Chapter 41 Rosie – Day 9
They’ve come out for dinner as it’s Julietta’s night off.
Marianne suggested a change of scene would do them all good.
The restaurant may be simple with its décor of earthy tones and distressed wood, but it’s the view over the lantern-lit olive groves through the floor-to-ceiling window that takes Rosie’s breath away.
However, being here is a sombre affair. It’s as if the children picked up on the strained mood, as they went to sleep in the double pushchair with minimal fuss.
Gerry insisted they had a table inside away from the mosquitoes. The air-con makes Rosie shiver. She’s still waiting to have a conversation with Fenna; every time she tries to catch her eye she glances away.
‘This is delicious,’ Marianne says, cutting her pasta into tiny strands.
Since Marianne shared her health secret with her, Rosie can’t help but think how frail she looks. It’s as if she’s half the size of the woman who welcomed her to Tuscany over a week ago.
Gerry takes a deep breath. ‘I had a call from a journalist earlier. They’re running the news about Carla. I said we wouldn’t be commenting.’ His face is drawn and pale. ‘None of us. I’ve told Julietta not to speak to any media either.’
‘Do you think her family will appeal for her to come home?’ Fenna asks, scraping butter across a rustic slice of sourdough.
‘I don’t know. Let’s leave the police to do their job. It’s not our place to get involved. Anyone want red?’ he asks, lifting up the bottle.
‘Keep on pouring it,’ Marianne says slowly. Her hand wobbles as she places her wine glass back on the table. ‘Now more than ever we need to put on a united front.’
Rosie pushes her pasta around her plate. She can’t stomach anything. The few mouthfuls of spaghetti dressed in vibrant basil leaves and lashings of olive oil slosh around her stomach.
‘Anyone else feel like people are staring at us?’ Luke mutters.
‘It’s in your head.’ Marianne clears her throat. Her eyes dart around the table. ‘Please tell me you’re going to stay? All of you?’
Fenna’s knife scrapes the ceramic.
‘Of course, Mum,’ Theo says.
‘We’re not going anywhere.’ Luke nods decisively.
Rosie lets out a sigh of relief. She’s not leaving until she’s got answers.
Gerry places a protective arm around Marianne’s shoulders. ‘I told you they wouldn’t leave early.’
‘Thank goodness. I was so worried you’d all want to go.’ Marianne sniffs. ‘The only way for us to get through this is as a family.’
***
Rosie excuses herself. She bumps into Theo outside the bathroom. He fumbles with his phone camera, wanting to take a selfie of them beside an amusing framed print of a dog driving a car.
‘On second thought, I think we should go,’ Theo says, holding his phone up.
‘Go? But we’ve not had dessert,’ Rosie says.
‘No, I mean we should go back to England. Change our flights and leave earlier than we planned.’
Her stomach flips. She can’t leave now.
‘What? Why? No. We need to stay!’ She quickly rearranges her face into a bright smile for the photo.
‘Have you not had enough time with my family?’ He smiles at the shot.
‘No. I mean I know it’s full on at times but I’m having a lovely time.’ She rubs his arm. ‘Plus, your mum’s organising an engagement party; we can’t leave before that.’
He rolls his eyes and tucks his phone in his back pocket. ‘It’s not for us. It’s another excuse to spend time showing off with Richard and Evelyn.’
‘I thought you got on with them?’ She’s confused. He seemed to be enjoying himself on their yacht. What’s changed?
He rubs his face. She realises he looks exhausted.
There are deep bags under his eyes that don’t normally belong there.
‘I’ve reached my limit with my family. Luke in particular is getting under my skin.
He’s so obstructive. Rubbing people up the wrong way, thinking the world revolves around him.
Mum’ll get over it. There’s always next year. ’
‘No. I mean, I want to stay.’ Rosie coughs. ‘Please.’
I need more time, she wants to scream. We can’t go. Not yet. For too long, she’s been distracted and now he wants to leave? Her hands grow clammy.
Theo hesitates then sighs. ‘I’ll tell Mum to tone the party down. Not go all out like she wants to.’
‘That’s a good compromise,’ Rosie says and kisses him. Allowing herself to breathe a sigh of relief.
As they join the others at the table, the door to the restaurant opens and three young Italian men walk in. One of them spots the family and starts nudging his friends. Immediately their expressions darken and the whispers grow. A prickle of unease sends the fine hairs on her arms on end.
‘Is there a problem?’ Gerry boldly asks, catching one of their eyes.
The youngest-looking man, in a tight navy t-shirt and ripped jeans, replies in Italian. He leans forward aggressively. His friend has to fling a meaty arm out to hold him back.
‘Le bugie hanno le gambe corte,’ one spits as they move past.
An apologetic member of staff dashes over and leads the glaring men to the back of the restaurant to pick up a takeaway pizza.
Their arrival has caused a commotion amongst the other diners. Everyone in the restaurant is now staring at the English family.
‘What did they say?’ Marianne asks Fenna, nervously glancing at the men who look like they’re now having a row with the manager. Voices are being raised and fingers are pointed in their direction.
Fenna gulps her wine. ‘He wants to know why we’re here when we should be out looking for Carla . . .’
Rosie tries to catch her eye. Is this making her as nervous and on edge as she feels?
Gerry swears. ‘What do they expect us to do that the police can’t? I’m sorry but I’m sick of it. This is supposed to be our holiday!’
Marianne rubs a reassuring hand over his tense arm. Her eyes fill with tears. ‘Let’s get the bill, darling.’
‘No. We are having dessert,’ Gerry says firmly.
Rosie has never seen him so assertive. Even Theo is taken aback at the change in his stepdad.
Gone is his usually placid demeanour, replaced with anger.
‘What? Don’t look at me like that. We’re not letting others intimidate us.
We’ve done nothing wrong. Remember that. ’