A Postcard from Italy. Alex Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ keen to see what his reaction would be as he properly saw inside the unit. His face didn’t disappoint. After casting an eye over Mrs Donato’s belongings, he let out a long, impressed whistle and raised his wiry eyebrows.

      ‘Wow! This is quite something.’

      ‘It sure is. And it’s going to be a proper adventure going through it all.’ Grace’s face lit up.

      ‘Well, there’s no immediate rush. The items aren’t going anywhere soon, not after being here for almost thirty years. But before you get stuck in, I wanted to make sure everything was OK? Betty and I were getting worried about you; you’ve been gone ages. We thought you must have fallen asleep or something.’ He smiled gently. ‘And who could blame you … I just checked my emails and saw one from you earlier this morning … sent around 4 a.m. Is everything OK, Grace?’

      ‘Yes, I … I’m sorry about that …’

      ‘Why would you be sorry? I was fast asleep at that time, but how come you weren’t?’ Larry chuckled, making his shoulders bob up and down.

      ‘Oh. I … um, I couldn’t sleep,’ she said, not wanting to go into the real reason she had been awake all night. That Cora had insisted Grace sit by the window in her bedroom on lookout duty, convinced she’d heard a noise coming from the garden below, and telling her, ‘You’ll never live with yourself, Grace. Sure you won’t, if someone breaks in and strangles me in the middle of the night while you’re fast asleep now without a care in the world.’ And Grace had loathed herself for not reasoning with her mother and telling her that it was highly unlikely someone was going to break in and strangle her … because it was more likely the person to strangle her would be her own sleep-deprived daughter who was already inside the house! But seriously, Grace knew she should have been stronger and stood up to her mother for the sake of her own nocturnal needs. But it had been late and she had been at a low ebb, knackered and not in the mood for another fight. So instead she had done as her mother had told her to, and sat in the armchair dozing as she tried to stay awake ‘just in case’ her mother’s fears turned into a reality. Because, at the end of the day, Grace knew that what Cora said was true, especially once she had planted the seed of doubt inside her head … how would she live with herself if something happened to her mother on her watch?

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Grace. Especially if it was work that was keeping you awake … I’m sure Mrs Donato’s whereabouts could have waited until today,’ he said, shaking his head as he referred to the email that Grace had sent to him in the early hours.

      ‘Sure, Larry, I know … but I didn’t want to forget any of my ideas. So that’s why I typed them into my phone and emailed them to you.’ Grace lowered her eyes, grateful not to have to go into detail about her own ineptitude when it came to standing up to her mother. Plus she didn’t want to complain about Cora and then come across as self-pitying. ‘I’ve not been able to stop thinking about Mrs Donato and wanted to give you some suggestions of how we might find her. I guess I got carried away and … well, it is pretty exciting seeing all her glamorous belongings in here. And I was also wondering why we had let her account go so far into arrears? It’s well over a year,’ she added, remembering the dates in the paperwork on the clipboard. ‘We usually do something long before now.’

      ‘Hmm, well that’s true. We do.’ Larry looked momentarily evasive, then a little embarrassed as his cheeks dotted pink. ‘Between me and you … well, I …’ He coughed. ‘I’m not going to lie … I guess I have a bit of a soft spot for Mrs Donato,’ he confessed. ‘But, please not a word to our Betty, because you know that I adore my dear wife.’ He lifted his shoulders to emphasise this fact. ‘Plus, she’d have my guts for garters if she ever knew.’ Larry pulled a mock-petrified face then, making Grace laugh as she swiftly nodded her agreement, touched by his gentlemanly consideration for his wife that came from a bygone time where honour was everything.

      Grace doubted Betty would have his guts for garters though. She would probably chuckle and admonish him to busy himself to keep from distractions! Just like she had when Mrs Bassett, a willowy blonde widow, had swept in to the customer waiting area to retrieve her late husband’s stamp collection and had flirted outrageously with Larry in the hope of him waiving the closing bill. He had been just about to as well, when Betty had stepped in and said that payment would be very welcome, thank you very much, as she plucked a credit card from Mrs Bassett’s grasp.

      ‘So you’ve actually met Mrs Donato?’ Grace asked excitedly. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her too – that’s if we can track her down. What’s she like? I’ve been reading this.’ She lifted the diary into the air to show him, but then fell silent on feeling her cheeks flush pink. ‘Sorry. I … probably shouldn’t have been so nosey.’ She waggled the diary around before bringing her hand back down beside her.

      ‘Oh it’s fine,’ Larry said gently. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ and he tapped a finger to the side of his nose. ‘Besides, how else are we going to get in touch with her. Which year is it? The diary … anything recent to give us some clues as to where she might be now?’

      ‘Sorry, no. And at first glance there doesn’t seem to be any kind of order to the diaries and notes written on scraps of paper. Everything is very sporadic and with some of the diaries completely empty, or with just a few lines written in them here and there. Though I did manage to find this one, dated 1955, which is pretty full up – where she’s living in Italy and it sounds so idyllic. Listen to this.’ Grace quickly reopened the diary and read a section of it aloud. ‘The warm, salty sea air is infused with the marvellous scent of citrus from the lemon and orange groves further down on the hillside. The dazzling azure-blue sea laps gently in the distance and I simply can’t imagine a more perfect place to be than standing here on the veranda with my truelove watching the plump, pink sun setting on the horizon.’

      ‘Well I never!’ Larry folded his arms and nodded slowly, clearly impressed by Mrs Donato’s prose. ‘Those are mighty fine words, and with a clue for us right there too.’

      ‘A clue?’

      ‘Yes … a truelove! With any luck, he’s Mr Donato by now. So we’ll find him and he will lead us to Mrs Donato. Yes, that’s what we will do.’ Larry nodded, clearly resolute about the best way forward for solving this matter.

      Grace pulled out her phone and tapped through to her To Do list to make a note to read on through all the paperwork in unit 28 to see if she could find mention of a Mr Donato. Or a wedding. Surely, Connie, being the romantic she appeared to be in the diary, would write about her own wedding.

      ‘It’s all there in gorgeous detail. Connie is an incredibly romantic writer,’ she told Larry. ‘Reading her diary is like reading a beautiful, romantic novel. And she lived in a powder pink villa surrounded by lemon and orange groves on a hilltop in Santa Margherita. I googled it and it’s part of the glamorous Italian Riviera and just along the coast near Portofino in Italy, apparently. Imagine living somewhere as wonderful as that? Or she did in the 1950s! But I’m guessing that’s not the case any more if her stuff is in our storage unit here in drizzly south London.’ Grace patted her curls, which had turned into a giant auburn frizz ball after falling victim to the inclement weather at this time of year in London, when she got caught in a sudden downpour while counting the steps to the bus stop this morning.

      ‘Connie?’ Larry asked.

      ‘Yes, Mrs Donato. Connie is short for Constance. That’s her first name … well, the name her family and friends call her. It’s on a number of letters and cards in the first suitcase. From what I can make out, she grew up in London and then moved to Italy later. But I’d have to put it all together into a proper timeline to be sure …’

      ‘OK, СКАЧАТЬ