Page 21 of Under A Sicilian Sky
The following day, the air was just as heavy and muggy, the way it was in Yorkshire when a storm was brewing. The dark clouds remained overhead and Ruby shivered, thankful she had dressed in a long-sleeved top and jeans today. She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself and wandered through the house aimlessly, considering what the hell to do to occupy her time. As she approached one of the rooms, she could hear the builder hammering away with the radio blaring out at full blast.Ignorant swine. He was singing along tunelessly to some Italian rock song she’d never heard and would happily never hear again.
She took a seat at the kitchen table and waited for the tea to mash. The builder walked in, shirtless and glistening with sweat, and before she had a chance to pour herself a cup, he helped himself. Annoyed, yet again, at his lack of consideration, she glared at his back but became a little distracted by his muscles rippling as he cut a chunk of bread from a fresh, what appeared to be home-made, loaf.Ugh, put a shirt on, poser.And help yourself why don’t you?She vowed to contact Valerie or Veronica and ask one of them to contact the owner in Edinburgh about this ignorant oik. Surely he was taking liberties?
‘Buongiorno,’ he said as he lifted his cup and nodded at her.
She stood and poured her own cup, then turned and smiled sweetly at him, tilting her head coquettishly. ‘Bon Jovi to you too. It’s so good that you can’t understand a word I’m saying, you ungrateful, tuneless wonder.’ She kept her smile in place and he grinned in return, nodded and held up his mug. Clearly, he thought she was commenting on that. ‘I hope you enjoyed my apology cookies, even though you’re a shit who took the piss out of me for the note I left.’ She held up her own mug as if to say cheers. ‘Au revoir, or whatever,’ she continued sarcastically, very much aware she’d said goodbye in French, before walking out of the room and towards the covered terrace.
Once she’d eaten, she decided to venture down to the gatehouse and admire the view of the countryside from down there, a contrast to the sea views at the front. She doubted the security guards would bother her as they seemed to spend most of their time patrolling the grounds or talking on their phones.
When she arrived at the gatehouse, there was no sign of Luca or Jacopo and her heart skipped a beat. Nero was sleeping by the door and he awoke as she approached.
‘Hey, Nero, my little friend,’ she said as the dog trotted towards her, tail wagging and tongue lolling out. He rolled on his back and she scratched his belly. ‘I missed you yesterday, yes, I did.’
Sensing an opportunity to experience a little freedom, she stood and walked slowly towards the exit. She glanced at the road beyond the gate, but a shake of the posts told her it was locked. She poked her head inside the door of the gatehouse and was surprised to see a row of small TV screens showing images of the exterior of the property. She stepped inside and looked through another door, where she found two twin beds, both neatly made. Another door led to a shower room and another a kitchenette. It was like a little house in its own right.
Feeling a little like a burglar, she hurried back to the main room and spotted Jacopo on one of the screens, he was chatting on his phone and wandering around one of the smaller terraces. He was quite a distance from where she was, and in spite of Valerie’s strict instructions to stay out of sight due to the possibility of lurking paparazzi, a fight-or-flight feeling tugged at her insides. She saw a brightly coloured dog lead curled up on the console and reached out to pick it up. A button on the wall, just below a mounted phone and video screen looked enticing. She crouched and attached the lead to Nero’s collar, then hit the button and a loud buzz sounded from the gate before it slowly opened.
It was now or never. ‘Come on, Nero, let’s explore,’ she told the Yorkshire Terrier, who jumped excitedly on the spot and yapped. ‘Shhh, this has to be our secret,’ she told him.
The pair made a dash for it through the gate and jogged along the road, Ruby looking over her shoulder like some escaped kidnap victim. No one followed and she continued to jog. Realising she hadn’t picked up any cash, or her coat for that matter, she briefly considered going back to collect them but decided it was too much of a risk. She would simply take Nero for a walk and return in hour or so, what harm could it do? She knew she faced getting in trouble when she did go back, not only as she had kidnapped Jacopo’s dog, but also as she’d have to buzz to be let in, but a little taste of freedom was worth it.
The sun hadn’t yet made an appearance and the heavy feeling still shrouded the area. She sincerely hoped a storm didn’t hit whilst they were out.
After around ten minutes, she appeared to have reached the boundary of the property and the next one. She could see a man just inside the grounds up a stepladder, trimming away the foliage.
She crouched to pet the dog again. ‘Ooh, look, Nero, shall we say hello?’
The man glanced her way. ‘Buongiorno,’ he called down to her.
She smiled. ‘Hello!’ she called back. ‘I mean… erm…buongiornoback.’ She immediately wanted to slap her own forehead. She glanced down at Nero and whispered, ‘I really need to study that phrase book.’
The dog wagged his tail eagerly as if agreeing.
‘Ah, you’re British,’ the man said as he climbed down the ladder and addressed her through the metal gates that separated them. ‘I’m American myself.’
‘So you are.’ She peered over his shoulder to the beautiful house that stood behind him. It was another whitewashed, multi-level palace of a house. ‘Wow, you have a lovely home.’
He glanced behind to the building, then back to Ruby. ‘Thanks. I’m Clark.’ He stuck his hand through the gate, and she took it. She guessed he was around forty. He had mousy blonde hair and very smiley, kind eyes.
‘Ruu…becca. I’m Rebecca,’ she replied awkwardly.
‘Good to meet you, Rebecca. I felt sure you were Italian with your colouring.’
‘Nope. Yorkshire lass through and through.’
He frowned. ‘Yorkshire? Is that anywhere near London?’
She giggled. ‘Not really.’
He cringed. ‘Ah. I don’t really know the UK, can you tell?’ He smiled broadly. He was quite handsome in an unconventional, non-obvious sort of way.
She held up her index finger and thumb. ‘Just a little bit.’
‘So, what brings you to Cefalù? On holiday with your husband?’
‘No, no husband. I… erm…’ She hadn’t really thought this through. ‘Just fancied a holiday and a friend recommended this place as somewhere peaceful.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, it’s peaceful all right. A little too peaceful for me, but my folks owned the house, and I can’t bear to part with it even though they’re gone.’
