Chapter 21
The next morning, Gloria and Dom are hungover, but I’m relieved to see all three of my sisters packed up and ready to go when I drive down to the village.
They have to leave their Airbnb by ten o’clock but they have less luggage than I expected—Dom’s tiny outfits making up for Gloria’s multiple wigs—so I cancel their taxi to the airport and say I’ll drive them.
Before that, though, I’m taking them up to the house for brunch.
In the car, Gloria and Dom relive last night’s adventures.
“I can’t believe that go-go dancer binned me off,” Gloria moans, “for some skinny white boy with a face like a chewed caramel.”
“That’s outrageous!” we chorus.
“At least one of us got some action,” Gloria says. “Come on, Dom, spill the T.”
“The T is we went for a walk on the beach,” Dom says. “And Vito’s great. He’s really interesting.”
“‘Interesting’?” teases Gloria. “Since when have you given a fuck about ‘interesting’? Come on, did you show him your Leaning Tower?”
Dom grins. “I may have done.”
“How about your Trevi Fountain?” jokes Ian.
We all screech with laughter but, intriguingly, Dom doesn’t answer.
Once I’ve parked the car, my sisters greet Theo and the kids.
Everyone seems more relaxed than at our first meeting.
And I observe each of my sisters slip into a slightly different persona—just as I do.
But Theo and I still haven’t chatted since our argument.
When I got back last night it was late and, just as I was waking up this morning, Mabel burst in wailing that she’d found a patch of skin cancer—only for Theo to examine it and tell her it was a large freckle.
It’s a beautiful morning and the usual sound of crickets and birdsong is accompanied by the distant ringing of church bells, these setting off the barking of dogs.
I serve a buffet of local cheeses, cooked meats and breads I picked up from the bakery in Camaiore.
There’s also smoked salmon with dill and capers, a tomato and basil salad, and a huge pan of creamy scrambled eggs.
Everyone helps themselves and chats in little groups, which is what I was hoping, as it must be less intimidating for the kids than speaking to a table full of intent faces.
Archie is soon full and starts studying a pack of Top Trumps cards. “Adam, did you know ‘the Gigantosaurus could run for long distances at great speeds due to its shock-absorbing muscles’?”
“No, I didn’t but that’s fascinating.” I lean in and rest my forehead against his temple. “You know, Ian loves Top Trumps.”
He pulls back. “Really?”
“Yeah, he told me that when he was a kid it was his favorite game.” Ian did actually reveal this after spotting a pack of the cards while I was showing him round the house. “Why don’t you ask if he wants to play?”
Archie jumps up and toddles over. When Ian smiles in agreement, he starts dealing the cards.
Dom, meanwhile, is mixing himself a protein shake. As he glugs it back, I notice Callum watching. He looks like he wants to ask a question but is lacking the confidence.
“You know, Dom’s a personal trainer,” I tell him.
Callum gives his head a jerk of acknowledgment.
“I used to be the skinny, weedy kid,” says Dom, wiping some shake off his moustache. “When you’re already deaf in one ear, that’s not great. So when I was around your age, I started packing on muscle.”
“How did you do it?” asks Callum. “How did you get that rig?”
As Dom shares information about exercise and nutrition, I treat myself to some mortadella.
Mabel, on the other hand, isn’t mixing at all but skulking behind her hair, sticking to the side of her dad. I scour my brain for interests she may share with my sisters. Again, I think how tough it must be for her as the only girl.
When Gloria’s finished eating, he takes out a compact and tops up his lip gloss. I remember Mabel’s interest in skincare and decide to take a chance.
“You know, Gloria’s fab with makeup. If there’s anything you want to ask …”
Gloria snaps his compact shut. “Girl, you’ve got a sensational bone structure.”
Mabel pulls more strands of hair over her face. “As if.”
“Hush your mouth! I would love to practice on you!”
She writhes in her seat. “Would you?”
“Hell, yeah!”
Mabel considers this. The crease of tension on her face suggests she’s going through some sort of internal struggle. Then a smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “OK.”
I don’t want her to feel like she’s being watched, so I quickly turn away and cram my mouth full of pecorino. When I catch Theo’s eye, he gives me a smile. It’s the first we’ve shared in days. I’m relieved to feel my heart leap.
“Now who wants the last of this orange juice?” I ask.
“I’ll have it.” Dom reaches over for the jug, then spots Callum watching. “Sorry, mate, do you want it?”
“No, thanks,” replies Callum. “It’s got bits in it.”
Dom raises an eyebrow. “Dude, when you meet a really hot girl and go round to her house for the first time, what are you going to say if she gives you orange juice with bits in it?”
A smirk traces itself on Callum’s face. He holds out his glass.
I daren’t look directly, but out of the corner of my eye I’m stunned to see him drinking it.
As I survey the scene, I’m even more stunned that everyone’s chatting and smiling—my outrageous gay sisters and my boyfriend’s kids. I wonder what Wilf would make of it. When no one’s looking, I slip upstairs, open the window, and put on one of his opera records.
When I come back—to the sound of Tosca—I see that Gloria’s been to the car for his beauty bag and is doing a full face of makeup on Mabel.
“I do this with my nieces,” he’s saying, as he contours her cheekbones, “although obviously they’ve got a different coloring to you.”
“What’s your heritage?” asks Mabel.
“My family’s from Uganda,” Gloria answers. “Which at the moment is one of the worst places in the world to be gay.”
“Really?”
Gloria steps back to examine his work, then gives a few more swipes of his brush. “Yeah, but my parents are cool with me. Well, they are now. Let’s just say we’ve been on a journey. You’ve got to work on these things, my angel.”
“You can say that again,” I want to throw in. But I keep my distance and start clearing away the plates and leftover food.
Theo stands up to help me. “Everything alright, Ads?”
He smiles at me again and again I smile back.
“Yeah, thanks.”
His smile grows into a grin. “I’ll wash, you dry.”
“You’re on!”
“That’s good to see,” Theo says as he rinses the first plate and slides it into the water. “Everyone getting on.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking it from him to wipe. “It is, isn’t it?”
I kiss his shoulder and we continue working in a contented silence.
Once we’ve finished, Theo and I go back outside to find Gloria teaching a fully made-up Mabel how to throw a fan, and Dom training Callum and Archie in various football skills.
I pick up the juicer and the big bowl of squeezed oranges and turn to take them indoors.
“Wait a minute!” calls out Dom. “You’re not throwing those away, are you?”
When I answer yes, he yanks them off me and lines up the boys on the side of the hill. He takes half an orange, draws back his arm, and throws it up into the sky. It arches over the trees, skims some of the branches, and lands in the overgrowth with a little rustle.
“See if you can beat that!” he booms.
Callum and Archie start lobbing oranges over the hill, winding each other up about whose reaches the farthest, and laughing riotously.
Mabel jumps up to join in and the laughter only increases.
Soon, they’re throwing two oranges at a time, then one with their backs turned.
Next, Theo stands up to take a turn—and trounces them all.
I can’t stay sitting any longer—even if I know I’m going to be rubbish. “Can I have a go?” I ask Dom.
He holds out the bowl. “Of course.”
I pull back my arm and throw my orange in the air, as high as I can. And I don’t do too badly.
Everyone cheers.
When I get back from taking my sisters to the airport, Theo’s sitting on the patio with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses.
“How was it?” he asks.
“Fine, thanks. I was sad to see them go, but Gloria says visitors are like fish: three days and they go off.”
Theo laughs.
There’s a pause.
He runs a hand over his stubble. “Callum and Mabel are putting Archie to bed.”
“Oh, brill,” I reply. “But where did that come from?”
He shrugs. “I asked them and they said yes.”
There’s another pause.
“I thought you and I could use some time on our own,” he says. “I thought we could go up to the castle and watch the sunset.”
I smile. “I’d like that.”
Once we’ve climbed up and are sitting on the wall, Theo fills our glasses with wine. We look out at the sunset, its palette of pinks and oranges giving our skin a golden tinge.
“I just want to reiterate that I’m sorry about the other day,” Theo says. “I should have defended you to Kate. Putting up with her interfering can’t have been easy for you.”
“No, but I’m sorry for laying into you,” I say, resting my wine on the wall. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you either. And I do know you’re not ashamed of me. I’ve no idea why I said that. I think I was just frightened.”
Theo rests his wine next to mine. “Of what?”
“I don’t know …” But I do: I just don’t want to say it.
Theo must sense that I’m holding back—he must sense I’m still frightened—because he reaches out and hugs me. I nestle into his embrace and squeeze him tightly.
“Don’t leave me,” I let slip. “Please don’t leave me.”
Theo kisses my head gently. “Is that what this is about? Is that what you’re frightened of?”
“I think so,” I confess. “It’s just that everybody leaves me.”
Theo kisses my head again. “Well, that may have been true in the past. But I promise I’ve no intention of leaving you.”
I remember Ian’s line: “Just because something’s been your story for a long time doesn’t mean it has to be forever.”
For once, I can imagine myself believing it.
I pull Theo tighter. “I love you, Theo.”
“I love you too, Ads. Please don’t ever doubt it again.”
My mind jumps back to the first time Theo told me he loved me.
He didn’t do it with any fanfare or grand gesture; he just told me one perfectly ordinary morning, while we were in bed.
But I knew what a significant moment it must be for him and that it must be the first time he’d said it—or at least to a man.
Just like it had been for Wilf, it was the happiest moment of my life and a tear had slipped from my eye and onto the pillow.
But, unlike Wilf—or at least unlike anything he’d said in the letter—part of me hadn’t let myself fully believe it.
Part of me had doubted it from the start.
I let out a sigh. “I won’t. I won’t doubt it—not anymore.”
“If you do,” Theo says, “I’ll just have to remind you.”
I relax and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure that’ll work.”