looked at each other and refrained from giggling, amused.
"There are these loaves made of potatoes, or those made of wholemeal flour ..." Klara said pointing at two shelves closed by a glass shutter filled with tiny little buns.
"Do you have the sesame one?" Asked the other, trying to exaggerate the London accent.
"No, Mrs. Price, I'm sorry. Today we don't have them’’
"Too bad" she said, disappointed, "I'll settle for a wholemeal and a normal without lard."
Klara closed the bag and handed it to her.
While paying Mrs. Price asked nonchalantly, glancing at Ursula and Magda: " Since down here it’s quite easy to know what’s going on in town these days, do you happen to know if Mr Davis has arrived? "
Klara studied the woman: "Mrs. Price," answered with a little too much determination" this morning was pretty hectic and there was no time for me to gossip. I'm sorry, but here we never hear any news about what Mr. Davis does."
"I thought the opposite" said Mrs. Price sweetly. "After all, Davis is always surrounded by a certain... fame, surroundings..."
"He could also be the new Prime Minister," Klara replied cheerfully, "would not make a big difference to us" and she remarked that with a knowing look at the two women who were listening with great attention.
Leslie Price shrugged her shoulders, smiled and went out elegantly, muttering in an imperceptible w ay: " Gossipy bitches ."
As soon she left the three women burst out laughing.
"...If by any chance Mr. Davis has already arrived..." Magda asked, imitating her refined accent and the mania of throwing the scarf back on her neck.
"As if he doesn't know that she is stalking him and she is only looking forward to slip into his bed and take all his money " said Ursula.
"And God knows to how many she must have..." Magda sighed.
Klara shook her head. "At this moment, I repeat, even if he was the crown prince in person, it would not make any difference to me"
"I would, if I was given the chance " Ursula said.
Magda looked at her and then said. "But you're not so do not even think about it"
Ursula shrugged her shoulders. "See you tonight at Victoria's?" Klara asked.
"As usual" she replied.
The door rattled again. "Mrs. Adams. In what I can serve you" Klara said, moving away from her two friends and going behind the counter.
Ursula and Magda waved good-bye and left the bakery, chatting intensely.
Chapter 3
"Bastard. A new Aston Martin" Mr. Edwards murmured while a bright Vanquish entered the gravel driveway of Willow Manor.
Mrs. Roberts, standing next to him, looked at him disapprovingly.
"Edward. Please." she said.
"I didn't mean it" the butler justified himself, lined up with the other servants in front of the building's front door. Then, sighing, he turned to the housekeeper: "I know better what to do with three hundred thousand pounds, instead of fiddling with toys of that kind."
"Oh, at last. You are NOT Mr. Davis. But you are getting paid by him. And well paid. At least that should lead you to respect him, don't you think so?"
"I respect everyone's whims. But they burn. And as for our salary: the bread crumbs of the bread crumbs."
"It's pure envy," she whispered, brushing against him, while, beaming a dazzling smile, she approached the car door.
Mr. Edwards, too, approached, smiling, "It's a pleasure to see you again" he said as he slightly nodded.
Davis looked at him distractedly: "Do you know how to open the trunk, Edward?" he asked.
Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned to the garden. He took two steps toward the path leading to the fountain and stopped.
"What's this eyesore?" Edward asked.
"The new gardener. He said it's the latest fashion in terms of..." he hinted.
"I don’t seem to have made any provision on this," Davis said coldly "Remove that thing... right away," and he pointed to a tree pruned like a green ball. He turned like he had been stung by a wasp and headed home. Passing in front of Edward he stopped, looked at him for a moment and then adjusted his tie. The butler blushed violently. Mrs Roberts repressed a giggle.
"Sara, Joan. Take the gentleman’s suitcases to his room." He ordered.
The two maids obeyed and took the bags that Edward, still with his scarlet cheeks, was pulling out of the trunk. Davis entered the house.
The butler banged the trunk lid violently, to close it. He grumbled to himself and dragged a sports bag with two wheels.
"Put the car in the garage, Edward" the housekeeper said.
"I won’t even think about it" the butler replied aggressively. "I don’t take responsibility for damaging a three hundred thousand pounds car. If you want to put it in the garage, you better think about it."
Mrs. Roberts looked up to the sky and entered the house, closing the front door behind her.
And so he was alone again. Alone. Alone. Alone. Davis was searching nervously the drawers of the desk. It was almost as old as the house and there was a worn out piano. Roumor had it it belonged to some old, prominent writer, he was sure that the piece of furniture at most he had seen the sheets with the required amount of debt to pile up, of the family that had lived in the house until he couldn't afford to buy the house anymore.
Davis sat in the armchair that stood in the middle of the room. All in all it was a good deal: a sort of good retreat to be used when he won’t manage to hold himself anymore or if -for reasons of force majeure- he would need to disappear from the social circles for some time. On some occasions that house had been precious.
Davis sniffed the air of the living room that smelled like old and dust. He felt a kind of anguish: when he was far away, he tended not to think about how he felt like a prisoner in that country, far from everything, from business, as well as from life, from flatterers like friends, from beauty, as well as from dangers in which he, as a polite and refined man of the world, often hunted.
He grabbed the cigar box, opened it and sniffed the aroma that came out of it. He closed it and threw it away on the desk.
"I have to stay here at least two weeks. Wait for things to settle down. When Miles will be over with the process then I'll come back and we can start talking again. But this time I'll dictate the rules" he said softly.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock.
