15. Chapter 15
15
T he driver chattered loudly in Italian all the way from the airport to the hotel. Katie was unsure when he was talking to them and when he was on the phone, which seemed to ring constantly.
Katie had never been to Pisa before and drank in the ochre and yellow-coloured buildings as they bounced along cobbled streets, the smells of fresh pizza mixing with petrol fumes on the busy roads as scooters and motorbikes dodged in amongst cars. The iconic leaning tower occasionally came into view in the distance as they drove deeper into the city. Beside her, Tom’s face was pressed against the window, taking in the sights.
The day after she had been to the dentist’s, she woke up on the sofa shortly after five A.M. Disoriented and chilly, she glanced up to see Tom asleep in the armchair opposite. Surprise welled up in her as she dug through her foggy brain to piece things together. His laptop had slid off his lap and was stuck between his thigh and the arm of the chair. His head lolled sideways against the cushions, his chest rising and falling slowly as he slept. Raising her hand to her cheek, still slightly tender, the events of the day before slowly came back to her in disjointed little pictures and snippets.
Wandering unsteadily into the kitchen, she found the cold pot of soup on the stove and the tray with the bowl of soup and half-eaten bread roll. A rack sat on the kitchen island, half a dozen other bread rolls atop it. She shook her head—he really had baked her bread. She hadn’t dreamt that.
He had woken shortly after that, smiling and shaking his head at her offer of coffee. He had to go home, shower, and change his clothes for work. He looked beautiful in the morning—hair rumpled, shadows along his jaw. She had simply nodded, amazed that he’d stayed with her all night just to make sure she was okay.
She had used one of the bread rolls for lunch, sending him a picture of her tucking into the sandwich.
He had replied, Beautiful . And as she read the message she had gone still, had been surprised to find something leap in her chest at the message. Did he mean she was beautiful? Her phone dinged again.
I really do appreciate a good roll.
She had burst out laughing then, a little too loud and long, as if dispelling the feeling that had come before.
They had messaged daily after that. Sometimes about arrangements for this trip, sometimes photos of sandwiches, bread, or rolls. Two weeks passed in this way, and then, after a couple of days with no contact, Tom simply messaged her.
Good morning, how are you today? x
No jokes about bread rolls, no question about flight times or what to pack. Ordinary and innocent as the question was, she couldn’t ignore how her heartbeat had quickened when she had seen the message from him and how her fingers had clumsily scrambled to unlock her phone.
It was normal, she told herself, in the aftermath of a breakup to find yourself attracted to someone else. It didn’t mean anything; it was just part of the process. Part of getting all the feelings out that had nowhere to go meant that they sometimes latched onto the nearest available person, which just happened to be Tom. If Tom wasn’t in her life, she’d likely be reading things into how the postman smiled at her, or fantasising about the counter assistant in the corner shop with the short-sleeve, button-up beige shirts.
The taxi lurched them around a corner, throwing Katie sideways into Tom before coming to an abrupt halt at the side of the road, inches from an old man leaning back on a stool, smoking a pipe. The man eyed the taxi with annoyance and blew smoke in its direction.
The driver was saying something in rapid Italian and jumped out of the car.
‘I think we’re here,’ Katie said, peering up at the peeling, sun-faded paint on the pensione beside them. She checked on the booking app. Yep. This was it.
The driver opened the rear doors to hurry them out and jogged to the boot to get their bags, as Katie slid out of the taxi.
The street was narrow and shaded, with ancient buildings rising on either side. A few doors down, flowers bloomed from overflowing window boxes on a balcony. The air was still and hot, and Katie could smell pipe smoke, jasmine, and bread all mixed together. A group of young Italian men stepped out of a tiny restaurant up the street laughing. One stopped and stared at her, lifting his chin in greeting.
The driver had deposited their cases on the curb, and Tom paid him in cash, which he pocketed without counting, slammed the doors shut, then took off with tyres screeching, swerving to avoid a scooter coming the other way.
Katie and Tom looked at each other.
‘So,’ Tom said, glancing at the building they stood in front of. ‘This is the boutique hotel you booked?’
Katie’s lips pursed. ‘It’s actually a pensione, and it looked good in the pictures,’ she said, frantically scrolling through her phone to try to find the pictures to prove it.
Tom looked up and down the street, back to the time-weathered building, then back to her, raising an eyebrow. ‘How old are the pictures?’ he said with a grin.
Katie rolled her eyes in response but was wondering what sort of place she had brought them to.
Tom easily gathered up the bags. Katie paused for a moment, watching as his light blue shirt tightened across his broad shoulders as he bent down for the cases. She mentally shook herself and opened her phone to try to find the original booking confirmation.
The foyer of the little building was dark and cool, and tiny dust jewels floated in the air, dancing around as Katie moved forward into the gloom. On the other side of the dim space was a tall, dark wood reception desk, behind which a tanned head with a slick of grey hair combed over could just be seen.
The man stood as Katie approached. He was barely as tall as the desk but impeccably dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and tie. He smoothed his tie down with gnarled fingers as she stepped up to the desk.
‘Buongiorno, Se?ora e Se?or.’
Katie stalled. ‘Um, Buongiorno ,’ she said brightly, aware that the greeting was the first and the last of her Italian language knowledge, and hurriedly unlocked her phone to show the man her booking rather than put either of them through the embarrassment of her attempts to explain herself.
He carried on talking to her bowed head as she raced through apps to find the reservation details.
‘Como eta? Avete una prenotazione?’
Katie nodded, not understanding but buying time as she scrolled back, looking for the reservation details.
‘Buongiorno ,’ Tom said smoothly. ‘Si, abbiamo una prenotazione. Ti darò i dettagli.’
Katie, mouth hanging open, stopped scrolling, finger poised mid-air above her phone.
Tom smiled at her. ‘Are you getting the booking details?’
‘You speak Italian,’ Katie said on an out breath, helpfully pointing out facts.
‘Si,’ Tom grinned.
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘What did you say to that man?’
‘That you like much older men and are here looking for a boyfriend.’
‘What?’
Tom grinned. ‘I told him that you are finding the booking details. So maybe you could…’ he gestured to her phone.
‘Oh, yes,’ Katie returned to her phone and managed to close her mouth.
She glanced up at Tom from underneath her lashes. Tom standing there, hands in the pockets of his chinos, blue shirt open at the neck, speaking Italian was something else…. She tried to focus, but her thoughts were jumbled, and her phone screen was a blur.
The man behind the desk tapped his computer keyboard and spoke to Tom.
Tom nodded. ‘Si, lasciami controllare.’
Katie lowered her phone and stared at Tom, enthralled by him and this new talent she had discovered.
‘The man is asking for the name the reservation is booked under.’
‘Oh, of course. Um, it’s under my name. Katie Matheson,’ she said a little too loudly.
Tom translated for the man, and Katie leant on the desk for support and stared at Tom. He looked relaxed as he waited for the man to find the booking. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, pushing them above his elbows, revealing lightly tanned forearms covered in dark hair. Katie stared, remembering now what it had felt like to have those arms around her the night of the ruby wedding party.
‘Si, Ecco qui. Appartamento 2B, al secondo piano.’ The man produced a key with a flourish and gave a broad grin that sent his ears rocketing upwards.
‘Grazie mille.’ Tom smiled and took the key. He passed it to Katie, who was still standing dumbfounded and staring at him. ‘Second floor.’
Tom gathered their bags and turned to the stairs, the only other thing in the tiny foyer. Shafts of light shone down the stairs, the brightness in stark contrast to the dimly lit reception.
‘Katie?’
She stared at him, the light from the stairwell catching the chestnut hues in his dark hair. ‘Huh?’
‘Are we heading up?’
‘Oh. Yes.’ She pushed herself off the tall wooden desk and followed him towards the broad stone steps. ‘Of course.’
As they climbed the stairs, the man called after them, ‘Goditi il tuo soggiorno.’
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Katie called back, ‘Goditi!’
Tom snorted with laughter and leaned against the wall on the stairs, clutching the bags.
‘What?’ She swatted at him. ‘What did I say? Isn’t that goodbye?’
Tom, laughing and trying to catch his breath, shook his head. ‘Nope. He told us to enjoy our stay, and you yelled back, ‘Enjoy!’’
‘Goditi,’ Tom said to himself, laughing.
Katie suddenly burst out laughing. ‘Oh god, I’m such an idiot.’
Katie pressed her hand to her chest.
‘Yes,’ Tom agreed, looking down at her from a few steps above, ‘you are. Come on.’
Katie wiped at her eyes, still chuckling under her breath. The stairs turned, and they continued to climb, smooth ancient stone walls on either side of them.
‘How come you speak such good Italian, anyway?’
‘I studied it all through school, college, and university. Even did a semester abroad, in Florence.’
‘Yet you never mentioned it.’
Tom lifted the bags up as he shrugged. ‘I don’t really think about it, to be honest. It’s just something that’s there. Didn’t occur to me to mention it.’
They reached the second floor and shuffled down the dark, narrow corridor to find apartment 2B. A painting of Pisa in a slightly battered frame hung at an odd angle on the wall, and a narrow console table hosted some dusty and dog-eared tourist attraction leaflets.
Katie pushed the key into the lock, then turned to face Tom. ‘I’m nervous about this now. This place looked great online, but I feel like maybe I’ve accidentally booked us into some terrible hovel, and there’ll be bed bugs, and the water will be brown, and the loo won’t flush…’
Tom nodded at the bags he was carrying. ‘Mind if we continue this panic inside the apartment so I can put these down?’
Katie nodded, her lips pinched as she turned the key and pushed the door.
Light spilled out into the dark corridor, and she stepped forward into a bright, open space. Highly polished golden-brown parquet flooring flowed throughout the apartment. Delicate voile curtains hung at French windows shaded by shutters and wafted gently in a breeze. The living area housed a comfortable, squashy-looking sofa, table and chairs for two, and a dainty white little kitchenette area. To the right, the parquet flooring continued down a corridor towards the bedroom and the bathroom. It was clean, neat and fresh.
‘Want me to run the water, check if it’s brown?’ Tom asked as he dropped the bags and closed the door behind them.
Katie chuckled. ‘I think maybe it’s okay. This is what the pictures looked like.’
‘This is nice,’ Tom said, striding towards the French windows and pushing them wide open. A Juliet balcony looked down into the street below. Katie joined him and peered out. The man smoking that they had seen on arrival was still in his spot, puffing away, watching the comings and goings of the street. There was a coffee shop a little further down and a grocer. Sounds of car horns and loud, rapid-fire Italian floated up the street from the busier roads beyond.
Katie grinned and tipped her head back into the light that had found its way between the narrow buildings into the apartment. Glorious.
She peeled herself away from the balcony as Tom went to the kitchen sink and ran the tap, filling a glass with water. He held it up. ‘Not brown.’
Katie laughed. ‘Good to know. I think this place is great. I just panicked when I saw the outside. That’s definitely looking worse for wear compared to the pictures.’
She moved across the apartment and down the corridor, feet gliding on the polished parquet. The bathroom was on one side, and the bedroom was at the end of the hall. She pushed the door all the way open. A huge bed covered in bright white sheets stood in the middle of the floor. More French windows overlooked the street. A small dark wood wardrobe and chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall.
She looked at the bed and swallowed, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the little apartment. It was smaller than the suite they had shared at the hotel, and there was only the one room. But she had made her mind up before they’d even left. She’d take the sofa bed.
Tom appeared behind her and let out a whistle. ‘Wow, nice.’
She could smell his aftershave, woody and spicy notes warmed by the heat of his skin. He was close behind her, his shirt brushing against her bare arm as he leaned over her to see into the room as she stood in the doorway. She could feel the heat from him, felt his breath fan her hair as he whistled and she felt her skin suddenly tingle.
She turned abruptly and squeezed past him, back down the hallway, back into the living room.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered under her breath as she hurried back towards the living room.
‘You okay?’ Tom appeared at the end of the hallway, looking puzzled.
‘Yep. Yes.’ Katie said brightly, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘The bedroom is yours. I’ll take the sofa bed.’
Tom shook his head. ‘No, you take the bedroom, I’ll be fine out here.’
‘But it’s not fair if––’
Tom crossed the living room in three long strides and took a seat on the sofa. He bounced gently up and down. ‘Ah, nice and comfy.’ He stretched an arm along the back of the sofa, his shirt pulling tight across his chest. With an earnest expression, he said, ‘I’m serious. I’m happy out here.’
Katie looked at him, at his long legs stretched out before him as he lounged back. ‘I think you might be one of the most decent guys I’ve ever met.’
Tom grinned. ‘That’s only cos you don’t know me that well yet.’
‘Hmm,’ Katie mused as she grabbed her bag and headed to the bedroom.
By the time they arrived at the apartment, it was lunchtime. Katie unzipped her case and pulled out a strawberry-patterned summer sundress. It had a square-cut, low neckline, and was nipped in at the waist. As she shook the creases out of it, a squashable wide-brimmed hat erupted at slow speed from the case and toppled onto the bed.
Katie laid out the dress on the bed and strolled back into the living room. ‘Why don’t we get changed and then go out and find some food? I don’t think we need to rush to the festival—the band is headlining,’ she pulled a gagging face, ‘for some unfathomable reason. So they won’t be on until late. Is that okay with you?’
Tom looked at her. ‘You want to know if I am happy to spend the afternoon in a nice Italian restaurant with good wine and actual bathrooms rather than be crushed by a mob and forced to piss in a Portaloo?’ He folded the t-shirt he was holding. ‘Tough call, but okay.’
She laughed. ‘Okay, point made. Restaurant it is.’
A little while later, they stepped out into the shaded but hot street. The old pipe-smoking man nodded as they passed by, his eyes lingering on Katie’s figure in the sundress. Tom wore chinos that finished around his ankles and a cream linen shirt he’d left untucked, with several buttons undone at the throat. Katie could see a smattering of dark hairs on his chest. He had slipped on a pair of loafers that she had cackled at when she had seen them in the living room and said he’d never pull the look off. But there he was, looking far too cool for school, sauntering down this Italian street, hands in his pockets like he owned it.
Katie hung back a few steps, admiring the view. His dark hair, still a little damp from the shower, curled at the nape of his neck. And he was so tall, his long legs taking long sauntering strides. He stopped, realising she wasn’t beside him, and turned. As he pivoted, he slid his sunglasses up and onto his head.
‘You okay?’ he asked. He started to walk back to her. ‘Did you forget something? I can run up and get it for you?’
Out of nowhere, Katie felt like she could cry. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so continuously considerate and solicitous towards her. Ryan had never offered such a simple kindness to her. If she ever forgot something, he would stand at the front door tapping his foot or huff and go and sit in the car, the engine running. Tom was staring at her, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘Katie?’
‘I just think I….’ Her voice cracked on the last word, and her shoulders sagged.
Tom was in front of her now, cupping her shoulders in his hands.
She hid her face in her hands as tears fell, and she tried to explain. ‘I don’t think I realised I was unhappy with Ryan. I mean,’ the words spilled out, ‘I wasn’t unhappy exactly, but, now that he’s gone, I am not sure I was actually, truly, happy. We’d been together for so long, I think it was just the status quo. I forgot to check in with myself and ask, Is this still what I want? Who I want? Is this how I want to live? Does that make sense?’
She peered up at him through soggy lashes. He was gazing down into her face, holding her lightly by the arms.
‘It makes perfect sense,’ Tom replied in a low, gruff voice. ‘I know plenty of people still in relationships because it’s just,’ he shrugged, ‘been a long time. It’s comfortable. There’s nothing that badly wrong, so they keep going. But I wouldn’t say they are actually happy.’
‘I think that was us,’ Katie sniffed. ‘It was all fine. Just fine. We were a habit. Our lives were all knitted together, and it had got to the point where I couldn’t imagine him not being there.’
A thought dawned on her, and her tears stopped. She wiped at her face and looked up at Tom.
‘Imagine if he hadn’t done that,’ she said. ‘Cheated on me. I’d have carried on for years. We’d probably have got married at some point, and I would have accepted it all as my lot. But now,’ she clapped her hands together, and she could feel her heart racing. ‘Now I can work out exactly what I want.’
Tom was staring at her. She was suddenly aware it might sound like she was saying she wanted him, Tom.
‘I mean, the things I want. Or don’t want,’ she clarified in haste. ‘I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me to express myself, or dress how I like, or thinks my hobbies are a nuisance or refuses to engage in decorating the house or even go on days out unless they get their own way. I think,’ she said slowly, feeling the relief that clarity brings, ‘I think I settled. Without realising it.’
They were still standing in the middle of the cobbled street. A young Italian skidded past on a Vespa and wolf-whistled. Tom looked at him, a flash of something like irritation on his face. Then his hands slipped from her shoulders down her bare arms and took her hands in his. She shivered at his touch and hoped he didn’t notice.
It’s a natural reaction . But not real.
She tipped her head back to look up at him.
‘Sometimes,’ she said softly, ‘I felt like I was too much. I was too loud, my clothes were too over the top, I had too many opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them… He used to sometimes tell me to calm it down if we were going somewhere. Like I was going to embarrass him or something. I think it sapped my confidence. And I didn’t even notice it was happening!’ Tears welled up again, and she took a shuddering breath to keep them at bay.
‘Katie,’ Tom said, in a low gravelly voice, stepping closer until his face was only inches from hers. ‘I can tell you with absolute confidence that you are not too much.’ His fingers tightened over hers. ‘Ryan wasn’t enough.’
Katie’s heart did a little swan dive in her chest.
‘So I am glad for you,’ he said, turning her hands over in his, rubbing his thumbs over her palms. ‘You are the last woman in the world who should be settling for anything less than the best. From what you’ve told me about Ryan,’ he shook his head, ‘that idiot didn’t have the first clue how lucky he was.’
Katie swallowed hard and ducked her head to hide her eyes.
‘Why don’t I buy us a nice glass of chianti? Oops!’ He corrected himself. ‘I mean bottle,’ he settled his arm around her shoulders, ‘and you can flirt with all the waiters?’