by Jayne Castel
“What is it?”
Silence stretched between them before Richard finally spoke.
“Vanessa, I can’t do this anymore.”
Vanessa went cold.
“The texts are from Tara.”
Vanessa stared at him, suddenly understanding but not wanting to.
“I can’t pretend to love you when I don’t,” Richard blurted out. “Tara and I have been seeing each other for a month now. I’m far happier with her than I have ever been with you. She understands me – you don’t.”
“Tara Gordon?” Vanessa choked out the question. Of course, it could be no other than Richard’s new co-worker. A young, insurance broker that had recently joined their firm. “I thought she was married?”
Richard shook her head. “She’s left her husband for me.”
“You’re leaving me for her?” Vanessa was reeling. Tara was the polar opposite to Vanessa; perma-tanned, hair extensions, fake nails and an even faker laugh. Tara had treated Vanessa with disdain from her first week at the firm – and now Vanessa knew why.
“She understands me,” Richard repeated, scowling at her. “We’re colleagues – we’re on the same level. You and I never have been.”
Anger curled up within Vanessa.
“I’m a PA, not a lower class of human being,” she said, straining to keep herself from shouting. “I can’t believe you think Tara Gordon is more your intellectual equal than me!”
Richard shrugged. “Tara doesn’t nag me. I’m tired of your whining.”
“I don’t whine!”
“See you’re doing it now,” Richard put down his napkin, got out his wallet and threw a handful of euros onto the table. “No wonder I ran straight into Tara’s arms. It’s over. I’m sick of pretending we’re happy when we haven’t been for months. These days, I can’t stand the sight of you.”
Vanessa stared at him, her eyes filling with tears.
“Why do you always have to get so nasty,” she whispered. “I’ve never deserved it.”
“See, once again, I’m the one to blame. You’ve deserved every word!” Richard snarled. “I’m going back to Siena, checking out of the hotel and getting the first plane out of here.”
“But what about me?”
“I don’t care what you do.”
Vanessa watched, stunned, as Richard walked away. It was only when he disappeared around the corner that the full impact hit Vanessa, as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. Getting up, her dessert untouched, Vanessa added a few more euros to the pile Richard had left and followed him.
Numb and sick, she walked back down through the twisting streets in a daze. Ahead, she could just make out Richard’s tall figure, striding purposefully back to where they had parked the car.
It did not occur to her for a moment that he would drive off without her.
Yet, when she approached their hire car, she was appalled to see him start the engine and back out of the parking space.
“Wait!” Vanessa shouted. She started to run towards the car. “Richard! Wait for me!”
Pretending not to see her, Richard gunned the Fiat’s engine and sped off down the street with a squeal of rubber.
Vanessa stood in the middle of the street, watching the car disappear into the distance. For a moment, she was unable to comprehend that Richard had abandoned her here, in a foreign country without even a backwards glance.
“You bastard!” she screamed after him, her words echoing off the walls – but only the pigeons, picking at scraps in the gutter, heard her.
***
The sun was sinking behind Siena’s bristling skyline, when the blue coach rumbled to a stop in front of the train station.
Back in San Gimignano, she had sat on the curb, sobbing for over an hour, before realising that he was, in fact, not coming back for her. Then, pulling herself together, Vanessa had gone in search of the local bus depot. It took her a while, but she eventually discovered that the buses left from a stop just outside the walls, and that there was one in an hour.
Vanessa got to her feet and followed the stream of passengers onto the pavement. Then, weaving her way through the crowds of excited tourists, she took the street that lead back into the centre. Although the sun had disappeared, Vanessa still wore dark glasses. She had donned them a short while after Richard had departed, and had no intention of taking them off until she was in the safety of her hotel room.
Siena was bustling this evening; crowds of teenagers ambled along the cobbled ways, eyeing each other up as they went. The sight of them made Vanessa fight tears once more – she had once been fresh and hopeful too. Love had been an adventure when she was seventeen; she had never expected things to turn out so badly for her.
Reaching the pensione, Vanessa rushed past reception, avoiding conversation with Maria, who called out to her; her pretty face creased in worry. Upstairs, she discovered the room empty – and despite that she had expected it – burst into tears once more. Richard’s trolley suitcase was gone; only hers stood near the wardrobe. She had half-expected him to leave her a note, but there was nothing. It was as if he had never even been here.
Still fully-clothed, Vanessa lay down on the bed and curled up. The sobs, which she had been struggling to contain all afternoon, poured forth, and she cried until the tears ran dry. Afterwards, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
The ringing of church bells woke Vanessa the next morning. Groggy, she sat up on the bed and looked around, trying to get a sense of what time it was.
Sunday morning – hence the bells. Vanessa got off the bed, moving stiffly like an old woman, and stumbled into the bathroom for a hot shower. Half an hour later, glowing pink and feeling considerably more human, Vanessa returned to the bedroom and pulled out a clean pair of jeans, her favourite black t-shirt and high-heeled leather boots. She might have felt like death, but she did not need to show it. Once she was dressed, she pulled her blonde hair back into a pony-tail, put on some silver-hoop earrings and applied some light make-up. There was no way she could face the day looking like a bereaved widow. A good night’s sleep had given her some perspective. Her boyfriend might have abandoned her on the first day of their holiday but she could still return home with some measure of dignity.
Home. Where was that now? The one-bedroom flat in Bristol that she shared with Richard? With any luck he would have moved out by the time she got home. However, she would still have to organise to live elsewhere; she could not stay in the flat they had rented together. With a sinking heart she considered the prospect of moving back with her parents. The thought of her mother’s smug face immediately made her veto that idea. I told you that you’d never keep him, her mother was likely to say. She had made the comment when they got together and would be delighted to be proved right. No, she would ask Anna, one of her old friends from school, if she could stay for a couple of days until she found another place to rent. She hoped Anna would not mind.
Slipping on her sunglasses, just in case she found she could not face the world after all, Vanessa zipped her trolley closed, slung her bag over her front and made her way downstairs to reception. She was hoping that it would be Maria’s day off, but she had no such luck. The young woman was there, as usual, and her face lit up at the sight of Vanessa.
“Signorina Woods,” she rushed out from behind the desk and blocked Vanessa’s exit. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Vanessa replied, feeling tears threaten for the first time that morning and glad she had decided to hide behind dark glasses after all.”
“Your boyfriend, he left yesterday. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Vanessa replied shortly. “He wasn’t.”
Maria gave her a long, measured look, before impulsively reaching forward and grabbing hold of Vanessa’s hands.
“Forget him,” Maria said earnestly. “He does not deserve you.”
Vanessa had to laugh at that. “Really? I think you’re the only one on the planet who thinks that.”
; Maria shook her head. “It’s true. He’s a bad man. In Italy we have saying: è meglio essere soli che male accompagnati – better to be alone than in bad company. Forget him and enjoy the rest of your holiday.”
Vanessa shook her head. “I’m going home today.”
“But why? You just arrived!”
“I know – we’ve got another five days booked in Florence but I don’t feel like it.”
Maria’s face grew fierce then. “Go to Florence, enjoy yourself and forget about that bastardo. Remember what I told you. It is better to be alone than in bad company!”
Vanessa stared back at Maria, stunned by the girl’s vehemence. Frankly, it had not occurred to her that she could continue her holiday alone. Yet, Maria was right. Why should she slink back to Bristol like a whipped cur? Richard had left her and was now consoling himself in Tara’s arms. She had looked forward to this holiday for months. Maybe it was time she stopped running after a man who had never really wanted her. Maybe it was time she did something just for herself.
“Okay,” Vanessa smiled back at Maria. “Why not?”
***
Vanessa leant back in her seat and raised her face to the warm sun. Then she lifted a glass flute to her lips and took a sip of chilled prosecco. Around her, the streets of Florence pulsed with life. Scooters chugged past, mothers with children in prams navigated the uneven pavement, lovers strolled arm in arm; and tourists, glued to their cameras, edged their way past the street-side coffee bar where Vanessa was taking her aperitivo – a before-dinner drink.
Taking another sip of the dry, sparkling white wine, Vanessa silently thanked Maria for convincing her to stay on in Tuscany for another five days. The hotel they had booked was perfect, and her room was on the top floor, with a view over the Florentine skyline. To think she had come close to missing this!
She flipped open her guidebook and studied the map of Florence’s historic centre. There was so much to see that she was not sure where to start. Tomorrow, she would start off with a wander through the city’s famous leather market in the centre, before visiting the Uffizi Gallery. Then, she would cross the river and visit the Boboli Gardens, which were reputed to have an incredible view over the city. Snapping her guidebook closed, Vanessa smiled. Now all she had to do was find a restaurant to have dinner in, and enjoy the rest of her evening. This evening, she was not going to get take-away pizza and feel sorry for herself.
Marco Tirelli was besotted. The cute blonde four tables away had snared his attention from the moment she had sat down, and he was attempting to gather the courage to approach her.
His friend, Ugo, was regaling him with stories about his recent trip to Turkey, but Marco was only feigning interest. His gaze kept stealing across to the girl, who sat sipping a flute of prosecco, bathed in sunlight. She had a sweet, elfin beauty and her manner was so poised and content that she stood out a mile in the bar terrace filled with chattering tourists and exclusive couples.
“Marco!” Ugo’s voice, tinged with irritation, brought him sharply back to reality. “Are you actually listening to me?”
“Er, sorry Ugo,” Marco brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and gave his friend an apologetic smile. “Your trip sounds really interesting, and usually I’d be hanging on every word – but there’s a gorgeous girl over there who keeps distracting me.”
“What?” Ugo, his friend’s transgression immediately forgotten at the mention of a beautiful woman, craned his neck to the right, where Marco had kept glancing for the past fifteen minutes. “Where? I can’t see her.”
Marco’s gaze shifted to the right, to the table in the corner where the girl had been enjoying her aperitivo just moments earlier.
To his crushing disappointment Marco realised that the table was empty.
***
Another beautiful morning dawned; this one the hottest yet as spring inched towards summer. Vanessa got up early and, against her better judgement, switched on her mobile phone. The mobile trilled, and a message immediately appeared. It was from Richard.
Where are you?
Heart racing, Vanessa switched the mobile off.
Richard did not deserve to know where she was. Vanessa slipped her phone into her handbag and made for the door. He had nearly ruined her holiday once; she would not let him have a second attempt.
The hotel did not have a breakfast room, so Vanessa had a typical Italian breakfast, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with two impeccably dressed women at the coffee bar around the corner from the hotel. She listened to the women ordering breakfast, marvelling at their crisp accents, before copying them.
“Un cappuccino e cornetto per favore!”
It was noisy inside the bar, and after she had finished her breakfast and wiped the crumbs from her blue sleeveless summer shift, Vanessa ventured out into the street. Then, she consulted her map and headed off in the direction of the leather market. In the end, the market was easy to find – Vanessa just followed the crowds for a couple of blocks before entering a square filled with stalls. The pungent smell of cured leather greeted her as she stopped to inspect a stand selling leather and suede jackets. Maybe, she should treat herself to one? The chocolate brown suede jacket at the end of the rack looked a perfect fit, and she decided to try it on.
Marco froze mid-step, causing the American tourist walking just a few steps behind, to barrel into him.
It was her.
“Sorry,” Marco ignored the tourist’s glare and stepped aside to let him pass, before glancing back at where he had seen the blonde girl from yesterday standing, haggling with a stall owner over a suede jacket.
She looked even lovelier than the day before. Yesterday, her hair had been pulled back into a pony-tail, but today it hung loose around her shoulders. She wore a clinging blue shift-dress that finished just above the knee, revealing shapely calves above elegant wedge sandals.
He had to ask her out, now before she disappeared again.
At that moment, Marco’s mobile phone began to ring. Cursing under his breath, he dug into his jeans pocket and glanced down to see who was calling. It was his boss – he knew he had better answer it.
“Ciao Vincenzo, dimmi!”
“Hi Marco,” his boss’s gravelly voice echoed in Marco’s ear. “Sorry to bother you when you’re on leave, but I was wondering if you could work tomorrow?”
“But I’m off until Wednesday.”
“I know, I know, but Carlo’s father died this morning. We can cover him for today, but if you could come back a day early, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Okay,” Marco agreed with a sigh. They had all known that Carlo’s father was unwell so this should not have come as a surprise. “What time do you want me to start?”
“At 2pm?”
“Sure, see you then.”
“Thanks Marco – I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Marco rang off and stuffed his mobile back in his pocket. It had been weeks since he’d had longer than a day off at a time. His job as chef in a restaurant in the centre of Florence was exhausting. It could be worse, he consoled himself. At least he had today off.
Now, he had a girl to approach.
Marco glanced back at the stall, expecting to see the blonde still haggling over the jacket. Yet, she had disappeared, and the stall owner was chatting to someone else. Marco looked around wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the crowd, before realising that he had lost her for the second time.
***
Vanessa walked down the hill, through the gates and out of the Boboli Gardens. Her feet were starting to ache, after a day spent standing in queues, visiting the splendours of the Uffizi Gallery and climbing up to the lookout at the top of the Gardens. After a full-day – and with a beautiful new suede jacket to bring home – Vanessa was feeling exhausted but happy. Now all she needed, before going back to her hotel to rest for a few hours, was a gelato.
Fortunately, there was a tiny gelateria across the street from the entrance to the gard
ens. Vanessa paused while a stream of traffic nosed its way past, before crossing to the other-side. Waiting in the queue, she peered over the shoulder of the man in front of her and tried to decipher the ice-cream flavours – they were so different to the ones she was used to. Here she could choose pistachio, eggnog, nutella, custard with nougat – and many other exotic flavours she had never seen before. Vanessa reached the head of the queue. She could have gone with chocolate and strawberry, but deciding she was tired of playing it safe, she instead ordered a cone with eggnog, nutella and pistachio – topped with a dollop of whipped cream. Then, attempting to eat her ice-cream without getting it all over her nose, Vanessa stepped back out into the street.
Marco Tirelli stepped out of the main entrance to his building and pulled the heavy door closed behind him. Since this was his last day off, he was damned if he was going to waste it sitting around at home. His lack of luck in approaching the mysterious blonde girl he had seen twice now, had made him feel a little despondent. He would have liked to have asked her out for a coffee at least. Unlike many of his male friends, who approached women with ease, Marco was often paralysed by shyness. Sometimes, it cost him dearly.
Pocketing his keys, Marco turned left, with the intention of taking a walk into the centre, across the famous Ponte Vecchio and through the tangle of streets beyond.
Then he saw her.
She was standing on the pavement, making a valiant attempt to eat an enormous ice-cream without spilling it down her front. The sight of her made his heart race, and his palms break out into a sweat. Yet, Marco swiftly made up his mind.
This time, he would not let her slip away.
“Damn!” Vanessa looked down at where a large gob of eggnog gelato had just dropped off her cone and was now nestling in her cleavage. Italian women made eating gelato look so easy; if only she could handle it with the same aplomb.
