Chapter16 June 1st #2
I am a grown woman. If my mother wants to stay in Italy where her life is perfect, let her. She’d given up the marriage to my father and the family battle years ago, whereas I still have plenty of fight left in me.
And it makes me laugh (no, it actually infuriates me) how Aldo’s grandchildren call her Nonna, Grandma, when she hadn’t even earnt the title of ‘mother’.
There is nothing grand about her and her mothering in the least. What had I been snorting when I’d agreed to spend the best part of two months here as a gift from her?
‘Come here, skat,’ he whispers, pulling me up against his side. It’s nice there. My own private nook. I can leave all my problems there and it’s okay with him…
For dessert, we order the Margheritine di Stresa, biscuits topped with icing sugar that don’t sound like much, but those with a fine palate will appreciate. Me, I’ll eat anything, so I trust the waiter’s advice and am I glad we did!
After lunch we go up in the cable car to Monte Mottarone for the famous view. The breeze is much cooler up here, and Markus gives me his jacket in a chivalric gesture that destabilises me. I was having fun, but to feel his arms around me while he settles his jacket about me is… new.
On our way back to the car we pass many more shops. We are in an expensive area with designer labels.
‘Come with me,’ he says, taking my hand and pulling me into a shop.
‘What…?’
‘For a little souvenir,’ he says, his eyes all mischievous.
‘Oh, you’d better watch it,’ I say. ‘I have a feeling that you’re not going to find a five-euro keychain in here.’
‘Good, because that’s not what I’m looking for,’ he replies.
I am standing at the men’s end where all the hats are.
He’d look good in any of them, of course.
‘How about this one?’ I suggest, but he’s off talking to the shopkeeper, so I continue my perusal of accessories such as gloves, wallets, scarves, all with prohibitive prices. Best to get out of here asap.
‘Did you find anything?’ I ask.
‘Let’s go,’ he says quickly.
‘You haven’t stolen anything, have you?’
He bursts out laughing. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘I dunno, I just…’
He stops and we are at a railing over Lake Maggiore. It is just gorgeous and I want it to last forever. ‘Here,’ he says, pulling out a small packet from underneath his jacket. ‘This is for you. Happy birthday, skat…’
I must look shocked because he laughs again. ‘Go on, open it.’
‘I… thank you, Markus, but I hope you didn’t buy it in that store where everything costs an arm and a leg…’
‘Just open it already.’
‘Okay,’ I say obediently. It is a Ferragamo silk shawl. It is absolutely gorgeous, with blues and greens that seem drawn from the lake, and gold and silver flecks that look like the sun glistening off it. ‘Oh my God…’
‘You like?’
I look at him, then at the scarf, then at him again.
‘I love it, Markus! Thank you!’ I say, willing back the tears because I’m not going to bloody cry on my birthday.
He peers down into my face. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry,’ he says.
‘Oh, no, it’s not you, Markus. I guess I’m just tired.’
‘Then let me drive you back,’ he whispers. ‘You can take a nap before the festivities continue. I’ve got to go and find my hotel anyway.’
‘Okay,’ I agree, the idea of him leaving killing me.
*
It’s sunset by the time we get there. Everyone is milling about, waiting for drinks. ‘Do you want to come in and have a drink?’ I offer.
He shakes his head. ‘I have some more driving to do, better not.’
‘Okay…’ I hate goodbyes, but this is it.
He seems to hesitate. ‘Liv, is there anywhere we can talk in private?’ he asks.
‘Oh?’ We’ve been talking non-stop all day. I take his hand, leading him to the chapel. The last mass of the day is finished but the church is never locked overnight. Something to do with Italian trust and faith. Bless them.
We sit on a pew at the very back, like two kids in a cinema theatre wanting to snog. I mean, I want to snog him big-time.
‘So what’s up?’ I finally ask.
He studies his shoes. ‘You remember Lilja, right?’
Aarrrghhhh, my one fly in the champagne! She’s gorgeous and almost as madly in love with Markus as I am, and they’ve been on and off more times than I care to count. She’s determined to get him and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
‘Y-yes…?’
‘Well, she came to my house the other day…’
‘From Denmark?’ I say, secretly admiring her. The girl has spunk.
‘No. She is moving to England. Precisely, Canterbury.’
Oh no, no, no! That’s the end of us, or at least my version of it. He’ll never have time for… whatever it is we are doing here – friendship? Family? Ah, yes, business. Because he is first and foremost my business partner.
‘That’s nice,’ I say as someone places an Oscar into my hands and the audience applauds. Meryl Streep is happy to have lost to me because I’ve done a brilliant job. ‘What about her work?’
‘That’s the thing. She wants to work for us.’
What!? A thousand alarm bells go off in my mind as my heart shoots up my throat and out of my ears.
‘But I said no,’ he informs me, still looking at his shoes.
My head snaps around so hard I can hear it click. ‘And why is that?’
Markus shrugs. ‘Because what we have now is good. Right?’
‘Right,’ I’m quick to assure him. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘I mean, we wouldn’t want that to change, would we? Unless…’
‘Unless what?’ I prompt.
‘I mean, Simon has no say in the company, right?’
‘Of course not. You know that, Markus.’
He shakes his head as if to toss an invisible weight off his shoulders. ‘Right. So I don’t want her to be a part of this, either. A part of… us.’
I swear his eyes have changed. They’ve got darker as he stares into mine. Is he…? Does he…? This can’t be! He’s never looked at me like this before!
‘She wants to move in with me,’ he whispers.
I can hear the loud thump as my heart hits the bottom of my stomach. I move away from him as if he’s caught fire. ‘Oh! And… you? What do you want?’
He half-groans. ‘I want a simple life. Lilja is anything but simple. She’s impossible to please, unreliable, everything that drives me nuts.’
I nod, trying hard not to let any of my own emotion seep into my voice. ‘So, uhm, what does that mean?’
He sighs. ‘That she is not staying in my house. I can’t stop her from moving to Canterbury, of course, but please don’t believe anything she says about us being a couple right now.’
‘Why would she tell me?’
‘Because she may feel entitled to stick her nose in our business.’
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘She just thinks that sooner or later something permanent will happen between us.’
Well, at least she has that illusion. Me, I’ve got nothing.
‘But it’s going to happen, with someone or other, sooner or later,’ I say.
Markus has loads of women, but he keeps it casual.
Could you walk away the morning after begrudging him anything?
He and his casual partners always agree that that’s what it is.
A casual fling. All the times he’s been ‘on’ with Lilja, he’s never talked about it as if it’s anything serious.
But what he doesn’t understand is that one day someone’s going to get him.
He can’t continue dodging bullets all his life, can he?
‘Yeah, well, maybe,’ he says, draping an arm around my shoulder and bringing me closer to him. ‘It’s cold in this chapel, isn’t it?’
‘Spoken by a wannabe Viking,’ I titter, caught between wanting to die and never wanting to leave this spot. How long can I keep this act up?
‘It’s late. I should go back to my hotel now,’ he says, yawning.
‘Yes, you should,’ I agree, but neither of us makes a move.
Something between us has shifted. I can’t quite say what, or how, but something is different.
The way he’s looking at me. The tone of his voice.
We have been close friends for years, but now, hanging in the space between us is something new, undefinable.
Something I wish I could name, but haven’t got the heart to.
I rest my head on his shoulder and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. If only it wasn’t so late, he could stay longer. And if only we weren’t both absolutely knackered, we could talk for ever and ever…