Under a Siena Sun (Escape to Tuscany #1) - T.A. Williams Page 0,25
that the villa’s been restored.’
Lucy resolved to do her best to go up and see the ruins one of these days. She continued with her spending spree and by the time she left, she had also bought half a big round loaf of unsalted Tuscan bread – he had happily chopped one in two for her – along with a bunch of lovely little fresh artichokes with spiky points, a slab of home-made pâté, a bag of local cherries, a washing line and, just in case, a pack of candles and a big box of matches.
Most surprising of all was a book, found on a shelf containing an eclectic selection of dusty books in Italian as varied as War and Peace and 50 Shades of Grey. Unexpectedly, one book was in English and it was entitled The History of Tuscany. It was written by somebody with a Scottish name that she didn’t recognise. She queried what an English book was doing here, and all the shopkeeper could do was shrug. Still, seeing as the book was in English and she had just been wondering about local history, she took it as a sign and purchased it.
As she got back to her house, she had another surprise. Trotting happily down the middle of the road towards her was a handsome-looking young black Labrador with a smart red collar. Fortunately, in spite of being a big dog, he looked friendly, unlike the packs of near-feral dogs she had learnt to avoid back in Africa. There was no sign of his owner and she wondered if the dog had escaped from somewhere. She was loaded with bags so she ignored him for now and turned to unlock her door. As she pushed it open, she felt a hairy body slip past her bare knees and she found herself with an uninvited, but unthreatening, guest in the house. She set her purchases on the kitchen table and crouched down beside the dog who wagged his tail affably and licked her hand. His nose then stretched towards the table top and she knew he had smelt the ham or the pâté or both.
‘So where have you come from, dog?’
He sat down with a thud and scratched his ear with one of his back paws, his tail wagging and polishing the floor tiles for her as it did so. She checked his collar and spotted a silver medallion. On it was a phone number. She went across to the door and looked up and down the road once more, but there was still no sign of the dog’s master so she called the number. It was answered by a female voice.
‘Pronto?’
Lucy explained where she was now living and that she had found their dog. She heard the lady give an exasperated sigh.
‘I’m so sorry you’ve been bothered. Boris is normally very good but he hasn’t been out for a long walk for a couple of days, so he’s probably just restless. I’ll get my husband to come down and pick him up straightaway. Thank you so much for calling.’
Lucy dropped the phone back on the table and set about putting the food away in the fridge. The dog watched her every move with rapt attention and it reminded Lucy of their old Lab, back when she was growing up. He would have sold his soul for food and she knew it was typical of the breed. Finally taking pity on this one, she offered him a bread stick. He took it delicately, settled down on the floor with it wedged vertically between his front paws and crunched it up. In return she was on the receiving end of a broad canine smile and a sloppy lick.
Five minutes later she heard a vehicle pull up outside and she went across to open the door. The dog trotted out beside her and, when he saw who was driving, ran over and stood up on his hind legs, tail wagging, poking his shiny black nose through the open window of the little white van. The driver patted the dog’s head, climbed out, and came across to where Lucy was standing. He was a friendly-looking middle-aged man with a weather-beaten outdoorsman complexion and in his hand a bulbous straw-covered bottle of wine. These real old traditional Chianti flasks were almost unobtainable these days and Lucy was delighted if it was intended for her, resolving to put it on display somewhere in the house.