2 Fenna – Day 1
‘This holiday will do you good,’ Luke says, reaching over the handbrake and squeezing his wife’s upper thigh, leaving a clammy hand resting there.
She’s told him enough times that he needs to have both hands on the steering wheel, especially with the kids in the car, but she bites her tongue.
She can’t face another row before they arrive. ‘Hopefully bring the old Fenna back.’
The old Fenna. The old Fenna is strutting down a catwalk in Paris, partying until three in the morning, surviving on Malboro Gold’s and espresso, laughing and dancing, oblivious to her unbridled freedom and pert breasts.
The old Fenna is not sitting next to her husband in a stuffy and sensible Italian hire car.
This version feels a hundred years old, survives on minimal broken sleep, and has a newborn who painfully tugs her nipples when he feeds.
She’s ruled by a petulant ‘threenage’ toddler, who hasn’t taken to her new baby brother as seamlessly as everyone told Fenna she would.
Not to mention the stretchmarks across her fleshy stomach, the swollen ankles, and the postpartum thinning hair that comes out in clumps in the shower.
She knows he’s trying to be positive, but she can’t help but be irritated.
‘Yeah, maybe.’ She lets out a yawn. It’s been a long day.
The tense moment in the crowded check-in hall leaps to the front of her mind, when they were told they had exceeded the baggage weight limit and needed to cough up an extra ￡45.
Luke paid with gritted teeth, moaning loudly that he didn’t understand why they needed to bring So. Much. Stuff.
Fenna snapped that since he didn’t pack the cases, he didn’t know how much of a military operation it was to reduce the sheer number of things the children needed down to one hold suitcase.
If anything, he should be congratulating her on her packing skills.
So what if the case was a little heavier than allowed?
She’d forgone the things she wanted, the many outfits she would have bought pre-kids.
The marital row was diffused when Fenna bought them both over-priced lattes as an apology.
A frivolous expense. They are supposed to be tightening their belts until she’s back to work from maternity leave and Luke is able to pay himself a decent wage from his company’s accounts.
Every new business has teething problems; she just didn’t realise they would be budgeting for things for this long.
‘Daddy?’ Alba pipes up from the back seat.
‘Yes, poppet?’ Luke asks, pulling down his trendy sunglasses to see his daughter in the rearview mirror.
‘Where’s Binky?’ Alba asks. The bright sunlight catches those baby fine wisps that curl around the edge of her heart-shaped face.
‘I don’t know, darling. Is he not next to you?’
Fenna twists in her seat, the seatbelt cutting into her, to search for their daughter’s ratty comforter. ‘I can’t see it. Did you put it in the boot?’
For a few moments, the click of the indicators is the only sound in the car.
He swears under his breath. ‘I might have left it on the plane.’
The relentless clicking goes through her.
‘Luke!’ Fenna cries. ‘I asked if you had everything.’
One job. He had one job to check they hadn’t left anything behind. Why didn’t he check the seat pockets?
‘I’ll find it for you when we get there, poppet. Ok?’
Fenna bites down the urge to ask him where he is expecting to find a replacement Binky in the middle of the Tuscan countryside.
Alba starts to cry.
‘Don’t worry. Daddy won’t let you down. Let’s listen to some music, hey?’
Luke turns the radio on. An uplifting dance song from a TV advert blares in the car. The noise somehow calms Alba, and she burrows back to her tablet.
Fenna crosses her arms. Their daughter’s screen time is something else to add to her never-ending list of Things To Worry About.
She tries to push it to the back of her mind and focus on good things instead.
The thought of spending two free weeks in Tuscany has kept her going during many long, lonely night feeds.
Marianne and Gerry’s holiday house is her dream home.
And, despite the stress of travelling with two young children, she knows it’s going to be good for them all to have a change of scene.
Marianne had summoned everyone on this family holiday in her hectic, whirlwind way. A style Fenna still struggles to get used to after five years of knowing her mother-in-law. Marianne is getting worse. More emotional, more forgetful, more highly strung. If that’s possible.
The car in front suddenly brakes.
‘Remind me why your mum asked everyone to visit in peak season?’ Fenna asks as they come to a stop yet again.
The motorway traffic has been near-gridlocked since leaving the airport. Not to mention the debacle of the hire car – Luke was determined to persevere with the Italian salesman, despite Fenna offering to translate everything.
‘Something to do with Theo’s new girlfriend. She’s a teacher, so we’ve had to fit in with her summer holidays.’ He wafts a hand. The one that’s still not on the steering wheel. This is the first time Theo has introduced someone he’s dating to the family. It’s a big deal.
She reaches to find the dial for the air-conditioning, needing a blast of icy air. There is a faint but distinctive smell wafting from Raffi’s nappy. He’s not complaining about it yet so she doesn’t mention it, praying that Luke will change this one. Or maybe it can be a welcome gift for Marianne.
‘What’s so funny?’ Luke asks. Fenna hadn’t realised she was smiling to herself.
‘Nothing.’
He looks relieved to see her relaxing.
‘How does the air-con work?’ she asks.
‘Try turning that.’ He reaches over and flicks the dials. The radio gets louder. The windscreen wipers come on.
Back in the day, when they were dating, she would have found this funny; they both would. But with sweat dripping down her swollen breasts and the heat from his gaze still upon her, she’s not in the mood. The car swerves while his eyes are off the road.
‘Jesus, Luke!’
‘I’m trying to help. How am I supposed to know how to work it? I’ve never driven this before.’
‘Let me deal with it. You concentrate on driving.’
Her phone chimes with a reminder from Alba’s nursery to settle the outstanding balance. Luke was supposed to set up a direct debit. She’s about to ask him why he’s not done it when she spots a sign from her window that makes her heart skip. Laprezia.
Coming here feels like coming home.
Villa Speranza. The name literally means peace.
Set among five acres of land and built in the fifteenth century, it is to die for.
From the first day she pulled up and saw it all those years ago, it’s never failed to make her catch her breath.
The big wooden shutters, open balconies, tall ceilings, and stunning Italian tiled floors; it is utterly beautiful.
It’s the only place in the world where she can fully relax, even with her in-laws nearby.
‘We’re almost there,’ Luke says in a sing-song voice for the children’s benefit. ‘I bet Uncle Theo will be excited to see you, Alba.’
Alba ignores him. Her pudgy finger drags streaks across the screen of her tablet.
‘How are things with you and Theo?’ Fenna asks, her voice low and cautious.
Luke’s been quiet about spending a fortnight with his younger brother. As an only child, she struggles to relate when he moans about Theo. There isn’t any bad blood between them; they prefer to live their lives separately from one another, unless family circumstances call for it.
Theo hasn’t met Raffi yet, but he did send a ‘Welcome to the world’ greetings card and a plush stuffed giraffe, which Luke took great delight in googling the price of, grumbling about how over-the-top it was.
The brothers are close in age and share the same competitive streak. Fenna knows Marianne wishes they were best friends, but instead, it’s more of a love-hate relationship. You never know if they’ll blow hot or cold.
‘Things are fine.’ The inflection in his voice sounds forced, but she’s too tired to question what he really thinks.
It’s a shame the brothers don’t have a closer relationship. She would like to be a little close-knit foursome with Theo and his partner. Who knows, maybe this holiday will change things. The air will be cleared and a budding friendship will be born.
‘You’ll get so much help,’ Fenna’s mum friends chimed when she told them about her summer plans.
Fenna had nodded and smiled, saying how lucky she was. But her smile was forced. They’ve not met her mother-in-law. Marianne has different ways of doing things. And it’s her way, or the wrong way.
If she’s honest, it will be a miracle if they all survive the fortnight.