Chapter 17
17
Well, we found some jeans for Eric in one of the very upmarket designer shops, where Paulo was greeted as a valued customer by the young assistants, and Prosecco was offered before we were led to a chaise longue, waiting for Andrea to wrestle Eric into some new trousers behind some tasteful linen drapery.
My mind was spinning with all sorts of thoughts. Paulo had broached the subject of our feelings for each other. All those years ago. All that time, when it seemed he had felt something for me too. Was it even possible?
I used to feel different, as though I had the power to go anywhere, do anything I wanted to. You made me feel like that.
I felt a little twinge of pride then, as though I had done something very clever. Something that Ellen, for all her charm and ability, had not done. She had been a woman regarded by everyone who knew her as a delight. Who, with her undoubted artistic flair, had transformed the hotel into somewhere elegant and successful.
But I had made Paulo feel powerful.
Meanwhile, there was a lot of struggling and complaints and banging about behind the curtain for a while, until at last Eric emerged looking very pleased with himself, wearing a pair of little trousers that probably cost more than my weekly shop.
‘Are you sure Raleigh will approve?’ I said, rather unsure about what we are doing.
Andrea shrugged but her expression spoke volumes. Mostly of the ‘negatory’ variety.
‘If I cannot spoil my grandson when I see him, then too bad,’ Paulo said, chuckling. ‘A boy his age should not be worrying about his clothes. He should be climbing trees and getting muddy.’
Trying and failing to imagine such a scenario, I looked at Eric, who was admiring himself in the mirrors.
‘I look cool. Like the other boys when they go out playing cowboys,’ Eric said at last, ‘and please can I have a T-shirt too? The one with the dinosaur.’
He kicked a contemptuous foot at his shorts and shirt discarded on the dressing room floor, and I foresaw trouble ahead.
Andrea bit her lip and looked agonised.
‘I think you should pick those up properly, don’t you, Eric?’ I said.
He looked puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘Because someone has to, and you are the one who dropped them there.’
And much to my surprise, he did.
Paulo paid the bill, looking rather amazed that it cost quite so much to satisfactorily clothe one weedy boy, and we went back out into the sunny afternoon, which after the aggressive air-conditioning of the shop, was quite a shock.
‘We’d better go home,’ Paulo said, and Eric grinned up at me, swinging the glossy carrier bag with rope handles that the assistant had given him for his old clothes.
‘Do I look like a cowboy?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said, ‘apart from the stegosaurus.’
* * *
On our return home, Eric was as subtle as a Chieftain tank driving over a watermelon and raced off upstairs shouting to find his mother. Paulo and I exchanged a look and he took my arm, and we escaped into the gardens. Well, it was nearly four thirty and surely time for a cup of tea and one of the delectable little cakes from the kitchens.
We found a table to the far side of the hotel where we couldn’t immediately be seen by anyone else and settled down to watch the sun dipping slowly towards the sea. It was very quiet, just a few insects buzzing in the lemon trees, and far off the sound of a car, labouring up the hillside.
This reminded me it wouldn’t be long before I would be leaving and driving back down that road towards the harbour and then onwards to get the ferry to Naples and the flight home. It made me feel sad and uncomfortable to think of it.
This place was so filled with light in comparison with my ordinary little town, the gardens here still filled with colour and fragrance, where my little patch would by now be losing its flowers and the leaves would surely be falling from the trees into wet piles.
We drank our tea in a companionable silence. I wondered if perhaps Paulo should be busy doing something behind the scenes inside, but he showed no desire to leave.
‘I hope you have enjoyed your day?’ he said at last.
‘I have,’ I said, my eyes fixed on a seabird, which was wheeling above the cliffs.
Were those the same cliffs where Tiberius flung his enemies to their doom? I had no idea. And I realised that even after a few days I knew nothing of this place. I was just a tourist, like thousands of others.
‘The history here must be fascinating,’ I said. ‘Weren’t the Romans here? I’ve heard about Tiberius.’
Why was I talking about that when I wanted so much to resume our previous conversation?
‘The Phoenicians and the Greeks too,’ he said. ‘The legend is that the Faraglioni rocks were created when Polyphemus threw them at Ulysses. I must take you there, so you can see. There were rumoured to be angry mermaids who lived there and lured sailors to their death. But Greek legends are very variable and other stories exist. But there were more ancient people before them. Then there were pirate attacks and the French under Bonaparte. The Spanish, the English; a lot of people wanted to control Capri until it was given back to Ferdinand of the Two Sicilies.’
‘I would have thought one Sicily would have been enough for any king?’
He chuckled. ‘But yes, Tiberius was the most infamous. I should take you to see some of the villas he built. And the Faraglioni rocks I mentioned earlier. They are very beautiful.’
I gave a deep sigh. ‘Everywhere here is beautiful.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’
There was another long silence between us then, and my thoughts began to race. Was this it then? The moment when we would not be interrupted by Eric and his endless questions, or guests wanting to ask about buses or boat trips, and we would actually talk properly to each other?
‘I’m sorry it took so long for you to be here,’ he said. ‘I would have liked to see you, but then time passed, things happened.’
‘Perhaps you were right and Ellen did that on purpose,’ I said, ‘and perhaps I would have done the same in her position.’
‘I don’t think you would. You were always more…’
I waited while he found the right word.
‘…easy going. More trusting. Ellen knew that I had feelings for you which were different from what I felt for her, and I respected her reluctance to let the past into our future.’
He had feelings for me.
‘I was married with a family, and so were you.’
He nodded. ‘But she knew.’
‘Knew what?’ I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t getting this horribly wrong.
‘That I loved her. That I was glad I had married her. But what was between us, between you and me, that had always been something different.’
My mind wrestled with this. Of course they had loved each other. In a way it would have been easier if he has said their marriage was a disaster, but obviously it hadn’t been. Anyone who ever saw them together had accepted that. They had been a gloriously good-looking couple, with a certain glamour about them. All of us, all our friends had accepted that they were going to be together forever. She was so perfect for him.
Paulo and I had been a fiery, fleeting friendship. Something very different and surely not something that would last or bring him the sort of contentment he had found with Ellen.
And my marriage to Greg. That too had been a relationship of – of what? One where we settled for each other and the life we had led. Not blissfully happy, but enough.
At that moment, it seemed a dull, unsatisfactory word.
But perhaps that was what most people did – settled for enough?
Was that what my life had been all about?
I felt a sudden unexpected surge of despair. We all had one life, and I could see only too clearly that I, like many other women, had changed and adapted, had accepted a life of predictability. I was the one who was the homemaker, the carer, the appeaser, the one who put up with things. Peace at any price.
I was sixty-five. I might have just a few years left; I might have many. The one thing I was sure of was that I wasn’t going to settle for ‘enough’ any more.
‘What a fool I have been,’ I said.
‘What?’ he said, turning to look at me.
I didn’t think I realised I had spoken those words out loud, but now they were out there, I felt a new sort of bravado.
I didn’t quite know how, but I was going to change things.
While I still had my health and strength I was going to enjoy my life. Barely an hour had gone by since I had arrived here when I had not wondered what Alex was up to, how Jess was dealing with Maud’s new tantrums, if Kat had recovered from her cold. I was not going to carry on the way I had since my marriage broke up. Constantly focused on everyone else. I was going to – frightening phrase – please myself.
‘I think I loved you for years,’ I said. I had a sudden mental image of Juliette giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. ‘With Greg it was more of a partnership. With you it was something else, something I haven’t felt since.’
‘We were very young. What were you? Nineteen? Twenty? That’s no age to settle down with the first man who falls in love with you.’
I was silent then, turning his words around in my head.
‘You fell in love with me?’
He raised his eyebrows as though the question surprised him.
‘Of course. You were special, not like anyone else. Your friendship meant everything to me. I tried not to feel that way but I couldn’t help it. You were so passionate about everything. So sure of yourself.’
‘Trust me, I wasn’t. I didn’t feel that at the time,’ I said.
‘But you were. It was all a part of you. All those arguments we had, the way your eyes sparkled, the way you teased me. The way you never took me seriously. I enjoyed it all. You made me laugh at life, feel alive.’
Somewhere in the garden someone laughed, and another voice called a greeting.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said.
He took hold of my hand.
‘You don’t need to say anything,’ he said.
‘I always say something,’ I said. ‘I never did learn to shut up.’
‘Which, believe me, is so refreshing. It may sound a good thing, but it’s hard to live without discussion or disagreement. Maybe I am just a product of my family. You have seen how we love to quarrel about the silliest things.’
I sat there, enjoying the feeling of his hand in mine, wondering what twist of fate had brought me to be in this place at this time with this man. It was the last thing I had expected. I was, by anyone’s standards, too old for this sort of nonsense.
But was it nonsense? And if so, why?
If I was forty or fifty, would it still be foolish to be talking like this, with the widowed, lonely husband of one of my oldest friends? At what age did a woman, or a man for that matter, become too old for affection or compliments or love? Ceci obviously didn’t think like that. Or simply – in a world dominated by pouting, self-important young people – what did it take for older people to be noticed? Did I just need to resign myself to playing a significant part in other people’s lives, but not in my own?
‘I have had a good life, a happy life,’ he said at last, ‘but this life – what you see – was never, ever what I wanted. I told you the first time we met, I did not want to stay here for ever, I wanted to see the world. Seeing you again makes me realise my life is not yet over after all. I have not achieved many of the things I wanted to.’
‘What things?’
He laughed. ‘Building a road or a bridge for one thing. Well, that’s how it started, wasn’t it? No, seriously, I mean things for myself. Not for other people,’ he said. ‘Does that sound selfish?’
‘Not at all, I have been thinking much the same. I have spent my life working and looking after my family, and now most of the time they don’t need me. Well, apart from my son, who seems to be regressing into teenage years again. But I’ll support him and help him to move on with his life. And he will. Which is great, of course it is, but in the grand scheme of things I feel a bit superfluous.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to be left behind,’ I said. ‘I want to keep moving forward. Like a shark, I suppose, they have to keep swimming, don’t they? Or they drown.’
He laughed. ‘What goes on in your head?’
‘I mean I want to have a life of my own for the first time. I went from living with my parents, going to school then to university and then to marriage. This is the first time in my life I have ever lived alone and it is taking some getting used to. Not having to answer to anyone.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘My father was never a big part of my life. My mother remarried and lived in Rome, so I spent my childhood here with my grandparents. When they died I was already married to Ellen, and she was making such great changes here. My grandfather always thought she was wonderful. Suddenly there was no question of us leaving. But it was never what I wanted, not at all. You knew that. I had dreams of seeing the world, of doing something momentous or important. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous now? But Ellen made it impossible to break away; she refused to discuss it. She had good business ideas. She could see the details much better than I could. She had a flair for design; she was artistic and imaginative. And so we just carried on, doing this, year after year, and of course it got easier. We made improvements and she transformed this place. It worked so well. But sometimes I felt so trapped, so desperate.’
‘And now?’
‘I am restless to find out. To find out about the world, not just stay in this little corner. I told you that the night we met. To escape. And now, well, maybe it is too late. Perhaps I should be grateful for what I have, not wish for the things I lack.’
‘I’ve been feeling the same way but that’s not the way I want to live. Not any more. It’s not too late for either of us, Paulo. We could have many years left to enjoy doing the things we want to do.’
He laughed. ‘I have been thinking about it.’
‘So, what is stopping you?’
He thought about this for a while and then he took a deep breath.
‘I have a good life here, anyone can see that. So why am I so restless?’
‘You sound like me,’ I said, ‘wanting to strike out and find new things to be excited about. But not having the courage.’
‘You were the bravest person I ever knew,’ he said.
‘I didn’t feel like that,’ I admitted. ‘I was just pretending. Life can get in the way of our courage. I suppose I want to feel needed again.’
‘I need you,’ he said, and we looked at each other then.
‘Do you?’ I said, hardly able to breathe.
‘I always did.’
There was a pause then, and he leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs under the table.
‘Can I tell you something? Something that no one else knows?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said.
I tried to sound calm, but inside my mind was racing, my thoughts tumbling over each other. He needs me.
He lowered his voice. ‘I have been making enquiries over the last few months. Finding out about selling the hotel. I was able to convince myself life was good here when Ellen was alive, but since she died, I realise I am not happy. I am just – how would you put it – treading water. Marking time.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Selling it! I had no idea.’
‘It’s early days. I have been speaking to Stephanie, who works for an international firm of estate agents who deal with this sort of thing. Without any sort of commitment.’
‘But what would your family say?’ I whispered.
Paulo shook his head. ‘Leo made it quite clear he never wanted to run this place. I did ask him a few years ago but his life and his family are in America. One of the reasons he left was because he could see Ellen was expecting him to take over from her one day, and that’s not what he wanted either. She always believed he would return, but then he married Raleigh, and he told us that he would never live here again. Of course she was devastated but I’ll be honest, I was relieved. He had the determination to do what I never did and I admired him for that. Since Ellen died, the same team have been running the hotel as she ordered. Ellen put all that in place. It’s as efficient as it can be. But what will happen when I am gone? That is what I have been thinking for a while now. My grandparents started the hotel. I went to university for a few years, but then my grandmother died, I came back with Ellen and she gradually took over and we carried on when my grandfather died. Ellen was the perfect partner. She made her life here, she had ideas and vision and as you know, she was very determined. But then, nothing stays the same. Time moves on, and we must move with it.’
‘I suppose so. It seems a shame,’ I said, ‘but what about Ceci? What will she do?’
‘You don’t need to worry about her, but how kind of you to think like that. My mother and Freddy have a beautiful house in the country outside Florence. She has friends there, a good social life and all the help she needs.’
‘But you haven’t told her your plans?’
‘Not yet, but I will. I don’t think she will be terribly surprised. Who knows, I might go and stay with her for a change. It will be just like your son coming to live with you,’ he said, grinning.
‘I’m sure you would know how to work the washing machine, and not to spill red wine on the carpet.’
He leaned back and linked his hands behind his head.
‘I hope I would. Today I just have this wonderful, restless feeling inside me, which is growing. And what you said was true. It’s not too late to do something different, is it? Something for me.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘So, Stephanie – the person you mentioned – is an estate agent?’
‘Yes, and she is well past the point of retiring too. I am one of her last clients, so perhaps it would be a good time to change things, for both of us.’
So, Stephanie was probably not a glamour puss with flowing auburn hair and sleek, designer suits.
‘Genero said he thought you were meeting her. I thought perhaps she was a girlfriend.’
He burst out laughing. ‘No, nothing of the sort. She wanted to see me to bring me up to date. She has had some interest from buyers of a hotel chain in Rome.’
‘Wow, that would be quite a change for you,’ I said at last.
‘You won’t mention this to anyone?’
‘Of course not.’
He gave a little smile. ‘No, I know you won’t.’
His mobile buzzed on the table in front of him and he picked it up.
‘Another problem I need to deal with.’ He threw me an apologetic look. ‘I won’t miss it nearly as much as you think. I must go.’
He hesitated for a moment and then bent and kissed me very gently.
‘Don’t let me lose you for a second time,’ he said.
‘That works both ways,’ I said.
I watched him as he walked away, my heart singing with an emotion I didn’t properly understand. Joy and love and an unbelievable excitement. I wondered if he was feeling the same way.
What would I do next? What would he do?
He wanted to travel and explore the world away from this tiny island. To realise some of his long-held dreams. So why shouldn’t he? And for that matter, why shouldn’t I?
I felt proud for a moment that he had confided in me. That he would trust me. And we were friends. We were a great deal more than that. Time would tell. I needed to take things slowly, wait and see what happened next. Not trying to do the right thing, always doing what people expected of me, making decisions in my life which, as I now realised, had so often been wrong.
The terrace was busier then, perhaps some new guests coming outside to admire the setting, or for a cocktail before dinner. I should go back to my room and perhaps start packing my case. Depressing as it might be, I was due to fly home the day after tomorrow. My adventure was coming to an end, and all of a sudden it felt strangely unsatisfying. To know that Paulo was beginning to plan a new adventure of his own. One which might this time, despite what he had said, take him further away from me. Somewhere I couldn’t follow. And suddenly I didn’t like the idea of that one bit.
I stood up and walked towards the hotel, where the golden lights from the windows were beginning to gleam in the dusk. I had no right to even think that Paulo and I, having reconnected after so many years apart, would have any future connection. But if we did…
Deep in thought, I got to the top of the shallow staircase and suddenly a small figure darted out from behind some bushes. There was a cry of yee haw , and something hit me on the back of the legs.
The next thing I knew, I was falling, letting out a gargling scream, tumbling painfully to the bottom of the steps, landing on my side and banging my head on the ground. For a moment I lay still, dizzy, the wind knocked out of my lungs, a horrible pain in one shoulder.
Then I heard someone shout.
‘ Mio Dio! Oh Eric! No!’
I looked up to see Eric standing over me, the end of a skipping rope in one hand, the other wrapped uncomfortably around my ankles. Andrea had grabbed on to his free arm.
‘I told you I was going to be a cowboy,’ he said, and his lower lip trembled.
And then I think I burst into tears. And so did he.
It was one thing to fall over when one was younger and still had the ability to bounce. At my age it felt very different.