‘Thanks, Emma. Now, shall we head back to the hotel?’
She wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for, so she just nodded.
* * *
They left the hotel at just before ten and dropped Ethan, now wearing his wig and a White Snake T-shirt, back at the airport along with Sinclair. Ethan gave her a big hug before climbing out of the car.
‘Thanks, English, that was fun. And thanks for listening.’
‘I’ll always be here for you, Ethan. You know that.’ She and he had spent an hour the previous evening just talking and she got the impression it had helped him work through the remaining doubts he had about his working relationship with Laney. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘See you guys tomorrow. Enjoy Naples.’
As Marina drove out of the airport complex once more, Emma queried her on the day’s plans – more for the sake of Rich and Mark, seeing as she and Marina had already discussed this at breakfast.
‘First stop, Lucca. It’s smaller and a bit less well known than Pisa or Florence, but it’s a lovely historic town all the same.’
‘And it would almost certainly have been on the route of the Grand Tour a hundred years ago.’ Mark clearly approved of the choice.
‘And we’re really not going to Florence?’ Rich was sitting alongside Marina, but he screwed his head round and directed his query to Emma.
She shook her head. ‘Sorry, no, we’re going to give Florence a miss. Too big, too busy, too well known. But, don’t worry, you’ll see it. Marina’s found a little road that winds through the hills outside Florence and from there we should have a pretty good panoramic view of the city.’ She turned to Mark beside her on the back seat. ‘You happy with that, Mark?’
‘You’re the boss, but, yes, I’m sure you’re right. You need quieter places. Tell me, where are you planning on going this afternoon?’
‘We were wondering about San Gimignano, but Marina’s afraid that’s going to be equally crowded.’
‘And she’d be right. As an alternative, we could go to Certaldo. Ever heard of it?’ All three shook their heads. ‘It’s a sort of a poor man’s San Gimignano. Not so many towers, definitely not so many tourists, but a fine old castle and the higher part of town, Certaldo Alto, is an authentic medieval township. And the views out over the hills are spectacular.’
* * *
Lucca was, indeed, a lovely historic town. They parked outside the massive stone and brick walls, clearly built to withstand cannon fire, and walked into the town through a narrow arched gateway. Much of the centre of town was a pedestrians-only area, although they soon learnt to beware of bikes and scooters rattling past over the uneven flagstones that paved the narrow lanes. Mark pointed out that the architecture was a mixture of styles and eras from the Middle Ages to the present day. The road wound in and out among the buildings, opening up from time to time into tiny squares, some punctuated by trees, until they emerged into Piazza dell’Anfiteatro, ringed with mainly cream-coloured three- and four-storey buildings with green louvred shutters. All around were cafes and restaurants with tables out on the square and here they stopped for coffee under a large parasol.
It was almost midday by now and a digital thermometer outside a chemist’s shop was indicating it was twenty-eight degrees. Emma wondered how much hotter it would get in high summer. She ordered a cappuccino and sat back to enjoy the view. On the way there, she had taken a load of photos and she felt sure the narrow lanes, brick archways leading to hidden courtyards, medieval churches and amazing Renaissance palaces would be well worth including in the movie. Lucca was definitely making it onto the list.
She cast a glance across at Mark who was looking quite relaxed again. They hadn’t spoken much since their run, but she was beginning to get the feeling that maybe she might end up acting as a shoulder to cry on not only for the Hollywood megastar, but also for this man who had suffered a terrible blow as a child which still resonated today. And there was also the matter of how he had reacted last night to her question about finding Mrs Right. Quite clearly, he was still hurting from whatever had happened there. She resolved to do her very best to help him – for his sake but also, maybe, for hers.
After last night’s feast, they just opted for a light lunch. The men bought focaccia sandwiches while Emma and Marina just settled for ice cream cones, and they continued their walking tour of Lucca, returning to the car around mid-afternoon. From there, it took less than an hour to get to Certaldo, which was situated in the first rows of hills rising up on the southern side of the valley of the River Arno. The hills themselves were dotted with olive groves, vineyards and the ubiquitous Tuscan mix of umbrella pines and tall, slim cypress trees. At first Certaldo didn’t seem like it was anything special, until they turned off the main road and made their way up to the old part of town that Mark had described; up at the top, it was charming.
Leaving the car by the side of the road, they walked around the little hilltop township, admiring the ancient buildings, mostly constructed of wonderful old rose-tinted bricks, some with the render peeling off the walls. Beneath their feet, the narrow roads were paved with red bricks laid in herringbone fashion, giving the place an almost magical feel. They looked into the castle, admired the medieval town hall and stopped at an observation point to look out at the view. As Mark had said, it was terrific from up here and they gazed in wonder over the red roofs of the town below and beyond them up across vineyards, olive groves and fields towards San Gimignano itself, clearly visible on top of the distant hill. The silhouette of the iconic towers was unmistakable and Emma had no hesitation in adding Certaldo to the growing list of suitable locations on her phone.
Rich and Marina went off to get drinks while Emma and Mark sat down on a bench shaded from the sun by a massive old tree, and gazed at the view. After a minute or two of silence, he turned towards her with a raised eyebrow.
‘So, the ice maiden, eh? Are you really so wedded to your work?’
She gave him a wry smile. Ever since Ethan had used the expression she had been asking herself if she really was that cold, that aloof. She certainly didn’t want to give anybody that impression, but she knew she could sometimes be a bit single-minded, a bit dismissive.
‘I must admit I didn’t know they called me that – mind you, that might just be what Ethan calls me – but I suppose there’s some truth to it.’ She paused to shoot him a cheeky glance. ‘For the sake of accuracy, not the “maiden” part, but I’ve been in the company for twelve years now and I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed virtually all of it. They work me hard and I suppose I have to hold my hand up and add that I work myself hard, maybe to the detriment of my personal life.’ She turned more fully towards him. ‘But I only do it because I enjoy it. As for the “ice” thing, I really try not to be cold towards anybody, but I must admit that dating’s been pretty low on my agenda for a good long while now. As for the queue of men all round Hollywood, that’s just Ethan. You know what they’re like, these film stars – always exaggerating.’
Mark held her eye for a moment before looking away. ‘You want to know something? I reckon he was serious when he said he was in the queue… at the head of the queue even.’