The Getaway Girls: A hilarious feel-good summer read Page 26

  Connie stared out of the window, beguiled by the view of the Amalfi Coast, stretching from Sorrento in the west via Positano to Amalfi in the east, one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world. The road snaked its way round the cliffs, a sheer drop to the sea on one side, the rugged shoreline beneath dotted with tiny beaches and pastel-coloured fishing villages. Above were the terraced vineyards and cliff-side lemon groves for which the area was famous. It was a sightseer’s dream, provided you’re not driving, Connie thought, when you daren’t take your eyes off the road, or provided you’re not inclined to motion sickness.

  Connie glanced across at Maggie, who was looking a strange colour underneath her tan.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m hoping to make it,’ Maggie groaned, clutching a plastic bag in readiness.

  Signor Pozzi had apologised profusely that the pressure of work this week prevented him from being able to accompany her to the property personally. But by the end of the week it should be OK. Connie couldn’t wait that long – she wanted to see it now! And, after they met up for lunch in Positano, good old Alfonso would ferry them there in his hired Fiat.

  Connie could hardly contain her excitement, unable to believe that a little patch of this glorious terrain could be hers! And that her grandmother had been born there, and that her great-grandfather must have bought it, or built it, or inherited it. Now that she had some more information about the family she would definitely be investigating her ancestry further.

  As they got off the bus in Positano, Maggie wiped her brow and took a swig of water. ‘That was a near thing!’ she said. ‘And I so wanted to absorb those fabulous views, but I didn’t dare look anywhere except at a fixed point at the back of the driver’s head – otherwise I’d have been a goner!’

  ‘Well, you can look now!’ Connie said, gazing up at the houses and shops in terracottas, pinks and creams, which cascaded down the steep narrow streets to the small, pebbly beach.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ Maggie agreed, looking in the window of one of the many boutiques. ‘But you’d need to be a jetsetter to afford anything here. Or a thief.’ She grinned wickedly.

  There was only time for Maggie to admire the church of Santa Maria Assunto with its colourful majolica-tiled roof, while Connie stayed outside with the dog.

  When they met up with Gill and Alfonso in the piazza, Connie thought that she’d never seen Gill look so happy. As if reading her thoughts, Maggie murmured, ‘Talk about the cat who stole the cream!’

  Both Gill and Alfonso made a huge fuss of Toto.

  ‘Has he been a good boy?’ Gill asked, looking nervously towards Maggie.

  ‘Bloody pest,’ Maggie muttered.

  ‘Yes, he’s been fine. Only one little accident on the kitchen floor, but no problem!’ Connie had been quite smitten with her little lodger. ‘And he slept on my bed all night.’

  They lunched al fresco with stunning views over the rooftops to the sea beyond. Her fish was delicious but Connie’s excitement was such that she could hardly eat. Eventually, bundled into Alfonso’s Fiat with warnings about not driving too fast because of Maggie’s delicate equilibrium, they headed further along the coastal road towards Amalfi.

  ‘I have to admit it beats Southend,’ Gill said, as Amalfi came into view with its dramatic setting and its cliff-hanging abodes.

  ‘Bellissima!’ Alfonso agreed, as he waited patiently for a parking space. ‘But too many tourists!’

  They should see the Sant’Andrea cathedral in the middle of the town, Alfonso said. At which Gill rolled her eyes and murmured to Connie, ‘This could be another ABC day.’

  ‘ABC day?’

  ‘Another bloody church. Alfonso likes churches.’

  This church held the crypt of St Andrew who, Maggie informed Alfonso, was Scotland’s patron saint, and she was pleased that he was so well represented in these parts. And, of course, Connie was very well disposed to the name ‘Andrea’.

  It was 3 p.m. before Alfonso had studied Connie’s directions thoroughly over coffee, and they made their way eastwards out of Amalfi looking for a left turn to somewhere called Lamara, which could only be found by driving slowly and incurring the wrath of countless irate drivers behind, all tooting madly. ‘Farti fottere!’ he yelled back at them as they turned into a well-hidden, narrow road. It was well surfaced and they drove steadily upwards, looking for another left turn. This was so badly overgrown that they drove right past it and had to reverse to double-check that it really was a road.

  ‘Mamma mia!’ Alfonso nosed the car gingerly into the tiny opening and it was then that Connie spotted the sign, carved into a stone and just visible through the grass. Marigino. That was the name of her property! Of course! Maria and her brother, Gino!

  ‘That explains it!’ Connie exclaimed.

  They trundled along what was little more than an overgrown lane with a stony, bumpy surface and all manner of vegetation brushing the car on every side.

  ‘It’s for sure no one’s been up here in a very long time,’ Maggie remarked, as Connie wondered if it was humanly possible to drive Bella up this precarious pathway. It would be a challenge.

  They rattled on for a few minutes before the lane flattened and widened a little, goats scattering in every direction, and there seemed nowhere further to go.

  ‘Looks like we’ve arrived,’ Gill said, emerging from the front seat where she’d been holding Toto on her lap.

  Connie stepped out into a wilderness of trees, bushes and waist-high clumps of grass, interspersed with pink valerian and trailing asparagus fronds, all fighting for survival. It seemed such a tiny space that she wondered how a house could ever have been built here. But Alfonso was already ploughing his way through the surrounding jungle. ‘Look!’ he shouted.

  But the three paid scant attention as they stood transfixed by the view they could see through the trees, a panoramic vista of the Gulf of Salerno sparkling in the sun, while Toto ran round in circles, lifting his leg at every tree.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Connie exclaimed. ‘Will you just look at that!’ The emotion of the moment had got to her; not just the glorious view but also the feeling of ‘coming home’. She felt as if this little place had been waiting all these years for her to come and claim it. Perhaps there were no living blood relations in Italy, but she could almost feel the presence of her ancestors in the air around her. She was connected to this place; she belonged here.

  ‘That,’ said Maggie, ‘is one of the most fantastic views I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Out of this world!’ agreed Gill.

  ‘Look here!’ Alfonso yelled from behind as he extricated himself from a jungle of bushes and weeds. ‘I have your house!’

  Stumbling through the undergrowth, Connie could decipher what was left of a wall, and then noticed that this wall formed a large erratic square. She noticed further stones strewn everywhere, many covered in tenacious rock plants, but hardly enough to form walls.

  ‘You clear this,’ Alfonso shouted, waving his arms around, ‘you find stones everywhere. Maybe some taken away though.’

  ‘Do you mean stolen?’ Connie asked, looking around in awe. She spied some wild lilies and wild thyme with its tiny mauve flowers and reckoned she could make a wonderful garden here.

  ‘Sure. People take nice stones. This land not belong to anyone, they think.’ At this point a stray goat emerged from the background and shot past them.

  This house, Connie thought, looking towards the sea, must have had the most stupendous view, particularly from the first floor, if they had one.

  ‘Why on earth would my ancestors ever have wanted to leave this idyllic spot?’ she wondered aloud.

  Alfonso sighed. ‘Work. Always work. To make money they go to Napoli.’ He continued kicking around amongst the stones. ‘You also have many ancient olive trees here.’

  ‘And Ringer would never find us here,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Stop worrying about that man!’ Connie ordered. ‘He’s obviously given u
p the chase weeks ago!’

  ‘You are being troubled?’ Alfonso, flattening down some of the surrounding bushes, plainly had excellent hearing.

  ‘No, no,’ Maggie said hastily. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘The area isn’t very big, is it?’ Gill said, looking around.

  ‘Ah, but when it is cleared, you will see!’ Alfonso stretched his arms out wide.

  ‘I can quite see why they wanted to build here.’ Connie looked down at the sheer drop through the trees towards the sea. ‘There’ll need to be a wall here,’ she said, imagining grandchildren tumbling into oblivion. Then, turning to the others: ‘Oh my goodness, this is doing my head in!’

  ‘Take it easy, Connie!’ Maggie placed a soothing hand on Connie’s shoulder. ‘You have plenty of time to decide what to do.’

  Connie was taking photo after photo on her phone. She’d email them to the kids, bearing in mind that Nick, the architect, in particular would be fascinated. As she took photos of the ruins of the house, she wondered why it had fallen into such disrepair. Perhaps it hadn’t been built very well in the first place or perhaps there’d been an earthquake. After all, earthquakes were common in Italy. And then she stumbled on a piece of wood, half buried in the undergrowth. And there, still just visible, was carved an elaborate arrangement of vine leaves. A piece of the door of the house that she’d seen in the old photograph! She had definitely arrived at the ancestral home!

  Alfonso was now squinting upwards. ‘I can see houses up there,’ he said.

  Connie followed his gaze and could make out the roofs of buildings further up through the trees.

  ‘Is good,’ he said. ‘So there is electric and maybe water, not too far. Or there may be a spring here. We must look.’

  Connie sat down on a patch of dry, dusty grass, totally overwhelmed. The ever-thoughtful Alfonso had produced four cans of beer from the boot of his car and, as they all gulped thirstily, Gill asked, ‘So, Connie, was it worth coming all this way for this?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Connie replied with feeling. ‘It was! It was!’

  Twenty-Seven

  ALTERCATION

  There had been rain overnight. Connie, sleepless, could hear the drumming on Bella’s roof as she went over and over the visit to Marigino in her head. She knew she shouldn’t get excited yet; there would be endless red tape involved. But, deep down in her very soul, she felt a certainty that the place was hers. That she would be reclaiming the land of the Martiluccis. Yes, she’d been bitterly disappointed not to have found any relatives, but this unexpected inheritance did do something to compensate. Then she worried again that she’d be unable to get Bella up that narrow track. After that she worried about the other two, because now she was in no great hurry to return to England. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind flying home from Naples? But that would mean driving Bella home on her own eventually. Then she remembered that the things you most worried about were the least likely to happen. But she worried anyway.

  Last night she and Maggie had discussed the day’s events over a bottle of prosecco and far too many Limoncellos. Now she felt dehydrated and, at six o’clock, she gave up on the idea of sleep, got up, let the dog out for a pee, and filled the kettle for a cup of tea. She was looking forward to a blissful day here on her own. Well, with the dog. Gill, of course, was still in Positano with Alfonso, and Maggie – for no apparent reason – wanted to go to Naples again. She wasn’t interested particularly in shopping or sightseeing, so Connie assumed that she, too, needed her own space. Maggie, still enigmatic at times, would have her reasons. And she, Connie, had not had a day to herself for what seemed like months. She might have a wander round Sorrento, or she might just sit in the sun, or she might even go for a swim if she could tie Toto up somewhere.

  * * *

  Maggie sat down at the little bar, close to the station, where she and Connie had sat a couple of days earlier, and considered the enormity of what she had done. And now she urgently needed to make some calls back home. The third number she needed to call wasn’t listed on her phone. Bugger! It was probably in her diary though and she started to rummage in her new shoulder bag before she remembered. Ringer had the damned diary.

  Then she remembered.

  Maggie sat up with a jolt. She’d scribbled the address of their little site in Sorrento and directions on how to get there in the diary when she made the booking in Rome, prior to entering it in her phone. She felt a chill creep through her body; now she knew what it meant when something made your blood run cold. Because Connie was there on her own, in the motorhome. Two of their neighbours had moved on that morning and the remaining one was normally empty during the day when they took themselves off in their car.

  Funny then that there had been no sign of him so far. He would have had ample opportunity to find Bella yesterday when they were out, but he hadn’t. Probably because there had been a lot of people around yesterday. Maggie knew her money was still intact because she’d checked it again this morning, as she did every day.

  But, without a doubt, he knew exactly where they were. And here she was in Naples, with Connie on her own in Sorrento with only a stupid hairy little mongrel for company.

  Maggie slammed five euros on the table and, without finishing her drink, bolted to the station.

  * * *

  Not only did Connie have Bella to herself, but she had the site to herself. Two of their neighbours had moved on earlier, and the Dutch couple at the far end had taken off for the day in their Smart Car. She looked at the dog. ‘You stay put while I have a shower,’ she instructed Toto as she closed the outside door.

  After she’d dried herself and got dressed she contemplated walking up to the town. She wondered how the dog would behave himself, because she couldn’t very well leave him shut in here. Connie poured herself a cold orange juice, opened the outside door again, put her feet up and dreamed again of what she might do to her inherited property.

  She could hear what she thought was a scooter. Then she heard footsteps approaching and saw a shadow fall across the doorway. ‘Hi, Maggie, is that you back already?’ So much for my peaceful day, she thought. Then she froze as the stockily built crew-cutted male came slowly through the door and turned into the kitchen. He had steely blue eyes and a menacing smile and she saw, with horror, as the blade glinted in the sun, that he was carrying a knife.

  ‘Where is she?’ he asked calmly.

  ‘Who?’ Connie tried to keep her voice steady as she set the tumbler of orange juice onto the table with trembling fingers. The dog, who’d been sitting on the settee with her, started to growl.

  ‘You know bloody well who!’ His Glaswegian accent was still strong. ‘Where’s Maggie?’

  ‘She’s not here,’ Connie replied. ‘As you can see.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait, and I’ll start looking for some of my money while I’m waiting.’

  Connie thought quickly. ‘No, she’s gone. Away. On a plane. And there’s no money here.’

  ‘Lying cow!’ He pointed the knife at Connie as he walked backwards towards the bunks. Then, with one deft movement, he slit through the sheet and mattress cover on the top bunk and slid his hand underneath, retrieving some twenty-pound notes as he did so.

  ‘Thing is,’ he said, casually popping the notes into the pocket of his shorts, ‘she’d never go away and leave her money behind. Not Maggie.’ He glared at Connie. ‘And I know how her mind works. They’ll be stashed in every bloody place where she thinks I won’t look.’

  Connie gulped. There was no way she could make a run for it because he was now standing between her and the door. And there was no one around if she yelled. Toto, in the meantime, continued to emit a low growl. All she could think of was to let him take all his bloody money and go. Go out of their lives and leave them in peace. She watched as he sliced an area of carpet alongside the bunks, and then began to feel cold fury welling up inside her. How dare he mutilate Bella like this! He’s going to rampage his way through my precious Bella, cutting anything he thi
nks might contain money.

  She had a sudden idea. Would it work? At least it would give her time.

  ‘If you want to know where most of the money is,’ she told Ringer, ‘I can show you, if only you’ll stop wrecking everything.’

  He bundled some notes into his rucksack and studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘I never wanted this money here in the first place,’ Connie said truthfully. ‘And now I just want you to find it, get out, and leave us in peace.’

  He hesitated for a moment.

  ‘There’s a panel behind the toilet,’ she continued. ‘It’s down there near the floor and I think it’s used for accessing the pipes. You’ll need a screwdriver though.’

  ‘Behind the toilet?’ Ringer considered for a moment. ‘That sounds like Maggie,’ he muttered as he walked towards the front. Thank God he seemed convinced. Connie had no idea if Maggie had hidden notes in there or not as she rummaged in the kitchen drawer for the set of screwdrivers. In the meantime, the little dog, his hackles up, was still growling at Ringer.

  ‘Here!’ she said, handing him the set. ‘One of these should do the job.’

  He stared at her for a moment, then said, ‘Don’t get any bloody ideas about running away.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Connie said calmly. ‘I just want you and the cash gone.’

  He snatched the screwdrivers and studied them for a moment, before he delivered a kick at Toto, who yelped.

  ‘You don’t have to hurt the dog!’ Connie shouted.

  He ignored her. ‘There’s no bloody room in here!’ he snapped as he got down on his hands and knees in the shower room.

  ‘Not a lot,’ she agreed.

  She watched as he crouched down at an awkward angle to best access the panel, accompanied by much grunting and swearing. She bent to stroke the dog, who continued growling, plainly a good judge of character. He’d most likely been mistreated in the past and could smell trouble.