Chapter 3 #2
‘No, I s’pose not. Rupert and I had a gorgeous couple of weeks in a villa overlooking Florence,’ Anna agreed, taking a sip of her wine. ‘This is getting warm. I think I need an ice cube in the glass.’
She heaved herself out of her chair and wandered into the kitchen. We could hear the thump of the freezer door and then she returned with a bowl of ice cubes.
‘I know you’re not supposed to do this. Rupert would be incandescent if he could see me,’ she said.
‘It’s supermarket wine,’ I said, ‘not some rare vintage. Does it really matter?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Rupert is very particular. He believes in tablecloths at every meal and he’s never eaten his food off the coffee table in his life.
Sometimes I yearn for one of those crazy picnics we used to go on when we were young.
Do you remember? In the park? Beaten-up sandwiches in a paper Union Jack tote bag with string handles from Smiths, and some terrible fizzy wine. We thought we were so sophisticated.’
She sat back down and took a sip of her drink with her eyes closed.
‘I have an idea,’ she said a few minutes later.
She then became so enthusiastic that she put her glass down and slapped her hands on the table so all the glasses and plates rattled.
‘No, I have brilliant idea!’
Harriet sat up on her sunbed, threw aside the towel and swung her legs onto the ground, wincing a little with her sore knee so that she could look at the two of us.
‘What are you planning now?’
Anna beamed at us, her eyes wide with mischief. ‘Let’s do it again.’
‘Do what again?’ I said, swirling the ice cubes in my wine with a finger.
‘Let’s go Interrailing again. Let’s recreate that journey.
Perhaps not exactly because I wouldn’t want to go on that sleeper train; the beds were only two feet wide and the pillow was like half a Weetabix in a bag.
I don’t think my back would stand it. And just for a week or so, not a month this time.
Let’s buy our tickets, get our backpacks and our passports.
We don’t even need a ferry, we can get the Eurostar direct to Paris, then go on a sleeper to the south of France, and then perhaps go east to somewhere. Spain or something.’
‘Spain is west from the south of France,’ I said.
Harriet flapped a hand at me. ‘Listen to Mrs Mercator.’
‘Mercator?’ Anna said.
‘Map expert, he had a famous projection,’ Harriet said.
‘Did he indeed? Dirty boy. Listen, listen,’ Anna said, ‘let’s pretend we are eighteen again, let’s do it. Let’s get on a train in Worcester and get off in Paris.’
I know I gulped at that point. For a moment I felt quite faint.
‘I don’t think so,’ Harriet said doubtfully. ‘I mean, aren’t we a bit old for that? Couldn’t we just get a package holiday last minute? We could get a terrific bargain.’
Harriet might have been a bit uncertain but I felt a positive zing of excitement with what Anna had said. All of a sudden I was catapulted back to that Sunday in June, all those decades ago, when I had vowed to do just that.
Get on a train in Worcester and get off in Paris.
The prospect of fulfilling my teenage pledge was positively electrifying. In fact, it seemed the most exciting idea anyone had ever had in the history of the world.
I hadn’t really had a proper holiday for some time. I had been completely caught up with my divorce and house purchase, Ben’s relationship troubles and then his move into my spare room. Did I now have the energy to do something like this?
Well, absolutely, I realised. I jolly well did, and more than that I was going to say yes for a change, yes to things that addressed my preferences and needs, not anyone else’s. Wow.
‘And then we can go to Venice. I went there for a weekend years ago but Rupert didn’t like all the walking and he sulked all the time. I’ve always wanted to go back,’ Anna said.
Harriet gasped. ‘Venice? That’s amazing.
My godmother emailed me the other day. Next year she is going on a cruise from Venice down the Dalmatian coast with a friend.
She wondered if I would like to join them.
She is always travelling; she’s been everywhere.
We could tie our trip in with meeting them and do that afterwards as a treat to ourselves after a week of roughing it. ’
I was feeling more enthusiastic by the minute. After having been speechless for a few moments I finally found my voice again.
‘Golly, yes! That sounds exciting. I’ve never been on a cruise and I’ve always wanted to, but Fred refused.
He used to get giddy on an escalator never mind a ship.
Who knows what he would have been like on the high seas?
But only as long as we do get the train from London to Paris.
And then go on to somewhere else, and then to Venice. What do we all think?’
The more I accepted the idea, the more I liked it.
I knew I had been just managing my life for a long time, watching the weeks and months go past without making any significant changes.
During our marriage, Fred had gradually tightened the reins, making even simple choices which should have been joint decisions feel impossible.
When we needed to replace the fence at the end of the garden, what car I could have, where to go on holiday, could we do something different at Christmas, or would we always be obliged to host his perpetually dissatisfied mother for an occasion which she seemed to intensely dislike?
I could not go on like that; I wanted some excitement back into my life, and this was the perfect opportunity to start.
For the rest of our time there we would discuss everything at some length, investigating the cost and the logistics, and Anna persuaded Harriet that it would be fun and this time nothing bad would happen. Eventually, we all agreed this was a great plan.
‘There’s just one thing,’ I said, my voice shaking.
‘What?’ Harriet said.
‘You won’t leave me behind this time?’
Anna threw her arms around me and laughed.
‘Of course not! You daft thing.’
We had a bit of a group hug then and I spilled my wine over my shorts, but it didn’t matter because I was so excited. All of us were laughing and crying at the same time. This time it would be different.