Chapter Eight
‘What do you say,’ Sanzio put to her, ‘about getting out of Rome today?’
Eleanora looked at him across the breakfast bar. ‘Back to the Palazzo?’
He shook his head. ‘No, just out of town. A day in the country.’
She felt her spirits lift. They had hit rock-bottom last night, weighed down facing what she had to face—how hopeless it was to want what Sanzio did not.
But getting out of Rome, not having to dress up, not having to know that even dressed up, looking as beautiful as he’d said she looked, she still had no allure for him, seemed like a release.
She let her eyes rest on him now. He wasn’t dressed for the office in a business suit, but in a casual polo that moulded his powerful torso, and well-cut chinos.
She, with nothing planned for the day that required her to look smart, was in a comfortable open-necked, short-sleeved check shirt and cotton trousers.
She hadn’t bothered with make-up, and had plaited her hair into a tail.
‘Great—’ he nodded ‘—we’ll just head off, and see where it takes us.’
Where it took them was deep into Lazio, the ancient hinterland of Rome.
Ignoring the main tourist attractions, which were plentiful, from grand Renaissance villas to extensive classical remains, they kept to smaller roads, stopping for lunch at a wayside trattoria whose courtyard tables were shaded by vines and the cuisine was decidedly rustic.
‘OK with this?’ Sanzio asked her.
‘It looks very picturesque,’ she replied with a smile.
The lifting of her spirits had continued with every kilometre Sanzio’s monster car consumed.
It was good to be out of Rome, back in the countryside, feeling fresh air on her face, relaxing back into being the way she was with him at the Palazzo.
He didn’t seem to mind that she was still in her cheap, comfortable clothes, with no more adornment than a pair of sunglasses against the bright sun, a look which he had also adopted.
She kept wanting to steal glances at him—those reflective sunglasses with their uber-expensive designer logo only added to that temptation—but she schooled herself not to.
Not that it was difficult, any more than it had been at the Palazzo.
Dressed as she was, making nothing of herself, of course Sanzio would treat her just as he did there.
And because he did, she knew, with a bizarrely comforting, inverted kind of logic, it made everything easier.
Because I’ve dropped out of hoping. I’m letting it go. Because if being glammed up like I was in Rome wasn’t enough, then of course being my normal self won’t be!
The knowledge, she realised with a strange recognition, served to take the pressure off her. Made it possible to relax with him again.
It’s like we were before—
He was relaxed too, she could see, so maybe he was feeling more comfortable with her looking the way she looked at the Palazzo?
Maybe he can relax because I’ve relaxed? I’ve set aside all that glammed up image of myself that I’d never, ever expected to be possible—which, yes, is thrilling and amazing and I am so, so grateful Sanzio made it happen—but it is also confusing as well.
Confusing enough to make her believe that maybe—oh, just maybe—Sanzio might be attracted to that glammed up her. And that probably alarmed him.
So now that I’m back being the unglamorous me, the one he’s always known, he doesn’t have to worry about me having unrealistic expectations about him. So he can relax around me again.
It was certainly visible in his easygoing attitude towards her as they lunched on the tonnarelli pasta that was a speciality of Lazio, served in earthenware bowls, washed down with robust local wine.
They finished the meal with ripe peaches and the region’s trademark ricotta cream cheese.
They made a leisurely meal of it, and when they returned to the car discovered it was surrounded by a handful of admiring young boys.
Genially, Sanzio let the youngest sit in the driving seat, while the others leant on the bodywork and the oldest took photos of them all on his phone.
As they finally drove away, Sanzio accelerated with a throaty roar, kicking up a cloud of road dust. He glanced in his rear-view mirror to wave at the boys gazing after them.
‘I remember lusting after a car like this when I was their age,’ he mused, slowing his pace to a more acceptable driving speed along the roadway.
‘And now you’ve got it,’ Eleanora said with a smile.
He glanced at her. ‘So I have,’ he agreed. He ran his hand around the leather wheel. ‘It feels good.’
‘And so it should,’ she told him. ‘You’ve worked hard to be able to afford it, and now you can.’
There was a fondness in her voice, and she did not suppress it. She meant what she said. He was a man to admire, as well as—
No. She put a stop to her thoughts. They were not relevant, and certainly not when spending time like this with him. Comfortable time, relaxed time, easy time.
Time I will always remember.
Whatever had prompted him to suggest taking off today, she was glad he had. A thought struck her. At the Palazzo, they kept company for a common purpose—restoring the place they both wanted to save. In Rome she was his glammed-up trophy wife. But today—
He’s just chosen to be with me for no reason other than to relax and enjoy.
The thought comforted her. Sanzio might have no romantic interest in her at all, but as a companion he did not reject her company… It was a poignant realisation, bringing an ache to her, and a consolation.
Perhaps it points the way to how it will be after we are divorced. We’ll be able to see each other, even be with each other sometimes, and it will be friendly and companionable and easy.
She must value that. Be content with it. Not yearn for more.
And today she was just glad to be spending this easygoing day with him.
As if echoing her thoughts, Sanzio smiled at her as he changed gear. ‘Glad for today?’ he asked.
‘Very,’ she answered.
‘Me too,’ he said, and his smile deepened.
They were making their way into hillier countryside, the road taking them up to a small medieval walled town with cobbled streets, to stop for coffee and cakes, before taking a look round the ancient church, where Eleanora lit a candle and Sanzio made a generous donation to the poor box.
As they left, he put his arm around her waist, guiding her from the church out into the piazza.
It was a casual gesture, but Eleanora found herself leaning into him, just as casually.
She didn’t think about it, didn’t question it, she just did it. It seemed natural, and unforced.
They left the little town behind them, heading east still, further away from Rome.
A road sign indicated a small Roman site, and they went off to check it out.
It was nothing more than a modest villa with a mosaic floor, the remains of the walls, niches where the household gods had once been held.
A place where a family had once lived their own lives so long ago now, yet had been real for all that.
It was a strangely moving thought to her.
They wandered around, and Eleanora found her hand being taken, at first to step her over an uneven section of the path around the ruins, but then not relinquished until they got back to the car.
Again, as with his arm around her earlier, it was only a comfortable, casual gesture, and Eleanora accepted it as such.
‘What now?’ Sanzio asked before he started the engine.
‘I don’t mind,’ Eleanora replied. ‘You choose.’
He looked at her. ‘Well, we could head back to Rome—circle around and make our way back. Or—’ He paused.
Eleanora looked at him.
‘Or,’ he said, ‘we could not head back to Rome.’ He paused again, looking at her. ‘My phone is telling me that there’s an agriturismo a few kilometres away. It gets good ratings. It’s got a pool too, and specialises in local cuisine. Would you consider trying it out?’
‘For dinner?’ she asked.
‘Or even overnight if you felt like it. But, of course, we can just head back to Rome if you prefer.’
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Eleanora didn’t prefer. Today had been so relaxed, so easy, so enjoyable, so companionable, the countryside so good to drive through in a lazy, leisurely way, that the thought of being back in the city again was not appealing.
‘Oh, let’s try the agriturismo!’
Sanzio reached for his phone. ‘Sorted,’ he announced a couple of minutes later. ‘Do you want to buy a toothbrush or whatever before we turn up?’
‘Might be sensible,’ she agreed.
They came across a petrol station with a shop attached.
Having picked up a toothbrush and toothpaste and some face cream, she spotted there was a clothes section, including a small selection of swimwear.
Unfortunately, the female swimwear was all bikinis.
She hesitated a moment, then picked one in her size, impulsively adding a cotton skirt and fresh tee.
Sanzio, armed with a razor and shaving cream, helped himself to a pair of trunks. They were blue, with a dolphin theme.
She laughed. ‘Snap!’ she said, holding up her blue bikini. ‘Minus dolphins though.’
He gave an answering laugh, and they went to the checkout. Eleanora made a point of paying for them both.
‘You’ve paid out so much for me,’ she told him. ‘All those gorgeous clothes. The least I can do is treat you to those swim shorts and a shaving set! Oh—’ a thought struck her ‘—and the agriturismo is on me—definitely!’
He looked at her. ‘You don’t have to prove you’re not like your sister,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I know, but—’
But I know I’m not like her in other ways, too. Ways I envy her for—when it comes to you…
She put the thought aside. She would not spoil this time with Sanzio. He wanted her company, she was easy with him and he with her, and if all there was between them was this comfortable companionship…
Then I shall be glad, and grateful. And make the very, very most of it.
And not yearn hopelessly for what could not be.
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