sunglasses. ‘This is going to be fun.’
‘It’s going to be something,’ I replied, looking for my own sunglasses in my handbag and having a sudden flashback to leaving them on top of Amy’s dresser in the rush to get her out and into the taxi that had been waiting for us for twenty minutes. ‘It’s definitely going to be something.’
‘Oh my God!’
Amy hadn’t stopped talking since customs so it was a testament to just how impressive Bertie Bennett’s Italian home was that it had managed to shut her up so successfully. Even when I had explained that the clouds that looked so much like mountains were, in fact, mountains, she hadn’t stopped for breath so the look of dazed amazement that had come over her now was wonderful to behold for many reasons. From a best-friend perspective, I was happy to see her look so happy. From a human-being perspective, I could have cried with joy at the first moment of silence in over an hour.
As the car pulled off the road and a pair of huge iron gates swung open to allow us inside, I pressed my fingertips against the window of the car. When I’d arrived at Bertie Bennett’s house in Hawaii, I thought I had accidentally wandered into heaven. The wonderful modernist architecture, the sea, the sand, the way the air smelled so sweet and welcoming. But this was something else; this was like something I had only seen in fairytales. One moment we were on a perfectly normal-looking city street while Amy regaled the driver with tales of her latest urinary tract infection and the next we were sitting in complete silence and rolling into the courtyard of the most beautiful, stately building I had ever seen.
When I was sixteen, my entire class had gone on a school trip to London and I distinctly remembered being more than a little bit disappointed by Buckingham Palace. Not that it wasn’t impressive; but my imagination had been ruined by too many Disney movies, so it had too many corners and not enough turrets for my liking. But this place? Al’s Milan pied-à-terre made Buck House look like a two-up, two-down council house.
It wasn’t that it was enormous or sprawling or set in acres of artfully landscaped grounds, it was just impossibly beautiful. The house was elegant and simple with so many big, sparkling windows I couldn’t even count them all. Everything was symmetrical, which brought out the ecstatic OCD in me and I kept looking up to the top floor, expecting to see a princess combing out her hair on one of the balconies. Passing through the gate, the car came to a halt in the courtyard, a stone fountain bubbling away in the centre, more archways leading off to small but perfectly formed manicured lawns, decorated with trees and plants. Gorgeous to look at, but just like his super-modern home in Hawaii, entirely inviting. Nothing about this storybook palace said ‘do not touch’; it was far more ‘feel free to take off your shoes and run around barefoot and would you like a bottle of wine and a straw while you’re doing that?’
A white-glove-wearing footman opened the passenger door and I climbed out of the car, eyes still skyward, taking in each of the three levels of Al’s second home. Unlike Hawaii, there was endless activity behind each of the arched windows. I could see people rushing around from one room to the next, curtains pulled back and windows thrown open. Clearly, someone was in a rush to get ready for something.
‘Tess?’ Amy peered at me over the top of the car, wavering on her tiptoes. ‘Are we in the right place?’
‘I don’t know about you,’ I replied, watching the huge wooden double door creak open to reveal a familiar face. ‘But I’m pretty bloody sure that I am.’
‘My darling!’ A short, handsome man with coffee-coloured skin and impeccably parted jet-black hair rushed across the courtyard, barrelling past assorted staff members who were trying to go about their business, and scooped me up in an impressive hug. Mostly
‘It’s going to be something,’ I replied, looking for my own sunglasses in my handbag and having a sudden flashback to leaving them on top of Amy’s dresser in the rush to get her out and into the taxi that had been waiting for us for twenty minutes. ‘It’s definitely going to be something.’
‘Oh my God!’
Amy hadn’t stopped talking since customs so it was a testament to just how impressive Bertie Bennett’s Italian home was that it had managed to shut her up so successfully. Even when I had explained that the clouds that looked so much like mountains were, in fact, mountains, she hadn’t stopped for breath so the look of dazed amazement that had come over her now was wonderful to behold for many reasons. From a best-friend perspective, I was happy to see her look so happy. From a human-being perspective, I could have cried with joy at the first moment of silence in over an hour.
As the car pulled off the road and a pair of huge iron gates swung open to allow us inside, I pressed my fingertips against the window of the car. When I’d arrived at Bertie Bennett’s house in Hawaii, I thought I had accidentally wandered into heaven. The wonderful modernist architecture, the sea, the sand, the way the air smelled so sweet and welcoming. But this was something else; this was like something I had only seen in fairytales. One moment we were on a perfectly normal-looking city street while Amy regaled the driver with tales of her latest urinary tract infection and the next we were sitting in complete silence and rolling into the courtyard of the most beautiful, stately building I had ever seen.
When I was sixteen, my entire class had gone on a school trip to London and I distinctly remembered being more than a little bit disappointed by Buckingham Palace. Not that it wasn’t impressive; but my imagination had been ruined by too many Disney movies, so it had too many corners and not enough turrets for my liking. But this place? Al’s Milan pied-à-terre made Buck House look like a two-up, two-down council house.
It wasn’t that it was enormous or sprawling or set in acres of artfully landscaped grounds, it was just impossibly beautiful. The house was elegant and simple with so many big, sparkling windows I couldn’t even count them all. Everything was symmetrical, which brought out the ecstatic OCD in me and I kept looking up to the top floor, expecting to see a princess combing out her hair on one of the balconies. Passing through the gate, the car came to a halt in the courtyard, a stone fountain bubbling away in the centre, more archways leading off to small but perfectly formed manicured lawns, decorated with trees and plants. Gorgeous to look at, but just like his super-modern home in Hawaii, entirely inviting. Nothing about this storybook palace said ‘do not touch’; it was far more ‘feel free to take off your shoes and run around barefoot and would you like a bottle of wine and a straw while you’re doing that?’
A white-glove-wearing footman opened the passenger door and I climbed out of the car, eyes still skyward, taking in each of the three levels of Al’s second home. Unlike Hawaii, there was endless activity behind each of the arched windows. I could see people rushing around from one room to the next, curtains pulled back and windows thrown open. Clearly, someone was in a rush to get ready for something.
‘Tess?’ Amy peered at me over the top of the car, wavering on her tiptoes. ‘Are we in the right place?’
‘I don’t know about you,’ I replied, watching the huge wooden double door creak open to reveal a familiar face. ‘But I’m pretty bloody sure that I am.’
‘My darling!’ A short, handsome man with coffee-coloured skin and impeccably parted jet-black hair rushed across the courtyard, barrelling past assorted staff members who were trying to go about their business, and scooped me up in an impressive hug. Mostly
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