Chapter 42
It’s just me and Leo at the bow of the vaporetto. The weather’s turned since breakfast, and the wind has chased everyone else inside. My plaits whip around as I lean out over the barrier.
‘We should do the Titanic scene. I could do my hair like Kate Winslet.’
He pulls his beanie over his ears. ‘It’s Ballarin, remember? Not DiCaprio, Nessie.’
Behind me, through the steamed-up windows, I can just make out Grace’s face pressed up to the glass, and Nadia, who turned up with Jacopo, a few seats over.
There’s definitely something going on there, but they’re better at hiding it than Leo and I are.
It seems Jacopo can joke about anything, but when it comes to his own love life, he’s surprisingly buttoned up.
Leo wasn’t wrong about the ride. The water bus inches along the Grand Canal, stopping every few minutes to load more people and luggage. I’m grateful for every extra second, but it’s a cruel reminder that time is moving on after our slow dawn walk and brioches shared in the dark.
The train station is heaving too. Jacopo queues with my mum to help her figure out the ticket machine, while the rest of us wait on the platform.
‘You’ll love Firenze,’ Nadia tells me. ‘And we’ll see each other soon, sì? Summer is not long and Alessandra has all kinds of plans for us.’
‘It’s only forty-seven days till Easter,’ Leo points out. ‘I’m going to look for flights the minute I get home.’
I try to smile, but my eyes burn and my nose stings.
Dad pats Leo’s shoulder. ‘Well, the sofa bed’s yours when you want it, Leo. Not as nice as you’re used to, mind. Heck, Evie will get a shock when she gets home tomorrow night.’
That does it.
I’m crying now, caught between already missing Leo and the panic of what he’ll think when he comes to visit and sees my real life.
Oh God. Leo in our flat, eating fish and chips on his knees in front of the telly, sleeping on our lumpy sofa bed. What if he changes his mind about me?
I tug him aside, my voice thick. ‘My place isn’t like yours. It’s not even a house. It’s a flat, in a tiny town. Just walks and lochs and sheep.’
‘Evie, you’re the snob in this relationship, remember?’ Leo cups my cheek and I lean into it. ‘I don’t care about any of that. We fell for each other long before we knew anything about our families.’
He means all those messages, all those days and nights chatting.
‘And it’ll be a hundred times easier to stay in touch now,’ he adds. ‘No more relying on the app. We can message and video call without worrying about the SWAT team.’
My laugh is more of a snuffly sob.
When the train pulls in and it’s time to board, I hug Jacopo, then Nadia, and Leo last. I squeeze him hard, because kissing him in front of my parents is not an option.
He watches from the platform as we bump our way down the aisle to a table. I claim the window seat, flattening my hand against the glass when he mouths ‘Easter!’ and blows me a kiss.
The carriage jolts into motion and we’re pulling away. Away from Venice. Away from Leo. Out across rails that seem to run on water towards the mainland.
Grace puts an arm around my shoulders. ‘Florence will be great. Paola’s going to meet us at the station. She’s got a whole day mapped out.’
I try to smile. This is our first family trip.
And Grace has talked so much about Florence, I’ve been dying to see it.
But it’s all crashing over me at once – the lies, the parade, the emotional roller coaster that tipped right over the edge with my goodbye to Leo.
Another sob leaks out and I bury my face in Grace’s jacket.
Mum leans over to rub my back, whispering about young love, as if she can smooth the ache away.
Grace keeps up a monologue about Paola’s cooking, the markets we’ll visit, even the hotel breakfast. She’s laying it on thick, trying to distract me. And for once I don’t roll my eyes – I just nod, because I know what she’s doing and because I sort of need it.
When I’ve finally calmed, she gets my iPad and stylus and places them on the table. ‘We’ll be on the train for about two hours.’
Well. This is new. Grace encouraging me to draw.
I pick them up and just sketch, slow and careful, like I’m painting. When Grace asks to see, I turn the screen round. It’s my sister and me – no overlays, no collage, no monstrous blobs with armfuls of green slime. Just us on a fresh page. I take a screenshot and send it to Leo.
Because now I can try different ways of drawing, and different ways of connecting to the people I love, knowing he’s there for me whether we’re together or apart.