Page 21 of A Chance in a Million
‘Is Mum working you hard, Jane? She used to bully me to do my homework.’ Diana softened the impact of her words by leaning over and kissing her mother on the cheek.
‘I can honestly say I’m enjoying every minute of it.’ Jane realised that she really did mean what she said. ‘Your mum’s the best boss I’ve ever had.’
‘So I’m not as tough as some of your superiors in the army?’ Veronica gave Jane a little smile while Diana looked up in surprise.
‘You were in the army? Like David?’
Jane nodded. ‘Yes, for six years. I was in the Sappers… the Royal Engineers. What regiment was he in?’
‘The Rifles.’
‘Ah… PBI.’
‘PBI?’ Both mother and daughter looked puzzled.
‘Poor Bloody Infantry. Traditionally they always get the worst jobs.’
‘And what was your job, Jane?’
‘Bomb disposal and mine clearance.’ She suddenly felt her throat dry and she took a sip of wine. As the bubbles hissed over her tongue, she saw the other two exchange glances. It was Diana who commented first, looking aghast.
‘And yet, you reckon the infantry get the worst jobs? I can’t imagine anything worse than yours.’ The expression on Diana’s face wasn’t new to Jane. Most people looked at her as if she were crazy when they found out what she did – or rather, what she used to do.
‘If you’re well trained and you know what you’re doing, it’s just another job.’ Jane was very pleased to find she was able to talk about this in measured tones.
‘And if you’re very, very lucky.’ Diana was looking at her goggle-eyed.
‘Yes, luck helps… for as long as it holds out.’
‘But yours held out, didn’t it?’
Jane was surprised to see Veronica’s hand snake out and catch hold of her daughter’s arm. ‘Of course it did. Now, I think it might be time to go and eat. Maria’s beckoning.’ Without more ado, she stood up and, still holding Diana’s arm, turned and headed back inside. Jane walked in behind them taking a few deep, calming breaths. Two things were clear. The first was that Veronica either knew more than she was letting on or she had intuitively guessed that something bad had happened. The second was that she herself had managed to talk – albeit only minimally – about her military service without welling up. Oscar the counsellor would have been pleased.
Dinner that night was spectacular, not just because it was taken in the cavernous dining room with the three of them, accompanied by Flora and Luciana, sitting at one end of a highly polished table that could have housed another couple of dozen people. As a starter Maria presented them with a wonderful selection of olives, sundried tomatoes, smoked and cured hams, salami and local cheese. Jane was greatly relieved to discover that, in view of the size of the goose, Maria had decided not to make a pasta course, and they went from antipasti straight to the main. The roast goose was exquisite and Maria served it with little roast potatoes, tasty fresh asparagus, and fennel roasted in the oven and smothered with grated cheese. This was all accompanied by an unlabelled bottle of excellent red wine that Flora said was also made from their own grapes. By the time Jane had finished the homemade panna cotta, she was absolutely full. She just about managed to find the strength to ask for a little espresso but that was that.
After her long journey Diana was looking weary and, without waiting for coffee, she kissed her mother and grandmother, waved to Jane and to Luciana, and headed straight off to bed. The two elderly ladies followed suit shortly after. After they had left, Jane glanced across the table to Veronica. ‘It’s been a delightful evening and thank you for sparing me any more questions about what happened in Fallujah.’ The realisation dawned on her that this was another first. Veronica was the first person apart from close family, military personnel and medical practitioners to whom she had mentioned that name.
Veronica smiled back at her. ‘Like I said, any time you want to talk about it, I’m here.’
‘Thank you. That means a lot.’ Jane hesitated for a moment and then added. ‘And the same goes for you. If you ever want a shoulder to lean on, to cry on or laugh on, I’m here for you.’
Chapter 12
The beginning of July arrived and Jane carried on working her way through Veronica’s fan mail, emails and messages. She also went out every day with Dino, enjoying being in the fresh air and returning to full fitness with the dog as company. Apart from running through the open grassland around the villa, she also followed the dog at a more sedate pace up through the vineyards where she met and chatted to Umberto, a weather-beaten man in his sixties who looked after the estate. She thought of asking him if he remembered Paolo Padovan who had helped out in his summer holidays but though it better not to ask too many questions until she got to know Umberto better. She didn’t want to give the impression of being a busybody.
One afternoon she was sitting at her kitchen table with the front and back door open to allow a cool draught to combat the heat of the day when she heard a voice.
‘Who are you?’ It was a child’s voice, speaking Italian.
Jane looked up to see a little dark-haired girl standing in the doorway with a teddy bear in one hand. She smiled back at her and replied in Italian.
‘Ciao, I’m Jane. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Linda. Do you live here?’
Jane realised that Veronica’s granddaughter must have arrived for her annual holiday in the country. ‘I do at the moment, but I’ll be going back to Venice with your grandmother at the end of the summer. Why don’t you come in?’
‘Is she your nonna too?’ The little girl wandered in and climbed onto a chair alongside Jane, setting the teddy down carefully on the table in front of her, facing them. She was so small her head barely poked up above the tabletop.
