Chapter 45
The day after my conversation with Dad, I’m still feeling winded.
After I left the campsite, I had to pull over in a dirt track at the side of the road and surrender to the tears I’d been holding in.
I wasn’t sure who I was crying for—myself or Dad—or if I was just crying with regret.
But I cried hard, until spasms racked my body and my face was raw.
And I cried for a long time, until I saw a tractor approaching and decided I’d better move before I was asked questions in a language I didn’t understand.
Later that evening, I recounted what Dad and I had talked about to Theo and he put his arms around me and told me he loved me.
I sobbed into his chest and he kissed my head and told me it was alright and I hadn’t known the whole story so shouldn’t blame myself.
I felt comforted and forgiven. This morning, I’ve no more tears to cry.
That’s just as well, as I don’t have the time to sit around crying.
It’s the launch day for the castello’s website and Airbnb entry, plus its social media accounts.
At ten a.m. UK time, Mabel starts posting our photos and videos on TikTok, Instagram and Facebook.
She interacts with all the comments, explaining this will boost engagement and push the post up people’s feeds.
Over the course of the day, Callum monitors how many people are clicking through from the social media platforms to the website.
The numbers are good but we expect they’ll be inflated by all the friends and acquaintances who’ll be looking out of curiosity.
Our theory is backed up by the number of texts and messages we receive.
But it’s good to get feedback—and everyone is impressed.
There are just four days till the party and we throw ourselves into preparations.
Mabel and Callum put together a playlist of music that will be pumped through some speakers Angelika has lent us.
The list is heavy on Harry Styles, Taylor Swift, Oasis and the Stone Roses, but I persuade the kids to let me slot in a few songs by Kylie, Madonna and various girl bands.
For drinks, we create two cocktails, which we’ll pre-mix in jugs—and I message my sisters for tips on ingredients and twists on classic recipes.
One of them we name the Montemagno Margarita, the other the Castello Cosmo.
When the kids point out that we should also have a non-alcoholic option, we create a third—the Virgin Versilia.
We spend a long time planning the food for the buffet and Theo has the idea of setting up a build-your-own pizza station.
We compile a list of the toppings we want to offer, from peppers to mushrooms, from cooked meats to tuna.
To my disbelief, the kids even agree to have olives on the table—but only if we make a sign telling people to avoid cross-contamination.
We also make signs encouraging people to post about the castello on their social media and tag our accounts, which we’re going to place on the buffet table.
Next, we turn our attention to the games.
As our designated games master, Archie’s principal idea is to set up a mammoth Top Trumps tournament.
Thinking this may not be the best way to create a party atmosphere, Theo and I tactfully persuade him to scale it back and add a few other options.
An obvious one is an orange-throwing competition, and we calculate that, if we save all our orange halves between now and Saturday, this should give us enough for each guest to have several throws.
“And how about a competition to see who can do the longest keepy-uppy?” I suggest, much to my own surprise.
After our game of football on the beach in Viareggio, Theo and the boys spent an hour taking it in turns to keep up the ball using their feet, legs and knees, the others hollering and howling when it hit the ground.
“That should appeal to the football fans.”
Callum and Archie think this is an excellent idea.
“How about a treasure hunt around the house?” chips in Mabel. “We could come up with clues based on all the history we’ve learnt.”
“That’s a superb idea,” says Theo. He suggests the treasure should be little replicas of the Leaning Tower, which he’s seen for sale in a shop in Camaiore.
“Oh my god, perfect!” chirrups Mabel.
It’s fab to see everyone so enthusiastic and eager to make the party a success.
And everyone we’ve invited has replied to say they can make it—including some who’ve asked if they can bring partners.
Theo suggested I invite my dad and Debbie, and I do feel really bad about bolting at the climax of our heart-to-heart.
But I’m also feeling rotten about the way I’ve treated them over the years.
And if they do come to the party, I don’t think I’ll be able to enjoy myself.
I make an excuse about not wanting the numbers to spiral out of control—although Theo’s expression tells me he can see through this.
I promise him I’ll work out what to do about Dad once I’m back in Manchester.
Just before lunch, Stefano comes barreling through the olive grove and down the gravel driveway. He’s wearing his work overalls and clutching the macchinetta he uses to spray the olive trees with insecticide.
“Adam,” he calls out, “I have a letter for you!”
There’s only one letter it could be: the one I’ve been expecting since I read the email from Auntie Julie. Although I’m excited to read it, right now dread wins through.
“I think it is important,” he expands. “The postman make me sign a document.”
I take it from him and slot it into my back pocket. “Grazie, Stefano.”
Stefano’s eyes stand out. “But Adam, you must read!”
“It’s OK,” I say. “I know what it is. I’ll read it later.”
It was written thirty-four years ago, I’m tempted to add. A few more hours won’t make a difference.
As the sun sets, I sit on the castle wall. Theo’s promised me I won’t be disturbed for as long as I need. I take a moment to savor the peace.
When I’m ready, I open the envelope and take out a second, smaller envelope.
On it, Mum has written my name. Her handwriting is instantly familiar, but rather than feeling fear or excitement, I feel a sense of calm.
It’s as if I’m confronting something much bigger than me, something I’m powerless to resist.
I pull out the letter. Mum’s written it in the same standard blue biro and on the same basic notepaper as the letters she wrote to Wilf. Once again, I can see the pressure she exerted on the page, except this time, as she wrote every word, she was thinking of me.
I run my hand over the lines, trying to feel a connection. And I may be kidding myself but I’m convinced I can feel her presence.
I start to read.
Dear Adam,
When you get this I’ll have gone away but don’t panic because it’s only for a couple of weeks while I sort myself out.
There’s something I need to tell you and I’m dead nervous so I’m just going to come out with it before I bottle it.
I’ve fallen in love with a man called Gary.
I tried my hardest not to, I want you to know that but when you get older you’ll understand we don’t always have control over who we fall in love with.
And I did try to keep loving your dad but I couldn’t do that either.
So I’m leaving him to set up a new home with Gary but I’m not leaving you and as soon as I can I’m coming back to fetch you so you can live with us.
I know this might come as a shock and I’m sorry about that and you might also think I’m being selfish but I haven’t been happy at home for a while now, although you might not even have noticed because I’m always happy when I’m with you but I want to be happy all the time and Gary makes me happy. I’m sorry if that upsets you, Adam.
Anyway I’m not very good at letter writing and I had to practise this one three times to get it right but I just want you to know that your dad will look after you and I’ve also written to Auntie Julie and asked her to call in and check on you both.
Your dad’s a good man but housework isn’t his strong point and I don’t think he even knows how to use the hoover, I’m not even sure he knows where it is.
I’ve also asked Auntie Julie to cook you some meals and you may be glad of that because let’s be honest I’m a dead loss in the kitchen.
Now that I think of it you probably won’t miss me at all!
When I come back I’ll tell you the whole story and I’ll introduce you to Gary and I’ll also tell you about getting to know an uncle I haven’t seen for ages but I won’t do that now as I’ll do a much better job of it when I can speak to you.
I just don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten you because I could never forget you.
And if you need to remember that please sit on our bench in the back garden and look at the sunset like we do when we say goodbye to the day and know that I’ll be looking at the same sunset in Italy and I’ll be thinking of you because I love you.
I love every bit of you, Adam. Never forget that.
With lots of love and kisses from,
Mum xxx
I breathe in and out slowly. And thirty-four years later, I do as Mum said. I look at the sunset and think of her.
I feel so calm and contented and so right—after years of feeling wrong—that it’s almost as if I’ve entered some new dimension.
I wonder if this is what people feel when they meditate or have a spiritual experience.
I feel very small, like a tiny part of a big wide world.
But that’s good. It makes me feel secure, like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I smile.
And I say out loud, “I love you, Mum.”