Chapter 40
The next day, Mabel summons me into the big lounge.
Archie’s perched in the doorway to the cottage, playing with his figures while also watching the builders, who are creating their usual cacophony of noise.
Mabel’s sitting with Callum at the dining table, a laptop, iPad and both their phones spread out before them.
“Adam,” she declares, “we’ve got something to show you.”
I sit down and they present to me their digital marketing strategy for the Castello Montemagno.
I’m impressed. Callum’s website is stylish and slick, and he’s worked in the text I gave him about the history of the house—a lot of which came from Luisa—plus information on the village and nearby towns.
There are some gorgeous photos that show off the first rooms to be finished, plus plenty of gaps to add more once the refurbishment has progressed.
There are some stunning exterior shots of the olive grove, the chapel wall, the castle—viewed from the bottom of the vineyard—and the view from the patio over the valley.
Callum’s layout, design and graphics are simple but effective, and he’s made sure the dominant color is the same turquoise as the front doors.
And he’s dedicated a whole page to “Instagrammable moments,” so far featuring pictures of the hammocks, rope swing and pizza oven. But he doesn’t think this is working.
“We need someone in the pictures,” is his verdict. “Otherwise they just look empty.”
“I’ve got the same problem,” chips in Mabel.
She runs through her plans for the social media channels, showing me draft posts on TikTok, Instagram and Facebook. They’re nicely shot and do a good job of capturing the look of the property but I agree there’s something missing.
“Will you go in them?” she asks.
I rear back. “Me?”
“Yeah,” says Callum.
He asks if he can take a pic of me in front of the house and if I’ll provide him with a short biography. Although I don’t consider myself much of a frontman, I concede that a short section about me and my relationship with the property could help warm it up.
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s give it a go.”
We develop various ideas for social media content and I suggest we start posting on Monday, which is the beginning of our final week in Italy.
“That’ll be a good launch day,” I say. “The front of the house will be finished tomorrow so we can take pics over the weekend.”
The builders have stripped, treated and filled the old front doors so they can repaint them with a color they’ve had mixed that’s exactly the same as the original turquoise.
They’ve just finished ripping up the tiles from the patio—as too many of them were cracked or uneven, not to mention the ones that were dislodged or swept away by the storm—and are about to start relaying it.
Mabel pulls a face. “But Monday’s the quietest day of the week on social media.”
There’s something else I remember from my sisters’ WhatsApp chat. “And it’s Manchester Pride this weekend, which means Monday’s the bank holiday.”
“Shall we wait till Tuesday?” suggests Callum.
“That’s probs best,” agrees Mabel.
I give them a smile. “Fab!”
Behind the closed door to the study, I hear Theo ending a call. It’s the day the students get their GCSE results so he has back-to-back meetings again. I fling the door open and grab him before he disappears once more. “Theo, come here for a minute and see what the kids have done.”
Mabel shows him her work first and Theo raises his eyebrows. “That’s outstanding.”
I bring up the website’s menu and click through a few pages. “And get a load of this.”
Theo nods, slowly. “Cal, I knew you were good but this is bloody amazing.”
Callum looks like he’s struggling to suppress a smile. “I just used a basic website builder.”
“Well, the results are anything but basic,” Theo says. “We should definitely talk about you doing that Computer Science A level. It would work really well with PE and Business.”
Callum can’t suppress his smile any longer. “Yeah, alright.”
“You know, Ian was saying he needs a new website,” I contribute. “He’s not got much money but he’s crap at tech. I’m sure he’d appreciate your help.”
Callum nods, quickly. “That’d be sick.”
I take out my phone. “Let me do a quick email intro.”
I open up my app but see an email sitting at the top of my inbox from Auntie Julie.
Fear catches in my throat. What does she say?
I can’t read it now. I’ll have to make some time later.
After an hour of being unable to concentrate on anything, I slip away to make myself a coffee. Just as I’m flipping the lid of the moka and see it’s starting to boil, Theo comes down the stairs.
“Is everything OK?” he asks.
I can tell from the look on his face that there’s no point pretending. I switch off the gas. “I got that email from Auntie Julie.”
His expression turns grave. “Have you read it?”
“Not yet.”
There’s a pause.
“I’ll cancel my last meeting,” says Theo. “You go off and find somewhere quiet.”
“I can’t,” I argue. “This is an important day for you.”
Theo frowns. “The next meeting isn’t crucial. Honestly, I can cancel it.”
I line up two espresso cups and fill them with coffee. “The thing is, I promised Archie we’d make a trap for wasps.”
Theo pushes out a breath. “Bloody hell, Ads, forget about that. I’ll do it with him.”
I lean back against the marble worktop. “But where can I go? It’ll be too hot up at the castle.”
Theo rubs my shoulder. “You’re starting to sound like you’re making excuses.”
I take a sip of my coffee but find it difficult to swallow. Am I?
“You’ve got fifty hectares of land,” Theo goes on. “There are loads of places you can go.”
I blow on my coffee.
“Or would you prefer us to read it together?” suggests Theo.
“No, it’s fine,” I insist. “I’ll do it on my own.”
“Look, I can see this is terrifying,” Theo continues. “But the only way to even think about dealing with it is to read the email.”
I force the rest of my coffee down. “I know.”
“We’ll sit down and talk about it afterwards,” he goes on. “But please remember I love you.”
He kisses me and I smile, weakly.
I leave the house, feeling dazed. I walk up to the olive grove, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.
Once I get there, I find a spot that’s set back from the driveway, where no one can see me. And I lean on a knobbly tree trunk.
I take out my phone and open the email.
Dear Adam,
This is an email I didn’t want to write.
The way your mum died was awful for me, because I was there, and the memory will torment me till the end of my days.
But if you already know about the affair, I don’t think it’ll do you any harm to know the rest of it.
If you’ve been imagining your mum took her own life, it might even set you free.
Your mum died on the night she was supposed to be leaving for Italy.
Not that I knew about that at the time. I got another call from that Lauren at the hotel.
She said she knew I was lying and the woman she’d told me about was my sister and I’d better come quick because she was sitting in the bar with a suitcase, drinking gin and getting plastered.
Well, I had no idea what our Suzanne was playing at or if she’d even speak to me, but I dropped everything and jumped in a taxi. But when I arrived at the hotel, she’d gone.
That silly cow Lauren was more than happy to fill me in on what had happened.
Apparently, your mum had come to meet Gary but he hadn’t turned up and hadn’t even booked a room.
He had left her a note though and Lauren handed it over—with great satisfaction, I’m sure.
She’d obviously read it because she told me what it said.
It said he was sorry but he only wanted a bit of fun, she’d taken things too far and he was ending it.
Your mum must have been devastated because according to Lauren, as soon as she read the note she went over to the bar and started knocking back the booze.
I’m sure Lauren also told her Gary was a rat who’d brought other women to the hotel, because she wasted no time in telling me.
‘I did try to warn you,’ she kept saying in a smug voice. But I was already halfway out the door.
I had no idea where your mum was but knew I had to find her. So I trudged round Manchester, round all the places where she usually went on a night out. I even went in the ladies loos, banging on the cubicle doors and shouting her name. But I couldn’t find her.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I spotted her sitting on her own and clutching her suitcase in some dive on Deansgate.
She was so wasted she kept sliding off her seat.
I ran over and tried to give her a squeeze, but she wasn’t pleased to see me.
She just pushed me away, accusing me of wanting to gloat.
I knew she’d be feeling humiliated so I didn’t have a go at her.
I just got her a glass of water and tried to sober her up.
Eventually, she calmed down and told me she’d written to Uncle Wilf and her and Gary were supposed to be going and staying with him, although she didn’t say anything else, which is why I honestly didn’t know Wilf was gay.
But then she’d gone to the hotel and Gary had stood her up and written her this note saying he didn’t want anything else to do with her.
I did what your mum needed me to do—I told her Gary was a bastard and if that’s what he was like, she was well rid.
But she started crying. Tears were rolling down her face.
She kept saying she loved him and she couldn’t believe he just wanted a fling and how could she have been so stupid?
I told her we all made mistakes and to look at the state of me with my complete failure of a love life.
We had a bit of a laugh at the pair of us and she apologised for being unkind to me and we had a squeeze and I told her to come back to mine and we’d work it all out in the morning.
She must have been finally starting to sober up because she agreed.
But then we went outside and there was a big crowd waiting for taxis.
It was chucking out time and there were drunks everywhere and people having fights—Deansgate was terrible in those days.
Although that wasn’t the problem. The problem was your mum spotted Gary across the road.
She couldn’t believe it. He was going into a bar with some other woman.
There was no question they were together—he had his arm around her.
Well, your mum saw red. I’ve never seen anyone so angry.
She shouted Gary’s name but he didn’t hear her and disappeared into the bar.
So she ran after him. I tried running after her but I had to pick up her suitcase so I wasn’t very fast. And she ran into the road.
Right there, right in front of me, she got hit by a car.
I won’t go into the details, Adam. All you need to know is it was quick and she didn’t feel any pain. The paramedics said she was dead on impact. And that was that.
Except a few days later, a letter she’d sent arrived at my house.
It said she was leaving for Italy and she hoped I wouldn’t hate her but she was in love and just wanted to be happy.
The point is, it had another letter in it, which she asked me to give to you.
I don’t know what it says because I’ve not opened it.
And I’ve never given it to you because I didn’t want you to know your mum was leaving.
But now you do, I’ve posted it to you in Italy.
I’ve sent it recorded delivery so you’ll have to be in to sign for it I’m afraid, but I didn’t want to run the risk of it getting lost in the post. The woman at the Post Office said it should arrive early next week.
I hope you’re not too upset by this, Adam. I know it must be awful for you but hopefully it’ll finally bring you some peace.
Make sure you stay close to Theo. He’s a good man. You’ll need him now more than ever.
Sending you all my love,
Auntie Julie
x
I let the letter fall onto my lap.
I sit, staring straight ahead, my eyes fixed on the lines and bumps of the nearest tree trunk.
I sit like that for a long time.
I’ve no idea what to think, or what to feel.
I just know that I do want to see Theo.