The Villa by Rosanna Ley Page B

suggested that Tess was her natural successor. It would mean a good pay rise and more leave. So, the job was OK; she got on well with all her colleagues – with the exception of Malcolm. And if sometimes she thought to herself,
I always wanted more from life than this
, she quashed it immediately and told herself to grow up. She had her health, she had Ginny, Muma and Dad, and she had a decent job.
Count your blessings, girl
…
    Giovanni had touched on the subject of her plans for the villa over coffee. He had leaned back in his chair like the well-fed tiger that he probably was, lit a cigarette and said, ‘So, Tess, you will sell the villa, yes? You want to sell it as it is perhaps, or you want me to organise builders to sort the damp, to repaint, to fix up the place, before you put it on the market?’ His expression relaxed, but expectant.
    Tess felt blown out with the food and wine and suddenly as if she had been primed for the kill. ‘I don’t know yet,’ she said. ‘I’ve only just arrived, remember.’
    And after all, Giovanni may have provided her breakfast (and lunch), but what connection did he have with Villa Sirena and what did she know about him anyway? He had assured her that her mother’s family and his family had always been close, but she only had his word for that, didn’t she? She couldn’t help feeling that he was just a bit too eager to help out. Or was she – heaven forbid – indulging in some sort of Sicilian Paranoia Syndrome?
    Giovanni remained unruffled, sleek as that big cat that kept appearing in her mind’s eye. ‘Of course, of course.’ He waved his cigarette in the air. ‘First you must take the holiday, mmm? Explore our wonderful west coast of Sicily. You must take your time. These things, yes, they take the time.’
    If only she had more time …
    Now that she was closer to them, Tess could see how fascinating the rock islands were – formations of brown, white and red-streaked granite that must once have been attached to the mainland of Sicily, she guessed. The bits thrusting out of the sea were pitted with cracks and crevices that housed succulent plants and herbs and had also become home to sea swallows and gulls. Maybe she’d hire some diving equipment and find out what was going on under the surface …
    Tess trod water and chuckled to herself. She hadn’t been fooled by Giovanni. He had a vested interest – he wasprobably hoping to make some money out of it, out of her. And why not? What did she care? He and his family had been kind, hospitable and helpful. So …
    There was no one else in the sea. As far as she could see, she was alone in the ocean. How wonderful was that? Robin didn’t know what he was missing.
    She turned around and began to swim to shore. The villa – her villa – stood imposing on the cliff, its sweeping, curving dusky-pink walls outlined against the azure sky. And yet … She did care. Already she felt a pull to the place. This landscape was, in some strange way, familiar. And unnerving. Had Edward Westerman known then how it would be? She closed her eyes again, feeling the tide gently pushing her to the shore. Caressing. Then a sudden sense of darkness. She opened her eyes.
    Mosaic-man was standing on the shoreline, arms folded, scowling. If Giovanni was a tiger, Tess thought, then this man was a wild panther. Untameable. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts. Bloody hell. What crime had she committed now?
    Tess stood up in the water. Her hair was wet, her mascara must be smudged and she was feeling at her least elegant. But what could she do? He was clearly waiting for her.
    ‘
Ciao
,’ he said, as, predictably, she stumbled on the slippery stones.
    He held out a hand. She eyed it cautiously. An artist’s hand. Long, tapering fingers, nails cut straight across, a narrow-boned wrist … But she grabbed hold anyway, and heescorted her across the pebbles towards the stone wall by the jetty where she’d left her towel. He was