Chapter One #3
‘Can I go out for a walk?’ Daisy asked her mum in the same whiny tone I remembered from the ill-fated theatre trip.
‘No, you can’t, because you don’t know Florence and, knowing you, you’ll get lost,’ snapped Sophia.
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘Mum, I live in London. I’m sure I can find my way around a city that’s basically about a tenth of the size.’
‘Italian men are very sleazy, you know,’ piped up Peter, who didn’t seem to care that he was loudly spouting unfair cultural generalisations when there were potentially quite a lot of Italian men within earshot. ‘They’ll be fawning all over you the second you step outside the hotel doors.’
‘Don’t encourage her, Peter, she’d probably quite like that,’ said Sophia.
I felt for Daisy in that moment – no wonder she was always miserable if she had to put up with passive-aggressive comments like that twenty-four/seven.
Sophia had custody of Daisy, but from what I could gather, they clashed constantly.
Nick hadn’t told me much about his marriage to Sophia, except that it had lasted seven years and that he’d been unhappy for most of it and that it had been nasty for a while, at the end.
I hadn’t pushed him further at the time, but now I wished I had.
What had drawn him to me, I wondered, given that I was possibly the polar opposite of the elegant, blonde, immaculately groomed Sophia?
Or was that precisely it – that he’d been so damaged by whatever had happened between the two of them that he’d actively gone out looking for someone who was nothing like her?
Although judging by the fact she was here on the trip, she was clearly still very much a part of the family in a way that I was already beginning to worry I’d never be.
‘You haven’t been to Florence before either, have you, Maddie?
’ piped up Rosamund, just as I was about to flag down a waiter and order myself a desperately needed large glass of wine.
‘Would it be too much to ask for you to take Daisy out for a little stroll? It’ll be a good chance for you both to get your bearings. ’
I mean, since I’d just been travelling for twenty-four hours and hadn’t even seen my room yet, going for a stroll wasn’t exactly top of my agenda.
‘Oh good idea,’ said Nick, traitor that he was. ‘You can acclimatise to Florence, Mads. She’s never even been to Italy,’ he explained to the table, who all laughed. Loudly. As though the concept was hilarious.
‘That’s not true, actually. I’ve been to Rome and Naples,’ I protested.
‘Work trips don’t count,’ said Nick.
The whole table snickered in agreement.
I wanted to add that I may not have spent my summers in Italy like this lot, but I had been to Vietnam and Costa Rica, places they’d probably only read about in the Sunday Times travel supplement.
Then again, if there wasn’t a private beach club or a golf course, they probably wouldn’t be interested.
‘I should probably unpack first,’ I said, eyeballing Nick.
‘You can do that when you get back, darling,’ he replied, settling in next to Rosamund and pouring himself a glass of very attractive-looking alcohol.
‘Well, then,’ announced Rosamund, patting Nick’s knee, ‘let’s get some champagne in to celebrate your arrival.’
‘And your anniversary,’ crooned Nick.
Stalling for time, I pounced on the chance to engage Rosamund in conversation.
That way, hopefully they’d forget about this ‘stroll’ altogether, or at least I might have time to down a glass of wine before I set off.
‘I hear you’ve been married for forty-five years,’ I said, a stab of jealousy pricking my stomach quite unexpectedly.
I felt that, sometimes, and it was irrational because, for all I knew, it could have been forty-five massively unhappy years.
But it still hurt that my parents had only given it eight years before acrimoniously calling it a day.
I wondered, often, what would have happened if they’d tried a bit harder to make it work.
Whether they’d considered, even for a moment, staying together for my sake.
‘Congratulations!’ I said, hoping Rosamund hadn’t noticed that my expression had slipped, just for a second or two. ‘What an achievement!’
Rosamund nodded, the trace of a smile on her alabaster face. For some reason, I was fascinated by her hair, which was swept starkly back from the hairline, reminding me of paintings I’d seen of Mary Queen of Scots.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said to me.
‘I hope Daddy bought you something nice?’ said Nick, winking at Peter.
Daddy, now?
‘All will be revealed, my boy, all will be revealed,’ said Peter, clumsily tapping the side of his nose.
‘Waiter!’ squawked Rosamund to a man who was carrying three very heavy-looking plates and was clearly on his way to another table. ‘Can we get a bottle of your most expensive champagne?’
I wanted to go on the walk even less now, because I really wanted to try this ‘most expensive champagne’, which probably cost about a grand a bottle. It was that kind of place. What would such a drink even taste like? Then again, I didn’t want to get roped into having to split the bill.
‘Our suitcases will be in the room by now, sweetie,’ said Nick casually. ‘You can pop up and get changed if you like. Daisy, wait for Maddie in the lobby, will you?’
Say no, I thought to myself. Say no, that you will not be going for a walk right at this moment. That you fancy a drink first and then maybe you might. Do not let these people boss you around as though you are a member of their household staff. Stand your ground, Maddie!
‘Um, sure. OK,’ I said, pathetic people-pleaser that I was.