Free The Biographer by Virginia Duigan

against the blue sky, a sense of ancient stillness and isolation – your classic artists' retreat. I wouldn't mind living here, it's almost too perfect to be true.Where are they all?'
    At that moment his eye was caught by a flurry from his left. A small, extremely thin woman in jeans and a pink t-shirt had emerged from the big house and was galloping towards him, shouting and energetically flapping her hands. Behind her, two black pugs waddled a few steps, barked and then sat down.
    He replaced the dictaphone in his pocket. Had she not, in addition to the shouting and waving, been distinctly smiling, he might have stepped back in alarm. She closed in, and he began to decipher a series of disconnected phrases. 'Are here . . . today, no next week – computer it lost – accident – perfect!'
    She almost skidded to a halt in front of him, sentences rushing on unabated. 'You like it see the rooms, and you choose which one you like?'
    He began lamely to introduce himself, but she interrupted. 'Yes, yes, I know,
I know who, Antony the writer from America, but not from America this time,
from London, come to do the job on Mr Mischa.That is good! My name is Agnieszka.You
get it luggage and I take you to your house over there where you stay, and
then I tell Gigi. You know Gigi?'
    'No,I just got here.We didn't meet yet.'He hoisted his canvas holdall and a hard-topped suitcase from the boot and dumped them on the gravel.
    'You no meet? Oh. But Mr Mischa you know.' She reached for the computer case, but he slung it over his shoulder.
    'Thanks,I'll take it.No,not even Mr Mischa.Although we have talked.'
    'Oh,you talk.But you like it know everything about him, very soon, because you write nice big book all about him and everybody read!'
    They both laughed. She chatted on, observing him with lively curiosity as they walked the short distance to the guest house.The building alongside the car park butted up against it. She followed his gaze.
    'In old day before that was dirty old shed with machines, now new winery inside. Beautiful, very modern with all steel.Very clean.Tidy, you know, and very nice?' She made emphatic horizontal gestures with her outstretched hands. 'No messy with bits and books in piles, like in all these people houses. Big, very big barrels, you don't believe me, filled up with wine that Gigi make with Mr Guy, but waiting, not ready for drink yet. If you like it see, you go through office, underneath your house. Gigi can show it.'
    He saw that the ground floor of the house was an office, complete with shelving, files, computer table and a classical beauty with dark waving hair, all clearly visible through the wide-open French doors. The young woman was fetching her coat and bag, saw them and emerged.Agnieszka sketched an openly reluctant and pointedly one-sided introduction.
    'Mr Antony just arrive from London.'The dark-haired girl flashed an interested smile. 'I quickly show him house, then he must go straightaway to Mr Mischa.'
    The girl put out her hand.'Hello,I'm Giulia.'
    'Hi, Giulia.You work in the winery here?'
    Agnieszka interrupted,'She do Gigi job while Gigi tell you everything you want to know about Mr Mischa.'
    The girl added,'Everything you always wanted to know but were afraid to ask.'
    'Hey, how come your English is so good?'
    'Oh, I studied in the UK, at Bristol.'
    Agnieszka, transparently irritated, had already bounded up the steps to the first floor. She called down in a loud, reproving voice,'Say goodbye, Giulia, Mr Antony must wash and unpack clothes and meet his people before it dark, he no like it waste time now.'
    He winked, and was treated to a merry look.'I think she wants to protect you. Or keep you for herself.'
    'Well, how very flattering. If you're around this week, maybe I could take a look at the winery?'
    She was locking the office doors with two keys from a big bunch.'Sure, I'm here every day because of you. Come in, you know where to find me. Ciao.'
    The heavy door to the apartment