Chapter 9
9
We finished our coffee soon after that and I went back to my room to have a look through my wardrobe for suitable degrees of glamour that Ceci might find acceptable.
Susie, meanwhile, was held back by a crooked finger and a knowing nod from the Contessa, which brooked no disagreement.
‘You will see,’ was all she said. ‘I know what I am doing and so does Gina. Ci divertiremo, such fun. You can go now, Jo, yes now, and I will see you later.’
Mystified, I obeyed and went back to my room to rummage unsuccessfully through my clothes, realising that new shirts, dresses and trousers from chain stores in the high street were no match for Valentino originals.
I sat down on my bed, suddenly remembering a dress I had bought for one of Greg’s work parties, just after we got married, in Schiaparelli pink. Greg had taken one look, smothered a laugh and made me return it to the shop. I’d really liked it too. Why had I done that?
Still, I did have a sparkly skirt I had seen and coveted for months in Jigsaw. But I hadn’t bought it until it was in the sale. How typical of me. And I had a top that could go with it, although I would have to push the sleeves up as they were a bit long. If I just turned up in my black outfit, Ceci would have given me one of her looks.
What did she want Susie for, I wondered? What sort of fun was she planning? Perhaps she wanted to dish the dirt on Raimondo? Warn her off because he was another of the caddish sorts to which Susie seemed to be attracted. Maybe he had a mistress in a penthouse flat somewhere in Naples that he thought Ceci didn’t know about. And he was keeping it quiet in case she wrote him out of her will.
But I had to be honest, he was very handsome. There was something about a lot of Italian men that was very attractive. I always did have a bit of a soft spot for Robert de Niro. And Al Pacino. And John Travolta. It’s something about the eyes.
Perhaps Ceci was persuading Susie to try that dress, and Susie was resisting because she didn’t have decent underwear on, and she was trying to make excuses so she could go back to her room and find her Spanx?
Don’t be daft . Why would she buy shapewear? She certainly didn’t need them.
And why were some women trying to make their bottoms look smaller, and the other half trying to make them look bigger? Life could be very confusing sometimes.
Having decided what I would wear, I realised I was hungry. It would have been nice to have a car; well, a theoretical car, because there was no way I was driving on those narrow roads, and then I could go out somewhere and find a café or a wine bar. Instead, I would have to stay in the hotel, which of course was no hardship.
And I was sure someone could rustle me up a couple of sandwiches if I asked.
* * *
I made my way to the garden terrace and a few guests were already there, murmuring and chuckling and drinking chilled white wine and eating elegant little lunches. It looked like just the sort of place I wanted to be. Out in the clear air but shaded under a cream canvas canopy from the sun.
To one side outside the open kitchen doors, a little girl was playing with a skipping rope with painted wooden handles. The hotel cat was taking a siesta in the dusty shade of a lemon tree.
A waiter came to take my order; I explained I was waiting for Susie and – unwilling to leave me with nothing – he brought me a carafe of iced water to be going on with.
I sat fiddling with my phone for a few minutes, wondering how long Susie was going to be, and then I wished I had something to read. Even at my age I felt slightly uncomfortable, firstly because I was alone, and secondly I was doing absolutely nothing.
Perhaps I could understand why my mother had always taken her knitting bag along with her. My abiding memory of her was her hands being busy. Mending, sewing, darning socks. I mean, who even darns socks these days? Even at my age, our generation of women seemed to have an underlying inability to do nothing, to be seen – by someone – as idle. Even if I was watching television, I would usually be doing something else at the same time. Ironing or scrolling through my phone or making a shopping list.
I glanced around. There were a couple of middle-aged men sitting on their own just looking at the view. They didn’t seem at all bothered. Maybe they were captains of industry who felt they deserved a break and were taking one?
Perhaps it really was just women who felt they needed to be occupied all the time? And what did we do now? Checked our emails or messages. Watched television while dusting it or sorting out the messy drawer in the sideboard. And who put all those things in there in the first place because they couldn’t be bothered to actually put away all those cables and useful gadgets?
I once pondered if all the Christmas presents children bought for their fathers over the years ended up dumped in drawers like that around the world. The sets of Allen keys, the handy magnifying glass on a keyring, the perpetual brass calendar that always broke. Novelty coasters and executive desk toys.
Just as I was wondering if I could have a glass of wine, a woman came and stood next to me, and I looked up, doing a double take at the sight of her. It was Susie, but I hardly recognised her.
In all the years I had known her, Susie had always had a mane of untameable hair which had been a constant source of anguish to her.
Now she stood in front of me, looking pleased but also slightly embarrassed. Her hair had been cut into a short bob just below chin level and her tousled curls were framing her face in a way I had never seen.
‘Good grief!’ I said, almost dropping my water glass in shock. ‘What did she do to you?’
Susie ran her fingers through her hair nervously.
‘She insisted. As soon as you left the room, that woman, Gina, had a long discussion with Ceci, and then she pushed me into a chair, wrapped a robe around me and before I knew what was happening, she had got her shears out and they were flashing around my ears like Edward Scissorhands. I didn’t dare move. What do you think?’
‘You look marvellous,’ I said, ‘absolutely amazing. I don’t know why you didn’t do that years ago.’
‘I was too chicken,’ Susie said. ‘It seemed easier just to tie it back out of the way. But now, I think I love it. My head feels so much lighter.’
‘You look about ten years younger too,’ I said, ‘absolutely glorious. I think you deserve a drink to get over the shock. I think we both do.’
Seeing me looking round, the waiter hurried over and in moments had brought us two large glasses of chilled Pinot Grigio.
Susie and I chinked our glasses in a toast of celebration and then she gave an embarrassed giggle.
‘Actually, I just saw Raimondo in the bar. He said I look stupenda, and he has invited me out for a drive and a late lunch on the other side of the island. Near Marina Piccolo. Do you mind if I go?’
‘What, now?’
Susie nodded and took a big gulp of her wine. ‘Dutch courage,’ she said. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been out with someone new.’
I felt a bit disappointed at the thought of being left on my own again. She had said we were going to spend lots of time together on this trip, but she looked so excited and happy that I didn’t have the heart to say so.
‘So this never talking to a man again isn’t really working out for you, is it?’ I said with a grin.
Susie shrugged and pulled a funny face.
‘Oh, you know.’
I insisted that I didn’t mind one bit and also made some rather pointed remarks about her not being out too late and behaving herself. And then she took another quick sip of her wine, grabbed her handbag and hurried off again.
I didn’t think I had seen her looking that animated for a very long time. And I really was pleased for her.
But should I have given the dashing Raimondo a stern warning before they left? Perhaps I should have got him alone behind the bins, holding him up against the wall by his lapels and threatened him with a damn good thrashing if he upset her?
I watched her retreating back for a few moments. And then I carried on looking at the place when I had last seen her, rather thoughtfully. How exciting. And how marvellous that she at last had someone to take her mind of Simon who had successfully gaslighted her for so long.
I half wished it was me, rushing off for a date with a dashing man, but then, thinking about it, the whole thing, even the prospect of it, was so exhausting.
I thought about what it would take to get to know a new man – exploring their character, waiting to see if they had any unpleasant habits. Did they understand about laundry baskets or was the floor an equally suitable alternative? Did they pay their bills on time or, like Greg, hide them unopened in the vegetable rack? What side of the bed did they sleep on? What was that song? How do you like your eggs in the morning? I really didn’t think I had the energy. And did I really need that anyway?
‘I am sure she is more than capable of looking after herself,’ I muttered under my breath.
But then, was she? Susie had waited hand, foot and finger on Simon. She even used to organise his car servicing and top up his washer fluid, and if that wasn’t a reasonable thing to expect a man to do for himself, I didn’t know what was.
‘Madam?’
It was the waiter back again, his young face anguished, probably at the thought of me sitting there without any food.
What did I want? Well, actually I was getting hungry so I ordered a caprese salad, with bright basil leaves, succulent tomatoes and slices of wonderfully fresh mozzarella. The whole thing was garnished with a balsamic drizzle and chunks of focaccia bread in a little basket.
So now I wasn’t just a woman sitting alone in public, I was also eating alone. This wasn’t something I had done for a very long time. But should that matter? Who had even noticed me; an older, grey-haired woman was someone that was easy to miss. And suddenly I didn’t want to feel like that.
Who cared what other people thought? I had taught thousands of children to read and write and add up. I’d paid my taxes and not broken any laws. I didn’t even have any points on my driving licence. I had as much right as anyone else to be there, enjoying the sunshine, the experience, just living. I didn’t need anyone to validate me.
I took a deep, brave breath, sat up a bit straighter and concentrated on the view, the warmth of the October sunshine and the clear, sea-scented air. This day was mine. And so was tomorrow.
And I made myself eat my salad slowly, appreciating the flavours, and not rushing to get through it so I could escape somewhere else.
Feeling rather pleased with myself, I waved the waiter over and ordered another small glass of wine and asked for the dessert menu. If Ceci thought tiramisu was the secret to happiness, then who was I to argue?
* * *
In the end I stayed there for ages, allowing myself to relax, happy to be sitting in the dappled shade of an Italian sun.
I already felt different in this place, where the warmth and the sunshine and the break to my routine had made me see that there was indeed life outside my small existence. My ordinary house in the everyday town where I had settled seemed a long way away. Not just in miles, but in the experience of life. While I was plodding on with my steady routine, other people out in the wider world were experiencing life properly. Perhaps they were going out to dinner, travelling, meeting new people, making friends who had nothing to do with their children’s activities. I wanted to do that.
After about half an hour, a couple of very chic young women at the table next to mine, who had been talking in French about someone called Hector, who had obviously upset one of them, wandered off, leaving behind a copy of some French fashion magazine.
I went and grabbed it and, leafing through the glossy pages, I began to wonder if I lived on the same planet as they did. The thing that struck me was how miserable the models looked. If I was that young, slender and attractive, I would probably spend my life whooping for joy and grinning at myself in the nearest mirror. But how did they actually get themselves into those complicated swimming costumes with all the straps and buckles that lay smoothly against their skin? If I tried that I would probably look like a string bag of potatoes, with my sixty-five-year-old body bursting out of it.
I was squinting – because I had left my reading glasses in my room – at a picture of a thin, depressed-looking girl in a gingham playsuit (€1057) wearing the ugliest shoes I had seen in a while (€758) and wondering why the prices in those magazines were always so peculiar, as though someone had just picked them out of thin air, which possibly they had, when I heard a familiar voice.
‘There you are, I was wondering how you were getting on.’
It was Paulo. I looked up, screwing up my eyes even more because the late afternoon sun was behind him, dipping towards the sea.
‘Hello,’ I said, trying to sound casual, although my heart did do a little flutter.
He put a hand on the chair next to me.
‘ Permesso? May I?’
‘Of course.’
I closed the magazine rather clumsily, so it fell on the floor, and he bent down to pick it up.
‘How are you?’ he said.
‘Fine, absolutely great,’ I said, wishing that there weren’t quite so many wine glasses on the table. Two of mine and one of Susie’s, which I had finished off. He would think I was a complete lush.
‘That’s good. And where has Susie got to?’
‘She has gone off for a trip with Raimondo to have lunch somewhere. He is safe, isn’t he? I mean trustworthy.’
Paulo laughed. ‘Safe? Of course, and I am glad if they are enjoying each other’s company. He has been on his own for many years.’
‘So has Susie. Well, not actually on her own. I mean, she did have other partners over the years. The last one was Simon, but he was a classic narcissist so she might as well have been alone.’ I needed to think of something sensible to say. ‘Is everything ready for tomorrow?’
Paulo nodded. ‘I think it will be fine. Everything is very organised. My staff are busy setting everything up in the ballroom. It’s not a place we use very often, unless we have a wedding party here.’
‘That’s great. And how many people do you expect?’
‘Quite a lot. Ceci and Frederico still have many acquaintances, and Ellen made a lot of friends here over the years.’
‘Did she? Of course she did. She was a lovely person.’
My tongue was sticking to my teeth, my mouth was so dry, and it made me sound as though I was drunk or having a mild stroke. I took a sip of wine.
‘This is great,’ I said. ‘I think it’s the house wine.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I hope you like it.’
‘Oh, I do.’
My goodness, this wasn’t going well. I was asking dull questions and saying silly things. And all the time, I just wanted to ask him about what he had been doing with his life: had he been happy – yes, of course he had been; there was no way I wanted to eradicate that – but did he, like me, have the tiniest twinge of regret or curiosity about how things might have worked out between us?
I had been happy, on and off, I knew that. I’d had three healthy children and a good career which had brought me a great deal of satisfaction and pleasure. It wasn’t that I wanted to erase all those years or regret them. I think the thing that was preoccupying me more than anything was – I’d been able to live my life for over sixty years, conforming to what people expected of me. Couldn’t I just please myself for once? So what next? There had to be a what next, didn’t there?
There was a long pause, which was beginning to get slightly uncomfortable when the silence was broken by the sound of china breaking from somewhere in the hotel. I resisted the urge to cheer as we always had years ago.
‘It’s great to see you again,’ he said at last.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ I replied. ‘I mean, it’s great to see you too.’
‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I have,’ I said. ‘It’s been almost forty years. If I hadn’t changed at all you would think I had a portrait in the attic.’
Shut up, for heaven’s sake.
‘You look just the same too,’ I added.
‘So how has life been treating you?’ he said. ‘I often wondered about you.’
Really? I’d assumed that he had completely forgotten about me. I felt a sudden wash of happiness.
‘Did you? Gosh. I married, had two daughters and then a son. I retired a few years ago; at least I have a decent pension. You hear such awful stories… and then I got divorced. And now I live in a little cottage with a garden. Just me and my wheelbarrow. Although my son has moved into the granny flat. Just temporarily while he sorts out his divorce; at least, it’s supposed to be temporary. He’s been there for seven months.’
He looked out at the view for a moment and then laughed.
Why was he laughing? Was he realising what a good life he had enjoyed in comparison?
‘I cannot imagine that,’ he said at last. ‘You were always so busy with friends and being sociable. The thought of you pottering around a quiet garden is very unusual.’
Hmm, what did that say about me?
If I thought about it, back then I had behaved in a way that I would not have found acceptable for my own daughters. The very thought of them smoking, dabbling a bit with cannabis and drinking pints of lager and snogging unsuitable young men on a regular basis was too awful. I had tried to find my place in the world, to feel good about myself. But that had led me to partying all night, stumbling into lectures, resitting exams when I failed them. Handing in work late, nearly getting thrown out altogether on one occasion when… well, never mind. Which really was tremendously hypocritical of me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I blurted out.
Paulo looked surprised. ‘For what?’
‘That we lost touch.’
‘Yes, it was a shame. I’m sorry too. I often wondered… Ah, well,’ he said, ‘ non importa, it doesn’t matter what I wondered.’
So, was that it? Was that the final door closing on everything? I didn’t want it to be, but it seemed it was. And what did he wonder?
‘I must go and check on a few things,’ he said, and he started to make the moves men make when they are about to leave. Looking at his watch, collecting up his mobile, checking in his jacket pocket for keys, his wallet, pulling out a scrap of paper and reading the message there before screwing it up and leaving it in the empty ashtray.
I watched him, studied his profile for a moment, remembering how much I had yearned for him once upon a time. How I had wanted to run my fingers down his jawline, through his hair. Wished that his eyes had brightened at the sight of me.
But then I remembered how often we had argued, shouting at each other about nothing. The washing up, the laundry drying on the radiators, books and paperwork strewn all over the table. Simply because we were both passionate, hot-headed people back then. But perhaps that was how I had dealt with my feelings. Hidden my attraction for him with irritation and silly quarrels.
‘I would ask if there’s anything I can do to help,’ I said, ‘but obviously there isn’t. After all, you have a very efficient staff.’
‘Ellen trained them well,’ he said, and then his phone buzzed with a text, and he studied it, looking worried. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Problem?’ I said.
‘It’s from Leo. Eric’s nanny Andrea is unwell. Apparently the travel has brought on one of her migraine episodes which can last two or three days, and Leo and my daughter-in-law are finding it… shall we say, difficult. One would not think Eric would be a problem for them, but he is. Between you and me, I am doubtful that their style of parenting is working but I’m reluctant to interfere. I’d better go and see if I there is anything I can do.’
‘Perhaps I could help?’ I said.
Paulo looked doubtful and then slightly puzzled.
‘Surely one small boy doesn’t need all of us fussing around him?’
I was inclined to agree, but then kids seemed to be treated differently from when I was young. Back then, they were on the edge of everything; nowadays, they seemed to be slap bang in the middle.
‘He’s been travelling. I expect he is jetlagged and confused about everything. There are such a lot of new things to take in,’ I said. ‘Different routine, and food, and a strange bedroom too. It’s very unsettling when he is only five.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s true,’ he said, ‘but you shouldn’t be worried about that.’
‘I am more than available to keep an eye on Eric. I’m happy to help if I can.’
He looked conflicted. ‘Leo did tell me that Eric has taken a liking to you. Perhaps you are used to small children, you were a teacher weren’t you, and then you had your own grandchildren – so I perhaps… At least you would be able to help keep an eye on him at the event tomorrow? If Andrea is no better?’
‘I’d be delighted,’ I said, my tone firm with confidence.
‘Well, let’s go and see, shall we?’
If I had thought about tomorrow at all, I had imagined myself wandering around, having miraculously found an elegant and stylish outfit that was not the black dress or the sale bargain items I had planned. If only Paulo had told us what the dress code was, we could have avoided this. But then men never seemed to worry about that. Unless it’s a black-tie event, the big decision for them was either wearing a tie or not wearing a tie.
I had imagined myself newly confident, fake it till you make it, a glass of Prosecco in my hand, talking about Ellen, meeting some of her Italian family and friends and generally being a well-behaved guest. Enjoying some delicious canapés and feeling very happy to be in such glamorous and delightful surroundings that were so unlike my life back home.
Supervising a small boy who was the product of ‘No No’ parenting and wanted to be a cowboy hadn’t been on my to-do list. But if Paulo needed my help, then of course I would say yes.
And actually, although I had taught for many years, I didn’t know a vast amount about the modern methods involved in looking after small children. These days I only saw my granddaughters occasionally as their parents seemed to lead such hectic lives, and now Violet and Maud were finding activities and a social life of their own to keep them busy. There seemed to be at least one birthday party every weekend from what I could tell.
Paulo’s confidence in my childminding skills was very far off the mark.