A Life Sublime (2 page)

“Make yourself useful. I will be in my room.”

Sofia kissed him on the cheek. “You need to relax some more. You’re starting to look more like Paul’s father and less like his brother. Go swimming.”

He laughed at her lack of tact and made his way up the stairs. He preferred the villa this way. Strange how new furniture, paint and tiles could erase the history of a place that had stood for eight hundred years.

Belinda couldn’t help smiling at the balmy heat that swept over her as she stepped from the plane.
As good as Ghana
, she thought. Gina nudged her in the back with a denim covered knee. “Come on Auntie, there’s lounging to be had!”

“Lounging? What is lounging?” Sometimes she couldn’t understand a word that came out of the girl’s mouth. Just like her mother. Mouthy, short, curvy, and odd. For a girl a few days from her wedding, not a single worry marred her features. The nut brown skin of her face remained clear, framed by her shoulder length oak coloured hair. Not even a single shadow darkened her large eyes. She only seemed excited and Belinda couldn’t be happier for her. It had been quite a road for the two of them, the past year.

Delighted surprise at Gina appearing on her doorstep with Belinda’s favourite food had given way to an instinctive and suspicious need to know what the girl was up to. Most of their arguments came from Belinda’s deep rooted insecurity that she would be turfed out of yet another person’s life without a moment’s hesitation.

After quite a bit of brass-faced cheek, backbiting, a lot of, “Auntie, you’ve got to learn not to interfere so much!” definitely far too much of, “If your father knew you were talking to me like this!” repeated, “I am an adult!” biblical amounts of, “Do you think I’d say this if I didn’t care?” they had found a comfort zone.

More than that, Belinda saw her best friend in her daughter’s quick mouth and by the same turn Gina eventually admitted her understanding as to why Belinda and her mother had been such good friends. After one particularly bruising row, Gina sat down next to Belinda and said, “I get the feeling I would have been like this with my mum.”

“Rude?” Belinda retorted, still singed from the argument.

“Well, look. I haven’t had anyone question my morality in a while. And I haven’t had anyone bullying me to go to church! But I know you’re doing it because you care about me.”

“Don’t know why, you’re so
rude
.”

Gina wrapped her arms around her aunt tightly, “I’m over thirty so I like to think of it as honesty, not rudeness.”

“I’m not a busybody,” Belinda added, trying not to melt at the hug.

She squeezed tighter. “You are a bit.”

“It’s concern!”

“I get it. Just let me get used to it.”

“You could pray about it.”

Gina gave a long-suffering sigh and the row started all over again. The girl learned to do as she was told if her aunt’s feathers were to remain unruffled. It was a system that worked if the younger woman was to have her much lauded peace and quiet. She felt free and easy to talk the girl’s ear off until the cows came home.

“Go on! Challenge me!” Belinda had bellowed once, much to her niece’s sustained amusement. It had taken a week for the two women to speak without the younger laughing immediately.

 Her niggling doubt as to her place in her niece’s life disappeared when she was handed an invitation to the wedding.

“Don’t worry about your flight, your dress or anything, Auntie. You just have to be there and that’s all I’ll need.”

Resisting the urge to cry, Belinda caught Gina’s hand, sat her down and started an enormous list of things they needed to do. Still, the invitation was not withdrawn and now, the day was almost upon them.

“You can’t be lazing about, we’ve got cooking to do. Are you sure you’ve got enough palm cream?”

“Like ten tins and it’s enough for soup to feed fifty people,” Gina said with exasperation. She was repeatedly exasperated in Belinda’s presence.

“Don’t take that tone with me Georgina. You’re not too old to get a slap from me.”

She began to laugh. “What? We checked when we packed it a week ago. We double checked when it arrived at the villa. I don’t know why you’re so worried. The party’s tomorrow and we’re in Italy.”

“It’s not a party, it’s a serious ceremony!”

“Not like we can take a short trip to Peckham and buy a few anyway.”

“Why are you trying my patience?”

She pressed her lips together and stretched her arms above her head as they walked toward customs. “You should relax. I don’t want to stress myself. I’m not going to stress myself.”

“Hmm.”

“Everything’s done. Lyds sorted out the cloth, Sofia’s sorted everything else, Nick’s bought whatever it was on the two page list you gave him and all we have to do is turn up. Customary rites tomorrow, the rehearsal dinner’s the next day and then wedding. Boom. Wait until you see the villa, it’s beautiful by all accounts, done up all shiny and new. You’ll be so chilled by the time you get back to London.”

Belinda groaned. “
Abasama
, Georgina. You talk too much.”

She received a kiss on the cheek for her troubles and was hustled through Naples customs and to collect their luggage. Not knowing what to expect, Belinda packed her entire wardrobe. Gina eyed the luggage and burst out laughing. “What is all that? We’re going for less than a week!”

“This is nothing. Very light.” Belinda was grateful Gina held back giggles as she handed over her card to pay for the excess baggage. Bloody British Airways. They came into the airport lounge and Gina was half knocked over by the tall other mouthy child Gina was such good friends with. The Ebony/Ivory bookends. “Viva Italia!” they sang together, bouncing up and down.

“I can’t wait for you to see what Massimo let me do to the pool. It looks ridiculous. Belinda!” Sofia crowed.

Belinda lifted an eyebrow. Gina nudged Sofia who frowned, muttering, “What?” Another nudge finally gave her the realisation of what needed to be said. “Oh bugger, sorry. Aunt Belinda. How are you?”

“I’m all right. The flight was quick.”

“Fabulous … we’ve got a driver to take us to the villa. It’s about an hour to get to the villa as it’s just outside Sorrento, Sant’Agnello. So we can either get a coffee now or just go straight there.”

“I think we should go straight to the villa. There’s a lot to be done.”

Sofia slipped her arm around Belinda’s neck. “No, there really isn’t. All we have to do is relax and put a few outfits on. By the way, my Ghana cloth arrived and that dress maker needs a bonus. My bottom looks phenomenal.”

“And who is going to do all the cooking for the customary rites?”

Gina pitched in, “We’re all going to help. Everyone will be here either by tonight or first thing tomorrow. Like I said, no stress.”

Belinda could tell she wanted to stay and have a girls chat with her friend. “I’ll take the luggage and go to the villa. No,” she insisted over their immediate protest, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure your father-in-law will be friendly.”

Sofia’s green eyes glowed with amusement, “He’s always friendly.” They made their way to the huge town car. The hired driver piled the luggage into the boot before helping Belinda inside. “Auntie, don’t lift a finger. Just…”

“Teacher
yaatsi,
” Belinda huffed. “I heard you. Relax.”

The door closed and she heard Sofia saying, “Has that woman ever relaxed?” And the sharp yell following Gina’s, “Behave!”

The driver took off, leaving Belinda to stroke her hands over the butter soft leather interior of the car. Nick may be a bad boy, but he was a bad boy with class. It took a good half an hour before the coastline burst into view. The sky was such a bright blue, the sea misted into it, each seamlessly drifting into the other. The car travelled higher into the hills, but the sea was still within reach. Belinda had grown up in a fishing village and spent her childhood on a beach. She could almost smell sea salt and she closed her eyes briefly. A lump rose in her throat, feeling a strange and instant affinity with a place she’d never been to before. Pulling herself together, she closed the window and waited for the journey to end.

The door opened abruptly and she was helped out of the car by a young man with sharp features and an ice coolness to his bright blue eyes. Another Da Canaveze boy. “
Zia
Belinda? I’m Paul, Nick’s brother.”

“Thank you,” she said, startled by his politeness.

His brows came together in concern. “Sofia told me you were coming alone. You could have stayed with the girls and shopped in Napoli. There isn’t much to do.”

Belinda nearly kissed her teeth. “Why is everyone forgetting the customary rites?”

“The Ghanaian party, right?” Paul held up a hand. “I’m sorry. One moment.” In rapid Italian he shot off what sounded like commands. “He’ll take the luggage to your rooms.”

“Rooms?”

“Yes, you have an en suite. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re mother of the bride.” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. People really needed to stop shocking her. “Come outside for now. When Gina and Sofia come back, we can do a proper tour.”

“Hmm, you’re much nicer than I thought you’d be.”

Paul sent her a half smile. Goodness, he was a very handsome boy. “I’ve had my moments.” He led her to where five stone pillars supported what looked like a football pitch of a balcony, underneath, a terrazzo setting of cosy chairs and a long, wooden table. The gardens stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“The vineyards are that way. The olive grove is to the right, and up there is the swimming area. This terrace before the sea and that tree is where we’ll have the ceremony. We can have the customary rites under the
loggia
. This bit here with the pillars.”

Belinda really wanted to close her mouth but it was exquisite. “What’s that?” She nodded to a distant peak in the midst of the vibrant, blue water.

“That’s Capri.” Paul looked down at her. “We can do a boat tour tomorrow. Or after the customary rites,” he added finally heeding the expression on her face. “You should definitely go before the week’s up.”

“We’ll see if we have time,” Belinda said, desperate not to be swayed by the beauty of the place.

“Come up this way, you get a better view.”

They took several stone steps upward where the view of the sea ran at a panoramic level along the pool, designed so it looked as though the water merged with the sea. A natural swimmer, Belinda felt quite smug in packing her swimming costume. Someone was rapidly moving through the pool.

“Dad,” Paul called, “
Zia
Belinda’s here.”

The figure in the pool cut through the water like a razor and heaved himself onto the edge. So that was the Big Man. He stood up and Belinda lost the breath in her lungs. Slick, black hair was pushed from a high Roman forehead, his whole body a deep manuka honey glazed colour. Water trickled from his broad shoulders, down a well-defined chest a man half his age would be proud of, to black trunks over sinewy legs and long, elegant looking feet. He tugged goggles from his eyes.

“Belinda, forgive me. Time ran away from me and I forgot you were on your way. Did you have a good flight?”

Her mouth opened for words to form but she really couldn’t see above his chest and that was nothing to do with her being long sighted either. It should have been clear that with two very good-looking children in their thirties, their father would be just as attractive, but this was nonsense!

Massimo frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Can you cover yourself please?” she said irritably, her cheeks blazing with heat. Massimo picked up a towelling robe and finally put his body away. She needed a fan. A chair. Air conditioning. Or she could just jump in the pool until he went away. Goodness, she hadn’t behaved like this since she saw David Bowie in concert.

“I apologise. Has Paul offered you a drink?”

“I was getting to that, Dad,” Paul replied with a sigh.

“I’d quite like to have a bit of sleep.” Belinda insisted, quite eager to be alone now, preferably with the Bible and her rosary beads.

“Of course. You know which rooms she has?”