Lady of Asolo by Siobhan Daiko

going to prepare the contessa beforehand. How embarrassing to have blurted everything out to him last night. Whatever had she been thinking of? She hardly knew him, yet she’d shared something that would categorise her as a loony by anyone’s standards.
    Gravel crunched under the tyres of Luca’s red Alfa Romeo convertible as he parked up. Two chocolate brown Labradors bounded towards him, wagging their tails. He introduced them as Jason and Sam. After stroking their silky ears, Fern walked with him up a wide ramp with a gentle slope. A flight of steps led up to the loggia in the centre of the villa, which took the form of a portico crowned by a gable that made her think of a temple front. It was awe-inspiring. No other word for it.
    ‘See those,’ Luca said, pointing out the two colonnaded wings at each side of the main building. ‘They originally housed the grain stores, which needed to be under cover.’
    ‘What sort of grain?’
    ‘My family introduced the cultivation of corn here. Now it’s grown all over the Veneto and has become a staple in the form of polenta.’
    ‘Do you still grow it?’
    ‘Yes. And we also have vineyards and our own wine label. My brother, Antonio, has taken over running the estate since our father died. We no longer store the corn here, by the way, but have built barns over there.’ He pointed to the left. ‘The offices and family accommodation are now in the wings. The original living area is open to the public three days a week, and far too grand for us. I’ll give you a quick tour of the piano nobile then we’ll go out to the garden.’
    He led her into a large, square room, richly decorated with frescos. ‘You can see why we don’t live here. It would be like living in a museum.’
    ‘So beautiful,’ Fern said, her feet sliding on the smooth marble floor. The walls were adorned with frescoes of gods and goddesses indulging in rural frolics. It was unlike any house she’d been in before, and discomfort spread through her.
    Outside the window, a private garden opened up with manicured lawns and flower-beds. An umbrella shaded a table on the patio in the corner. Trailing geraniums tumbled from urns, and red roses crowded a bed hugging the honeysuckle-smothered wall. About ten times bigger than Aunt Susan’s garden, and, indeed, Mum and Dad’s country garden near Chepstow. It was more the sort of place Cecilia was used to, living a life of luxury in Caterina Cornaro’s Barco, than what she, Fern, had experienced up to now. The lump of discomfort had lodged in her throat. She swallowed, hard.
    ‘My mother’s waiting for us.’ Luca took her hand. At his touch, the tension within her relaxed. A friendly gesture, not a come-on, and reassuring for its naturalness. He really was a lovely man.
    ‘Wonderful to see you again,’ Vanessa Goredan said, glancing up from her seat. The Labradors had flopped down at her feet, and now rolled over for Fern to tickle their tummies. ‘Do sit down. Luca will fetch us a bottle of Prosecco and we can toast your first visit to the villa.’
    Fern pulled out a chair and sat on the soft cushion. The air was filled with the jasmine scent of honeysuckle. No odour of burnt wood here. ‘Thank you for having me, Contessa Goredan.’
    ‘Please, call me Vanessa. Now, tell me. Luca mentioned that you’ve been having strange visions. I thought something was going on when I saw you swaying in the church the other day.’
    ‘Didn’t want you to think I’m nuts. If someone had told me a couple of days ago they’d experienced what I’ve been experiencing, I would have thought they were bonkers.’
    ‘I can assure you I won’t. Remember our lute-player?’
    ‘All right then. Here goes.’ She told Vanessa everything – from the ghostly whispers in Aunt Susan’s kitchen to her strange experiences in Asolo and at the Barco; it didn’t sound as peculiar as it had done when she’d told Luca last night. ‘What do you think?’ she asked when