by Marian Keyes
‘So what next?’ Ferdia asked. ‘The Da Vinci museum?’
‘If I see any more art my eyes will burst. C’mon, let’s walk it off, see Florence.’
Out in the crowded, sunny street, a man was playing an accordion. After a moment, Nell recognized the theme from The Godfather and her soul withered. She and Ferdia skimmed a look off each other. They were clearly thinking the same thing: that Florence was like a stage set; that this man had been paid by the Tuscan Tourist Board.
‘Your man looks –’ Ferdia said.
‘I know.’
‘But. Look at all these statues.’
In the street, raised on marble plinths, stood several sculptures.
Ferdia stood before a male nude in white marble. ‘Is this the statue of David?’
‘A reproduction,’ Nell said, ‘but, yes, that’s him.’
They studied the statue. Nell gave Ferdia a cheeky look. Echoing what he’d said earlier, she said, ‘He looks a bit like you.’
‘Oh, yeah? The nudiness? Ah, it’s the hair, right?’
‘And the giant lump of marble stuck to his foot.’
‘He’s had a bit of manscaping done, by the looks of things.’
‘And,’ Nell was looking at the small genitalia, ‘it must have been cold, the day it was sculpted.’
Then, embarrassed, ‘Come on.’
They started walking, heading away from the centre, with no plan, past seven-storey buildings in every gradation of yellow, from buttercup to straw, tottering over narrow, pedestrianized streets.
SEVENTY-THREE
Johnny and Ed exchanged a look. For God’s sake, don’t laugh. But it was difficult not to. Liam had pushed the pace all morning. Ed had kept up but Johnny loitered far behind, huffing and puffing and hating every second.
Then, about ten kilometres from home, Liam gave a sudden howl and skidded to a halt, claiming to have ‘done something’ to his back. They helped him, wincing and swearing, to the shade of a tree. Johnny flung himself down beside his brother.
‘I might never be able to get up again,’ Liam mumbled.
‘At least you can cure yourself,’ Ed said, distributing bottles of water. ‘With your massage stuff.’
‘No, I fucking can’t! How would I reach? How could this just have happened out of nowhere? I wasn’t doing anything to my back!’
‘It’s just the way of things,’ Ed said. ‘You try to disaster-proof your life. But the thing that causes all the trouble is something you’d never even thought about.’
‘How d’you mean?’ Johnny sounded anxious.
‘Just. I worried about money, about being away for fieldwork, about Vinnie being a bit wild. Any of them could blow up our lives, I thought. But Cara having a seizure because of an eating disorder? Never saw that one coming.’
‘Thought we were talking about my back,’ Liam said. ‘How did this conversation become about you, Ed?’
‘She’s getting help,’ Johnny said. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘You know your friend – is it Andrew?’ Ed asked Johnny. ‘With the alcoholic wife?’
‘Grace? Yeeeess?’ No wonder Johnny sounded wary: this was not a story with a happy ending.
Andrew had been – everyone was agreed on this – ‘very good to Grace’. He was the one who’d rung around on the mornings after, making Grace’s apologies, when she’d made a drunken show of herself the night before. To alleviate her need to drink so heavily, he’d taken her on holiday, got extra childminding help and tried to remove all stress from her life.
After years of her trying and failing to get things under control, Andrew had left her.
Then she stopped drinking.
Andrew stayed gone. She stayed sober.
‘Moral of the story, he was enabling her,’ Ed said. ‘My second-worst fear is that Cara doesn’t stick to this. If she starts again, I don’t think I can stay with her.’
‘But she’s not well!’ Johnny was horror-struck. ‘You can’t abandon a person who isn’t well!’
‘If I stayed, she’d think there were no consequences. She’d probably keep doing it.’
‘What’s your first-worst fear?’ Liam asked.
‘That she dies.’
‘Yep,’ Liam said. ‘Could happen.’
‘But probably won’t,’ Johnny said quickly. ‘Things often get worse before they get better. But think positive. That’s what you do.’
People were always telling Ed that he was a positive person, but, right now, hope was in short supply.
Early afternoon, the villa was quiet. Johnny, Ed and Liam were on their crackpot cycle, Nell and Ferdia in Florence, Saoirse and Robyn at a day spa, and Cara, Vinnie and Tom had gone to the big supermarket in ‘the real town’, nine kilometres away.
‘Mum?’ Jessie was on her way to the pool when she was summoned by Dilly, who was in a head-to-head conference with TJ and Bridey. ‘Are Violet and Lenore still our cousins?’
‘Of course, honey.’
‘Could we FaceTime them? Now?’
Jessie didn’t see why not. Admittedly, it had hurt that the two girls hadn’t come to Italy but she and Paige had always got on. In the early days of the separation, Jessie had wanted to maintain their friendship, but Liam had asked her not to. (‘I feel like an even bigger failure, her being nice to you, but not to me,’ he’d said.)
That had been hard. But, out of loyalty to Liam, she’d backed off.
This was different: this was about the children. Their relationship mattered.
‘Violet and Lenore are at camp this week,’ she reminded Dilly and TJ. ‘Maybe they’re not at home.’
‘Can’t we try?’
What time was it in Atlanta?
‘Seven thirty-nine in the morning.’ Bridey had read her mind.
‘Okay.’ Jessie had decided. ‘I’ll message Paige and see what she says.’
Within seconds Paige had pinged back: Sure!
‘Okay!’ Jessie exclaimed. ‘We’re on.’
They went to Ferdia’s bedroom and dialled up.
Then there they were – Violet, Lenore and Paige, their smiling faces filling the screen. A clamour of talk broke out, everyone speaking at once.
‘Why didn’t you come to Italy?’ Bridey demanded.
‘TJ!’ Violet called. ‘Do you still wear boys’ clothes? Because so do I!’
‘No way!’
‘Lenore, I got a unicorn squishy!’ Dilly waved it at the screen. ‘I could get you the cupcake one with my holiday money!’
‘Dilly, I have the cupcake one!’ Lenore squealed.
Jessie filled up with a painful mix of love and sadness. This was what happened when people split up, but obviously the bond was still there between the kids.
‘Jessie.’ Paige beamed. ‘What a surprise. Is everything okay?’
‘Totally. Just, we missed you guys. I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it work with the Italy dates but – and maybe I’m out of line here – but would you maybe think about the girls coming to Ireland for Hallowe’en?’
‘Excuse me?’
Oh, God, boundaries. Backtrack, backtrack.
‘Sorry, Paige. It was just an idea. So that the girls could see their cousins. But it’s not my business. I’m sorry.’
‘Jessie.’ Paige tried to cut through all the voices. ‘Jessie! Jessie. We’ve got to go now. Nice talking to you all. Say goodbye, girls.’
The connection was cut.
‘What? No! Wait!’ Bridey, TJ and Dilly erupted in confusion. ‘What happened? Mum, what happened? Ring them back!’
‘They had to go.’ Jessie strove for the right words to restore calm. ‘They only had a few minutes before they went to their camp.’
‘How do you know that?’ Bridey was very suspicious. ‘Show me the message.’
‘She doesn’t say it in words but it’s an adult thing. It was implied.’
TJ burst into a storm of weeping.
‘Oh, bunny.’ Jessie gathered her up.
‘Th
ey don’t want to be friends with us any more!’
‘They do, they do! They were just busy.’
Jessie had no clue what had just happened. Had she been out of line in suggesting the Hallowe’en visit? That must have been it. They probably already had plans. Me and my interfering, control-freak ways.
As soon as she got some privacy, she’d apologize to Paige, try to patch up this omnishambles. If she parked the bunnies at the pool – What was that?! She’d spotted something or someone through the trees. Then it came into full view: a man in dark clothing.
‘Sweet Jesus.’ She felt the blood leaving her face. ‘It’s Do-I-Amooze-You.’
‘What?’
‘Giacomo. Coming up the path.’ Muttering to herself, ‘Worried we were getting too relaxed, so he’s here to remind us what fear feels like.’ It was no surprise that Giacomo was visiting now, when Johnny was many hard-cycling kilometres away.
‘He’s scary,’ Dilly said.
‘Don’t I know it!’ Then, ‘Ah, he’s not.’ She couldn’t frighten the bunnies. ‘It’s just his way. But whatever you do, kiddos, don’t complain about the Wi-Fi.’
‘What might happen?’
‘Let’s not find out. Bridey, get the bottle of Baileys. It’s up in my room.’
She looked out again. Christ, he was nearly upon them. How did he do that? He seemed to relocate from spot to spot at enormous speed, but she never actually saw him move.
Standing at the front door, the girls lined up behind her in the dim hallway, she wondered if the discount in the rent was actually worth this.
‘Aha-ha-ha! Giacomo, what a sorpresa! Entrez-vous, venite.’ Whatever the fecking word was.
‘Buon giorno, bella signora, Jessie.’ Poker-faced, he bowed his head and gave her the bottle of grappa that she’d come to dread, then bestowed a double kiss.
Stepping over the threshold, he removed his black cap and looked down at the girls. ‘Le piccole signorine. He-he-he.’ He gave a warmth-free smile.
‘Buon giorno, Signor Giacomo,’ Bridey said. ‘We are having a nice holiday in your house.’
‘The Wi-Fi is very good,’ TJ blurted.
‘Aaaaah.’ Giacomo studied her coldly. ‘Bella ragazza. He-he-he.’ He pinched her ear as she gave Jessie a terrified look.
‘Good girls,’ Jessie’s voice was high-pitched. ‘Off to the pool now. Don’t drown.’ To Giacomo she said, ‘Come in. Sit down. Although it’s your villa, you can sit where you like, ha-ha-ha. May I get you a drink?’
When Cara returned from the supermarket, Jessie was lying on the couch. ‘I’ve been Giacomo’d,’ she said, weakly.
‘How did he know to come when no other adult is here?!’
‘His network of spies …’ She groaned. ‘Cara, I’m jarred. I had to have three glasses of grappa, which was disgusting. My head is spinning and my muscles ache from fear.’
A razor blade of guilt – yet another – sliced Cara’s soul, cutting into the cross-hatch of recent, raw wounds. ‘The things you do for us,’ she said. ‘Don’t think we’re not grateful.’ If it wasn’t poor Jessie being pestered by Do-I-Amooze-You in order to get a cut-price holiday for all of them, there were countless other reasons for Cara to feel guilty.
Weighing heavily was all the financial damage she’d done with her food drama. To her intense relief, the Ardglass had continued to pay her during the time she’d been ‘sick’. But Ed had got Scott to cover for two weeks so that he could support her, forgoing half a month’s salary.
Worse, though, was the cost of her treatment. Their health insurance would pay for about half of it. The rest they’d have to cover themselves. In addition, she’d be seeing Peggy once a week for the next year and that would have to be funded from her own pocket. She desperately wished she hadn’t let any of this happen.
SEVENTY-FOUR
Mid-afternoon, Ferdia and Nell bought gelato, ate it in a shaded park and uploaded a gazillion photos to Instagram. Then Nell lay under a tree, resting her head on her satchel. ‘Right, I’m just going to close my eyes for a few minutes.’ Within seconds she’d fallen asleep.
When she woke up, the shadows were lengthening. ‘What time is it?’
‘Twenty to seven.’
‘Sorry!’ She’d been asleep for too long. ‘We should get going. Have we any water?’
As he passed a bottle, she spotted some lines of script inked onto his inner forearm. ‘What’s that?’
‘It says, “IOU one red pastille, Love Dad.” Dad wrote me that note, a few days before he died. The inkman copied his handwriting.’
‘You gave him your best-flavoured sweet? But he promised he’d give it back. That’s lovely! What was he like?’ She stopped herself. ‘Sorry, I’m not awake properly. Too personal.’
‘It’s grand. I’m good. Like, I don’t really remember him. Just kid’s stuff, he was big and calm. But he was stern too, much sterner than Jessie. Not mean or shouty, but when he said no, I knew he meant it.’ He shrugged. ‘He was only human. If he was still alive, we mightn’t get on at all.’
‘And maybe you would. You were six when he died? Did you understand what had happened?’
‘Not really. One day he went to work like normal and just never came home. Mum and Grandpa and everyone kept telling me that he was in Heaven, but for the longest time I believed he’d be back. Then one day just like all the others, I got it. He was coming back never. It just … It was a shock. I felt like a train that had been knocked off the tracks.’
‘Oh, God …’
‘For a while I wouldn’t go to school, then Mum said I’d have to repeat the year. I didn’t want to be the poor sad boy with the dead dad, so I copped on, went back, did the work. All grand.’
‘You got back on the tracks?’
‘Totally. Slightly different, like a train with a dented wheel. But that’s everyone. We’ve all lost someone or something. It’s bizarre – my head knows he’s gone but I don’t think my body does.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You know when you’re about to go out but you’re waiting for other people to be ready? How you get your muscles ready to move? Like, the backs of your legs, you sorta tense them, so you can stand up quickly? That’s how I feel about Dad. I’m braced, still expecting him. It’s part of me now. I think it’ll always be part of me.’
‘Oh, God, that’s so sad.’
‘Seriously, it’s not! I’m fine. And we’re all a bit buckled, right?’
‘Bella coppia!’ a wheedling voice said. ‘Innamorati!’
Nell looked up. ‘Oh, no.’
An aggressively smiley man wearing a wicker basket bristling with cellophane-wrapped roses had descended on them.
‘Bella signora.’ He’d plucked a rose from his basket and insisted that Ferdia take it. ‘Per la bella signora.’
Ferdia was flustered.
‘Rosa.’ The man persisted. ‘É aumentato por amore!’
‘Quanto?’ Nell reached for her purse.
A flash of ten fingers, then Nell thrust a note at him. It disappeared with impressive speed and the rose was being thrust at her. ‘La bella signora.’
‘For him.’ She pointed at Ferdia. ‘Bello signor.’
After a split second, the man rallied. ‘Women’s lib! Women’s lib! Bacio, bacio!’
‘No bacio.’ Nell thought this was hilarious. ‘Grazie, signor. Arrivederci!’
‘Bella coppia,’ he said, and swung away, looking for his next target.
‘Don’t give out to me,’ she said to Ferdia. ‘The poor man, trying to earn a few quid.’
‘What’s “bacio”? “Kiss”? Why would I give out to you? How come your Italian is so good?’
‘I downloaded a course. Just the basic basics.’
‘Good on you.’ He was looking at his rose. He was slightly sheepish. ‘I’ve never been given a flower before. It’s nice. Thanks.’
‘Right, let’s go home.’
‘I’m starving. Do you mind if we get some food?�
��
He was her driver: she could hardly mind.
‘Mum told me about a place, just round here …’
The heat had gone from the day and the light was mellow. Ferdia led them through the streets, following his phone. Stopping outside a plain double door, sounding doubtful, ‘It should be here.’
The door opened, seemingly by itself, and to Nell’s confusion, a smiling man in a suit said, ‘Signore Kinsella, Signora McDermott, benvenuti, welcome.’
They stepped inside and the noisy city disappeared. The floor was marble, the walls a yellow distemper, and overhead a multi-vaulted ceiling was adorned with frescos. This was some sort of palazzo. Restored, obviously, but genuine.
The smiling man led them to a madly baroque couch beneath an elaborate chandelier and said, ‘Please. Sit. I will check on your table.’
As soon as he’d gone, Nell hissed, ‘Ferdia, this is too fancy. Let’s go.’
‘No. Jessie arranged this.’
‘But that’s … I’m embarrassed that there’s this big effort to cheer Nell up. I’m good. And even if I wasn’t, it’s between Liam and me.’
‘Grand. Be touchy if you want. But I need my dinner.’
‘This really isn’t me. And I’m dressed all wrong.’
‘Naw. Your giant shell is ideal. And I’m no better.’ He pointed at his loose, low-hanging trousers and thin, worn shirt. ‘C’mon,’ he coaxed. ‘She means so well. Can’t you do it, just for her?’
Smiley Man had returned and, almost in a trance, Nell followed him along a black-and-white marble-floored hallway, past statue after statue, into a serene garden, where fairy lights twinkled in the twilight. Invisible water pitter-pattered nearby.
She had a sense of floating past many waiters who beamed and beamed, truly delighted for her that she was there. Jessie had probably paid them to smile, but still.
Their table was next to an ornamental pond, in which a sculpture of a nymph floated on a giant ceramic lily leaf.
‘Cider for the signora.’ One of the army of smilers placed a glass before Nell. ‘And Orangina for the signore.’
‘I can’t function,’ Nell whispered. ‘How did they know about the cider?’
