by Marian Keyes
‘Jessie. How else? Which means I haven’t a hope of getting any alcohol.’
‘Have some of mine.’
‘Ah, no.’ His teeth flashed white in the half-light. ‘I’ve to drive us home.’
‘Menu for the signora.’
Nell took one look and exclaimed, ‘Ah, here! Mine has no prices. I can’t do this. I’ve only got thirty-five euro with me and the smiles alone are probably going to cost us that much.’
‘I don’t have prices either. Don’t go bananas but Jessie is paying.’
She put her face in her hands. ‘This is the worst. My stuff with Liam is my stuff. And fancy food is wasted on me. I like Ryvitas, for God’s sake!’
He scanned the menu. ‘Look, there’s normal stuff, they’ve lasagne!’
‘It’s probably made with gold leaf. I’m happy with a cheese scone. And maybe a bucket of teacakes.’
‘The Marks & Spencer ones?’
‘In a perfect world. But I’m on an Aldi budget and they’re nearly as nice.’
‘Probably no cheese scones or teacakes here, but try to enjoy it?’
‘Wow, I’m ungrateful.’ Then, ‘What’s going on with you and Barty?’
He blinked. ‘That was some change of subject. You asking for a friend?’
‘Ha-ha. I won’t tell Jessie anything. But what’s going on?’
‘We had a fight, me and Barty. A big one. About Jessie – Mum. Barty said about Auntie Izzy saying she was a slut.’
Nell’s eyes widened.
‘It wasn’t the first time. But it’s not what I think any more. That’s all I said, that I believe Mum. It kicked off World War Three.’
‘Wow. Do you think you and Barty will work it out?’
He took a breath. ‘Maybe not.’
‘Oh, Ferdia! You’re not having a great time of it. Sammie gone, and now Barty.’
‘I’m okay about Sammie. She’s great, but we’re not meant to be together. Barty, I’m not as okay.’ He shrugged. ‘But at least Granny and Grandpa still love me.’
Suddenly she was curious. ‘What are they like?’
‘The literal best. Grandpa Michael is the person I love most on this earth. He’s not just my grandfather, he’s my friend and, yeah, probably father figure too, all of that. Like, he’s interested in me. And non-judgey. He doesn’t try to solve my stuff, but just spilling it out to him takes the badness away. When I told him about the break-up with Sammie, he said, “You’ll be better by the time you’re married.” Exactly what he used to say when I was a kid and I’d fallen off a wall or something.’
‘He sounds great.’
‘Ellen’s cool too. She’s … soft. Like a granny should be. When I was about eight, I got the chicken pox. Mum couldn’t take time off work, so I was sent down to them. It was like time-travel. I stayed in Dad’s old room, the TV only had two channels and the food was, you know, bread and potatoes and apple tart. We read lots of books – Granny said they used to be Dad’s.’
‘Everyone should have grandparents like them. You’d want to meet Nana McDermott.’
‘Scary?’
‘I can’t even.’
‘Yeah, but Granny Ellen could be tough too. Granny and Grandpa won’t talk to Mum or Johnny. Izzy and Keeva won’t either. Because of’, he gave a dismissive wave, ‘“long ago and far away” stuff. When Saoirse and me used to go down there, as kids, there had to be a – What do you call it in diplomatic terms? An intermediary?’
‘A “neutral party”?’
‘Someone like Keeva’s husband, or Mrs Tempest the neighbour. Mum would bring us to Granny and Grandpa’s door but Mrs Tempest would let us in. That way Mum and the Kinsellas never came face to face.’
‘That sounds … awful.’
‘Nah. We got used to it.’
It was eleven o’clock when they got back to the villa.
Liam’s face was like thunder. ‘Where have you been until now?’
‘Florence, dude,’ Ferdia said.
‘Doing what?’
‘Looking at art.’
‘Until now?’
‘We went for food.’
‘Where?’
‘What does it matter? This isn’t cool, man.’
Jessie rushed in. ‘Bunnies! You’re back! How was Palazzo dell’Arte Vivente?’
‘Is that the name of the restaurant?’ Nell asked. ‘It was utterly amazing.’
‘Wait, what?’ Liam demanded. ‘You were at the Palazzo dell’Arte Vivente?’
‘But, Jessie,’ Nell said, ‘let me give you the money for the dinner.’
‘The Palazzo dell’Arte Vivente?’ Liam repeated. ‘How did you get a table?’
‘There isn’t anything to pay back,’ Jessie said. ‘The chef is my friend. Well, maybe friend is overstating it but –’
‘Oh, Jessie! Well, I’ll pay you back somehow.’
‘No.’ Jessie grasped her wrist. ‘I owe you big-time. For …’ she mouthed ‘… sorting out Ferdia and me.’
‘Have I got this right?’ Liam raised his voice. Jessie, Nell and Ferdia finally paid him some attention. ‘You,’ he nodded at Nell, ‘and … him had a free dinner in Palazzo dell’Arte Vivente?’
In the silence that followed, Nell asked, in a small voice, ‘Is that a good thing? A bad thing?’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’
SEVENTY-FIVE
Liam seemed in better form in the morning. ‘You had a good day yesterday?’
‘I loved it. I know it’s not your thing but it made me so happy. I think I’ll go back and see –’
‘… I didn’t have a great day.’ His tone was pointed.
Oh. His cycle. ‘What happened?’
‘My back. Could be a pulled muscle. Could be something worse.’
‘Should you see a doctor?’
‘Ah, no.’ He waved away her concern.
Well, he couldn’t be that bad, so. ‘I’m going back to Florence, to the Da Vinci museum, probably tomorrow,’ she said. ‘It’s some of his inventions – they’ve been constructed from his drawings.’
‘I read about that place. Sounds okay. I think I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t have to. Ferdia says he’ll drive me.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘But Ferdia wants to go.’
‘And so do I.’
They couldn’t both go. Not together.
She found Ferdia by the pool. ‘Ferd?’
He glanced up. ‘Y’okay?’
‘Liam wants to go to the Da Vinci museum.’
‘Oh. Right. I’ll give it a miss, then.’
She was grateful he wasn’t being a brat about it. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Nah! All grand. It’s good he wants to go.’
‘Yep.’
‘Maybe he thinks Mum will sort him out with his dinner at the Arte Palazzo place.’
‘Ha-ha, maybe he does.’ She smiled, then stopped abruptly.
As she walked back to the house, her phone rang. It was Perla. Perla knew she was in Italy, so this was sort of weird.
‘Nell. I apologize for calling you on your vacation. Are you having a wonderful time?’
‘Totally. Aaah, is everything okay?’
‘Everything is fine. But I would like to speak to Ferdia and his phone is powered off.’
‘Oh. Okay. Let me get him for you.’
She hurried back to the pool. ‘Ferdia? Perla for you.’
‘Oh? I must be out of coverage.’
Nell loitered, waiting for her phone. She would have liked to know what they were saying to one another – yeah, she was curious, even if it wasn’t any of her business.
‘Thanks.’ Smiling, Ferdia bounded over and returned the phone. ‘I, aaaah –’
She could feel some sort of explanation coming and she didn’t need to know.
‘Perla and I are –’
‘Good for you.’
‘The thing is, we’re –’
‘Grand.’ She smiled. ‘All grand.
’
In the heavy late-afternoon heat, all the loungers around the pool were occupied. The sound of cicadas filled the air. Jessie picked up her phone, she’d got a WhatsApp. Her heart beat faster when she saw it was a reply to her self-abasing message to Paige: I’ll FaceTime tomorrow, 2 p.m. your time. Don’t tell Liam. Don’t have the kids with you. Xx
She’d ended it with two kisses. That must mean Jessie hadn’t totally destroyed things.
‘Cara?’
‘Mum? Everything okay?’
‘Fine. Just ringing for a chat.’
They’d always spoken regularly but her mum’s calls had sharply increased since her seizure.
‘I’m fine.’ Cara pre-empted the question. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Worry? Me?’ Dorothy made scoffing noises. ‘How’s the villa and all? Fabulous?’
‘Fabulous. But it’s the same one as the two other times.’
‘And you’re okay with the food?’
‘Yes, Mum.’ She wanted to sigh.
‘And you’re all set to go back to work on Monday?’
Now she’d got her. This morning she’d woken at around 5 a.m., suddenly hit by the enormity of returning after five weeks off with a mystery ailment. ‘Oh, Mum, I’m mortified. I feel so embarrassed.’
‘You shouldn’t be,’ Dorothy said. ‘You’re sick.’
‘Mum.’ She cradled the phone and whispered, ‘Please don’t say that. I hate it. I’m not sick. I was just a … I lost control for a while. But even with everyone knowing that, I want to die of the shame.’
‘People are very understanding these days. Much better than they used to be.’
‘Mmm.’ Maybe they were, with proper conditions like bi-polar or drug addiction. But with her propensity for overeating and puking, there wouldn’t be the same kind of absolution.
‘And are you getting any … urges? With the gelato and all that?’
‘Honestly, no. Mum, there’s nothing wrong. I just, I don’t really know, lost control for a while. But I’m fine now.’
‘Well, that’s great. How’s everyone? The Lovable Eccentrics? My favourite son-in-law? And’, her tone softened, ‘Jessie?’
‘All grand. Bye, Mum. See you next week.’
‘So,’ Robyn stood up and called out, ‘who wants to go to the designer outlet mall?’
‘The one near Siena?’ Jessie said. ‘Not me. It’s wall-to-wall junk.’
‘Oh.’ Robyn’s tone was cool. ‘Saoirse and I need someone to drive us.’ She twinkled at Ferdia, who studiously ignored her.
To everyone’s surprise, Liam said, ‘I’ll take you.’
‘Oh! Thank you, Liam.’
‘You’re welcome. Tomorrow do you?’
‘It’ll have to be Friday,’ Nell interjected. ‘We’re going to the Da Vinci museum tomorrow.’
‘Oh, yeah. Friday, then.’
‘You coming, Nell?’ Robyn asked archly. ‘To the outlet?’
‘I’m good. I’m not a shopper.’
‘You don’t say.’
Robyn and Liam laughed, then Saoirse joined in.
Sitting in the shade with her book, Cara wondered if she’d be invited. Nope, didn’t look like it. She was literally invisible to Robyn, not even worth mocking. It was sort of funny.
‘So maybe this afternoon, we’ll go back to the spa,’ Robyn said. ‘Get a deep tissue massaaaaaaaaage.’ She ran her hand up and down her smooth thigh.
‘Hey, I can massage you,’ Liam said. ‘I need a guinea pig to practise on.’
Cara was stricken with shock. He couldn’t possibly be serious.
‘Hey!’ Ed snapped. ‘Your back is injured. You can’t massage anyone.’
‘Yeah, but –’ Liam looked irritated. Then he said, ‘I guess I can’t.’
Cara flashed Ed a small grin and they exchanged a silent conversation, which went, Can you believe that fool? and You were a hero and You didn’t think I’d let him get away with it, did you?
Ed’s answering smile was very sweet. For a joyous moment they were back to normal.
‘Mum,’ Dilly said to Jessie, ‘why is he massaging the guinea pigs?’
‘No, bunny, he’s –’ ‘The March of the Valkyries’ blared, startling everyone.
‘Jesus,’ Liam yelped, holding his chest as Jessie grabbed her phone.
‘Loretta! Cara mia! Bene. Sì, sì. Bene. Fantastico! Grazie mille.’ She ended the call and announced to everyone around the pool, ‘Ha-ha, I spoke entirely in Italian, Loretta spoke entirely in English. Anyway! There’s a wedding up the town at five p.m. If we’re there for five thirty, we’ll see the bride and groom coming out, we can gettare the confetti! Who’s on for it?’
‘Ed,’ Cara said.
Ed was a well-known lover of weddings.
‘Melt,’ Liam called.
‘Not ashamed,’ Ed replied.
He insisted that making a public commitment before your peers was a defiantly optimistic act. Accidentally stumbling across a wedding always made him happy.
Cara wanted to go too, but she was due a snack at six o’clock. She could bring something, maybe a banana. But having to eat in front of people would, once again, single her out as a special case.
Was this what her life would be like for ever? Having to plan everything? Being a freak? Well, it would be better if she just made her peace with it. She had all her limbs, she could see, hear, talk – something far worse could have happened to her.
Only Liam, Saoirse and Robyn stayed behind. Poor Saoirse, Cara thought. She was usually a sucker for an Italian wedding. Robyn was a malign influence.
As they approached the little stone church, Nell exclaimed, ‘Oh! So beautiful.’
Her attention had been caught by the pastel blue, old-fashioned Cinquecento camper van, festooned with white ribbons and flowers.
‘Is that the getaway car?’ Ferdia asked.
‘I think it’s called the wedding car.’ She laughed. ‘But yeah.’
Standing in the sliver of shade provided by the church several pouty girls were dolled up to the nines, in high, high heels, fanning themselves and looking pissed off. Quite a distance from them lounged a cluster of very young men, smoking and looking uncomfortable in their shiny new suits.
‘Why aren’t they inside?’ Cara asked.
‘Feck alone knows!’ Jessie’s eyes were sparkling. ‘Italians are gas. You’d swear they were at a murder trial, not a wedding.’
Automatically Cara checked out the size of the girls. Skinny, skinny, skinny – not skinny. There was one girl jiggling a grizzling baby and she was really quite hefty.
For a moment, there was relief – then the familiar wave of judgement. She shouldn’t do this. Not to herself and not to other women.
But, she wondered, was it easier here in Italy? When you had a baby, was it acceptable to be bigger?
Probably not. The Western world subjected all women to the same beauty standards.
Suddenly a swell of organ music reached them, followed by a murmur of activity. The boys were extinguishing their cigarettes with elegant swivels of their new shoes, the pouty girls were no longer pouting, and a number of older women had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, carrying baskets of white paper petals. One of the older women gave Vinnie a handful of petals. ‘Gettare,’ she urged, making throwing gestures. ‘Gettare.’
‘Gettare, my bumhole.’ In disgust, he passed them to Cara.
The bride and groom appeared on the front step, young and beautiful.
‘Bella! Bravo!’
Suddenly everyone had confetti and was flinging it joyfully at the newlyweds. As a blizzard of paper petals rained down on them, Cara watched Ed, his happy face, his eyes that gleamed with unshed tears. He was a great person. He was a brilliant father. He saw the best in people, without being a doormat. His openness to life was remarkable, his positivity rare. Her feelings were in a mess right now, but she knew she loved him.
As the last paper petal hit the ground, Vinnie cried, ‘Gelato!’
There was a surge towards the ice-cream shop. Cara hung back and ate her banana.
SEVENTY-SIX
Nell’s eyes opened. It was the middle of the night but she was suddenly fully awake. Beside her, Liam was still deep in sleep.
She didn’t know what had woken her – then she did: something was terribly wrong between her and Liam.
The knowledge howled at her: Liam was almost a stranger now, a person she barely liked. He kept disappointing her. His every action was that of a much more selfish man than the one she thought she’d married. She kept disappointing him, simply by being herself.
More horrible truths flung themselves at her: she’d ignored warning signs, she’d got married too soon.
When her mum and dad had told her to wait for a bit, they’d been right.
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. It was like the nightmare she’d had a couple of nights ago, except that this time she was awake.
Dark orange light gleamed under the shutters. The sun must be coming up over all that beautiful countryside. Here she was, in one of the most perfect places on earth, and the contrast between that and the wasteland within her was horrifying.
Their love was lost, gone, dispersed. What could she do? How could she fix this?
It was tempting to wake him up, to talk. But that would make it real.
The next thing she knew, her face was being dotted with kisses. She must have gone back to sleep. Lemon-coloured light flooded the room and there was Liam, smiling down at her. All of her fear had evaporated and her relief was so great she was almost ecstatic. ‘Liam, I had a nightmare.’
‘You should have woken me, baby.’
‘It was like a waking nightmare. I thought we didn’t love each other any more.’
‘We totally love each other. But this is my fault.’ He looked sad. ‘Bumpy few days. I was such a dick about your museum.’
‘It’s okay. The fear is gone now.’
‘I’m so sorry. I guess we know each other a little better.’
‘I guess we do.’
‘Bunny.’ Jessie was at Ferdia’s door. ‘I need your Wi-Fi.’
He stepped back, giving her a clear path to the stairs that led up to his bedroom. ‘Work away.’
Her look was wary. She was still suspicious of the new nice him and he felt shitty about it.
