Chapter 10 – Simo
‘How much money can you make from bread?’
‘Enough to buy an ancient mansion,’ Mairi tells Louise, and bites off the tip of her carrot. They’re scrolling through articles and Wikipedia entries on their phones, researching Lombard’s newest residents.
Louise is doing what she does best, spreading gossip and adding a trickle of fuel to keep the fire going. People are already losing their minds over the mere presence of multimillionaires in Lombard, I can’t imagine their reaction when they find out whose grandparents they are.
‘The mansion isn’t that ancient, only three or four centuries,’ she says, and twirls a strawberry-blonde curl around her finger.
‘You try and make it to three hundred years and then we’ll talk about what is and isn’t ancient,’ Mairi deadpans.
Louise stares at her phone, mouth agape. ‘If these sources are correct, the Brandenburgs are so rich they could buy the whole town,’ she tells us. ‘All because they somehow turned a single bakery into a multimillion-pound bread empire.’
‘I get it,’ Jacob chirps up. ‘I love bread.’
A group of us have swapped the packed lunch hall for the park. We’re huddled on the stage of the open-air theatre, which is shaped like a giant oyster, its curved roof offering shelter from the constant drizzle. Despite that, everyone’s in shorts and T-shirts, trying to make the summer last.
My gaze sweeps across the tended lawns and flower beds and keeps snagging on the town square – and the noticeboard – just beyond the park, separated only by a concrete patch of street. My chest flares with anxiety every time I read the words, even though the message has long changed.
JOIN THE HARVEST
FESTIVAL
THIS WEEKEND!
Next to me, Luca is biting his fingernails. I elbow him, because there is no sound I find more revolting, and he knows it. When I nod towards the steps, silently asking if he wants to leave, he shakes his head.
I’m surprised we’re still here, listening to gossip about his grandparents, after we spent the weekend scouring the internet for information, and even watched a documentary on the bread empire in question.
It was Luca’s grandfather who turned the ailing family bakery around, buying up other bakeries that were close to ruin and, over the next four decades, amassing hundreds of stores all over the country.
Nowadays, Brandenburg bread is sold in every supermarket and cafe.
All these years we’ve been munching on Brandenburg toast without knowing that it’s Luca’s grandparents’ name on the packaging.
He stares at his half-eaten sandwich as if he just had the same thought.
It’s Wednesday, and he still hasn’t talked to his dad.
I don’t mind him bunking with me, but I had to find a new home for the notebook.
I’d never be able to look him in the eyes if he found the many half-written poems, the thinly veiled allusions to his name.
But the house doesn’t feel so depressingly quiet with him in it, and my parents are on their best behaviour.
That’s coming to an end, though I haven’t found a good moment to tell him.
‘Why do you think they moved here?’ Louise ponders. ‘Famous people don’t come to Lombard. Nothing ever happens here.’
‘Now, that isn’t true,’ Jacob throws in. ‘If you can believe what that massive noticeboard says, the harvest festival is definitely happening.’
He throws me a nervous glance from behind his ginger curtains, and I’m reminded of our first meeting outside the cafe. I’ve still not made up my mind about him.
‘It’s not that exciting,’ Luca says, speaking up for the first time.
He’s been different these past few days, his usual chattiness replaced with something more withdrawn.
‘It means you’ll find hay bales and seasonal flower arrangements all over town.
There’ll be a big potluck, and a band playing the same five songs over and over, and some dancing around a firepit if you’ve had one too many. ’
‘Sounds nice to me,’ Curtains says, and smiles at Luca.
‘I didn’t say it wasn’t nice,’ Luca replies, returning the smile, ‘just not exciting.’
I’ve not seen him smile since the fight with his dad. Then this guy turns up and suddenly the clouds part.
‘What’s the story there anyway? With the noticeboard, I mean.’
It bothers me, the way Curtains directs his question at Luca like no one else is around.
‘It’s a Celtic tradition,’ I reply gruffly, to stop him eyeing up Luca, ‘a way to mark important holidays.’
‘Huh,’ Mairi says and swallows her food. ‘My mum told me that Pickering put it up for May Day a few years ago and refused to pay for having it removed again.’
‘You’re both wrong,’ Luca says. ‘It was built by the same people who owned the manor. A way to mark the border of their land or something.’
‘So, you’re not going for May Couple, then?’ Louise prompts, changing the topic at breakneck speed. Her expression of gleeful curiosity gets my blood boiling. Mairi stills mid-chew. Everyone’s eyes are on us, awaiting our reaction.
‘Why would we go for May Couple if we’re not a couple, Louise?’ I ask, trying to hide the thunder I feel inside. I don’t know which one of us moved, but now there’s a space between Luca and me that wasn’t there a minute ago.
‘What’s a May Couple?’ Jacob speaks up, confusion drawing lines on to his forehead.
‘People in Lombard go a little crazy for the summer,’ Mairi explains.
‘The harvest festival this week marks the autumn equinox, so the end of summer, as opposed to May Day which celebrates the summer to come. Part of the festival is the tradition of crowning a couple of lovers, who will then light this huge bonfire to symbolise a season of abundance.’
‘It’s very Midsommar,’ Louise adds, ‘but, like, actually kind of cute and romantic and completely without violent murder.’
Heat rises from my neck and sets my face alight. The idea of Luca and me standing in front of the entire town as we’re pronounced lovers to the sound of drums and trumpets makes me want to be sick.
‘I get it, Lombard loves a romance. But like Simo said, we’re friends.’ Luca brushes them off with a lightness that I envy him for.
‘You should come, Jacob. Sunday is when they sell all the good food. We should all go, as a group,’ Mairi suggests, but I’m still stuck on that pointed little question.
‘Why would Luca and I go for May Couple, Louise?’ I repeat. Luca sends me a look, telling me to let it go, but if this is another rumour making the rounds, I need to know.
Louise shrugs. ‘We can’t crown Sheila and her fiancé a third year in a row, so your names were thrown in the ring.’
I’m not happy to have my suspicion confirmed.
Luca and I pulled ourselves back together after that first week, but I don’t know how our friendship would cope with a second hit when I’m not sure we’re fully recovered from the first one.
It shouldn’t be this complicated. When did we go from being Simo and Luca to becoming other people’s property?
‘If you could just not mention our names like that, I’d really appreciate it,’ Luca says. He addresses the group but avoids looking in my direction.
Something about Luca’s nature inspires trust in others.
His presence is comfortable to a degree of being addictive.
It’s so reassuring when you have it that you can’t help but miss it when it’s gone.
He acts as a welcome buffer between me and the rest of the world.
I tend to keep to myself more, not because I dislike people, but it’s easier to exist in my own head.
Trying to translate my feelings to someone else doesn’t come easily.
A tap on my shoulder pops the bubble I’ve disappeared into.
Luca fills my field of vision. I try not to stare at the birthmarks that dot his long arms or the sliver of chest peeking from beneath his vest. That’s my clothes on his body, borrowed from my wardrobe this morning.
My skin begins to tingle in a way I can’t explain.
‘Where did you go?’ Luca asks, almost tenderly. It’s a familiar question and, like always, I shake my head, unable to let him into my thoughts.
Behind him, Mairi is zipping up her boots, and Louise is hiding her hair beneath a cardigan, pouting at the drizzle that separates us from the school grounds. I didn’t realise we were leaving.
‘Ready?’ Louise asks.
‘You go ahead,’ I say, without giving them a reason for staying behind. Even if I had an explanation, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. I barely know how to soften the blow for Luca.
Jacob and Louise shuffle out, but Mairi lingers at the edge of the stage. Angular and statuesque, she looms a head taller than us, especially in platform boots.
‘Let us know about Sunday, yeah?’ she says, and follows the others into the mist. Now there’s only me and Luca huddled beneath the somewhat derelict roof, and I’ve still not managed to come up with the right words.
A flicker of worry dashes across his face and settles in the strained tilt of his neck. He reminds me of a fawn watching its surroundings for a reason to bolt. Ever since the noticeboard announcement, it’s a reaction I’ve seen more often in him than I’d like.
This morning, Mum cornered me in the kitchen when Luca was in the shower.
She said she didn’t mind having him around – which was less stretching the truth and more like twisting it completely – but he couldn’t camp out with us forever.
He has a dad that worries about him, and also my trousers are too short for his legs.
She wasn’t wrong about the latter. Luca’s ankles are on full display, but he makes it look intentional.
‘What is it?’ he asks, searching my face for a sign. I’m nervous he’ll find something he shouldn’t see.
I’ve always suspected that my parents don’t approve of the fact that Luca is gay, that his dad is gay and, most of all, that I spend so much time with them. They’ve never said anything hostile, but kids are more perceptive than parents like to admit.
I saw the reaction when Mum asked about Maz’s wife once, and Maz clarified he’d never been married to Luca’s mum, and that he’s gay.
When Maz sent Luca to ballet lessons and asked me to join, I declined, knowing my parents wouldn’t approve, even at eight years old.
And then, right before the trip to Granada, Dad gave me a few euro notes for a night out, but warned me, with a look I could hardly misinterpret, to stay away from ‘those’ bars.
It made me feel gross, like I’d been accused of a crime I hadn’t committed.
Adding up these moments paints a grim picture, one I hope Luca never lays eyes on.
I open my mouth, still unsure how to begin, but Luca sees through my hesitation.
‘I’ve outstayed my welcome,’ he deduces.
‘That’s not true,’ I lie. He hasn’t, not with me. Luca raises his eyebrows, both of them, cos he’s never mastered the art of moving just one. ‘All right. My parents complained that they can’t keep cooking for four.’
Luca frowns. ‘Is that what they said?’
‘Not in those words. But the message was clear.’
‘They’ve seemed to enjoy cooking for us.’
‘To show off.’
‘They made nice conversation.’
‘To pry, nothing more.’
‘They didn’t ask once about the fight with Maz.’
‘Because they don’t care.’
Luca waits a beat. He wears a serious expression, but there’s something gentle in those ocean eyes. ‘I don’t think you give them enough credit,’ he says.
‘I think you give them too much,’ I reply.
He only shakes his head. ‘It’s OK, honestly. I have a home, and a dad, and it’s not like I’d planned to stay forever. I needed a timeout and that’s come to an end.’
‘You sure?’ I ask, relieved that he’s not hurt.
He smiles, softly, and at last I know he’s going to be all right. ‘You’ve been sharing your room and your clothes with me. You must miss not having anything to yourself.’
I don’t know why he’s consoling me when he’s the one leaving. The only thing I’ll be missing is the little moments when he talks in his sleep. I’ve heard my name in there once or twice. I always hold my breath when it happens, hoping he’ll say more.
It’s confusing, knowing I’m on his mind but being left in the dark as to why.
I want him to let me into his dreams. Our bodies are so used to each other that sometimes I can’t sleep without the sound of his breath in my ears.
But that doesn’t erase the barrier between what’s on his mind and what he tells me.
Ever since the noticeboard message, we’re on unfamiliar ground.
And ever since the moment in the cupboard, I’ve started seeing him in a different light.
I have always been sure of our friendship, and having him around tells me that we’re still Luca and Simo.
But I’ve yet to find the line where friendship ends and turns into something else.
Whatever is happening with my feelings for Luca, they’re taking on a different shape, one that I can’t interpret.
I want to know if he feels the same, but I’m not sure I can muster the courage to ask.
I want to tell him that no, I don’t mind sharing.
He can have my food, my room, my bed, my clothes.
He can have it all and I’d be happier for it.
But the words don’t make it past my lips.
Because as Luca said himself, we’re not a couple.
Lombard wants to make us something we’re not.
So perhaps it’s best that we sleep in separate beds again.
We head out into a rain so gentle it’s like walking through spiderwebs. Immediately we’re covered in a thin layer of mist. By the time we reach the edge of the school grounds, Luca is wearing a crown of dewdrops, hundreds of diamonds caught in his hair.
I don’t know who I’m fooling. If we were ever to break apart, of course I wouldn’t cope. I’ve lost my favourite person once before. There’s no way I’d survive another hit.
There’s no way I’d survive without Luca. And that scares me.