Chapter 12
TWELVE
NICK
Travis stood at the hotel window, hands on his hips. If it weren’t for his snappy attire, it seemed to Nick he would have looked like he was pricing up a glazing job. Travis had dressed his best in an effort to get an upgrade to business class on the plane, but since he’d had no luck, he’d had to suffer economy wearing an extremely close-fitting tan-coloured suit with co-ordinating maroon tie and pocket square. He’d exited the plane with sweat patches oozing through the unforgiving material and a look of outrage on his face – an expression which had yet to change.
He turned around and folded his arms. ‘Well, this isn’t the elegant Italian holiday I was promised.’
Beyond, through the window, the hotel overlooked a yard full of storage containers and scaffolding. Municipal buildings formed the backdrop to this, but at least, above them, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. Naples had turned out to be the cheapest place to stay for visiting Capri, not to mention the one with the most availability. But this part of the city wasn’t exactly the Italian idyll, or even the tourist mecca holiday brochures boasted of. Even to Nick, who generally erred on the practical side, this area seemed to be the Italian equivalent of an industrial park.
‘I never said it would be elegant. Come to think of it, I was kind of playing fast and loose with the word holiday as well.’
Travis ran a finger along the bedspread of one of the twin beds and wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, fine. But you could have at least booked somewhere that knew the meaning of “thread count”. I think these would barely pass fire regulations.’
‘We’re on a budget,’ said Nick tersely, flinging some clothes from his suitcase into a drawer. His jaw tensed as he reflected on how this little flight of fancy wasn’t helping his financial situation. He’d almost been ashamed to accept the small loan from his nanna to cover the cost – and a loan it would be. She’d tried to insist on paying for the whole thing, saying she felt she owed it to him for keeping her secret. But pride, and also a sense of his own regret for reading her private correspondence, had made him insist he would be paying it straight back. He’d just need to figure out how.
This trip felt both wildly out of character for him but also strangely inevitable. He’d been living his odd half life for too long now, waiting for some kind of change, and this felt like it might be it. A step out of the routine, and an answer to some of his biggest questions. He felt like he was finally taking some control.
Travis was now perched awkwardly on the bed, as if he didn’t want to come in too close contact with it, and was scrolling through his phone.
‘Business or pleasure?’ asked Nick, stacking some deodorant and aftershave bottles on his chipped and peeling bedside table.
‘Both,’ murmured Travis absent-mindedly.
‘Eh?’
Travis’s shoulders straightened. ‘Business, I mean. Just checking in on the website.’
‘All okay? You got a mate to pack your orders, didn’t you?’
‘Yep,’ said Travis, standing up and putting the phone in his pocket. ‘It’s all in hand.’
‘Who did you ask? The girl with the Lego-man haircut, or the lad that wears pantaloons?’
Travis cocked his head to one side. ‘Ha ha. They’re harem pants actually. Very big this season. No. I asked Liam.’
‘ Liam Liam? As in Cath’s Liam?’ Nick’s jaw dropped. ‘Trav, you barely know him.’ His thoughts shifted uneasily to Liam’s chaotic lifestyle and his history of getting into trouble with the law, and he bit his lip.
‘What?’ said Travis.
‘Nothing. Just…’ He didn’t want to, but he had to say it. ‘Didn’t Cath say he’d been in bother for stealing stuff?’
Travis sighed. ‘Nick, that was ages ago. And, if you must know, it was one of the many times his arsehole stepdad threw him out. It doesn’t make it right, but he had no money and he was desperate.’
Nick looked at the floor.
‘I trust him,’ Travis said quietly. ‘Now, I’m getting out of here. The static from this bedcover is starting to make me itch. There has to be somewhere nice to go around here.’ He looked hopeful – no, desperate.
‘Well, go and do a recce, would you?’ asked Nick, trying to bury the nagging worry that Liam was currently in just as dire circumstances as he’d been in the past. He knew he was being overprotective of his brother, but he just hoped Travis knew what he was doing. ‘I’ll finish unpacking then catch up with you.’
Travis shoved on his sunglasses and went out, stabbing at his phone for local bar recommendations and frowning. Nick shook his head and watched him go.
It was only a short walk down to the seafront where, instead of golden beaches, there was a busy, not very pretty port, where Nick paused on his way to find Travis. The first thing that caught his eye was a vast sandstone building with tall windows and columns that looked to be the main ferry terminal. Alongside it were vast swathes of concrete, with car parks and rectangular brick buildings that featured the logos of various ferry companies. He spied the one he’d had the foresight to book for the following day, after learning tickets could sell out fast.
Beyond the scrappy coastal area of Naples, across the azure sea, was the outline of the island of Capri. In the distance, it sat solidly, its broad shape baked against the horizon, one half of the island taller than the other. Tomorrow he would visit the Ristorante Giorgio – Nanna had given him the second email that had a street address on the island, as well as his father’s full name, Richard Keyes.
The location had been a surprise; he’d always thought that Capri was quite fancy, and for some reason he’d never imagined his dad to come from somewhere so highbrow. Did he own the restaurant? It seemed possible if he’d given it as his address. Did he live there with a wife? Other children? Nick had considered what felt like every possible outcome. A Google search of the restaurant hadn’t been helpful – there was only an ‘under-construction’ domain and a smattering of positive Tripadvisor reviews describing it as ‘cosy’ and ‘traditional’. It seemed to be a place that flew under the internet radar.
He wondered if he would recognise his father straight away. Maybe that was where he got his sandy-coloured hair from, or his feet that looked almost wider than they were long across the toe area. Maybe he would be completely unrecognisable, some kind of anomaly that had sprung Nick forth from his loins, as much a stranger in the genes as he was in real life. The anticipation was intense and terrifying.
He looked back at the Bay of Naples behind him, buildings, large and small, stacked up the hill, interspersed with patches of greenery. It was prettier in that direction, but only just.
His phone buzzed and he saw he had a text from Travis.
I’m round the corner on via Travertino – it’s called Beer Bar but they do Aperol Spritz!
Nick wasn’t quite sure what an Aperol Spritz was, but the name of the bar was reassuring. He slipped his phone into his pocket and headed for the town.
The next morning they were up bright and early, and had a lacklustre continental breakfast in the hotel restaurant, which seemed to be an optimistic term for a small room with bistro tables and a selection of dry pastries and coffee. They boarded the ferry at half past nine, and Nick was pleased they’d booked. Even on a Tuesday morning, this crossing was heavily in demand and was full of tourists snapping pictures of the ever-closer island.
Nick had called it a day after two beers, but Travis had gone a bit overboard on the Aperol Spritzes so was sporting dark sunglasses and a slightly hangdog expression. Nick reached into his rucksack and retrieved a bottle of water, handing it to Travis as they disembarked.
‘Thanks, Mam,’ said Travis, sipping it gingerly. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have a few paracetamol in your bag of tricks, would you?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ The rucksack he’d brought was full of useful items – water, sun cream, even a towel in case they decided to dip their toes off the shore of Capri, but he hadn’t thought to bring painkillers. ‘Look, there’s a pharmacy,’ he said, pointing to a building with the telltale green cross on the sign.
Travis sloped off to get his medicine, and Nick took a moment to breathe. They’d arrived at the marina amongst clusters of other boats, large and small. Despite passenger ferries arriving here, it had the air of a fishing village, with rows of cream and pastel-painted buildings across the shore, beyond which were the hills of Capri. He’d looked at a map to see where the Ristorante Giorgio was and found that it was in Capri town on top of the smaller of the two main peaks on the island. He stared up at it and chewed his lip. A short walk up the hill and he could change his life forever. His stomach churned as if he’d had more than just two beers the night before.
Travis came out of the shop, slugging down tablets. He’d bought himself a straw fedora while he’d been gone, and if it wasn’t for his pale skin and rainbow hi-tops, he might have passed for a local.
‘You ready?’
Nick crossed his arms and looked up at Capri town again. ‘I don’t think I am actually.’
‘Right.’ Travis looked at his watch. ‘Well, we’ve got approximately eight hours to kill until we get back on the ferry. Do you think you can get hotel rooms by the hour, just for a lie-down?’
‘I wouldn’t like to ask,’ murmured Nick, still gazing up at the hills. ‘Listen, can we go for a walk first? Just to get my head straight.’ He eyed the taller of the two peaks and liked the way it looked separate from the one that housed Ristorante Giorgio.
Travis went slightly green but stood up a little straighter. He had a brotherly duty to gird his loins after all. They set off in the direction of Anacapri.
They walked until they came to the foot of the hill and came upon a large whitewashed building. Its sign read Seggiovia Monte Solaro , which they quickly ascertained was the chairlift to the top of the peak. A slow smile spread over Travis’s face.
‘No chance,’ said Nick. ‘I said a walk, not a granny lift.’
‘But—’
‘Nah. Let’s get some exercise.’
Travis scowled but followed along.
Nick eyed the building with faint suspicion as they walked past. He never really talked about it but, despite his job, he wasn’t very keen on heights, and he’d read enough cable-car and chairlift horror stories to make his hair stand on end. But the other reason was that sitting still in a chair would give him too much time to think, and what he really needed now was some distraction to calm him down. So he put one foot in front of the other, climbing steadily up the foothills of Monte Solaro, happy that the burn in his shins and thighs was the main thing he could focus on.
It took longer than he’d envisioned to climb it – about an hour at a good pace – and when they reached the top, Travis’s red face and thin lips said all he needed to say. But then, as they crossed the viewing terrace at the top, it felt more worth the bother. Below was the crystal-blue sea and a cluster of huge rocks jutting from the water, one of which had a tunnel underneath it. They watched as a boat chugged through it.
‘Canny view, eh?’ said Nick, hands on his hips, feeling his breathing return to normal.
‘Not if it’s the last view I ever see,’ Travis puffed. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’
‘Get away with you,’ said Nick. ‘It’s only a little hill. Maybe you need a bit more exercise. Wrapping clothes in brown paper isn’t exactly getting your heart rate up.’
‘That’s what you think. I managed to score some knock-down Prada purses the other week, and I thought I was going to faint.’
Nick grinned. His brother and he might be very different, but Travis always knew how to make him smile.
‘Did you manage to get hold of Mam?’ asked Travis, mopping his brow and upper lip with a silk handkerchief.
‘No. I left a message on her mobile, but I just said I needed a chat.’
‘Has she still not managed to figure out the Wi-Fi on the ship?’
‘I’d imagine not, since she hasn’t replied. And if I’ve got her schedule right, she’s somewhere off the coast of Florida right now. I suppose she’ll get the message when she docks.’
Travis rolled his eyes. ‘For a woman who likes to think she could give “young ’uns” like Taylor Swift a run for their money on stage, she sure is old-fashioned when it comes to technology.’
‘Yeah. Although, I was dreading asking her about it anyway.’
‘Why? I’ve always thought it was weird that he’s just never mentioned.’
‘Exactly. If she’s never wanted to talk about him before, then I doubt she’ll be happy being ambushed about him now. But maybe she’d have given me a heads-up on what he’s like before I meet him.’
‘Well, maybe it’s just better to find out for yourself. It might have taken him a while to get in touch, but he’s going to be pleased to see you when you find him.’
Nick’s stomach squirmed, with nerves or excitement – he couldn’t be sure. ‘I hope so.’
‘So, do you think you’re ready now?’
‘No. But I didn’t come all this way just for the views. Ha’way, let’s go back down.’
‘Okay. But I’m just going to pop to the loos in the chairlift station before we go,’ said Travis, patting Nick on the back as he left.
Nick stood for a while, looking down at the sea and taking some deep breaths. Maybe he should have tried ringing the restaurant. Or writing to Richard instead. Resting his hands on the low wall, he thought of all the ways he could have done this differently. Was there a right or wrong way to meet your estranged father? Well, he was about to find out.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ came a yell from behind him. He turned around to see Travis comfortably descending the slope in a chairlift, grinning smugly back at him as he waved.
‘Travis, what the…?’ Nick shouted back.
Travis made a gesture pretending he couldn’t hear him then turned away to enjoy his trip.
Nick groaned and looked at the sky. It would take him an hour to get back down if he walked, and Travis would give him grief about it. Grimacing, he marched over to the station and bought himself a ticket. A smiling Italian man in his sixties led him to a very flimsy-looking chair made from slats of wood, with what seemed to be a very insecure lap bar that did not lock into place.
The chair scooped him up without stopping, and he yanked the lap bar down as far as it would go. The ground drifted away from his feet, and he tried not to look down. He could kill Travis for this.
His rucksack was rocking about on the seat next to him, so he took one of the carabiners that he had dangling from the straps and clipped it to one of the metal rods supporting the wooden slats. Right. At least he was fairly secure, he thought, as treetops passed below him.
He barely moved a muscle as he made his descent, wary of rocking the chair any more than he needed to, and when he reached the bottom, he ragged at the carabiner to free his bag, conscious that he would only have a few moments to step safely off the contraption. He felt his feet touch the ground, and a flood of relief coursed through him. Then, as he slung his bag over his shoulder, he noticed that the carabiner was gone. Looking back, he saw it glint in the sunshine, still attached to the chairlift as it made its ascent back up the hill. Well, he was never going to see that again.
Travis was waiting in the courtyard, smirking gleefully as Nick joined him.
‘Why, Nick, you look a bit pale.’
‘Do I? I feel fine.’
Travis tutted. ‘Hmm, I’m pretty sure I saw you coming down the hill with your eyes shut.’
‘Don’t know what you’re on about,’ said Nick.
‘Well, you can thank me later,’ said Travis. ‘After facing your fear of heights, meeting your dad will be a walk in the park.’ He paused, peering at Nick. ‘Seriously though, you do look a bit green around the gills.’
Nick didn’t want to admit it, but he did indeed feel a bit queasy.
Travis frowned. ‘Let’s get you a drink.’
Nick allowed himself to be led by the arm to the chairlift visitors’ centre, where he sat on a bench while Travis procured him a bottle of water. He felt better just for sitting down on a surface that wasn’t swaying in the breeze.
‘Kayak tours! Available today! Sir, can I interest you in a kayak tour?’
Nick looked blearily up at a lithe, bronzed man wearing a baseball cap and a wide grin. He was waving some leaflets very close to Nick’s face.
‘Sir, you look like just the kind of person who enjoys water sports.’ Nick blinked. ‘And today is your lucky day. We have a few spaces available on our kayak tour of the famous grottoes. Can I interest you in a ticket?’
‘Um… actually, I’m busy…’
The tout’s smile didn’t waver a millimetre. ‘No problem! Please take a leaflet in case you change your mind.’ He stuffed the flyer into Nick’s hand and wandered off, yelling about kayak tours once more.
Travis returned and gave Nick his water, which he drank gratefully. He stood up, folding the leaflet into his pocket. ‘Come on then. I’m ready.’
He paused at the corner of the street. This was it – when he walked around the side of this handbag shop, he would see it – Ristorante Giorgio . Years of wondering, and a frantic week of discovery, planning and travelling, and the moment was upon him. He prepared himself and walked on, Travis hovering at his shoulder.
They rounded the corner – his heart sank, but his feet kept moving. Within moments he was standing at the neat railings of an empty terrace, no tables or chairs to be seen, and the wooden shutters drawn. He looked up to double-check the name, but it stayed mutinously unchanged. This place had shut up shop, and it looked like it was for good. In this bustling area of clinking glasses, laughter and fragrant seafood, the Ristorante Giorgio was desolate. He felt Travis’s hand on his shoulder.
‘Well, at least I tried,’ he said, sighing deeply.
‘I’m sorry, bro. Listen, it might not be the end. We can?—’
‘Go for another ride on the chair lift?’ Nick turned and tried a smile for his brother, but it felt weak, as if the corners of his lips were anaesthetised.
‘I was going to say we can keep trying.’ Travis’s expression was almost as hopeless. ‘Capri isn’t a very big place.’
Nick gripped the railings more firmly, feeling the warm metal bite into his tendons.
‘You’re right. It’s not a very big place. But I’m not sure I’m in the mood to play detective right now, Trav. Can we just get a bit of lunch or something?’
‘Yeah, no bother.’ He looked up at the empty restaurant. ‘Let’s go somewhere a bit livelier, eh?’
They had lunch at a little pizza place, where Nick only managed a slice before he’d had enough. He had the appetite of a person who’d braved a chairlift and suffered a crushing disappointment all in one day. Travis tried, tentatively, to suggest things they could do to find out where Richard Keyes might have moved on to, but Nick could only half-heartedly nod and mumble assent. Whatever happened next, he would need to sleep on it, and hopefully tomorrow he would be in a better frame of mind. Right now, all he could think of was the thousand and a half miles he was from home, from Ruby, who he should be prioritising. Maybe he shouldn’t be on this wild goose chase after all.
They finished their drinks and paid the bill, and wandered out of town towards the sea. They still had hours to kill until the return ferry, so they took their time, looking out at the view and conspicuously avoiding the subject of Nick’s father. Travis was pretty good at sensing the mood and jabbered on about how lovely the shops were, and how he maybe needed to branch into Italy for his next wholesale purchase.
Travis went into a sunglasses shop and spent an inordinate amount of time trying on various styles of shades, while Nick looked on from the doorway, thinking it seemed a lot of trouble to go to just to keep the sun out of your eyes. And expense. Then he heard someone call, ‘Richard!’
He whipped round, scanning the street to see where the voice had come from, and saw a woman of about his age waving across the road. Hurrying towards her was a man of no more than forty, American he would guess, or otherwise an enthusiastic fan of the NFL, judging by his attire. Definitely not old enough to be his dad. His heart sank, and he felt at once stupid and frustrated.
Travis came out of the shop wearing his new purchase.
‘Trav, listen,’ said Nick. ‘Do you mind if I go off for a bit? I just need a bit of thinking time.’ He was going to go mad if he kept roaming aimlessly, hoping to see his father around the next street corner.
‘Of course not,’ said Travis, his brow knitted with concern. ‘You are alright though? I’m not going to have to come and pick you up from the police station for drunk and disorderly later, am I?’
‘Nah. I’m just going to go and clear my head.’
‘Okay. I’m going to hit the shops a bit harder then,’ said Travis. ‘I was holding back for your sake. I’ll see you at the ferry terminal later?’
‘Yep. I’ll be there.’
They said goodbye, and Travis zoomed off with ill-disguised enthusiasm, the lunch and the promise of spending money seemingly putting paid to his hangover.
Nick started walking with purpose, even though he had no idea where he wanted to go. Whatever he did that afternoon, he needed to keep his mind busy. Never mind licking gelato and gazing into the horizon – he needed some meaningful activity.
He looked down at the coastline and saw a busy beach below, sunbathers and surfers and volleyball players zipping around like ants. Then, as he was heading for the steps, he saw a sign in the distance, next to a beach hut. Brightly coloured flags fluttered at its corners.
Kayak tours of Capri. Visit the Faraglioni rocks, the world-famous grottoes, and more! Equipment hire included.
He narrowed his eyes at the hut, then withdrew the leaflet from his pocket. It was the same company. An athletic, tanned woman with a clipboard was hovering outside the beach hut, and a crop of people in wetsuits gathered nearby, manhandling kayaks and oars. He wandered over.
‘Er, one for the kayaking please?’ he said, suddenly feeling foolish under her steely gaze.
‘You have reservation?’ she asked with a strong Italian accent.
‘Um, no. I’m just a walk-in. I have this,’ he said, waving the leaflet and losing confidence by the second. ‘Sorry, I’ll just…’ He backed off – so much for the advertised availability.
The woman held up a hand in the manner of a strict teacher. ‘I have one place left. Cancellation. Do you mind partnering with someone else?’
‘No. No, that’s fine,’ he blustered.
‘You wait here,’ she commanded and thumbed towards the hut. ‘Your partner is getting changed in there. What size are you? Large?’
Nick unconsciously put his hand on his stomach. ‘Um, medium?’ Medium, some pizza and last night’s beers. And then he stood there, waiting for this slightly scary lady to fetch him a rented wetsuit, realising that even if he’d changed his mind about the kayaking, he wouldn’t dare back out now. But if spending an afternoon kayaking submissively behind her was what it took to distract his mind, then it would be worth every euro.