Hearts On Fire Episode 03
We’ll be there soon.
Jacopo’s brief text sent Marianna into a last-minute frenzy.
Her son always sent that message when they were 10 minutes from the villa.
Is everything OK? she replied.
It was. Six people collected as planned.
The other two would arrive by train from Rome later.
She checked the table set out under the awning on the patio. Lunch for herself, five guests and the new resident artist, Julia Morton.
The cutlery and crockery were in place.
She popped into the kitchen where Océane, a French culinary student and their cook for that summer, was on her phone.
“Is everything ready?” Marianna asked.
“Yes,” Océane replied without looking up. “Just like ten minutes ago.”
“Yes, of course. I’m always nervous before the guests arrive.”
“You’re always nervous, whether guests are due or not. You need to chill.”
Marianna wished she could chill. This week’s course was only full after some serious publicity and last-minute discounting.
Just a few weeks ago, four places had remained unfilled. Occupancy over the rest of the summer was only around 50 per cent.
The tourist industry in Italy was stressed, and a few bad reviews from disgruntled previous guests had knocked bookings.
Julia had come highly recommended, but this summer was make or break.
If things didn’t go well, Marianna would have to sell Villa Davide – the Rossetti family home for two centuries.
The e-mails she’d shared with Julia had made her hopeful.
I would be honoured to run your art retreat. Thank you for thinking of me.
I will do my utmost to make it a success.
That was exactly what Marianna needed to hear.
Connie, last year’s resident artist whose tenure had come to an acrimonious end, had never reassured Marianna.
“People come here for me, Marianna!” Connie had almost shouted when Marianna told her Villa Davide no long required her services.
Charlie and Wizzy came here for her. No-one else.
Villa Davide’s art course hadn’t had any return custom other than those two for five years.
At one point Marianna had relied on these courses for word to spread and for friends and acquaintances to book holidays here.
This happened no longer and the finances were dire.
She dragged her thoughts away from Connie. That was the past – although some of the past was returning in the shape of Charlie and Wizzy (Carlotta and Wisteria), two of Connie’s old friends.
The three had formed a clique from which other visitors felt excluded.
She had rather hoped that Charlie and Wizzy wouldn’t book this year, but their names popped up at the same time as they had every year since employing Connie.
She had been tempted to say she was full, but in the end had decided not to do that.
Bookings were slow and she needed all the custom she could get.
Bruno, her fluffy white dog, barked at the crunch of gravel under wheels at the back of the house and ran in circles, waiting for Marianna to let him out.
He knew what it meant when Jacopo and Luca left in the cars and came back an hour and a half later: new guests to make a fuss of him!
Marianna put on her happy face and headed out to the parking area.
“Welcome!” she cried, her arms out wide to welcome the travellers with a hug.
Gradually she worked her way round all of them, finding out their names.
She had recognised Julia as soon as she’d stepped out of Luca’s car.
She looked identical to the photo on her website – a youthful face with clear skin and kind, smiling eyes.
Short hair showed the first signs of grey and no hint of artificial colour, unlike Marianna’s hair, which had been more or less purple since she turned forty.
She had hoped Julia would possess a strong character so she could stand up to Charlie and Wizzy, but the early signs were not good.
The new resident artist lingered towards the back of the crowd, hugging a small rucksack to her chest like a comfort blanket.
Charlie, meanwhile, had bundled Bruno into her arms and was declaring him the loveliest dog in Italy.
“He’s a Bolognese,” she said to anyone who was listening. “An old Italian breed. They were depicted on Roman earthenware, weren’t they, Marianna?”
“So you say, Charlie.”
“She’s had him for ever,” Charlie told a woman called Suzanne, who was ruffling one of Bruno’s ears.
“Shall we go in?” Marianna took charge and continued with her welcome plan. “I’ll show you the patio where we’ll eat and relax, then Jacopo will take you to your rooms.”
“I presume we’re in the annexe as usual,” Charlie remarked.
“Of course.”
“Wizzy and I will join you all later. Come on, Wizzy.”
Marianna sighed with relief.
She didn’t know exactly why Charlie wound her up so much, but she always felt more relaxed out of the woman’s presence.
She led the remaining guests through the house and on to the large, elevated stone patio where they’d spend their social hours.
As usual, there were gasps of delight as the guests emerged, plus a raft of compliments, which always made her glow.
Building the patio had been an enormous gamble when Marianna had inherited Villa Davide from her father.
In those days, the back door opened on to a tiny terrace that led to several paths and steps down into olive groves and vegetable beds that sloped away down the hillside.
The view was incomparable and she knew that the large, paved area would repay itself many times over.
The guests loved to laze here on sun loungers, sit under the awning for breakfast or chat over drinks around the shaded coffee table.
“What’s that place in the distance?” someone asked.
They pointed to a stone-colour smudge on a hillside, the only other habitation visible.
“The local town,” Marianna answered.
“Orvieto?”
“Goodness, no. Orvieto’s huge. That’s Montevecchi.”
The guests continued to enthuse over the view, the house and the weather.
This part of the holiday gave her the biggest thrill. She loved that people adored her home.
Her stomach suddenly turned over, as it did so often these days.
What would she do if they lost Villa Davide?
She and her son Jacopo would find nowhere as beautiful, and this was their livelihood as well as their home.
Then Marianna noticed that not all the guests were enthusing.
The man, Mark, sat quietly in the shade of the awning attached to the house.
“Are you OK?” Marianna asked him.
“It’s been a long journey,” he replied.
“Of course. Is there anything I can get you?”
He shook his head.
Marianna didn’t believe it was the journey for one second.
When he’d got out of the car he’d looked on the edge of panic.
That did not bode well.
To be continued…