Page 64 of Escape to Tuscany

‘It was. What’s that you’re drinking?’

‘Just the house wine. I think it’s a Sangiovese.’

‘Great. Could we have a carafe of that?’ he asks Michele. ‘Or better yet, a bottle? And some still water, too. Thanks.’ He leans back in his chair and makes a face. ‘Maybe I should have asked him to bring a straw. What’s up?’

I realise I’m staring. ‘Oh, sorry. It’s just… You switch between languages so easily, even when you’re flustered. I think it’s amazing.’

‘Just practice. It’s what I do all day, every day. You’ll get there.’

‘We’ll see,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry you had such a stressful time.’

‘It’s nothing to complain about, not really. But…’

‘Tell me.’

Marco sighs. ‘Look, I can’t give you details of any specific case, but let’s put it this way: all my clients are in basically the same situation.’

‘My situation,’ I say.

‘Right, although they’re not all as organised as you. But some of them seem to think they’re the only one in the world who wants to move to Italy. And they think I’ve got no other clients but them. And they want stuff doneyesterday.’

‘I know the type,’ I say.

‘Really?’

‘God, yes. My mother, for one. Everyone who has to deal with her develops this sort of haunted look. She goes through hairdressers like other people go through toilet paper. In fact, I think the toilet paper has a nicer experience.’

Marco snorts. ‘That just about describes it. Are you ready to order?’

‘I think I’m going to have the bruschetta and then the steak and chips.’

‘Good choice. I’ll have that, too. And you can tell me all about your most recent discoveries, take my mind off boring work stuff.’

Over the bruschetta, I fill him in on my latest work on Achille’s letters. ‘I’m only about a third of the way in. I’m getting faster, though, so I’m hoping to get through them all in a few more weeks. Then I can start going back and translating the passages that look useful.’

‘I’m surprised Achille managed to write so many letters,’ Marco says. ‘He and your grandmother didn’t have all that much time together.’

‘Well, he was a man with a lot to say. And then he was travelling around to compete in different races, and I suppose Granny couldn’t always go with him. But even when she did…’

Marco grins at me. ‘Why do I feel like there’s some dramatic detail coming?’

‘Hey, don’t be mean about Achille. But yes, there is. Every time he took part in a race, he’d write her a letter the night before to tell her that he loved her. I suppose it was a kind of ritual for him.’

‘Wow. This book is going to break some hearts.’

‘I hope so,’ I say. ‘Just imagine feeling like that, though. Imagine meeting someone and knowing so quickly that this is it for you, this is the person you love. That you want them to know it every single day – that you can’t bear the thought of dying without telling them one more time.’ I’ve clearly been drinking too fast. I push my glass away and concentrate on lining up my knife and fork in symmetry with the checked pattern on the tablecloth.

‘Yes,’ Marco says. ‘Imagine that.’

The steaks arrive, caramelised around the edges and studded with little crystals of salt. I pick up a chip and bite into it. As ever it’s perfect, crispy and fluffy and the right kind of salty. I cut into my steak and find it exactly as I wanted, deep pink in the centre and oozing with juices. I’ve just speared a piece on my fork when Marco says: ‘How are you doing, anyway?’

‘Oh, fine,’ I say. ‘I’ve got the interview with Rosa Legni tomorrow – I think I told you. Otherwise I’m just carrying on with the letters.’ I put the piece of steak in my mouth and chew it, keeping my eyes fixed on my plate. I can feel Marco watching me.

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I’m all up to date with Achille. I’m asking about you.’

Me? You want to know how I am? Let’s start with that email from my sister, the one that gave me a panic attack in the middle of the night. Or how about the fact I’m preparing to divorce a man I’m fairly sure is going to make my life hell? Oh yeah, that’s great romantic-dinner conversation. I bet you’d just love it if I dumped all that on you.

‘Tori?’

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