Last Train from Liguria (2010) Read Online Free Page A

tickets all the way. Father had certainly been right on that score - Bella was not expected to produce so much as a farthing from her own pocket.
    She had rolled up the parchment, refolded the letter (which contained not the slightest hint of warmth or welcome), arranged the envelopes into chronological sequence and tied everything together with a piece of string. Bella had then slipped this package into a portfolio and shoved it into the back of the wardrobe, where it took up much less room and seemed to make much less fuss than it had done in the hatbox.
    It was her father who had arranged the position, introducing the idea to Bella in early spring. ‘I think it would do you the world of good,’ was to become his recurring expression, as if he were talking about a day at the seaside or a course of cod liver oil. At first she hadn’t paid the matter much heed - it was probably just one of his ‘notions’, as her late mother might have put it. ‘Best ignored, soonest fizzled.’ When the subject persisted it began to dawn on Bella that the poor man simply felt in need of a little reassurance - just enough to preserve the dignity of both father and daughter in their present arrangement. For her part, that she fully understood she was free to go if she so wished. For his part, that she insisted she would much, much rather stay.
    And so she had humoured him for a while with soothing smiles and a little teasing. ‘Yes, Father, I’m sure Sicily must be quite beautiful but I’m happy, thank you all the same, to stay where I am. And yes it must be lovely to wake each day-in-day-out to the sun - if not a little tedious.’ She also gave the occasional chide. ‘Oh, Father, now really. Stop it! Or I might just go off and leave you. And then where would you be?’
    But what had started out as a flimsy notion had somehow solidified into a definite plan and one morning just before Easter there was her father, flapping a letter over his boiled egg and toast. ‘It’s marvellous news, marvellous, marvellous. And congratulations to you, Bella.’
    ‘To me - why? Have I won something?’
    ‘Such an adventure! A year or two in another country. Perhaps longer, she doesn’t say how long you’ll be needed, I’m afraid. Nor does she specify your duties. Never mind - all that can be ironed out when you meet Signora Lami.’
    ’
Who?
’
    ‘Signora Lami. You remember? Bernstein in obstetrics recommended you.’
    ‘Bernstein?’
    ‘He’s a friend of the Lami family. I believe he may even be related to her. Let me see now, I can’t recall…”
    ’
Father
.’
    ‘An opportunity like this doesn’t come in every post bag, let me tell you. And you have the language. Well, as good as. I knew that mad old godmother of mine would come in useful in the end! Although it might be just as well to do a bit of brushing up before you leave. Early-to-mid May, she says. But you mustn’t be impatient, my dear, by the time everything is organized you won’t feel it going in. Now, about the Lamis; they are rolling in it by all accounts, so you’ll want for nothing. There’s the villa in Sicily and a summer residence on the Italian Riviera -
if
you don’t mind - and God knows what else. There is also some German connection so you’ll probably be popping off to Berlin or the like. You’ll be mixing with the best, you know. So smarten up a bit beforehand. Streamline yourself - isn’t that what it’s all about now? Or so I overheard one of my nurses say. The boy, it seems, will be a cinch. Six years old, only child, meek as a mouse. Already has a nurse, a teacher and a music master too - good God! - so there can’t be that much for you to do. The Signora speaks excellent English of course, and she’s young, I think, much younger than the hubby - probably a bit of a story there. Lonely, I daresay, be glad of a pal such as you. She wants you to write a letter of acceptance, tell her a bit about yourself, include a resume - better plump it