Chapter Sixteen
I let the smooth waters of the Arno calm me as I waited to hear Aidan’s explanation.
‘It’s probably best if I start at the beginning,’ he said.
Fuck. I braced myself. This was going to be bad.
‘Go on, then.’
‘It started a week or two before that night,’ he said, his voice faltering. ‘I’d had a call from my mum. I don’t know whether you remember, but she’d been having some tests?’
I nodded. ‘You never said exactly what for, but I remember.’
‘She was diagnosed with late-onset Hereditary Optic Neuropathy.’
I widened my eyes. ‘What’s that?’ It sounded terrible, but what did it have to do with anything?
‘She was basically losing her vision. She’d have bouts of not being able to see in colour, for example, and often everything would be blurred.
It started in one eye and then, after six months or so, it started happening in both.
That was when we – my dad and I – finally persuaded her to go to her doctor. ’
The story I’d made up in my head was beginning to unravel in front of my eyes. In my scenario, it had had nothing to do with his mum’s failing eyesight.
‘My mum told me the diagnosis over dinner one night,’ Aidan continued. ‘She played it down, because that’s what she does, but I knew there must be more to it. Once it had sunk in, I—’
He stopped dead as a young girl ran past us sobbing. Someone familiar, wearing denim cut-offs and a barely there crop top. Daisy. I spun around, watching as she crossed the bridge, running so fast that her limbs were flailing everywhere.
‘Is that …?’ said Aidan.
‘Daisy!’ I shouted. She either didn’t hear me or chose not to. ‘I’d better go after her.’
Aidan nodded. ‘Want me to come with you?’
‘No.’
Daisy was almost out of sight. I set off, half-running in her direction.
‘Meet me back here. Tomorrow morning?’ called Aidan.
I hesitated, turning to face him. ‘I’m on a tour of the Uffizi tomorrow. I won’t be able to get away.’
‘What time? I’ll come, too. We can talk there.’
I knew I should say no, but I’d been so close to getting the truth out of him. And I needed to know now, what did it have to do with his mum?
‘Nine-thirty,’ I said.
Aidan nodded. ‘I’ll be there.’
I hesitated and then turned and ran after Daisy.
It wasn’t easy to keep up with her. One minute I’d catch a glimpse of her bright white top and I’d sprint, trying to shorten the distance between us.
But then she’d duck down a side road and my body would flood with adrenaline until I saw her again.
There was more traffic this side of the river and at one point I looked the wrong way and almost got mowed down by a bike.
At last I spotted her. The road had widened out and there was a square ahead, with a palace to the left. I recognised it from my guidebook: the Palazzo Pitti that Aidan had just told me about.
‘Daisy!’
She heard me this time and turned around.
She didn’t stop, but she did slow her pace, allowing me to lengthen my stride and catch her up.
I hadn’t had this much exercise since Lou had talked me into going to a spin class with her and I almost threw up.
I tried to regulate my breath, searching Daisy’s bright red, tear-stained face for clues about what had happened.
Was it Sophia and her tactless comments?
Or had she had a row with Nick about being late for the wine tasting?
‘What’s happened?’ I managed to gasp.
Daisy’s face crumpled.
‘Oh, Daisy,’ I said, instinctively pulling her in for a hug.
At first, it was a little awkward. She was stiff and unresponsive in my arms as I patted her back lightly. Eventually, though, her body relaxed a little and I tightened my grip.
‘Tell me what’s upset you,’ I said, talking softly so as not to scare her away again. I didn’t think I could manage any more running.
‘He’s … he’s told me he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,’ said Daisy, launching into a new set of wails.
I pulled back, leading her over to the kerb.
‘Let’s sit down,’ I suggested, lowering myself onto the ground.
It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than standing in the middle of the square with unsuspecting tourists giving us strange looks as though I’d been the one to make Daisy cry.
‘Who won’t talk to you, Daisy?’ I asked gently.
‘My boyfriend,’ she said, sniffing.
I delved into my bag and pulled out a relatively clean tissue, handing it to her. She blew her nose noisily.
‘I didn’t realise you were … seeing anyone,’ I said, worrying that I sounded less than clued-up.
What did they call it these days? It had been years since I’d been on the dating scene, but from watching my number one guilty pleasure – Made in Chelsea – I thought I recalled the early-dating situation being referred to as ‘talking to’.
As in ‘I’m talking to Nick.’ I mean, it seemed an odd turn of phrase.
Obviously you would be talking to them, what would be the alternative?
‘Dad doesn’t know,’ confessed Daisy. ‘Mum said not to tell him because he’d go mad.’
I knew it might not be ideal to think about your fourteen-year-old daughter having a boyfriend, but I liked to think that Nick was more reasonable than that.
‘Why does she think that?’ I asked.
‘Because my boyfriend’s different from us.’
‘Who’s us?’
‘I mean … not you. Mum and Dad. And Granny.’
I frowned, not getting it.
‘You mean he’s …?’
I hoped she’d fill in the gaps.
‘From a really rough area. His mum’s a single mum and works in the bookies.
Mum reckons I can do better, but I don’t want to,’ said Daisy, a new set of tears filming her eyes.
‘He’s perfect. He’s so funny and cool and he’s in a band and we talk about all sorts of stuff, like writing lyrics and our shit parents.
’ Daisy looked up. ‘Sorry,’ she said, clearly worrying about having sworn in front of me.
‘No need to apologise. I know all about what it’s like to have shit parents.’
‘You do?’
I nodded. ‘He sounds nice. This boy.’
‘He is. Was. But now he says he doesn’t want to be in a serious relationship. He’s called it cooling off, but I know what that means.’
I put my arm around Daisy. ‘He’s young. He probably doesn’t know what he wants.
But, whatever happens, you have to remember that it is no reflection on you.
And that if it doesn’t work out with him, it will be hard, for a little while, but then it will be OK again.
And you’ll meet someone else and it will be better than you’d ever imagined. ’
Daisy nodded gratefully, blowing her nose again. ‘Do you think?’
I mustered all my enthusiasm. ‘I do.’
But if that was the case, if what I was telling Daisy was true, why did I still think about Aidan sometimes? And why didn’t my life with Nick feel ‘better than I’d imagined’?