Under a Tuscan Sky. Karen Aldous

a big leap of faith in myself.’

      Olivia placed her coffee mug on a coaster on her desk. It had a picture of a skier in a bikini, and underneath it read, “At your age, people expect you to be mature, wise, and sensible – Disillusion them.” She smirked as she lifted her head and looked at the clock. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll have some fun.’

      She looked at the clock. ‘I need to get ready for Mrs Getts.’ Olivia opened her cupboard and took out a hanger containing a clean uniform: a pair of white trousers and a white tunic with navy piping. She headed for the cloakroom door inside the spacious office, but – like a dog with a bone – Chiara needed to scrape out the marrow, and as Olivia washed her hands in the modern square washbasin, her friend persisted.

      ‘Please, Liv. Take some time to think. You deserve to be happy, of course you do, but give Will a chance to put things right. You’d be stupid to let him go and him, you. I do feel sure you can make it work. I’m the same age and having a child.’

      With wet hands, Olivia grabbed a paper towel and peered around the door. Chiara was finding all this hard to accept. ‘Don’t feel responsible. A decision is made and I will manage. It’s not going to work with Will – ever. Accept it. What is the point of having a child anyway if our relationship isn’t sound now? He’ll take a few weeks off football and go back to it; I know he will. That’s what he did before.’

      Chiara stood gazing at her with her cheeks puffing out. ‘Really? I still can’t believe it. In just a few days, you seem so resolved.’

      Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Olivia pinched her cheeks. She didn’t look or feel forty – a few lines, but barely any signs of grey in her hair. She kept herself fit by running every day and according to Will, she was still attractive. She smoothed her chin, running her hands up to her ears. Doubt nibbled. Was she capable of looking after herself? Was she really prepared? Was Chiara right? Should she just settle for Will and try for a family?

      ‘I am resolved, really. Trust me. I was probably only in love with the idea of being in love.’

      ‘Liv, one photo and you’re being dramatic. You barely knew your Italian grandparents compared to Nora and Ronnie, here. I can’t understand how they are influencing you so much. And Will … I just hope you don’t live to regret it. Jesus, you’re no spring chicken.’

      Turning to face her friend, Olivia took a deep breath before the sting hurt. ‘Thanks for that, dearest friend. The least you can do is respect my wishes.’ She marched over to a fitted wall cupboard.

      Chiara skipped close behind and stepped in front of her. ‘I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I love you, I like to tell you straight, and I care.’ Chiara then opened her arms, leaning forward to give her business partner and close friend a hug. ‘Oh God, I hope you haven’t gone mad, Liv? I’m sorry.’

      Liv squeezed Chiara’s shoulders. ‘I’m only letting you off because you’re hormonal. I’ve woken up, that’s all. Will was forever making excuses and pulling delay tactics. It needed addressing and now I need to move on. I’m making a fresh start and going to Italy without him. It will do me good, I’m sure. Besides, clearing out Nonna’s house could be therapeutic. It might take me longer on my own but I have to do it – the agent emailed this morning. He has people waiting to see it.’

      ‘Oh, Liv. I wish I could be more use but with two of us away, the business doesn’t work. I suppose I sort of understand. If your heart isn’t in it. And poor you having all that crap to deal with; you haven’t even been over there long enough to be fluent in the everyday language, let alone the legal jargon.’

      ‘Stop worrying about me. You have your own expanding family to think of now, soon-to-be Mrs Watts.’ Olivia gently pressed her hand on her friend’s baby bump before picking up and pulling her trousers off their hanger. ‘Mrs Chiara Watts, sexy wife to Liam, marvellous mother to Sophia and bump, and unarguably the most amazing domesticated goddess that ever lived.’

      ‘Of course. And still pseudo-sis to the amazing Olivia Montague. Just be sure to call me if you need help in Italy.’

      ‘I will, silly.’

      ‘And I want to know everything. The lawyer will know; grill him. It still strikes me as odd that your mother doesn’t take responsibility for the estate or want her inheritance. I mean, at least you lived with Nora and Ronnie – you knew much more about their affairs.’

      ‘Yes, well we both know my mum has always been odd. That will never change.’

      ‘Yes, but then dragging you away from the funeral like that, and me. She’s totally gaga.’

      ‘Well, like we said before, maybe she has remarried and doesn’t want her new husband to know about me. I don’t know. Maybe she is ashamed to let any of her friends or Nonna’s friends know she has a daughter. Who knows? She flits around so much I don’t suppose she had anyone long-term in her life. None of what she does makes sense to me. Never has.’

Chapter 3

      The next few days flew by and Olivia was beginning to feel and act like she was more in control, like a bird inching out of the nest. She had taken the first step and, somehow, she would manage clearing Nonna’s possessions and property, even drive without relying on Will or Chiara’s input.

      Emptying and tidying her desk late Thursday afternoon, before her flight early Friday morning, she realized fate or instinct had intervened – just like it had when setting up the business with Chiara five years ago. Back then she’d received the inheritance from her London grandparents who had virtually raised her.

      Olivia had insisted they go equal partners in the business when Chiara wasn’t able to equal the funding she had put in. But to her, the guiding principle was she wished to share the good fortune with her friend, after all Chiara had shared with her. She’d told her that sharing the skills and burden of a new business was equally important. Eventually Chiara was convinced, and so their Osteopathic Clinic was born. It was a fifty-fifty commitment.

      Like that obligation, there was no doubt sometimes she would get it wrong and find herself struggling, particularly – she imagined – when driving in Italy. Chiara had aired concerns again during the week, Olivia recalled.

      ‘Naturally, I worry you’ve been stressed and you’re still grieving. I wouldn’t want you to go into one of your panics,’ Chiara had said.

      ‘It’s very kind of you, but honestly, I’ll have a satnav in the car and I need to work at it,’ she’d told her. ‘I’ll take it slowly.’

      She loved Chiara, but wondered if she was becoming overprotective, or whether it had become such a habit she couldn’t shake it. Nonetheless, she was beginning to feel like a child. Unless, of course, something in her had changed.

      ‘I’m sure clearing Nonna’s things will help. It’ll be therapeutic, certainly less emotionally draining than Gran and Grandad’s. At least I wasn’t so attached to Nonna.’ Olivia had hugged her friend. ‘OK. Appointments reshuffled where necessary. I should be a couple of weeks max.’

      Chiara had stepped back and leaned against Olivia’s desk. ‘We’ll miss you. Skype or DM me if anything changes,’ she’d said folding her arms, ‘and don’t do anything outrageous. My heart and hormones won’t take it.’

      ‘I’ll try not to. Let me grow up, sis.’

      ***

      Leaving the office a little early allowed her to pop in to the Bureau de Change, and Boots the chemist on the way, for euros and last-minute toiletries. She was arranging small piles of clothes on her freshly laundered bed when she heard Will’s key in the front door and his familiar kick of the door.

      ‘Will?’

      ‘Yup.’

      ‘I’m upstairs packing.’

      ‘Is it OK to