by Jules Wake
‘Too much Russell Crowe and Gladiator.’ It was a shame the bakery had been in the opposite direction this morning, she was dying for her first glimpse of the famous structure.
‘Russell Crowe. You think he’s better-looking than me?’ Giovanni pretended affront.
Lisa tilted her head considering, a smile playing at her lips. ‘Hmm close, but you just edge it.’
With a toss of his head that was almost camp, Giovanni glared at her.
‘I’m teasing. He doesn’t come close. You have better legs.’ She looked down at his tanned muscular calves. ‘Definitely.’
‘I’ll forgive you.’
‘Enough for us to detour, this way? Then I could see it. Just the outside today.’ She traced a route with a wistful finger.
Giovanni shook his head. ‘No, it’s quicker this way. We can do the Colosseum tomorrow. It will be busy, far too busy by now. Full of tourists. You need to go early as there are long queues for tickets.’
‘I don’t mind queuing.’
Giovanni shrugged. ‘It will be full of too many people. And too hot.’
‘You’re Italian, you should be used to the heat.’
‘No, Romans leave the city at this time of year, remember? Only the stupid tourists stay.’ He pouted again.
She nudged him. ‘Humour me.’
He grinned with good nature as she took another look at the map before taking it from her again.
‘We go down here, along here and then on to the fountain.’
‘Okay, I can see it now. Via Sistina, then along the Via del Tritone and on to the Fontana di Trevi.’ She savoured the Italian names, rolling the consonants around her tongue like marbles, spreading the vowels out with a dreadful sing-song Italian accent. Giovanni shook his head, putting his hand over his ears and pulled a face of pretend horror before linking his arm through hers.
‘Enough, I give in. Today, I will play tourist.’
The bells of a nearby church, out of view, pealed, their musical notes ringing out in bright celebration. Eleven-thirty and already the sweltering heat, sticky and close, made her glad she’d plumped for a loose linen dress, pinched from Siena, and not the practical denim shorts she would normally have worn. As usual Giovanni was immaculately turned out; no wonder he hadn’t emerged until well after nine. She suspected he spent more time and money on personal grooming than she did. Was that an Italian-man thing?
He wore crisp, navy chino shorts, bare feet with American-style loafers and a button-down collar Ralph Lauren shirt along with Ray-Ban sunglasses. Despite his earlier protestations, he looked impervious to the heat, with knife-edge creases on his shorts and shirt sleeves. Quite a few of the sultry women, always in pairs, it seemed, gave him a second glance over the top of their sunglasses as they sashayed past, hips swinging with confident provocation. Subtle they were not. Lisa straightened up, wishing she fancied him a little bit.
Everyone, it seemed, strolled in Rome. It was too hot to do anything else. The leisurely pace made a pleasant change, or at least she thought it did. There was still that slight itch, of needing to get things done quickly. Usually she had a million and one things to do: work, checking up, subtly mind you, on Nan, seeing friends and keeping up with dull household stuff, which, to be honest, always came bottom of the list, as well as picking up extra shifts at the pub restaurant when she could, although those had been far fewer as she’d been avoiding Will as much as possible.
There always seemed to be too much to do and too little time. It felt rather decadent to be ambling along. She needed to take a breath, savour each moment, take her time and enjoy this.
Walking along the crowded cobbled streets as part of the holiday throng certainly helped slow the pace – you couldn’t hurry. And she was going to take today. Be a tourist. Not think about finding her dad. That was for another day. Today was about being on holiday.
With a sigh, she pushed the unwelcome thoughts to the very back of her head and tilted her face up to the sun. Siena had made a good call insisting she bought these big Calvin Klein sunglasses in TK Maxx.
‘Wow.’ Lisa stared. ‘It’s …’
Noise and movement struck her. The constant crashing rush of water, rising above the chatter of the crowd as the torrents spilled down, tumbling with fierce energy over the rocks of the Trevi Fountain.
‘Come,’ Giovanni led the way down steps towards the fountain. The cool mist drifting from the water was a welcome relief, as was the shady semi-circular seating area, currently packed with tourists.
He wound his way through the crowded rows, intent on finding a gap on one of the stone benches before spotting a family gathering up their belongings and lurking with detached politeness.
‘Signorina,’ he ushered her into the seat.
Lisa sat down, enjoying the cool dampness as she watched the fine droplets of water dancing in the air. She watched the constant motion, as the water pulsed with life and energy, sunlight dancing and twinkling on the choppy surface. The water looked so clear and clean, it was tempting to throw yourself in. She dug in the bag slung across her front to find her phone, relieved that for once it had enough charge left to take a few pictures.
Snapping away, she captured several tourists as they tossed in coins, throwing them over their shoulders. With their serious screwed-up expressions, did they believe that they’d come back? It was a rather lovely tradition. Lisa smiled. When had the tradition, which apparently ensured you returned to Rome, begun? Or was it some enterprising city councillor from bygone days who had dreamed up the plan as a money-making exercise.
‘If you throw a second coin, you will find love,’ said Giovanni, following her gaze. ‘A third, marriage.’ He leaned back on his elbows just out of her eye-line.
‘I wonder what they do with all those coins,’ mused Lisa, looking at them dotted about the floor of the main pool.
‘They’re collected by a local charity, Caritas, which provides people in need in the city with food.’
She turned in surprise. ‘I’m …’
He waved his mobile at her, with an irrepressible grin. ‘This is a good website. Nine facts about the Trevi Fountain on my phone.’
‘You,’ she shoved at him, before propping her chin on her hands to people-watch. ‘That’s cheating.’
Suddenly Giovanni nudged her. ‘Watch. Those two young girls over to the left.’
Lisa turned to look at them. Small and slight, the pair looked like careworn teenagers, arms folded as if bored. They didn’t look particularly interesting, but then one of them moved, as quick as a lizard slipping through a crack. Lisa almost thought she’d imagined the girl’s hands slipping towards the bag of the woman in front of her. Luckily the woman, a larger middle-aged lady dressed in white jeans that must have had some serious seams, turned at exactly the right moment, denying the girl her prey.
‘Pickpockets everywhere. You need to keep an eye out and be careful at all times. Keep your bag zipped up and your phone in your bag. Don’t put anything in your pockets or on your back.’
‘Shouldn’t we do something?’
Giovanni shrugged. ‘There are policemen around. The minute you approach them, they slide away, like cockroaches into the sewers, but then pop up again later. They work in gangs. You challenge them, they will surround you, letting the others get away.’
Lisa watched as the two girls scoped out another potential victim and then one of them gave the other a lightning-fingered signal as two policemen moved into view. The girls melted away into the crowd in opposite directions. She tugged her handbag tighter to her. She’d be seriously pissed off if anyone pinched her purse or phone. And even though her phone could do with an upgrade, as it was constantly running out of battery, it had all her contact numbers in it and it took pictures.
It was fun people-watching, although when she glanced at Giovanni he was absorbed in his phone. Peeping over his shoulder, she found him checking his Facebook newsfeed.
‘Stand up; we need a selfie. You can
post it.’
Giovanni jumped up, ready as always to pose for the camera, although he refused to remove his sunglasses and it took five attempts before he let her keep the picture.
‘You can post that one, delete the others.’
‘Honestly, you’re so vain.’ She shook her head, unable to see anything wrong with the pictures, but he’d retreated back to his phone. While he was engrossed, she moved down to the front, to the very edge of the water to take more pictures. Twisting, she tried to take a selfie getting most of the fountain in, but it wasn’t easy.
‘Do you want me to take one of you, honey? In front of the fountain?’
‘That would be great,’ said Lisa to the smiley American lady with her teenage daughter, and handed over her phone.
‘Say cheese,’ called the woman cheerfully. ‘There you go. You’re English.’
‘Yes, and you’re American.’
‘We certainly are, from Wisconsin. Me and my daughter, Jessie. Doing a tour of Italy. Here for two days and then onto Tuscany, Venice, the lakes.’ She gave Lisa a shrewd, assessing look. ‘I wish I’d been as brave as you when I was your age. Travelling solo.’
‘Oh, I’m not … I’m with my … friend.’ She looked towards Giovanni but all she could see was the top of his head as he peered down at his phone. Travelling solo did not appeal to her. She’d hate to be here on her own. Talking, sharing and pointing out the little details with someone else, no matter how blasé they were, was so much more fun.
‘Aw, well, y’all have a good holiday.’
Lisa gave her a smile and turned back to the fountain, people-watching again. Teenage couples intertwined as if their lives depended on it, probably French, two older couples laden with sensible hats, rucksacks and sturdy shoes, definitely German, and a small boy with dark hair and big brown eyes, leaning over the wall dropping handfuls of coins from chubby fingers was Italian. His mother scooped him, laughing as she held up her purse. She spotted Lisa watching and lifted her shoulders in an amused what-can-you-do gesture as she indicated the empty coin compartment, although there was a definite twinkle in her eye. Lisa gave her a smile, thoroughly amused by the scene and warmed by the mother’s reaction. Would her mother have been that indulgent? Found it funny?
Dad obviously did, as he arrived chuckling and threw his arms around them both, encircling them in a warm hug that made Lisa’s eyes suddenly blur and her heart miss a beat.
Turning her back on the fountain and the little family unit, she started back to Giovanni, who only looked up from his blasted phone when her shadow fell across him.
‘You’ve finished?’ He sprang to his feet.
‘Yes. It’s wonderful. It makes you wonder about the people who built it, the craftsmen, the people who commissioned it and all the people who visit.’
Her thoughts went back to the young family. Would the little boy remember this day? A memory, faded by time, drifted into her head. Stepping stones on a river. Her father jumping her from one to the next with supreme confidence, as if to make up for the fact that her legs were far too short. With the fragment came the sense of being happy. She’d been giggling.
Giovanni was still fiddling with his phone. ‘Are you hungry? I know a place for lunch. Very nice. Come on.’ He tugged at her hand and started guiding her away.
She glanced back to take one last look at the fountain. She hadn’t even thrown in a coin.
‘Wait,’ she said, but Giovanni hadn’t heard and was already ploughing ahead, as if he couldn’t wait to leave the place. She sighed and followed. Maybe, it was a bit boring revisiting places you’d probably been to a million times before. How would she feel if Giovanni insisted they visit Covent Garden or Buckingham Palace in London? Perhaps they were a bad comparison, as she loved going to the busy piazza and no matter how many times she’d visited Buckingham Palace, she always spent ages wondering what went on behind the scenes. Neither ever grew old.
She looked at him fondly. He had a very short attention span. But she couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit aggrieved that she’d not tossed a coin into the fountain.
The streets around the fountain brimmed with shops and restaurants, noise, colour and atmosphere. Giovanni threaded his way down the street, confidently winding around the throngs of people, tutting when he had to stop behind huddles of people who had decided to pause in the most inappropriate places.
Lisa took her time admiring the Murano-glass necklaces and wine-stoppers in shop windows and the goods in the leather shops. There were some gorgeous handbags.
Further down the street a bright-pink one caught her eye in a shop window. Probably some designer copy. Siena would know. She toyed with taking a picture and sending it to her for an opinion. Giovanni, now at the corner of the street, had stopped to wait for her. She signalled with a hand, pointing that she was going into the shop. Giovanni beckoned her and rolled his eyes.
With a laugh she shook her head. Blatantly ignoring him and his crossed arms, she ducked into the doorway of the shop, around which a selection of messenger bags in bright primary colours hung, vivid yellow, royal blue, emerald green and the pretty fuchsia pink that had caught her eye.
Siena would love it in here. There was a brilliant selection, and to her surprise the price tags fell within her price range – well – on a day she might be treating herself. Picking up the pink bag, she opened it up. With all those inside pockets, her nan would love it too, as it was both practical and pretty.
‘Lisa!’ Giovanni appeared at her elbow, exasperation flashing in his narrow-eyed expression. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just browsing.
‘Here?’ He looked around. ‘I can take you somewhere much better. Proper shops, with real Italian designs. This is tourist tat. It’s a rip-off.’ He flipped the tag on the pink bag. ‘Knock-offs and not real leather.’
‘Which is probably why I can afford them,’ replied Lisa with a good-natured smile, holding the bag. Even Siena, designer fashionista extraordinaire, lowered herself to buy cheap and cheerful.
‘Come on.’ He took it from her and put it back on the shelf. ‘We haven’t got time. If we don’t go to the restaurant soon, we won’t get a good table. It’s one of the best in Rome and very popular. You’re going to love it.’
‘Okay, then,’ she said. It was day one; she might see lots of other things she’d like to buy. It wouldn’t do to spend all her money on the first day.
As they walked past the window, she gave the pink bag a last wistful look. Giovanni took her hand. ‘I will buy you a much nicer handbag.’
‘You can’t do that,’ she said, before adding quickly, ‘but it is a kind thought.’
Once out of the shop, Giovanni caught her arm in his and was happy to saunter along. It seemed he didn’t like to be stationary for too long. Now Lisa thought of it, he was always on the move at the restaurant.
They strolled on. Rome buzzed with lively scenes, the cramped shops, selling everything from pizza, coffee cups and pictures, restaurants with pavement tables, every one full and people inspecting a huge array of fridge magnets on every corner stall. She could hear a dozen different languages as people jostled by in the narrow streets, carefully watching the cobbled stones and uneven flags of the pavements. Gaggles of children from some language school propped up a wall on the corner, sitting on the floor, their logoed rucksacks dumped by their legs, oblivious of people trying to walk by. A small gang of Japanese tourists marched resolutely by, following their tour guide, who held a red flag aloft to ensure they couldn’t get lost.
Once they came to a main road, the pavements cleared and their pace picked up.
As they drew up to a glass-fronted hotel, Giovanni took her hand and led her through a pair of beaten-metal doors with golden lions sporting flowing manes for door handles. As Lisa stood basically gawking at the opulence, a concierge, in the sort of designer suit Siena could have named in two seconds flat, opened the door and two supermodel brunette types stepped out on matching spaghetti legs,
loping like predatory cats in spiked heels. Lisa had an impression of big glossy hair, big sunglasses and big handbags as they clattered past in a cloud of perfume.
She looked down at her Primark knock-off converse pumps.
‘Are you sure I’m dressed for this place?’
‘Si, you’re beautiful.’
Not quite what she’d asked, but she shrugged.
Icy-cold air hit them as they stepped inside the stylish reception area. Sod the dress code, she prayed no one would mistake her nipples for coat hooks.
Chilly in temperature and chilly in style. It was certainly rather chic, although not the most welcoming reception area she’d ever seen, at least she thought it was a reception area, it was hard to tell. There was a long, glass, curved bench and a desk affair housing a white iMac on each end, but nothing else. Behind it was a marble wall, down which cascaded a solid flow of water, which Lisa swore glittered. A discreet Swarovski crystal logo on the side of the water feature suggested it might be full of crystals. Or, then again, it could be ice.
Giovanni steered her towards the opposite wall.
‘We’re going up to the top floor to the restaurant. This hotel, Midas, opened last year.’
‘It’s … um, very nice.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Giovanni beamed, as a glass box slid down to halt before them.
Lisa had never been in a lift where you could see through the floor. Smoothly it started to slide upwards, leaving her stomach a floor behind. Blindly she felt for something to hold on to, but there was nothing but cool, flat glass. Panic nudged her as the ground floor fell away beneath them. She edged into the corner, a hand on either wall, and held her breath. It was almost as bad as flying.
‘No! Lisa, you’re not scared of heights.’ Giovanni peeled one of her hands from the wall. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re perfectly safe.’
Her teeth were gritted so firmly she couldn’t speak, but she held the tension in her neck, her limbs rigid and managed a half-nod.
