The Battle for Baiardo

Chapter 5

Two hours later, and in a slight panic, Juliet was struggling to read a map that she'd purchased from a tourist kiosk. She'd found her way from the Russian church to the Casino and, though dazzled by the splendour of the facade, she was disappointed that the interior seemed to be room after room of poker machines.

Dazed as she emerged into the midday sunshine, she'd headed in the opposite direction to Antoinette’s hairdresser. Realising that she wasn't retracing her steps, she cursed the fact that she couldn't use her phone to check her location.

Juliet wondered why the streets seemed empty and then it hit her: everything was closed for lunch. Shops had shut, traffic had ceased and she was probably late for her rendezvous with Antoinette. Looking around for a bar or a restaurant to ask for help or a telephone, she saw a stout young man walking along the other side of the street. She hurried to intercept him and blurted out a request for directions to Corso Matteotti. The man, a tourist like herself, couldn't understand her words but made a guess and pointed at a large green booth with a display of maps.

The kiosk owner was sitting down eating his lunch of bread, cheese, salami and olives but jumped to attention as soon as he saw her worried face peering over his counter. He responded to her halting Italian with fluent English. Armed with her map and precise directions, she strode off purposefully – but somehow ended up near the water.

'This can't be right, surely,' she muttered as she struggled with her map which unfolded to the size of a small tablecloth. Juliet jumped as a hand came over her shoulder; she heard a familiar voice saying, 'It doesn't work if you hold it upside down.'

She turned to see Luca's chocolate brown eyes smiling at her, 'May I offer some assistance?'

'Well yes, yes, you can,' she said, trying to sound calm; she wasn't sure if she was flustered from her battle with the map or the brush of his forearm across her bare shoulder as he took it from her.

'Where would you like to go, Miss Juliet?'

He managed to make 'Miss' sound like a put down, or was that just her imagination? You are being paranoid, thirty-four is not too old to be called 'Miss',’ she chastised herself.

'I'm supposed to be meeting Antoinette in the Corso Matteotti at… oh,’ she glanced at the heavy silver watch on his strong, tanned wrist, ‘about ten minutes ago, but my phone...'

'As you are heading in the opposite direction and you are late...' He took out his phone and pressed a speed dial key. She watched in surprise as he conducted a conversation, apparently with Antoinette, in Italian. Juliet could only pick up snatches of what he was saying, something about her and the waterfront. After listening to Antoinette his manner changed and he became annoyed. From what Juliet could make out, he was saying, ‘No, no that's impossible, no I don't have the time. Please Antoinette, that's not…' He broke off the conversation and looked down at the pavement.

'He's pissed off and trying not to show it,' decided Juliet.

As if reading her thoughts, he straightened up, smiled and announced, 'Antoinette has also returned to Baiardo. Her mother can't find her medication. And she tried calling Carrie but no luck. She was sorry to leave you behind but... sola, perduta, abbandonata – alone, lost, abandoned – and did you say that your phone doesn't work? So,' Luca made a gesture that was half nod, half bow, 'It's my duty as a citizen of San Remo to rescue you and take you to lunch.'

Juliet thought ruefully: all that's missing is the click of his heels; he's like someone out of an opera. It was obvious that he wasn't overjoyed at the prospect and she was tempted to tell him where to shove his lunch, but instead told herself, 'No, at the very least he owes me that. I've been gracious and not mentioned our first meeting so he can take me somewhere chi-chi... or at least somewhere with good food: I'm starving!' Keeping to the operatic theme, she flashed back what she hoped was an arch smile and responded, 'Why Dottore da Silvestri, I'd be delighted.' He seemed taken aback that she had used his correct title.