Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosamund and Peter’s official anniversary lunch, which had come at a particularly bad time, was taking place in the hotel’s restaurant that afternoon.
Nick was still giving me the silent treatment and I couldn’t stop thinking about Aidan.
All those misunderstandings. The traumatic stuff he’d been through, how bad it had all felt for me, too, and how I’d thought I’d been going mad to feel that connected to someone after four weeks.
But he had felt it, too. I hadn’t imagined it.
I tried to tune into the conversations happening around the table. It was the usual: which wine to order; how Rosamund had had to fire her cleaner; how much homework Daisy wasn’t doing when Sophia and Nick were paying a small fortune in school fees.
Suddenly, Peter started banging his glass with his fork, so loudly that I thought it was going to shatter in his hand. I clearly wasn’t the only one who’d noticed (well, you could hardly not): half the restaurant were looking over with interest.
‘Speech!’ guffawed Nick.
‘Go, Peter, whoop, whoop,’ yelled Sophia.
I caught Daisy’s eye and I wasn’t sure who was more mortified by the whole spectacle, me or her. She raised her eyebrows and I winced back.
‘As you know, we are gathered here in the delightful city of Florence to celebrate the forty-fifth wedding anniversary of myself and my lovely wife, Rosamund. Four and a half decades and two children later and we’re still going strong.’
Everyone cheered. I clapped in that way you do when it looks like you’re clapping wildly but actually your hands aren’t properly connecting and you’re making barely any sound. I didn’t want to add to the din they were making.
‘I’ve bought you a little gift, darling, to say thank you for putting up with me for all these years.’
‘Oh Peter, you shouldn’t have,’ said Rosamund, looking as though he absolutely should have.
Peter scuffled about under his chair producing a beautifully wrapped rectangular box. He placed it on the table in front of Rosamund. Sophia immediately started cooing, stroking the wrapping paper with her long, blood-red fingernails.
‘Did you wrap this, Peter?’
‘God, no,’ he said.
Rosamund began unpicking the paper, enjoying the fact that several pairs of eyes were trained exclusively on her.
She really drew it out, pausing to make eye contact with Peter, struggling over a piece of Sellotape.
At this rate, the main course would be served before she’d even opened it.
Finally she had one end open and was able to pull out a green jewellery box with Cartier emblazoned on it.
‘Blimey,’ I said, not meaning to have spoken aloud.
‘Oh, Rosamund. Open it,’ urged Sophia, whose voice had gone all husky at the sight of the Cartier logo.
Rosamund used her thumb to pop open the box, revealing a beautiful, white leather, diamond-encrusted ladies watch. Even Rosamund seemed lost for words.
‘Well done, Daddy,’ said Nick, looking impressed.
‘Put it on, Rosamund, put it on!’ squawked Sophia. ‘Isn’t it stunning, Daisy?’
A disinterested Daisy gave her grandmother a thumbs-up.
As Rosamund slipped the watch on her wrist, there was no doubt it was beautiful. She tipped it this way and that, letting it sparkle in the light. I was surprised a waiter hadn’t come bustling over thinking she was doing Morse code.
‘Do you remember when you bought me those Cartier earrings for my thirty-fifth birthday, Nick?’ asked Sophia.
He chuckled lightly. ‘I certainly do. I’ve still got the credit card bill to show for it.’
‘Oh hahahaha!’ said Sophia.
I made a point of not giving Sophia any reason to deem me ‘jealous’ again by looking everywhere but at her.
When I happened to glance across at the door, I saw Aidan had just arrived.
A waiter showed him to a table in the corner.
He had his laptop with him and set it up, catching my eye over the top of it.
I watched him order a drink – a beer, I bet, something Italian.
As everyone fawned all over the watch and Rosamund basked in her moment of glory, I began to feel very hot.
I became aware of my heart racing and when I took some deep breaths to try to relax, I started noticing my breathing, too, which felt shallow and erratic.
Everything went a bit fuzzy and I knew I needed to get out of there.
It felt like the beginnings of an anxiety attack, but why, when I hadn’t had one for years?
I pushed my chair back, scraping the legs on the floor, and stood up, gripping the edge of the table for support.
Nick looked up at me, concerned. ‘Everything OK?’
I nodded. ‘Just need some air,’ I blurted, grabbing my cardigan from the back of my chair.
‘Well, don’t be long,’ said Nick, ‘the food will be here in a minute.’
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak and headed for the door.
I didn’t want to catch Aidan’s eye as I left, but it was impossible not to.
That’s how it felt, anyway, as though gravity was pulling me towards him.
I whipped my eyes away and focused on getting out of there and up on to the roof, where hopefully I would start to feel like myself again.