Chapter 19
In the morning, Theo and I don’t have the chance to talk.
But that’s a situation of my own making.
After lying in bed rigid for most of the night—tormented by what I said to him—I get up early and grab the first excuse to get out of the way.
I go to the supermarket to stock up before my sisters arrive.
But as I walk around the aisles, I’m still tormented by our argument. Have I blown it? Have I fucked it all up?
The same thought darts around my mind when I get back to the house and unpack the shopping.
It’s on my mind when I clean and set up the first bathroom finished by the builders, which now has a dove-gray suite and sage-green tiles and I would think is gorgeous if I were able to concentrate.
It’s on my mind when I clear out the bathroom on the middle floor so that the builders can start stripping it on Monday.
And it’s on my mind as I make everyone lunch, insisting I’m not hungry as I ate a massive bag of crisps in the car—which is true, although that’s something else I did on purpose.
Throughout the meal, Theo is much quieter and more introverted than usual. I daren’t imagine the thoughts going through his head.
In the afternoon, Giuseppe gives me his usual end-of-the-week progress report.
I can just about concentrate as he shows me the finished work on the retaining wall behind the chapel and the new, user-friendly path up to the castle—both of which are very impressive.
But my concentration slips as he outlines next week’s schedule.
And it goes completely when he starts talking about damp proofing and rewiring.
All I can think is, I can’t believe I told Theo to leave me. What is wrong with me?
Anxiety rages in my head. It doesn’t help that I’ve hardly slept. When Giuseppe finishes his report, I go to make myself—yet another—strong coffee.
I need to pull myself together before my sisters arrive.
And my two—very distinct—worlds, collide.
At four o’clock I receive a message from the girls letting me know they’ve arrived in Montemagno.
Our original plan had been for them to stay in the house, but that was before the kids were coming for the whole summer.
I felt so guilty asking them to stay elsewhere that I found them an Airbnb just off the main road in the village and insisted on paying for it myself—although I regret that now Giuseppe’s bills are mounting up.
Worried that Gloria’s luggage wouldn’t fit in my little car, I also booked them an extra-large taxi from Pisa Airport.
At least the work on the kitchen isn’t starting till Monday so I can cook them a welcome meal.
Although the thought of my sisters, the kids and Theo sitting round the same table sends my anxiety soaring.
I drive down to the village but don’t make it to the Airbnb before I spot my sisters in the square outside the church.
Ian is wearing a short-sleeved check shirt, cargo shorts and Birkenstocks, and studying the plaque by the war memorial.
Dom is dressed in tiny drawstring sports shorts and an equally tiny vest—his muscles and chest hair spilling out of it—doing triceps dips on a bench.
And Gloria is in half drag—or “hag” as he calls it—wearing a pink, bobbed wig and heart-shaped dangly earrings, with a strappy silver top and fitted trousers, both of which show off his ample curves.
He’s currently shimmying down a potted olive tree, when he reaches the bottom twerking furiously.
I feel an ache in my gut as I realize just how much I’ve missed them.
“Ladies, it’s fab to see you!” I gush, flinging open the car door and rushing towards them.
“You too, mia sorella!” trills Gloria, in a flurry of kisses and hugs.
“In case you’re wondering, that’s ‘my sister’ in Italian,” translates Ian. “We looked it up in the airport.”
“While we were drinking the bar dry,” booms Dom in his deep voice, his moustache tickling me as he plants several kisses on my cheeks.
“Bitch, this place is as dead as Kerry Katona’s career,” Gloria declares. “Take us to your castle!”
I frown. “Just so you know, it’s not very glamorous.”
Gloria raises a nail-varnish-tipped hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry, girl, we are the glamour!”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s also a building site.”
“In that case, it’ll be full of hot builders.” Gloria jumps in the car and gives a few taps on the ceiling. “Addy, hit that accelerator!”
When we arrive at the house, the girls jump out of the car and start looking around.
“It’s as hot as a swamp up here,” drawls Gloria. “It’s a good job I brought my fan.” He produces an elaborate lace fan, which he throws open with a loud click, and begins wafting himself.
Theo trots over to greet us, trailed by the kids.
“How’s my favorite zaddy?” Dom bellows, giving him a hug and pat on the back.
“You’ve only been here two weeks and look how blond you are!” observes Ian.
“Even the hairs on your arms have gone blond!” says Gloria. He gives a little growl. “If you weren’t dating my sister …”
Theo gives a bashful smile, but I can tell he isn’t uncomfortable.
Which is more than can be said for the kids.
They seem taken aback by just how loud—just how forceful a presence—my sisters are.
As do a couple of builders, who are dragging out an old bath and chucking it into the skip, doing everything they can to avoid establishing eye contact.
Theo introduces the kids to Ian, Gloria and Dom.
While everyone is polite, each side is clearly wary of the other.
That can’t be helped by the fact that I’ve kept my sisters updated on some of the kids’ more challenging behavior.
Not that I regret that: without their support, I wouldn’t have made it through the last two weeks.
Archie seems fascinated by Gloria, all six feet, four inches of him—and that’s before adding on his pink, patent leather stack heels.
“Are you on stilts?” he asks.
Gloria gives a broad grin. “No, my angel. Just heels.”
Archie points at Gloria’s pink wig. “Is that real?”
“Nothing about me is real!” says Gloria, theatrically. “I’m a work of art, my own special creation!”
The reference to “I Am What I Am” is lost on Archie, but it doesn’t matter because my sisters’ attention has already shifted onto the builders.
Gloria and Dom are mesmerized, especially as the men are—as usual—working shirtless.
Giuseppe in particular is a big hit and my sisters insist on going over to introduce themselves.
“Buongiorno!” says Dom, eyeing him up, approvingly.
Gloria flutters his false eyelashes. “I think I’m suffering from subsidence. Can you spread some cement on my foundations?”
Ian tries to contain his laughter. “I’m not getting my translation app out for that.”
“There’s no need,” I say, torn between embarrassment and amusement. “Giuseppe speaks English. He’s married to a British woman.”
“Sorry, you lost me at ‘married’,” quips Gloria, with a click of his fan.
To my relief, Giuseppe seems to be reveling in the attention. I try not to notice that the other builders are scurrying off with their heads down. Arjan, in particular, looks terrified.
Wait a minute, what would they be like if a few straight women had arrived and were flirting with them?
“Come on, let me show you girls round,” I suggest, brightly.
I start with the castle, which I know will be empty since the diggers left at lunchtime—not to mention away from the builders. Even though the newly constructed path and steps make the climb much easier, Gloria struggles in heels—and it doesn’t help that he’s vaping.
“I feel like those queens at the end of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert,” he groans. “When they’re climbing Ayers Rock, or whatever it’s called now.”
“Uluru,” provides Ian.
“Try saying that with a mouthful of cock,” Gloria chirps.
Everyone cackles. I glance behind us to check the kids aren’t in earshot but they’ve gone inside.
When Gloria reaches the top of the hill, he tugs on his vape, and lets out a long, pink plume. “Ladies, gentlemen, friends, family, fans … I hereby declare the queens have arrived at the castle!”
Despite the fanfare, we’re not able to explore much of it as the majority is marked out for the dig. But we step around the markings and I am at least able to show the girls the view.
“You know, this would make an amazing meditation space,” comments Ian.
“Do you think if I went to sleep, a handsome prince would wake me up with a kiss?” says Gloria, adopting a breathy, distressed, female voice.
“As if you’d settle for a kiss,” pipes Dom.
“Yeah, I’d at least want a blowie!”
The cackling accompanies us down to the olive grove, where Gloria skips around in a flight of fantasy. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be ravaged in an olive grove by a rough Italian farmhand.”
I give him a wry smile. “You might want to be careful. We saw a snake around here the other day.”
Gloria narrows his eyes. “Now you’re talking!”
When we make it back to the house, the builders are just leaving and I feel the relief wash over me.
We enter through the cottage and I give our visitors a tour.
All three of them love it and they each have ideas on how they’d transform it if they were in charge of the refurb.
Dom would turn the big lounge into a home gym, for example, while Ian would turn it into a coaching studio and Gloria would turn it into a disco room—complete with dance floor, stage and bar.
“Speaking of bars, is anyone going to crack open some fizz?” warbles Gloria. “My mouth’s drier than a nun’s snatch.”
From outside, I hear the kids squabbling and feel a rush of fear: soon we’ll all be out there together.