A/N: Thank you for all your reviews and kind comments, and I do hope you enjoy Chapter 2. I know it's a bit on the long side, but the scene is now set for it all to begin.
-OG-
There wasn't a hotel, not that she could see anyway, not a bus stop either, instead there was this bit of a gap between the buildings where she could see the whole resort spread out down below from where they were. If she hadn't known better, she'd have said it was the sea she was looking at, it was bloody hard to believe it was a lake when it was so big she couldn't see the other end. It was all misty and the water was loads of different colours, all sorts of blues and greens and sort of turquoise where it was closest to the shore. And it was glittering like diamonds where the sun was hitting it. The mountains on both sides were all hazy and misty as well and there were rocky outcrops where the mountains met the water, one which had the ruins of a castle on it, and there were hundreds of little boats parked or moored or whatever they call it near the edges. The whole place was so bloody magic she'd have loved to have someone to share what she felt, but one look at his face was enough to put the kibosh on that little idea.
"Wow"
"Indeed"
There was something about the way he sounded that made her look at him a little bit sharpish, his face was filmed with sweat and his jaw was clenched in a way that made every instinct scream at her to ask him if he was okay. She would have done if he'd been anyone else and hadn't been quite so shitty and downright fucking unfriendly, still he wasn't the only one all sweaty, was he? She was dripping as well, so maybe it was just that he wasn't Superman after all.
"That's the Aldo there"
He pointed up another very steep incline to a sprawling white building with blue shutters closed up tight and a sprinkler or a fountain or something going in the front garden. He didn't wait for her to say anything, just gave this little nod, still without smiling or anything and began to walk away. He wasn't thinking anything other than he had to keep moving or he was going to be totally fucked. He knew he still had roughly 200 metres to go, and If he was right, and he was pretty sure he was, she was about to be told to fuck off and then what the hell was he going to do with her. Put her on a bus maybe, because even the idea of walking anywhere made beads of sweat appear on his forehead and upper lip.
"Right … you'll be okay from here"
It wasn't a question, it was more that he was determined not to leave any room for doubt, not when he was already gritting his teeth against the burning pain in his leg.
"Yeah … " She hitched her pack up slightly, and then giggled and waved her arm up and down in an exaggerated bit of play acting "No rigor mortis yet so I can't be dead, must just be dead tired I guess" Oh fuck, one look at his face and she knew it had been a major mistake trying to be funny, what the fuck was she doing trying to lighten him up a bit? And it wasn't even funny, was it? Just a lame attempt at being nice or something.
"Anyway … ummm … ta, thanks for... well, you know … your help 'n that … I'd of been a bit stuffed else"
He waved a hand over his shoulder without looking back at her and just carried on walking away as she stumbled through her thank you speech, even though she wanted to say but I'd of managed, Arsehole. Not very grateful, or even necessarily true, but it was obvious he wasn't the slightest bit interested in listening to her, or heaven bloody forbid, being friendly, having a chat. But still, Molly found herself watching him as he walked away. Apart from whatever it was that was bugging her so much about him, just for a split second she could have sworn she saw him wince and that he wasn't exactly limping just walking a bit uneven, but then decided it was her imagining things. Anyway, even if both his legs fell off it was none of her bloody business, was it? She was on holidays from all that.
All she hoped was that everyone else turned out to be a bit more friendly than him.
She stood for a couple more minutes and did her deep breathing thing, trying to relax. She was also trying to do the impossible and smooth out the shirt she'd thought was such a bargain in TK Maxx. The one she'd bought thinking it would be perfect for travelling and arriving looking good but which turned out would never have passed her usual test of going in the dryer and coming out looking ironed. Bloody thing was creased to buggery, looked like she'd been to bed in it.
But there was nothing she could do about that, was there? Nothing she could do about anything for that matter, except do her best to paste her happy and confident expression on her gob. Not exactly the easiest when she was melting in a puddle of sweat. This whole getting there thing was a long way away from how she'd seen it happening in her head.
-OG-
He didn't need to be told that what he'd just done was stupid beyond belief but the minute he got through the door he'd grabbed a handful of strong pain killers and washed them down with a healthy slug of whisky. And then sat and waited for his breathing to go back to normal. He wasn't stupid, not all the time anyway, he knew full well that mixing alcohol and pain meds was only storing up problems for further down the line, but it had knocked the pain on the head, and the aftermath of the hangover and persistent dull ache in his leg seemed a small price to pay. He was also uncomfortably aware that it was ridiculous to be ignoring the significance of the pain, he could no longer pretend it was simple muscle strain from being unfite had or that he wasn't breaking every glib promise he'd made about watching out. It was undeniably stupid and stubborn to refuse to listen to his own body, but he was heartily sick of that body not feeling like his own.
The medics had battled the odds and kept him alive long enough to get back to Bastion, they'd simply refused to give up, as had the others when they'd fought a tenacious battle to put him back together. Not that he'd known anything about it at the time, all he could remember of that day was this sudden blinding flash of sheer agony in his stomach, a lot of confused shouting and gun shots and then an equally agonising pain in his leg. And then oblivion.
Successive teams of doctors and nurses and physios, eventually including the psyche team, had won against odds that were heavily stacked against him, and a spell at Headley had taken care of all the remaining dragons, until after what felt like a lifetime, he'd been pronounced cured. Almost. There was always the proviso that he needed to remain vigilant, and at the time he'd agreed without hesitation. Mind you, at the time he'd have agreed to virtually anything that got him out of there.
His stomach had healed quickly and without problems, but his leg was a different matter. He'd known from the beginning, they'd never tried to hide it from him, that there was a real danger of losing his leg and as time went on he knew, in spite of the bucketloads of fake optimism he heard in other people's voices, that the danger hadn't yet completely gone. He might not have any lingering problems with his stomach, but it didn't take a genius to work out that his leg wasn't healing the way everyone hoped.
Ever since he'd woken up in the QE to find her sitting weeping by his bed, his mother had been ever present, an indomitable force, and he had the strongest suspicion that the staff had ended up absolutely loathing her. She'd basically refused to let them do their job without overseeing every aspect of his care, something that even he found intensely irritating once he was on the mend and it didn't matter what anyone said, she simply refused to take any notice. The spell at Headley had come as a blessed relief from her continual fussing and fretting, but once he was discharged and back living in Bath he couldn't escape it. All that steadfast love and strength of purpose had been a comfort to begin with, and he had absolutely no wish to hurt her, but her refusal to see what he needed was to get his life back to normal was irritating beyond belief. He needed to move out and spending time alone at the house at Garda was his way of demonstrating that all he needed was rest. And time. That he had no need of wrapping in maternal cotton wool.
What he did feel was enormous guilt. It was his choice of lifestyle had led to her living with a constant threat of him being injured or worse, the trauma was all his fault. And she wasn't the only one, Rebecca had already left him once before, when she decided he wasn't what she wanted or needed and that she hated the life they had together. That had all changed when there was a very real danger of him not surviving, she'd rushed back to his side in some mistaken burst of altruism, but had left again as soon as it became clear he wasn't going to die, not this time. But that nothing had actually changed. He had no idea how he felt about their future, whether they even had one, there were a lot of decisions to make which all hinged on whether he was going to be fit, but the one thing that was beyond doubt was that he missed Sam more than he'd have thought possible. His future plans were so uncertain, everything so up in the air, but whatever he ended up doing, and wherever he ended up living, whatever happened next, Sam was the reason he was seriously considering talking things over with Rebecca.
None of it was her fault either. She'd always said she understood what the army meant to him, but she hadn't, not really and she couldn't begin to understand why he couldn't say that if he could turn the clock back he'd do things differently. He couldn't put his hand on his heart and say he regretted any of it, nothing, not even the life-threatening injuries or the long and painful recovery could stop him treading the same path again. If he could. Army life was all he'd wanted and that hadn't changed.
OG-
The Casa Aldo was nothing like she'd been expecting. She'd got this picture in her head of some sort of upmarket Travelodge, with maybe a few foreign touches here and there, although she had no idea what they'd be exactly, maybe sun umbrellas or something. Turned out to be more like a mix of an old church and a stately home or something, with this huge carved wooden front door standing partly open which was obviously good because she couldn't see a bell or a knocker or anything to let anyone know she was bloody well there. She was left with no choice but to poke her head round and see if she could see anyone. It was all dim and cool inside and smelled of lavender and something else she didn't recognise, with a lot of marble, even the floor was what looked like white marble, although she suspected it was more likely to be some sort of plastic. And there were vases of pink peonies all over the place, peonies were one of the very few flowers she did know because they were Nan's favourites. And there was a radio playing softly somewhere, but no people and no bell either. She dropped her heavy backpack by the door and just went in, crossing her fingers that her filthy converse weren't making dirty marks on their bloody pristine floor.
"'ello … anyone? Anybody 'ome?"
She didn't think she'd shouted, alright she was sure she hadn't but could hear her voice echoing round the place in a way that made her bloody well cringe. Shit, where was everyone? What the fuck was she supposed to do now? It was supposed to be a hotel for fuck sake, so why wasn't there someone wearing too much lippie and a name badge standing behind a desk looking bored? A proper hotel person? Someone? Anyone? Shit, all this having to struggle to find anyone was making her think this whole thing was going to be a fucking unmitigated disaster.
"Buon pomereggio … sei Molly? Sei il benvenuto"
"Oh yeah … 'ello … yeah, I'm Molly …'ello … "
Shit, now she was repeating herself to this woman who'd suddenly popped up from nowhere, Molly was beginning to wonder why people kept on doing that, but was relieved that at least she seemed to be in the right place. Looked like they were expecting her and hopefully this woman was the Signora, the person who ran the place, or owned it or something, the boss lady. And she was nothing like Molly had been expecting either, definitely nothing like the woman off the Dolmio ad on tele that she'd been expecting to see. Maybe she hadn't been expecting her to be singing exactly, but she'd definitely thought she'd be small and dumpy-looking with very dark hair, to be, well, shaped like a barrel in a black shroud with perhaps a pinny on top. That all seemed a bit bloody silly now, of course she should have known that none of that had anything to do with real life, it was a tele-land idea of an Italian woman.
This one was nothing like that. She was dead tall and very slim and sort of elegant looking, it didn't look like there was a bit of fat on her anywhere or any bones either. And her bum didn't even exist. She had these legs up to her armpits and killer heels and her dress was beautiful as well as dead expensive looking, all sort of drapey and floaty and soft, and she had this smooth shiny black hair that was cut short and tucked behind her ears to show off the diamonds. She made Molly feel even more of a scruffy gob shite, and she'd felt bad enough already. Unfortunately, it was also bleeding obvious from the way she jabbered away in Italian that she didn't speak English, which was fucking handy seeing as how Molly didn't speak any Italian.
"Hi … hello, it's really nice to meet you Molly … I'm Francesca … but please call me Frannie, everyone does … I sort of look after things here for the Signora and she just said good afternoon and that you're very welcome, that she's very happy to see you and hopes you had a good journey … and that you'll enjoy it being here"
Someone else just popped out of the bloody woodwork making Molly wonder if she'd be doing the same thing by the time she went home. Probably come in handy. This girl was quite a bit older than her and one hell of a lot taller but thank god wasn't thin, just ordinary sized and she did seem to have a friendly smile as well as speaking perfect English. At least someone wasn't a nine-foot tall bleeding supermodel which was excellent, at least she didn't make Molly feel like a midget, not like the boss lady. And Mr Seriously Pissed off.
"Blimey did she? … Can you thank her for me, that's dead nice of her" Molly directed a blinding smile at the boss lady who nodded and then glided up the stairs, disappearing behind where they were standing.
"Well … nearly … that's what she meant to say I'm sure … that sort of thing anyway … come on get your stuff and we'll dump it, and then do the grand tour …"
"It's lovely and cool in 'ere innit? It's so bl…. So hot out there … walking up them hills was like walking through treacle"
"It's a killer hot day today for this early in the summer … but you'll get used to it, and anyway if you think it's hot now, you just wait till summer really gets going and you're charging round here like a blue arsed whatsit"
"Oh … can't wait …" That was a lame attempt at a polite lie if ever she'd made one.
"I'll remind you that you said that … come on"
The wide terrace at the back had shallow steps down to a huge lawned bit that fell away, and lots of pots and stone urns dotted around all over full of white flowers that smelled amazing and there were tables and chairs with green sun umbrellas and a row of comfy looking sunbeds with stripey cushions. The view was spectacular, the mountains looked close enough for her to put her hand out and touch them and as Molly trailed Frannie down the steps there was this really strong smell of lemons from all the fruit on the trees. And there were flowers everywhere.
A swimming pool was glinting away in the sunshine in front of rows and rows of the silvery trees she thought were olives.
"Wow …"
Molly just stood and looked around at it and gulped, she'd never seen anything like it before. In her whole life. It didn't even look like any park she'd ever been to, but was horribly aware of that being the second time she'd said the same thing about a view. Bloody hell, she really needed to do something about improving her vocabulary. A lot. Hers was definitely pretty shit, she could hear Nan saying how stupid the people on tele sounded when they looked at things and all they could say was "wow".
"Pool is out of bounds for us when the paying punters are about"
"Oh … that's a shame … it looks lovely" It wasn't particularly a shame as far as Molly was concerned, she wasn't that fussed about swimming, wouldn't worry her if she never did it again.
"Yes … well, I have to tell you because that's the rule … and now I have … but we don't take any notice, she's got loads of rules but as long as she's not around … what the eye doesn't see and all that …."
"Oh …what sort of rules?"
"Every-bloody-thing … but don't worry, there are far too many to tell you about now, you couldn't hope to remember them all and anyway they change every day, depends on her mood, so I'll tell you as we go along"
"Really?"
"Yes, or she'll tell you herself, but don't let it worry you because she's not often here, spends most of her time with her boyfriend because she doesn't trust the bugger out of her sight … well, that's Italian men for you … especially rich ones" She stopped and thought for a second and then sniggered "Even those that are plug ugly like him … old and got a saggy bum and a tan like that orange antiques bloke on tele … looks like he's been creosoted"
"Nice"
"Not very …"
Molly had the strongest feeling she was going to like working with Frannie. A lot.
She could hear her sister's jealous voice as she made a promise to herself that as soon as she'd charged up her phone she was going to send Bella a whole load of photos. Show her and everyone else exactly what they were missing. Not very nice of her, she knew, but she couldn't wait.
The staff block was another white building, but it was hidden away behind a tall hedge and was better than anything she was expecting. A bloody sight better than she was used to, to be honest, it might just be a simple single storey of small rooms opening onto a shaded veranda, and they might be a bit on the minimal side as far as furniture went, but they were clean and adequate and would definitely do her. The shower room and the loo between the two rooms allocated to her and Frannie were a bit on the basic side, but she'd used far worse. She couldn't have been happier about all of it. There was an identical set of rooms for the boys she hadn't met yet, and apparently everyone else, cleaners and gardeners and that, were locals and the chef didn't stop with the peasants, he had his own posh quarters somewhere. Molly felt this huge trembling wave of excitement in her guts at the thought it was going to be her home for the next three months.
Frannie went through the essential housekeeping bits at a rate of knots, like who did what and how to get her laundry done and how to get fed and how to access the hotel wi-fi and where they kept the bottles of water which Molly was incredibly happy to see. She glugged one down gratefully and heard it dropping like stones in her stomach which immediately obliged with a loud rumble, which made her blush, but which Frannie didn't seem to notice. She did get all serious and warned her about it being everyone's job to make sure they didn't leave the chiller empty, and no matter how thirsty or hungover she was, to never, ever drink the water out the tap. Apparently not even to brush her teeth which Molly thought was a bit worrying. Frannie went on to show her how to find the stash of citronella candles and to warn her that it didn't matter how hot it got at night, to never leave her window or door open with the lights on, because all the stinging, bitey little bastards would come in and join her in her bed. And although burning a candle helped, it did mean you had to watch out you didn't drop off with it alight in case you set fire to the bloody place. Oh and that nicking citronella candles for your own room was one of the things that was against the rules. But that they all ignored that.
Frannie galloped through the promised whistle-stop tour of the main building at such a rate that Molly struggled to keep up, she was so tired it was bloody hard to take it all in. It would need a miracle to remember all the staircases and passageways and corners and it was bit hard to see with the shutters closed. But she could see the bedrooms were bloody incredible, they all had had names not numbers, for fuck sake, as well as having four poster beds and marble bathrooms. But by the time they got to the posh sitting rooms Molly knew she hadn't got a bloody prayer of remembering her way round, her brain had long decided it was in overload as Frannie explained that the season didn't really get going for another week, which was why it was empty. And then laughed and said it would take no time at all for them to be run ragged and pig sick of the sight of people who thought paying through the bloody nose meant everyone had to kiss their arse.
By the time Molly was emptying her backpack, she was having a hard job not to just lie down on her bed and close her eyes, it had been one of the longest days she could remember. Well, ever since Afghan. But she didn't dare because she'd be asleep in seconds and Frannie had said about freshening up and seeing about getting Pizza. It was only when she went to the bathroom and looked longingly at the shower, knowing she only had time to make do with washing the day off her face and maybe her armpits that she caught sight of herself in the mirror and was bloody mortified with what she saw. It was no bloody wonder Frannie had mentioned freshening up, or that Mr Pissed Off had looked at her like she was something he'd stepped in, all that sweating on the fucking bus and then trying to keep up with him meant the waterproof mascara she'd "borrowed" from Bella was obviously anything but. It had leaked dramatically under her eyes into a load of speckled black gungy blobs, she looked like she had some disease, or was a demented Panda, or maybe just demented. Shit.
She hit her pit really early, hadn't been able to keep her eyes open and had fallen asleep before the springs hit the floor, but it was still dark when she woke up not even sure where she was. But lying there wide awake and thinking about her day and everything, she had this sudden flash of knowing exactly what it was had been worrying her about him. Mr Lanky and Seriously Pissed Off. She didn't know his name or anything else about him, and in spite of his hair being a bit on the long side, he was definitely army, and he wasn't some squaddie like her, either, he was too bloody posh for that. She hadn't got a clue what rank he was, rude bugger hadn't introduced himself, but she knew he was someone who was used to bossing other people about, making grown men squirm, maybe even making them cry with just a look. A Captain or a Major or something, maybe even a Colonel. Alright maybe not, he was a bit young for that, and she knew exactly how she knew. It was that elastic band. That was the signature of the army psyche team. She didn't know she'd even noticed it, but unconsciously must have done. And she'd know what it was about if anyone did, she'd worn one herself until she'd taken it off when people started asking and she got worried she'd be thought of as a flake. The theory was you twanged it against your wrist when you felt the panic coming on and the sting would help bring you into your happy place, your safe place, and it did, mostly. Not always, but mostly. And even now sometimes she found the fingers of her right hand going to get hold of it, even though it wasn't there anymore.
She was too restless to try and drop off again, so took her cuppa outside to drink as the dawn broke and the sun started to paint the mountains. It was surprisingly bloody taters making her hug herself and rub her arms, and wish she'd found a woolly or something as she sat on the steps cradling the warm cup and sipping tea with her mind keep going back to thinking about Captain Cock. Which was as good a name for him as any. She knew in theory that being a Rupert didn't mean they couldn't have PTSD, they could be just as bad as anyone, but somehow she'd never had much sympathy for them. Probably not as much as she should have. And she hadn't dreamed it, now when she shut her eyes she could see it. One good thing, at least being one of them meant he was used to people being knackered and sweaty and smelling bleeding disgusting, it was most likely him who'd bullied them into that state. And she didn't know why it mattered to her what he thought anyway, he didn't matter and she wasn't exactly going to be falling over him every day, was she?
-OG-
It was four days before the walls of the villa started to close in on him, he wasn't good at sitting around deepening his tan and listening to the cicadas while trying not to drink too much. It reminded him of holidays with Rebecca. But in spite of being restless and bored with his own company, he still hadn't done anything about getting in touch with her, he knew it wasn't something he could, or in fact should, keep avoiding, he couldn't avoid it forever but it felt easier to keep putting it off. And he wasn't lonely exactly, when Sofia, his mum's help, or spy as he was sure she was, wasn't there the solitude was beginning to weigh a little heavy, one of the things he missed most was being able to go out for a long run, to get hot and sweaty and use up some of the energy that was making him restless. And to come back tired but with a lot of his anxiety diffused. To his utter relief, the pain in his leg was definitely better than it had been, resting meant boredom but the pain being back to no more than the occasional mild twinge.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that a slow stroll down the hill to sit in the café in the market square, to drink a restorative expresso was exactly what he needed. To pass the time talking to Giorgio and his daughter and watch the world go by. Although admittedly the last was a tad optimistic. The most that was liable to happen was the bus disgorging a couple of passengers and a couple of the skinny cats homing in on him in a burst of feline optimism.
He was almost at the point of beginning the slow stroll back up the hill when he saw her, or heard her or in some way had his attention drawn to her, or to both the girls laughing outside the Pasticceria as it re-opened its doors after siesta. As far as he could tell they were happily bickering about which was the healthier, whether it was the peach tarts or something else or even if they should opt to go straight for gelato. The peach tarts seemed to have won as the pair of them strolled across to sit on the step round the memorial in the middle of the square and made a big deal of licking their sticky fingers, both of them falling about laughing at something. He knew he'd seen her before somewhere, but couldn't say where, that took a long minute or two to fall into place.
-OG-