”
“Why is she on a budget flight if she expects silver service?”
Julia shrugged and tried to shake ideas about public school girls out of her head.
The rest of the flight passed quickly.
Julia read some of her book and managed a nap before they landed at Perugia.
In the queue for Customs, Charlie – a round-faced woman with wild, orangey hair – complained about everything: the line moving slowly, the heat and how much better things were in the old days.
Finally, the two passed through a manned passport checkpoint, followed a minute later by Julia.
Once she had collected her case, she could seek the transport Marianna had promised.
Ten minutes later, she was looking for a man bearing a card saying Villa Davide.
Eventually she saw him. Or them – a young, slim man with a white shirt fashionably open at the neck, and a wizened man old enough to be the first’s grandfather.
Standing with them were five other people.
One, a woman, had her back to Julia, and was talking to the young man in fluent Italian.
She had wild, orangey hair and a strident voice that Julia would recognise anywhere.
Julia’s self-confidence plummeted.
To be continued…