The Lemon Tree Hotel by Rosanna Ley

Author:Rosanna Ley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Quercus Editions Ltd
Published: 2019-01-27T10:29:01+00:00

CHAPTER 26

Isabella

The following morning, Ferdinand was waiting for her in the lobby – standing, not by Luca Bordoni’s Archangel Gabriel, but by the front door, dressed for the hike in sturdy walking boots, green shorts, and a T-shirt, with a straw hat on his head, a small rucksack on his back, and a camera slung around his neck. The typical tourist. Despite her worries about the wisdom of this expedition, Isabella suppressed a smile. She was wearing a cotton dress and sandals because the warm weather was showing no signs of disappearing any time soon. But they were strong sandals – she knew what was required on these trails. All she had in her shoulder bag was a bottle of water, some sunscreen, and her mobile. Not that she was planning to use it – and she could hardly zip back down the mountainside should she be required at the hotel – but she liked to be contactable at least.

‘Good morning.’ She kept her voice cool. She hadn’t forgotten the events of the previous night – in fact, thinking about them had kept her awake for more than an hour before she eventually fell asleep. The next thing she knew, her alarm was playing its waterfall melody and it was time to get up again.

‘Morning, Isabella.’ Ferdinand seemed cheerful enough. He opened the front door. ‘It’s a lovely day. Perfect for our early morning walk, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Outside, it was just getting light, though the hotel faced south-west and they’d have to wait until they were out on the cliff to see much of the sunrise. The sky was a silvery pink and blue with woolly ribbons of grey on the far horizon. He was right. It was a beautiful morning and she couldn’t wait to get out there. She inclined her head. ‘Shall we go?’

They walked through the olive grove, the trees still dewy from an early morning mist, until they reached the Sentiero Azzurro. They took the path down towards the village. In the pastel light of dawn, the colours of Vernazza shimmered softly like unpolished jewels against the silvery-grey sky and sea. There was a feeling of peace about the landscape that had not yet fully woken up – even the train station was deserted. They paused to take it all in.

‘That’s Vernazza’s other convent,’ Isabella told Ferdinand. She pointed to the old building perched on the hillside beyond. Its roof was bright terracotta and its façade a dark salmon-pink, but as with all the buildings in Vernazza, the paint had peeled to reveal the grey render beneath.

Ferdinand looked over to where she was pointing. ‘Any nuns still around?’

She shook her head. ‘They all left a long time ago. It’s used for community events these days.’ The church beside the convent was of a simple design – white with a central rose window and a grey bell tower. Next to it, snaking through the vines, terraces and trees, were the steps leading up the mountain.

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