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Sofia liveshere? I’m not sure why it’s such a shock – maybe because Sofia seems so real and genuine, so bubbly and bumbling that I’d sort of pictured her having a cosy little cottage like mine, hand-making all her meals from scratch on a well-loved Aga. The pieces suddenly click into place – I’m guessing her ex-husband was after her money from the start?
I stumble down the grassy bank and around the curve of the driveway, half expecting liveried servants of yesteryear to be stationed at the grand entrance. The butterfly flutters away, as if its job of leading me here is done.
Out of breath from the long walk, I rap on the imposing double door, wondering just what’s on the other side. Soon enough Sofia appears, face lit with a warm smile. ‘Elodie!’ she says. ‘Welcome, come on in. I’m making us a delicious lunch, so I hope you’re hungry.’
‘Always. Your property is awe-inspiring, Sofia. I didn’t expect something so grand when I crested that hill. I love how hidden it is. You’d never know it was here.’
She gives me a sheepish look. ‘I love it too. It feels a bit like a fairy tale,this big old castle hidden away, like I’m Rapunzel or something. It was once owned by an Italian family famous for their designer handbags, but the family dynasty turned against one another and eventually they sold most of their properties to bail the company out. Didn’t quite work and now their company isn’t owned by the next generation.’
‘Wow, would I know the brand?’
She whispers it.
‘Oooh!’ As I look around the entrance hall, I see ornate gold Italian touches. ‘What a delicious piece of history!’
‘Isn’t it? I never got to meet any of the family. It was all handled by boring starch-faced lawyers, but it still makes a good story and I feel like I’m living in a part of their history. Let’s go to the kitchen,’ she says, and walks swiftly through the glamorous marble-floored hall. ‘It’s how I stay so fit, walking around all these galleries and up and down the staircases.’ The castle, or I suppose it’s more an Italiancastello, is immaculately maintained and filled with antique furniture and fine artwork.
We continue downstairs into a huge marble kitchen. ‘This is lovely.’ While it’s been updated it still has an old-world charm about it, with copper pots hanging above one end of the island bench.
‘Thanks, Elodie. I had the kitchen freshened up to suit my tastes. Don’t get me wrong, salmon-coloured stone had its time but it was a little too orange for me. I went light and bright to open the space. Take a seat.’ I pull out a stool and sit opposite Sofia who bustles around with lots of pots on the go.
I remember the wine I brought and rustle through my handbag for it. ‘To go with lunch,’ I say and hand Sofia a bottle of red.
‘A nice vintage,’ she says giving it the nod of approval. ‘Shall we be fancy and decant it?’
‘Sure,’ I say, and take the decanter from further down the island. I’m used to this level of detail from my mum who believes the wine always has to open up and breathe like it’s a living thing. To be honest, I can never taste any difference and part of me wonders if it’s all just part of the theatre of enjoying a nice meal.
I let the wine awaken and watch Sofia bustle around the kitchen, looking like a dab hand as she stirs pots and shuffles pans. A satisfied smile sits upon her face as if she’s in her element, her happy place. ‘Are you a professional chef?’ I ask.
Sofia wipes her hands on her floral apron. ‘I wish! Self-taught. What’s not to like about cooking up a fabulous menu of dishes, pouring your heart and soul into each one? The worries of the world fade away when I’m in the kitchen, and then I’m rewarded with a delicious meal at the end of that toil. My only issue is, not having enough people to cook for. Finn’s been here a few times, but he’s always busy. That phone of his never stops, but he’s too polite to answer it in company – he has lovely manners but I always feel like I’m pulling him away from his busy life.’
Hmm, his phone constantly rings off the hook like it did at our dinner? For a small-town reporter, I wouldn’t think he’d havethatmany calls, especially after hours, but the way he explained it about them wanting the inside scoop led me to believe it was about work. Could it have been about something else? It’s a mystery for another day as Sofia continues, ‘I’d love to fill the dining room with friends but people around here look at me like I’ve got two heads.’
‘Why though? You’re lovely, I can’t see why they’d treat you in such a way, Sofia.’ I want to hear Sofia’s version of events and truly I’m hoping she says things are not as bad as Finn painted them – but part of me wonders if the real story will actually be worse.
I figure the wine is breathing well enough for both of us and a tale like this deserves to be shared over a nice glass of red. I spot the wine glasses in a cabinet and fetch two and pour us a healthy dose.
‘Thanks,’ Sofia says, taking the proffered glass and a deep sip. ‘What a nice drop!’ Sofia turns down the heat on her pans and comes back with a tray of appetisers. ‘For starters we’ve got scallop pops, Cornish crab with pink grapefruit mayonnaise and caramelised mushroom tartlets.’
‘Sofia, wow.’ These delightful morsels would rival most high-end establishments in London, no question, and Sofia acts as blithely as if she’s just thrown together a tin of sardines and a plate of crackers. We fill small plates and Sofia settles in beside me.
‘Thank you, darling. Eat, eat and I’ll tell you my sorry story.’
I start with the Cornish crab, sure I’ve never tasted anything as sweet in my life.
‘You could say I was a late bloomer – didn’t marry until my early fifties. There were men, of course, but none that I had a real spark with, an unshakeable knowing until Jacob came along. He proposed on our second date. That should have been a red flag, but at the time it seemed wildly romantic, like the wait was worth it. Jacob was devilishly handsome and charming to boot. He literally took my breath away, and that had never happened to me before.’ Yikes, reminds me of the way I feel about Finn,but I stay quiet so Sofia can continue. ‘We bought this place and moved in when the modifications were finished. I’ve always wanted to live where there’s a bit of countryside, and this place ticked all the boxes. The town’s big enough to have a newspaper, but small enough that there’d be a close-knit community that we could be part of.’
I get the feeling Sofia and I have a lot in common but I don’t disrupt her tale.
‘Well Jacob just loved it here, went right on into town that very first day and struck up friendships right and left. I was still unpacking and here he comes with some locals to check out the property. He had that way about him, you know?’
I nod.
‘I only found out later what stories he was spinning. He told them that he’d worked on Wall Street in his youth before moving to Hong Kong as a venture capitalist. You name it, he’d done it. In reality he’d been an electrician. It’s why he was voted in as treasurer, because of his so-called finance background. They saw him as this charming, retired man, living in this big old estate, with that wealth of knowledge going to waste … but that all came later. Before that, the bank called me and said one of my accounts was overdrawn, the only account thathehad access to. I told them it must have been a mistake – it couldn’t be empty! I confronted Jacob and he admitted he had an online gambling problem.’
‘Oh, Sofia, I’m so sorry. That is awful.’
She shrugs. ‘Yes, it was but I thought it was OK, we could get him some help. Work on the addiction, you know? I logged on to my bank and checked the balance, crushed to find the money really was gone. We talked into the night. He had all these excuses.They were so believable! Looking back now, I shudder to think how naïve I was. When Jacob saw me he saw dollar signs. An easy life. Or perhaps a way to relieve me of most of my wealth – who knows.’
