What Happens In Tuscany.... T Williams A
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Katie sat in the lounge by the entrance to the fancy restaurant for almost half an hour, waiting in vain for Dean to turn up. On Jenny’s advice, and against her better judgement, she had chosen to take him out for an expensive dinner to celebrate his birthday. The hope was that maybe, just maybe, this might inject some romance, or at least some interest into their relationship. As eight o’clock came and went without sight of him, and the rather forbidding maître d’hôtel started giving her ever frostier glances, she muttered an excuse and headed out of the door, determined to seek him out. She knew that after football matches he and his mates usually went to the Lighter Inn, just a few hundred yards away in the middle of Bournemouth.
The rain was coming down hard and, in spite of her umbrella, her feet and legs were wet by the time she got there. This didn’t improve her rapidly deteriorating mood. As she splashed up to the entrance she could hear that the pub was packed. She left her umbrella in a bucket by the door and squeezed her way inside. The noise was deafening and it took her a while to get her bearings. Unsurprisingly, the noisiest spot was where the football players were, over by the bar. She thought she glimpsed Dean’s head for a second, but then she lost sight of him again. With difficulty, she made her way through the crowd towards him. As she approached the bar, she heard a chorus of hoots and whistles, and she was almost knocked over as a bunch of men pressed back towards her. She struggled to keep her balance and pushed forward until she managed to reach the bar and stand on the bar rail. This allowed her to see over the heads of some of the shorter players. The scene that greeted her was definitely not what she wanted to see.
In the midst of the throng of men, a woman was just in the process of peeling off the last of her clothes. She had dyed blonde hair, implausibly huge breast implants and enough fake tan to probably make her glow in the dark. From the sequins and glitter sticking to her body and the breathtaking height of her heels, she was clearly a professional. The two men behind the bar were protesting half-heartedly, but appeared to be making no attempt to stop proceedings. As Katie looked on in horror, the girl tossed her thong into the crowd and stepped forward. Directly in front of her was Dean. He was holding a half empty pint glass and you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to see that he was very, very drunk.
The woman stretched a pair of no doubt experienced arms around his neck and pulled his face down towards her bust. To Katie’s horror, Dean disappeared into her cleavage, to reappear seconds later with a silly smile on his face. His hands dropped to her bare bottom and cries of ‘Go for it, Deano,’ and ‘Get in there, boy,’ resounded around the room.
Katie had had enough by this time. She turned and retraced her steps towards the door as fast as she could. She was so furious she was shaking. When she finally managed to reach the entrance, she saw the rain coming down even harder and the pavement swimming with water. To add insult to injury, she saw to her fury that somebody had stolen her umbrella.
Nevertheless, determined to get away from there at all costs, she launched herself out into the downpour. It seemed to take forever to get back to the car and, by the time she reached it, she was soaked through to her underwear. Her hair was plastered down onto her head and an icy stream was running down her back. She unlocked the door and slid into the driving seat. How could he be so stupid, so uncouth and so inconsiderate? What sort of man stands his girlfriend up on his birthday and drinks himself stupid? And getting himself involved with a stripper? She was appalled, soaked and freezing.
But at least this resolved one problem for her. This last straw had broken her camel’s back and she knew that this latest disappointment marked the end of things between them. She went back to the flat, packed a couple of bags and headed round to Jenny’s house.
‘How about this one, Katie? It sounds weird enough to be right up your street.’
‘Am I that weird?’
Katie looked up from the Situations Vacant pages of the newspaper where she had been hunting for, well, just about any job that was going. She had even briefly considered one advert looking for volunteers to join the crew of a raft on a transatlantic crossing. It would have been a really good way of making the big change she was seeking after the events of the past few months, but finally, she had given up on that one for two good reasons. First, she had no experience of sailing and second, she thought people who wanted to do something like that must be stark, raving mad.
‘Anybody looking at the small ads in The Lady at your age has got to be pretty strange.’ It was clear from her tone that Jenny didn’t approve. Or at least that she didn’t understand just how desperately Katie wanted out; out of the job that had been driving her mad and away from the shattered remains of a relationship that had gone sour. It had been with a sigh of relief and high, high hopes for the future that Katie had bidden farewell to her job at what she had come to refer to as the Awful Bloody School for Girls. These high hopes had lasted less than a week before a severe attack of reality had set in. If she didn’t find something soon, she knew that, degree or no degree, she might be reduced to working in a bar or a fast food restaurant, most likely serving burgers to her former pupils. When you’ve been a teacher for almost ten years, employers can’t seem to think of you as anything but a teacher, however badly you want to make the change. The idea of buying The Lady had been an act of desperation, but if that was what it would take…
Katie glanced around the lounge bar of the Crown and Sceptre. At this time of the evening it was almost empty. Her eyes alighted upon the bored-looking girl behind the bar. She shook her head, near to despair. That could be her in a few weeks’ time if she didn’t find something soon.
‘So, do you want to hear this advert?’ Jenny’s voice brought her back to the present.
Katie pulled herself together and looked across at her friend. ‘Yes, go on then. Read it out.’
Jenny’s support over the past months since the break-up with Dean had been invaluable. They had known each other since school, but Jenny’s career choice had been much more successful than hers. After a degree in business studies, she had opened a kitchen design studio, and business was booming. This evening she was taking time out to help Katie in her search for employment. It wasn’t easy.
‘I tell you this, Katie, I’ve never picked up a copy of The Lady before. It’s like reading something from a bygone age. I imagine the good folk at Downton Abbey recruited their staff through its pages. And this advert sounds like it was written by Lord Whatsisname himself. Here you go: “Wanted female companion and guide for English lady of good family. Residential position based in Devon and Tuscany. Would suit cordial and acquiescent person without ties. Excellent remuneration.”’ She snorted. ‘Who in the hell wrote that? “Of good family?” Who says that these days? And, “cordial and acquiescent?” I’m not even sure I can remember what acquiescent means. Unbelievable!’
‘Acquiescent means willing to do what you’re told. Sounds like they’re looking for a servant by another name. Probably to look after some old bat.’ Katie paused for a moment. She couldn’t afford to be too choosy after all. ‘Mind you, “Excellent remuneration” sounds good and it does say Tuscany. Maybe I’ll apply anyway. You never know.’
‘You’re crazy.’ There was no doubt in Jenny’s voice. ‘Just don’t come to me for sympathy when you find yourself emptying bedpans and pushing some old trout around in a bath chair.’ Nevertheless, she drew a red ring around the advert in the Personal column and handed it across. Then she eyed the empty glasses on the table in front of them. ‘Same again?’
‘Oh, yes, please. Thanks, Jen.’ Katie nodded vacantly and busied herself collecting the newspapers and magazines and sorting the few vaguely hopeful adverts they had found. Apart from the Tuscany one, there were only two others, neither ideal. While Jenny got the drinks, Katie checked back through them. One was a travel firm looking for a guide who spoke Italian to accompany groups of cycle tourists around Italy. Although she qualified as far as Italian was concerned, she hadn’t touched a bike for ten years. The other was for a private tutor to teach