Josie Metcalfe – The Italian Effect (страница 1)
Unfortunately, there were two things wrong with the picture—Matt wasn’t her husband and Taddeo wasn’t her child.
She must have made a sound, because suddenly both of them were looking at her. The expression of pleasure in their dark eyes was subtly different, but they had almost identical smiles of welcome on their faces.
“Lissa! You’re late! Papa has already started the story,” Taddeo exclaimed. “Come and sit next to me so you can see the pictures.”
When she hesitated, Matt seconded the invitation, but the expression in his eyes wasn’t nearly so candid.
“Yes, Lissa. Come and sit next to us so you can find out if the sky is really falling down.”
There was a sweet pain in leaning close to the two of them to share the book, knowing that it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. One half of her mind was relishing every nuance, from the fresh, soapy smell of Taddeo’s skin to the deep resonance of Matt’s voice. The other half was desperately trying to preserve even a little distance, so that when she was no longer part of the circle, her heart wouldn’t forever mourn their loss.
I was only a child the first time I saw it, but I can still remember my first view of the Adriatic and the stark scenery of the southern Italian coast.
Many people travel to ancient monuments to learn about other cultures. For me, though, the land of the inhabitants, the rocks they climbed and the sea they gazed out over, tell me far more of who those ancient peoples were, deep inside, where it matters.
When I wanted to write Lissa’s story, that long-treasured region in Italy was the obvious place for her to meet Matteo and his daredevil son and to discover the powerful effect both of them would have on her life.
Happy reading,
Josie Metcalfe
The Italian Effect
Josie Metcalfe
CONTENTS
TWO days into her holiday Lissa flopped back on her beach towel and heaved a great sigh.
She might have booked it at the very last minute, but it was all exactly as the travel agent had promised. The Italian sky was impossibly blue, the sand was soft and white and the sun was warm and bright.
It wasn’t exactly the exotic Far-Eastern destination she’d been looking forward to for the last six months, but it was her grandmother’s native country. She just wished she were visiting it under happier circumstances.
As it was, all around her was a complete selection of nationalities and every one of them, from the oldest to the youngest, was enjoying themselves…and she was already bored to tears.
‘There’s nothing to do,’ she muttered, slapping shut the thick glitzy novel she’d picked up at the airport and closing her eyes in disgust. It was by a favourite author and she’d been so certain that it would be able to hold her attention. She needed it to be able to hold her attention because there were things she didn’t want to have time to think about.
After the last year of non-stop activity and the excitement of making all those plans for her future…No, she wasn’t going to think about that disaster and the way it had changed her life for ever.
She desperately needed this break and had been looking forward to having time to relax, but, oh, she was finding it so hard to unwind.
Yesterday she’d hired a car to take a preliminary look at the local sights and had promised herself a longer look at the nearby countryside which her grandmother had described so many times. She had a whole month to fill, after all, she reminded herself with a silent groan, and it was still far too soon to start thinking about anything further away than that.
This morning she’d even visited the hotel’s beauty salon for more than an hour’s pampering and then had promptly undone most of the beautician’s efforts with a dip in the sea. Unless she was willing to waste her time wandering around the small parade of souvenir-filled shops lining the sea front, all that remained was to lie here and listen to the world go by.
Thank goodness the ice-cream vendor seemed to have switched his chimes off for a while. It had been a welcome surprise to recognise the very English sound of ‘Greensleeves’ instead of the ubiquitous ‘O sole mio’—at least until the thirty-seventh repetition.
Lissa sighed again and then forced herself to play the game of trying to separate out all the different elements of the sounds surrounding her.
First and most pervasive was the rhythmic susurration of the waves on the shore, punctuated by the raucous shrieks of seabirds. She’d watched them earlier, wheeling about the edges of the rocky outcrops that edged the beach.
Almost as raucous were the children, their cries and laughter ebbing and flowing around her with the intermittent thuds of running feet. There were several family groups with youngsters ranging from a few months old to young teenagers, and the way they all seemed to play together it was difficult to tell which children belonged with which parents.
Nearby was a young couple, honeymooners by the self-obsessed look of them and the shiny newness of their matching wedding rings. Their soft murmurs reached her on the fitful breeze and faded every so often into meaningful silences and husky laughter.
If the steamy kiss she’d witnessed a few moments ago was anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long before they disappeared back to their room. When it happened, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on the fact that she was probably the only person on the beach by herself; that she should have been part of a pair by now, if only…
She shook her head to dispel the thought before it got any further and concentrated again on the life going on around her, determined to become part of it even if only by observation.
There was a group of young men farther over, fit and healthy and obviously proud of revealing it in their choice of skimpy beachwear. They were locals if their dark hair and deep tans were any indication and had been taking a delight in passing comments among themselves about the women going by. Apparently they were assuming that pale skin meant their targets were newly arrived visitors ripe for a holiday romance. They were also clearly taking it for granted that the women they were dissecting wouldn’t understand their conversation.
It wasn’t the first time that Lissa was glad of her own mixed heritage. Not only did her dark hair and the natural olive tint of her skin offer her a degree of protection against these predators, but her comprehension of Italian was easily good enough to put her on her guard. An insult spoken with an apparently admiring smile was still an insult.
She heard a group of giggling female English voices arrive nearby and opened one eye to peer in their direction. It didn’t take long to discover that they were apparently a group of girls on their first foreign holiday without their parents.
Lissa could remember that age of innocence—just left school and waiting for exam results to know whether she was going to be able to follow her dream of becoming a doctor—but it seemed so much longer than ten years ago.
She didn’t need a crystal ball to know what was going to happen next and the grim inevitability of it kept her watching.
It only took a few minutes for the local males to close in on their new quarry with swaggering walks and gleaming smiles. The girls clearly didn’t understand the crudity of the comments being made about them and their physical attributes, or the bargaining going on between the men as they apportioned the girls among themselves. Lissa could, and it turned her stomach to see them led off like lambs to the slaughter.
She closed her eyes again but what little pleasure she’d found in the day had been soured. It didn’t seem to matter that she tried to concentrate on the soothing sounds of the ocean. All she seemed to hear were the insincere compliments that had been showered on the naïve girls just a few feet away. How long would it be before their eyes were opened? Hours? Days? At least it wouldn’t be longer than the one- or two-week span of their holiday.
In her case, it had taken months for the penny to drop.
She tried to shut the sounds out and was seriously contemplating going back to the hotel when she heard a new sound added to the cacophony and every nerve switched to full alert.
‘Oh, my God,’ shrieked a voice not far away, a young and obviously frightened girl’s voice. ‘Help me, someone. He’s fallen. He’s hurt…’
Lissa was on her feet almost before she realised she was moving, her eyes scanning the far end of the beach.
Several other people had obviously heard the scream and they were all looking towards the rocks that curved round like a protective arm at the far end of the strip of sand.