New beginnings by the su.., p.28
New Beginnings by the Sunflower Cliffs, page 28
She stopped walking, leaving him to continue for a couple of steps before he realised she wasn’t next to him.
He turned and frowned at her. ‘You have forgotten something at the hotel?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want you to feel you have to come with me today. You can go and do whatever it was you were planning to do before my aunt poked her nose in.’
His black eyebrows knitted together in confusion. ‘Poked her nose?’
‘What?’ She realised what she’d said. ‘No, I mean. Um. Poking her nose into business where it’s not wanted.’
He mused over her words before shaking his head. ‘This is something in England that you say?’
She laughed. ‘Yes, sorry. It means, you know, getting involved in something when no one wants you to.’
‘Ah, like my uncle. They have been talking, I think.’ Alessandro’s annoyance appeared to dissipate and he smiled, displaying perfect white teeth. ‘I am sorry. I have been rude. I am happy to show you the beautiful places here.’
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind.’ Now she came to think of it, Sacha did rather like the idea of not wasting time wandering around the labyrinth of streets alone and maybe missing the best bits of the city. And Alessandro seemed nice enough, at least now that he’d cheered up a bit.
‘Please,’ he said, a glint in his blue-grey eyes. ‘I do not mind. Your aunt stays at my uncle’s hotel whenever she is in Rome, they tell me. I have met her also several years ago, when I travelled with my aunt and uncle to the naming ceremony of the ship, Queen Victoria.’
‘We’re going on a cruise on that ship in a couple of days,’ Sacha said, noticing that the dark grey rings around his irises seemed to make his eyes even more piercing. ‘It’s why we’re spending a little time in Rome first. I didn’t know my aunt knew your family.’
‘They met at the ceremony, but I have not seen her since.’ He laughed. ‘She is a strong lady, one that enjoys life very much, I think.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ Sacha said, picturing her aunt in her red sports car, the roof down as she raced around their home island of Jersey on her way to a lunch, cocktail party, or rendezvous with her latest boyfriend.
Alessandro narrowed his eyes. ‘Your mothers are sisters?’
‘They are, but very different to each other.’ She stared at him briefly and couldn’t resist asking, ‘Have we ever met? You seem a little familiar, but I can’t think why.’
He pulled his cap down slightly, looking uncomfortable under her scrutiny. ‘I do not think we have met before.’
They walked on in silence, stopping every so often for Sacha to look in a shop window.
‘I want to buy a few gifts for my parents, brother and three closest girlfriends,’ she said, unsure whether to buy the presents now, or wait to see if she came across better items during the cruise.
He didn’t seem to mind that she kept stopping to take photos of buildings. There was something intriguing about the city’s architecture that fascinated her. Sacha wished she could remember everything about Rome. She savoured the sweet fragrance of the flowers growing in wooden containers sectioning off the seating area outside one of the trattorias. She was relieved to have remembered her hat and sunglasses to shield her eyes from the brightness of the summer sunshine.
‘This is the Trevi Fountain,’ he said a while later. He was stating the obvious, but it was impressive enough to deserve the announcement. Sacha gazed in awe at the display of elaborately carved marble she’d seen many times in photographs over the years. ‘It is named after this district and was designed by Nicola Salvi and completed by Guiseppe Pannini.’ He frowned briefly, rubbing his chin. ‘They began building it in 1732, but it wasn’t opened until thirty years later.’
She was impressed with the fountain and Alessandro’s knowledge. She had to move slightly to get a good view, due to the crowd of people milling around them, trying to take photos with their selfie-sticks. ‘Did you know those dates already, or did you have to look them up?’
‘I looked them up.’ He took her left hand. ‘Hold your bag with the other hand,’ he said, drawing her through the throngs of people until she’d reached the edge of the pool of water, glistening between them and the magnificent statues of the fountain. ‘There are many pickpockets here and you must be careful with your belongings.’
The pushing and jostling was a little tiring, but it was worth walking through the heat to see it and she decided to come back to view the fountain at night when it was lit up.
‘You wish me to take a photo of you?’ Alessandro asked.
She handed him her mobile. ‘It’s the button on the front there.’ As soon as she’d shown him, she could tell he was being polite and doing his best to hide his amusement. How stupid of her, of course he knew how to work her phone.
He waved for her to step back and, bending his knees slightly, took a few pictures of her smiling like a typical tourist. Thanking him, she took back her phone and fanned herself with her hat.
‘Phew, how do you stand this heat?’
‘Not as easily as you might think,’ he laughed. An excited voice called out his name and Alessandro and Sacha turned to see who it was. ‘Your friends?’ she asked, spotting two beaming girls Sacha assumed to be about sixteen or seventeen hurrying towards them.
‘Shall we go for an iced coffee?’ he said, taking hold of her hand and pulling her along with him without waiting for an answer. ‘There is a café over there, I have been there many times and they serve the best coffees.’
She glanced over her shoulder to see the two girls disappearing into the throng of tourists, as she let him take her towards the white-fronted café he’d indicated.
Ordering two iced coffees, they found a spare table just inside the building to make the most of the air-conditioning blowing down from the unit over the door.
‘Thank heavens for that,’ she said, forgetting about her hair and taking off her hat, placing it over her bag on the vacant seat beside her. ‘Do you know those girls?’
He puffed out his cheeks and shook his head slowly. ‘No. I am sorry, it was rude of me to pull you away.’
She looked out to see if she could spot the girls, but they were nowhere. ‘Why were they chasing you?’
He waved the waitress over. ‘They think they know me,’ he said.
She didn’t like to add that she’d thought the same as them. ‘Why would they?’ she asked, hoping it would help her to try and place where she knew him from.
‘I do not know,’ he hesitated. ‘I did a little modelling, maybe they recognise me from those pictures,’ he said, as if it was something he didn’t want to discuss.
Taking the hint, Sacha changed the subject, but unable to come up with anything more original said, ‘I’m used to British summers and I don’t think they ever get as hot as this.’
‘Where in England do you live?’ Alessandro asked, relaxing once more.
‘On the island of Jersey,’ Sacha said, taking a breath to explain exactly where the island she’d spent most of her life could be found, but he smiled knowingly. ‘You know it?’ she asked, curious if maybe that’s where she might have seen him before.
‘No,’ he said, his voice quiet as he peered out of the door. ‘I’ve never visited, but my father worked there in the sixties and I will be visiting for a couple of months this summer. Next month in fact.’
Sacha couldn’t believe it. ‘Seriously? You’ve booked to go there?’
Their coffees were delivered and he thanked the waitress, who, Sacha noticed, reddened when Alessandro spoke to her.
‘My father still has friends there. He arranged for me to spend time getting to know the place.’
She was intrigued. ‘Why Jersey?’
He laughed. ‘You have your famous Jersey milk, no?’
She wasn’t sure what that could have to do with his visit, but assumed he must be staying with one of the farming families on the island. ‘We do, and Jersey Royal new potatoes. They’re creamy and taste like they have butter on them, but without butter being added, if you see what I mean?’
‘I will have to sample those,’ he said, widening his eyes.
Sacha giggled. ‘They’re delicious and so is the milk. If you haven’t tasted it already then you’re in for a treat.’
They fell silent and stared at each other for a few seconds before Sacha focused her attention on her coffee. She wasn’t sure if she should offer to meet up with him and show him around when he got to the island. After all, the poor guy had been forced into showing her around Rome. It wasn’t as if they were friends though, or if he’d even been the one to instigate their afternoon together. She didn’t want him to feel obliged to spend time with her back home as well as here, so kept her thoughts to herself.
Both drank their coffees and Sacha checked the photos on her phone for something to do. ‘These are great, thanks,’ she said, relieved to be able to fill the awkward silence between them. ‘I hate having my photo taken, so it’s not often that I have pictures of myself and when I do, I usually don’t like them.’
He leant over and looked at the screen on her phone as she scrolled through several images. ‘You look very pretty. Bellisima. Very natural, it is good.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling a little awkward under his scrutiny. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, but suspected he could probably tell her reddening cheeks were down to embarrassment rather than the heat. ‘My friend, Bella, is very clever with adding filters and things to her photos, but I can’t be bothered. To be honest, it’s not often I take photos of myself, I’d rather take them of my surroundings.’
‘Surroundings?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Like the little beach that my flat overlooks. Essentially the view is the same; sand, sea and rocks on each side. But the sky changes colour depending on the weather and the tide comes almost up to the sea wall twice every twenty-four hours. Even the plants growing on the cliff top and headland change all the time, sometimes they’re pink with the heather, at other times white with clusters of daisies, or yellow when the daffodils are in bloom. There are never two days when the view is truly the same.’
‘I like that idea. My, er,’ he hesitated, ‘friend, she is always taking pictures of herself. Selfies.’ He glanced outside at a group of tourists smiling up at their mobiles as they held up selfie sticks.
Sacha laughed. ‘Yes, some people like to take them,’ she said. ‘Though it isn’t my idea of fun. I rarely remember to look at photos once I’ve taken them, how about you?’
Without answering, he stood up and so Sacha did the same. She was a little taken aback when he went to the counter and, producing a few Euro notes, paid for their coffees. She went to join him.
‘No, please. I should be getting these,’ she insisted. ‘After all, you’re here to show me around the city, not pay for things.’
‘I am happy to buy you a coffee,’ he said, his shoulders less hunched than when they’d arrived at the café.
Sacha frowned. ‘I’ll pay for the next drinks then,’ she said, immediately wondering whether that sounded like an invitation.
‘Now, to the Scalina Spagna.’
Sacha didn’t like to disagree, but was desperately hoping to visit the Spanish Steps before heading back to check up on Aunt Rosie. ‘Um, I was rather hoping to see the Spanish Steps next.’
‘Si,’ he nodded, amused. ‘La Scalina Spagna, the Spanish Steps.’
Sacha followed him out of the door. She couldn’t help being amused, despite feeling a little foolish, at having used the English version of the Italian landmark. She followed him down a passageway and after about ten minutes they arrived at the wide steps, again with many tourists milling about taking photos, or sitting on the steps, staring at the view of the skyline below.
‘Wow,’ she murmured. ‘This is stunning.’
‘There are one hundred and thirty-eight steps connecting the lower Piazza di Spagna with the upper piazza, Trinita dei Monti.’
‘And when were they built?’ she asked, unable to help teasing him.
He laughed. ‘Ah, I know this also, I have looked it up on the way here. They were built in 1723 to 1725 to link the Trinità dei Monti with the Spanish square below.’ He held his hands up and bowed his head.
Sacha clapped. ‘Very clever,’ she said.
She tried to memorise everything he was saying then, spotting him checking his mobile discreetly, realised she could simply look it all up later, like he was doing, when she was back at the hotel.
‘That is the Fontana della Barcaccia,’ he said, indicating a stone fountain surrounded by a circular pond. ‘And there, where you begin climbing the steps, is where your English poet, John Keats, lived and died in 1821.’
‘That house?’ she asked, excited at the unexpected discovery.
‘Yes. It is a museum and filled with, um, mementos.’
‘I’d love to go and see it, if you think we have time?’
‘We can make the time,’ he said.
Delighted for the opportunity to investigate such an exciting place, Sacha ran over, stopping to gaze up at the marble sign above the door. ‘Keats Shelley Memorial House,’ she said, in awe. ‘How didn’t I know this was here?’ Sacha couldn’t believe she’d travelled to Rome and stumbled upon this museum honouring the Romantic poets. She pictured Keats, seeing this house for the first time when he came to stay, ill with tuberculosis.
She walked through the rooms, relishing the scent of old books neatly displayed in the library, gazing at the flower motifs on the high ceiling, and marvelled that she was in the building where Keats had once lived.
She’d forgotten about Alessandro waiting for her outside. Hurrying out, she spotted him sitting on one of the steps. He was leaning back, his elbows resting on a higher step, his long legs stretching out in front of him. His face was tilted up to the sun, his eyes closed and his long black lashes rested on his tanned cheeks. She watched him for a moment, studying his roman nose and perfectly shaped mouth, enjoying the opportunity to study his beautiful features. She wondered what he would be doing if he hadn’t been persuaded to traipse around with her this afternoon. Poor man, he was being very decent about having his time hijacked. She realised he’d opened his eyes and quickly looked away.
Sacha suspected he’d spotted her staring at him. Mortified, she went to join him further up the steps, tripping on one of the edges, only just managing to right herself before landing on him. She could see him struggling not to smile.
‘You enjoyed the museum?’ he asked, kindly changing the subject. ‘I have seen it many times, but it is a place I like to visit.’ They began walking. ‘You like poetry?’
Recovering from her humiliation, she thought she’d better be polite and answer his question. ‘I love the English Romantics, which is why I was so excited to go inside. I don’t write poetry though, I’ve tried to and I’m dreadful at it.’
‘You might not be as bad as you think,’ he said, stepping aside to let her walk between two groups of people.
Her steps faltered. ‘You write poetry?’
His face reddened slightly under the tan. ‘A little.’
She didn’t want to embarrass him further, so didn’t ask him to quote some for her. It dawned on her that her feet were getting sore in the heat.
‘I should have worn more sensible sandals,’ she said, stopping to take one foot out of her espadrilles and wriggling her toes to get some feeling back into them. ‘Or worn these in before coming away.’
He looked baffled. She wondered if it was because of the language barrier, or whether he just didn’t realise how women sometimes wore shoes because they looked nice rather than for comfort.
Sacha smiled. ‘I’m a bit parched. Shall we get an ice cream? This time, I’ll pay.’
He considered her suggestion and nodded. ‘I will take you to the best gelateria in Rome.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, happy to be able to tick off another item in her ‘Rome: To Do List’.
‘We have to walk for a few minutes. You don’t mind?’ He narrowed his eyes and glanced down at her feet.
She didn’t want to be a bore so agreed, instantly regretting it after only a few steps. This had better be worth it, she mused, not wishing to make a fuss. He led her down various roads and passageways, and she was beginning to lose her determination not to give up when he stopped in front of a marble fronted building. It didn’t look like any gelateria she’d seen so far.
She peered inside when he waited for her to pass him. ‘Where are the glass fronted freezers displaying the flavours?’
He gave her a knowing smile. ‘They are none. The gelato is in there.’ He pointed.
Sacha could only see about ten metal bins. ‘There isn’t much choice, is there?’ she asked, hoping that there was indeed some choice. From where they stood it was hard to tell.
‘There are the flavours everyone likes, chocolate, vanilla, mint, but also those of the fruits that are in, um, season? Maybe now would be peach.’
She thought about it and decided she liked the idea of natural fruits being used in the ice creams. ‘I think I’ll try a peach one, then. You?’
He put his index finger up to his chin and gazed heavenward, considering his choices. ‘I will choose the peach also.’
‘I don’t see how this works if they’re not displaying the stock to the passers-by.’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘This gelateria is known for its excellence and so visitors don’t need to see the product first.’ He placed their order and continued. ‘It is a different way to sell the gelato, but it is working well and people seem to feel like they’re buying into a secret.’
Sacha mulled over his words and decided there might be something in them.
She watched as the assistant took one of the crunchy cones in a napkin, and with the other hand lifted the lid from one of the metal bins and scooped out two large dollops of the pale pinkish ice cream, pushing each one down into the cone. Her mouth watered at the light, fruity scent as the assistant handed her cone over.
