Chapter 4 Gayle
G AYLE
It’s been a day of ups and downs. First there was the glass blowing on the island of Murano. Now that was something! The man doing the demonstration blew a glass horse in only a few minutes. And then he gave it to Gayle. The room was full of spectators. Full! And he chose her!
‘I’d bet my last dollar it was because you were wearing the “I love Venice” sweatshirt,’ Mike said on the windy vaporetto ride back to San Marco. ‘I told you, didn’t I? The locals like it when we do that.’
‘And you were right as always, hon.’
After the excitement of the glass horse, there was the drama with the gondola ride.
‘It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t sing that bothered me,’ Mike complained to her afterwards, ‘but I’d been looking forward to singing along with him.’
Mike said he’d imagined a selection of Sinatra or Elvis hits that he and the singer could have harmonised together, to the delight of people leaning from their balconies to listen as the gondola floated past. Gayle could have recorded it for him to put up on the blog. But of course he wasn’t able to sing along when all the songs were in Italian.
‘I reckon those Italians do it deliberately,’ he fumed, ‘so they can hog all the attention for themselves.’
Thankfully, Signora Bianchi absolutely insisted on refunding them the cost of the gondola ride. She even surprised them by sending that sweet bespectacled son of hers, Rocco, up to their room with a rather generous cheese platter. Like Mike always says, ‘It pays to complain.’
If only they could have enjoyed the cheese. Instead, all hell broke loose with Signora Bianchi screaming downstairs like the place was on fire. They followed Rocco, of course, as he ran to see what the commotion was about. Other guests came out to join them, just about causing a stampede down to the lobby. Gayle held tightly onto the railing as people pushed past her on the stairs, taking them as fast as she could to keep up with Mike, who was quicker and fitter. She was positively panting by the time they reached the lobby.
And what should they find there other than Signore Bianchi, passed out cold on the floor, with his frantic wife beside him. Signora Bianchi looked right at her when she asked the crowd if anyone knew first aid and Gayle guiltily shook her head. All she could do was watch and wonder if the poor old fellow had gone and died on Christmas Day of all days.
Seeing Signore Bianchi in such a state made Gayle instinctively reach for Mike, needing reassurance that her own husband was upright and breathing.
If it wasn’t for the wonderful young Australian doctor who appeared at just the right moment, goodness knows what would have become of Signore Bianchi. The (very handsome) doctor saved the old gentleman’s life before their eyes. She and Mike joined the other guests in giving that fine doctor a hearty and well-deserved round of applause.
By the time they were back up in their suite, the cheese was crusty and warm from being near the bar heater, which put Mike in a mood again.
And then, just as Mike cleverly predicted she would be, Signora Bianchi was missing at dinner time, and they were served instead by the younger ones in the family, along with a new Australian waitress called Sophie. The staff were all helpful and friendly, Sophie especially so. You never would have guessed she was new. In fact, she told Gayle she’d only just arrived a few hours earlier from Melbourne. The Australians truly saved the day at Il Cuore!
Sophie was so charming and confident, Gayle and Mike agreed it was as if she’d been working at the hotel for years. She was a very pretty young thing too, bouncy blonde curls in a high ponytail, big green eyes, bright red painted lips, and she was dressed beautifully in a fifties-style lilac floral dress with a big black belt, a pearl choker and patent black Mary Janes. There was something rather Old Hollywood about her.
But as lovely as Sophie was, the point was that it was Signora Bianchi they were here for, the only reason they chose to stay at Il Cuore. So despite the effort that Sophie and the younger Bianchis were putting into making it seem like everything was still well and good in the restaurant, Signora Bianchi’s absence was acutely felt.
Gayle and Mike had arrived in Venice yesterday, and on their first evening eating at Il Cuore, Signora Bianchi had stopped by their table and chatted to Gayle for several minutes, had even posed for photos with her. When Gayle looked at the photo later, she wished she’d changed out of her sweatpants before dinner and worn a more supportive bra. She looked and felt every day of her seventy-five years. And Signora Bianchi, who was only nine years younger, was even more show-stoppingly beautiful in the flesh than she was in their photo together. Tall, willowy and fine boned, all the things Gayle wished she was. Signora Bianchi’s olive skin glowed with radiant health, probably thanks to all the wonderful food she made (and maybe genetics too). Gayle had been so mesmerised by the famous cook that she’d struggled to finish her delicious dinner of braised beef medallions and roast root vegetables, her stomach full of butterflies.
Tonight though, the restaurant felt muted without Signora Bianchi flitting about between the tables, with something pleasant to say to everyone. They asked Rocco about Signore Bianchi and, as pleased as they were to hear that he was stable, Gayle and Mike came upstairs after dinner somewhat dispirited. It certainly wasn’t the special Christmas dinner with Signora Bianchi at the helm that they’d dreamed about back home.
In the suite now, they sit together at the small table next to the bed, chairs pulled close to each other with the iPad propped up in front of them as they wait for the video chat with their children back home in Little Rock. Justin, their oldest, is due to do the calling.
‘On the wrong side of fifty now, and still ain’t ever been on time in his life.’ Mike checks his watch. ‘For Pete’s sake, it’s three minutes past now. I might call him and see what the hold-up is.’
‘Give him another minute, hon.’ The words have just left her mouth when Justin’s name flashes up on the screen.
‘Slide to answer,’ Mike says, as he swipes his finger across the iPad.
Gayle’s heart doubles in size when the screen lights up with the smiling faces of her children, grandchildren and even her little great-grandchildren, all crowded around each other, streaming in from three separate houses.
‘Mom!’
‘Heya, Pop!’
‘Happy Christmas, Nanna and Gramps!’
‘Say hello to Big Nanna, Amber.’
‘Look, Joshy, can you see Gramps?’
‘Merry Christmas, you guys, we miss you!’
Gayle’s overwhelmed with them all greeting her at once and doesn’t know who to talk to first, so she waves and blows kisses at the screen. It’s the first time they’ve ever tried a group video call, and Gayle could just kiss Justin for his thoughtfulness in bringing them all together this way. She can’t quite believe he’s pulled it off and that here she is in Italy, looking at the faces of her loved ones in the US.
‘Well, would you look at that,’ Mike says, laughing. ‘Ain’t technology an amazing thing!’
Their children and grandchildren’s smiles turn to frowns.
‘We can’t hear you, Pop!’ Susan, their eldest daughter, says. She’s sitting next to her husband, Hank, with Gayle’s great-granddaughter Elsie on her lap. Gayle’s granddaughters and their husbands are crowded in behind them. Their whole family is in holiday sweaters, even baby Elsie. It’s too adorable.
‘What do you mean you can’t hear me?’ Mike raises his voice a few notches. ‘What about now?’
Gayle winces at his volume. Everyone’s still frowning and shaking their heads.
‘You’re on mute, Pop,’ Elizabeth, their other daughter, says. She also has her husband, Derrick, next to her and their three boys and their wives are all there too.
‘Can you hear me now?’ Mike shouts even louder.
Elizabeth’s two-year-old grandson, Hudson, reaches forward, touching the screen, pointing at Gayle. ‘Big Nanna!’
Gayle touches the screen back at him.
Justin’s son, Corey, says, ‘Turn yourself off mute, Pop.’
Mike turns to Gayle. ‘What does he mean, turn myself off mute?’
‘Tap the microphone,’ Justin says.
‘What microphone?’
‘Tap the screen first, Pop. You should see a microphone icon.’
‘Ah, there it is.’ Mike taps the icon of the microphone. ‘Can you hear me now?’ he bellows.
The children laugh and clap.
‘How the heck are you two, anyhow? We miss you already.’ Justin rubs the top of his head, where the hair’s stopped growing. ‘Tell us about Venice.’
Mike dives straight into the story about the flag-waving protestors in the small boats who tried to stop their cruise ship from docking yesterday. ‘There we were, your mom and I, excited as anything to finally be arriving in Venice, when we’re attacked by a gang of angry Italian hoodlums! Had to whisk your mom back inside to safety in case they threw a grenade or something up at the deck.’
Truth be told, it was hardly a gang, just three young men and one woman in a tiny boat solemnly waving a flag and looking entirely non-threatening. The protestors were hopelessly outsized by the big cruise ship as it came in to dock and had no choice but to get out of its way. Gayle smiles as Mike continues with his embellished version of the story.
‘Made it just about impossible to disembark,’ he complains. ‘You should’ve heard them heckling us! I was in half a mind to sue.’
The ‘heckling’ was an Italian chant the protestors repeated from their little boat as the tourists walked out onto the esplanade, but they were so far away that the wind barely carried their voices.
The children have of course read this story in Mike’s blog from last night, but they listen intently and make all the right noises. Gayle loves them for it.
‘Why were they heckling you, Gramps?’ Elizabeth’s son, Elijah, asks. His neck tattoo of a snake is poking out from his collar. Gayle’s trying hard to get used to it.
Mike shrugs. ‘No idea. Just minding our own business, we were. Did nothing wrong! These Europeans are always getting their knickers in a twist about nothing.’
Elijah raises his pierced eyebrow. ‘Gramps, that’s a bit raci—’
‘Why don’t y’all open your presents like we planned?’ Gayle says quickly. ‘You got them there?’
Immediate chaos ensues as the gifts Gayle lovingly wrapped before she left are passed around the groups in the various houses. It gives her such joy to see their faces as they open them. Some were requested, like Corey’s new car seat covers for his SUV, and others, such as the ceramic hair curlers for Justin’s daughter, Jemima, are a surprise.
‘Nanna! Just what I wanted!’ Jemima squeals. ‘How did you know?’
‘I asked your mom.’ Gayle beams at her daughter-in-law, Nicky.
‘I love you, Nanna. Thank you.’ Jemima blows kisses at the screen.
‘Don’t forget to thank Gramps, too,’ Gayle says gently. ‘He’s the provider who made all these blessings possible.’
Shouts of ‘Thank you, Pop!’ and ‘Thanks, Gramps!’ are echoed all around.
‘Nothing’s too much for the Dawson clan,’ Mike says proudly.
‘How about a prayer, y’all?’ Hank says and everyone bows their heads as he begins. ‘Lord Jesus, our Christ and Saviour ...’
Gayle’s arms physically ache to be able to hug them all. This is the first Christmas that she doesn’t have the family gathered around her in their home in Arkansas.
‘What’s Signora Bianchi like, Mom?’ Susan asks after the prayer.
Before she can answer, Mike tells them all about the drama surrounding Signore Bianchi’s heart attack. ‘So the whole point of coming to Venice is gone now.’
‘I still got to meet her though,’ Gayle says. ‘And she was just precious. Oh, and the forest restaurant – why, y’all, I think that’s what Eden itself would be like!’
Gayle loves to watch Cooking with Gina on the television most afternoons. And Signora Bianchi is a regular guest on the show whenever Gina travels to Venice from her home in Bologna. Gayle’s very taken with Signora Bianchi, even more than she’s taken with Gina. So when Mike had surprised her with the vacation to San Marco, staying at Signora Bianchi’s hotel no less, she was beyond grateful. The Big Italy Trip was timed so they’d be out of the country for Christmas. Mike knew how heartbroken Gayle would be without Noah at their Christmas table, so he came up with the Venice idea, bless him.
Except now, the whole idea of escaping to Italy to ease the heartache feels pointless. Christmas Day is almost over and she couldn’t imagine her heart aching any more in Little Rock than it does right here in Venice. It’s so sore it might just break in two. She has a splitting headache too. But then again, she always has a headache nowadays.
She doesn’t like to complain because Mike’s gone to such an effort to bring her here. So she smiles and waves and blows kisses to the children and grandchildren as the call comes to an end.
While Mike’s hunting around for the iPad charger, Gayle’s phone pings. It’s a message from Elizabeth.
How are you really, Mom? You doing okay over there?
I’m doing just fine, sugar. Missing y’all is all.
I miss Noah, Mom. It’s not the same without him.
‘ Who’s that you’re talking to?’ Mike asks.
‘Only Lizzie.’
I know, sugar.
I miss him so much I could just about die.
‘Lizzie? What does she want already? You just finished talking to her.’
‘Nothing important, hon.’