Chapter Eleven
I pulled the end off of a piece of croissant and stuffed it into my mouth, pretty sure that a six-hour wine tasting tour on an empty stomach would be a bad idea, although apparently we would be having a ‘light lunch’ at one of the vineyards.
Nick had gone out for breakfast with Daisy and I’d fully intended to go down to the hotel restaurant by myself and have something substantial, but then the bed was too big and comfortable and I’d lain under the duvet and flicked through my phone, catching up with all that was happening in the world.
Then I’d made myself a Nespresso and sipped it with the windows thrown open and the prettily named Piazza degli Strozzi below me.
And then, before I knew it, I had ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs, ready to meet the tour bus.
Brazenly, I’d ducked into the restaurant, flung a croissant into a napkin and now I was eating it while I crossed the lobby, no doubt leaving a trail of crumbs behind me.
Not the classiest look, I supposed, but needs must.
Rosamund, Peter and Sophia were waiting by the reception desk. I slowed my pace, swallowed the last of my pastry, brushed flakes of it off the front of my black vest and approached them.
‘Morning!’ I said.
I’d decided earlier, when I was feeling particularly relaxed and content, to make a real effort today (and would put the fact they’d annoyed me with their where you are you from?
line of questioning the night before to the back of my mind).
Sure, we hadn’t had the best of starts, and they were a little bit stuck-up, but it didn’t mean they weren’t nice people.
And when Nick and I got married, they’d be my family, too.
It would be so much easier if we got along.
‘How did you all sleep?’ I asked brightly.
‘Very well thank you, Maddie,’ said Rosamund, who had overcompensated for the fact she could hardly wear jewels to a daytime vineyard tour by making her hair even bigger than usual.
Sophia had gone all casual, but in the way Elizabeth Hurley might do casual, so that even her simple white shirt and jeans combo looked like she’d walked straight off the set of a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.
‘Any sign of Nick and Daisy?’ I asked, glancing at my watch.
They were cutting it fine – the tour was due to leave in three minutes.
Sophia shook her head. ‘Neither of them are the best timekeepers. I bet they’re gassing away to each other and haven’t realised how late it is.’
‘I’ll give him a call,’ I said, rooting around for my phone.
‘I can do it if you like?’ suggested Sophia, smiling sweetly at me.
I smiled just as sweetly back. ‘It’s fine. Already dialled.’
I held my phone out to show her that I was, indeed, already calling Nick.
Aware that all eyes were on me, I metaphorically crossed my fingers that Nick was going to answer and tell me that he was just around the corner and would be with us in less than a minute.
He was bound to, he must realise we’d all be waiting for him.
Although, saying that, when we were back in London, it was almost impossible to get hold of him at short notice.
He always seemed to be in meetings. I’d taken to calling his PA – Gillian – who was lovely and who knew far more about what Nick was up to on a daily basis than I did
‘It’s gone straight to voicemail,’ I said, hiding my irritation.
He’d better be here. He’d given me his word.
‘Bloody Nick and his terrible timekeeping,’ said Peter.
‘Now, now, darling. They’ll be on their way. He’s probably stopped to buy Daisy a little something for the journey,’ Rosamund soothed.
In truth, I didn’t know why he’d decided to take Daisy out when we had such an early start, and why he’d left it to the last second to come back so that we were all – especially me – standing here anxiously waiting for him.
The revolving door spun hopefully and we all turned, fully expecting to see Nick and Daisy swanning through it, flushed and full of apologies. But instead there was a bald, tanned man wearing Ray Ban-style sunglasses and a pale blue shirt tucked into jeans heading in our direction.
‘You are here for the wine-tasting tour?’ he said to us in a strong, sing-songy Italian accent.
We all nodded obligingly.
‘That’s right,’ said Peter. ‘Just waiting for two more.’
The Italian man looked at his watch and shook his head. ‘We are on a very tight schedule. How long will they be?’
‘Any minute now,’ I said, convincing myself as much as anything.
‘I am Gino, your guide for the day,’ he said, whipping out a clipboard from behind his back. ‘So. Here at the Palazzo Continentale Hotel I have a party of six and a party of one.’
‘We’re the party of six,’ I said.
I was in my comfort zone with this, used to organising trips and keeping to schedules (unlike Nick, clearly).
I decided I may as well take the lead while I had the opportunity to and Rosamund and Peter didn’t seem to want to engage with Gino, anyway, probably because he’d already been relegated to minion status, alongside all the hotel employees and anyone who worked in a restaurant.
I checked my phone: nothing from Nick and it was now 8.
33. I knew that these tour guides liked to keep to a strict timetable.
I’d dealt with them myriad times before, and they didn’t take kindly to people rocking up late, in fact they were liable to just drive off without them.
This I did not want. It would be a nightmare.
I tried texting Nick.
where are you? the tour is leaving!
True to form, Gino was already looking stressed and was pacing up and down the foyer, staring at his clipboard.
‘We will get on to the van and the others, if they are not here in five minutes, we go without them. Otherwise we have less time in the wine tasting, which does not matter to me, but after all it is why you are on this trip, si?’
Fuck.
Sophia actually looked quite pleased at the prospect of not having to look after (if you could call it that) a bored, whiny Daisy for an entire day.
‘Oh well, if they don’t make it, it’s their loss,’ she said breezily.
‘Knowing Daisy, she’s wrapped Nick around her little finger and has persuaded him to go shopping for the day instead. ’
Surely he wouldn’t do that, knowing how I felt about this trip?
‘Let’s get on this damn van, then,’ said Peter, following Gino out onto the street.
The van was parked right outside, and Gino ushered Rosamund, Peter and Sophia into the three seats at the back. I got in next and there was only one seat left next to me, so either Nick or Daisy would have to take one of the two passenger seats at the front.
‘Let me try him one more time,’ I said.
There was something slightly embarrassing about the fact that I couldn’t locate my own fiancé.
Surely I, if anyone, should be able to get through to him.
He must know he was running late – why hadn’t he let me know?
If we had some clue as to how long he would be, we could persuade Gino to wait, or maybe even pick him up along the way, but clearly none of us had any idea where he’d gone, other than to San Spirito, which was presumably a large-ish district of the city.
As I listened to Nick’s phone ring, over and over, I heard Gino talking to someone outside the van.
‘Ah, you are the missing party of one!’
No answer from Nick again. I was feeling more pissed off by the second.
Unless the two of them appeared in the next two minutes, I was going to have to navigate the delights of Chianti alone.
Not that I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the countryside and the vineyards, because I was.
But it felt pressured, in the way that everything with Nick’s family seemed to.
I wondered if I’d ever be able to completely relax around them.
Gino’s head popped into the van. ‘OK. We go.’
‘I insist we wait for my son and granddaughter!’ piped up Rosamund from the back. ‘If it’s just us, we don’t mind missing some of the tour. Do we?’
‘Not at all,’ piped up Peter.
‘Ah, but it is not just you,’ said Gino, standing aside. ‘We have another paying guest and therefore we must go and begin our tour. Otherwise I get complaints. And then I lose my job.’
He was being a touch dramatic, I thought, and of course I was perfectly down with the idea of waiting until Nick and Daisy deigned to rock up. Perhaps the party of one could be persuaded.
I checked my phone one more time (nothing!) and when I looked up, Aidan was clambering into the van. My stomach lurched.
He took one look at me and recoiled.
‘Go!’ instructed Gino. ‘Get into the van please,’ he said, herding Aidan into the seat next to me.
He looked lovely of course, all tousled, like he’d overslept and hadn’t had time to shave.
He was wearing a simple black shirt and blue jeans and as he took the seat next to me (couldn’t he sit in the front?
!), I screamed internally. It was bad enough not having Nick here, but now I was going to have to spend the whole day with him.
I pretended to check my phone again so that I didn’t have to make eye contact.
‘And who might you be?’ asked Sophia, leaning forward in her seat.
‘I’m Aidan,’ he said simply, turning in his seat so that his face was right there in my peripheral vision.
‘And what do you do, Aidan?’ asked Sophia.
Was this really her first question when meeting somebody new?
Aidan cleared his throat, seemingly finding it a strain to speak. I wondered if – like me – he wanted nothing more than to get out of this bus immediately.
‘I’m a travel journalist,’ he replied.
‘Ooooh, exciting. What are you working on?’ asked Sophia.
Aidan left it a couple of beats longer than was strictly necessary to answer.
‘A piece on Italy out of season. I’m doing Rome next.’
‘Oh, what a lovely idea,’ she said, even more enthused than before.