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lemon trees and lavenders.
    Inside were six bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Lauren had sent Rose’s luggage by FedEx with all the toys, so Rose didn’t have to wait at the airport. Lucia had hung all her clothes in the solid oak wardrobes, marvelling at the tissue paper and the scented sachets from Maryse à Paris. Her Smythson beauty case had been unpacked and all her toiletries had been placed carefully in the bathroom cupboards. The Egyptian cotton sheets with a 250 thread count had been washed and dried in the Umbrian sun by Lucia and placed on the bed.
    ‘Signorina, you want something to eat?’ asked Lucia hopefully. She was looking forward to feeding up this skinny girl with her imaginary children.
    Rose smiled. ‘No, maybe just a cup of tea and a biscuit. I might have a bath and lie down for a while.’
    Lucia wandered off, mumbling in Italian to herself. Rose thought she heard her saying something about ghost children and she reminded herself to listen more to the Italian lessons on her iPod. Ghost children, she thought. My Italian is worse than I thought.
    Rose walked into the bathroom. It was astonishing, even by Rose’s Hollywood standards. The floors were covered with beautiful stone tiles in natural colours and the surrounding walls whitewashed. At the end of the room were three steps that led down into a large sunken tub. Above the tub was a leadlight window that opened wide, letting the warm summer breeze float into the room.
    At the foot of the tub was a gorgeous gift basket filled with a selection of products from Santa Maria Novella, a 13th century apothecary, once run by Dominican monks with a note from the film’s producers welcoming her and thanking her for taking the role in the film. The handmade basket was overflowing with vanilla bath and shower gels, pomegranate bath salts, lily and rose water, summer candles smelling of the sea and a selection of fragrances including honeysuckle, opoponax, orange blossom, tuberose, and the stunning Angels of Florence perfume – a blend of jasmine, lilac, peach, violet and white musk.
    Lying next to the basket of scented items was a tower of towels, all with the Frette crest embroidered on them, an exquisitely folded ivory bathrobe, several quilted spa mitts and a pile of beautifully folded bath sheets in dusk and sandstone.
    Tiredness washed over Rose and she sat on the antique armchair in the corner of the room. Lucia knocked at the open door and saw how weary Rose seemed. Clucking in Italian and bustling into the bathroom, she walked over and turned on the water in the bath. Rummaging through the basket of bath and body goodies, Lucia pulled out citrus bath oil and poured a few drops under the running water. She undid the robe and shook out the bath sheets.
    ‘Come, signorina. Time to bathe, very nice for you, quiet. I bring you your tea, yes?’
    Rose nodded her acceptance and was actually grateful for someone taking over while she was in her jet-lagged state.
    Lucia felt the temperature of the water. ‘All ready now, signorina.’ She left the bathroom and brought back a tray with a silver teapot with strainer, a bone china cup and saucer, a small matching pitcher of milk and tiny bowl of little sugar cubes, a silver spoon and a selection of Italian biscuits and left Rose alone.
    Rose slowly undressed and stepped down into the tub. If this was Italy, then I never want to leave, she thought.
    Downstairs in the kitchen, Lucia moaned to her husband, the gardener, about Rose. No children, too skinny, too old, should be married … the list went on of Lucia’s complaints about Rose. It wouldn’t do, said Lucia to herself, deciding then and there she would have to draw Rose’s future to her. All the women in the family had the gift and Lucia knew she had no choice but to magic a man and some children into Rose’s life.
Pronto
!

CHAPTER TWO
    Calypso Gable woke up, fully dressed, in the biggest suite of the Hotel Brufani Palace in Perugia and checked