‘I can’t find Miss Courage on the passenger list,’ said Sabina at last.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Neil. ‘Look again.’
Sabina typed in Kathy’s name one more time.
‘I’m sorry. She’s not on the passenger list for this flight. Do you have the booking confirmation with you?’
‘Of course.’
Neil pushed the printout under her nose.
Sabina nodded. ‘Yes. Ah. I see. You are on this flight but she is not. The date for your flight is today. The date for la signora’s flight is a whole month away. Someone put in the wrong month when they were doing the booking.’
‘That can’t be right.’
Sabina helpfully put her finger beneath the date so that Kathy and Neil could see it easily.
It was right. Good old Melanie, the world’s best PA.
‘For Heaven’s sake!’
Kathy closed her eyes and waited for the explosion.
By the time Neil had been persuaded that nothing could be done again, there was no chance of getting Kathy onto the same flight. They compromised by accepting a seat on a flight that would leave in two days’ time. Once again, Kathy and Neil stood together by the security gates, knowing that only one of them would be going through that day.
Neil was surprisingly calm this time. ‘Well, this is sub-optimal,’ he said. ‘Have you got any euros?’
‘About five hundred,’ said Kathy.
‘Where did you get that from?’
‘A tip for my singing on Sunday night.’
‘OK,’ Neil said. ‘So you can get a hotel. If you need more, ring me and I’ll give my card details. I’ll see you on Thursday.’
Kathy nodded.
‘I don’t know why nobody can seem to get anything right,’ Neil complained.
Kathy hesitated. It would have been so easy to kiss Neil on the cheek and let him go to catch his flight without saying anything, but that would not be the brave thing to do.
‘Neil,’ Kathy piped up, ‘what if today’s flight mix-up wasn’t a mistake? What if it was a sign?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Before we went to the wedding, I’d been wondering whether we were really right for one another.’
Neil squinted at her.
‘I know you’re probably surprised to hear it,’ she continued, ‘but I’d been thinking about our life together and whether it was what I wanted. I love you and I always will, but over the years there have been days when I wondered if you really loved me back. The real me. The me who is sometimes clumsy. The me who is sometimes lazy. The me who doesn’t always know what to say at a fancy event. The me who had dreams of her own before she met you.’
‘What dreams?’ Neil asked, as though the very notion was preposterous.
‘A dream of a family of my own,’ Kathy told him.
‘Is this about the vasectomy? For Heaven’s sake.’
‘Of course it’s about the vasectomy. And what it represents.’
‘I did it for you.’
‘You did it for you,’ Kathy countered. ‘You definitely didn’t do it for me.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had an operation to make you happy.’
‘You had an operation to make sure I could never have a child of my own.’
Neil shook his head. He wasn’t going to be told he was wrong. He would never be told he was wrong.
A call went out over the tannoy. Final boarding for the London flight.
Kathy slid the engagement ring from her finger. ‘You should take this back with you.’
‘What now? What’s this about? Are you telling me you don’t want to get married?’
‘Yes, I am. And, honestly, I don’t think you really want to get married either.’
‘But I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t! Women! We can never get it right where you’re concerned.’
The tannoy announced Neil’s flight again.
‘Neil, you need to go through security,’ Kathy said. ‘We can talk about this when I get back to London, but when you think about it properly, you’ll see that I’m right. We can’t get married. Not now. Your children will be relieved at least.’
‘They certainly will,’ said Neil, dropping the ring into the breast pocket of his jacket, and the way he said it told Kathy that he would soon adjust his thinking to accommodate this new state of affairs and make it a good thing.
‘Exactly. So now there’s no need for them to be upset.’
‘There is that. Mum will be pleased as well.’
‘Quite.’
Neil seemed about to say something else and, for just a moment, Kathy thought he might try to change her mind. Perhaps he might find the words that could make everything all right. Looking into the blue eyes she had fallen in love with five years earlier, Kathy half wanted that to happen. But the moment passed. He gave her a curt nod and left.
This time when Neil went through security, Kathy was glad he didn’t look back. She was certain that when he really thought about it, he would see that she’d made the right decision. In all probability, by the time he got back to London, Neil would have decided that the end of the engagement had been his idea. As she articulated her feelings in words, it was all becoming clearer to Kathy, too, that she’d been pondering the future of her relationship with Neil for a long time. Since long before the vasectomy.
She loved Neil and she thought that, in his own way, he loved her, but if he was willing to close the door on one of her fondest dreams without consulting her first, how could they be right for one another? She was sure now that after the vasectomy Neil had felt the change in her feeling and, sensing her slipping away, he’d tried to lock her in with the engagement. It was always more about being seen to do the right thing than about being in love with her.
The more she thought about it, the more confident Kathy felt that she’d done the only thing she could. Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the escalator and headed out of the terminal towards … towards a new life?
‘Stay brave, Kathy Courage,’ she heard her father’s voice.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Kathy couldn’t go straight back to the Casa Innocenti, much as she wanted to. That would be unfair. Roberta, Carla, Manu and Henry had been so kind to her already and this was an adventure she needed to begin alone. She decided she would find an inexpensive hotel for the next two nights and spend the time she had left in Florence writing down all the things she would need to do to make sure that officially splitting up with Neil was as painless as possible.
This forty-eight-hour period was crucial. She had to start to visualise a happy life on her own so that she didn’t change her mind as soon as she got back to the UK and saw Neil in his house – the house that had never really been her home. At least her leaving wouldn’t make a big mark. She’d never even hung one of her own pictures on Neil’s walls.
She found a small family-run hotel near Santa Croce, a part of the city she had yet to get to know but which Carla had spoken about with enthusiasm. They had a single room left.
‘Can I pay in cash?’ she asked the hotelier. He seemed happy enough with that.
As she counted out the notes from the small wedge Henry had given her on the night they’d sung together at the sixtieth birthday party, she felt proud. Henry was right. Everyone should have their own running-away fund. Had she known that she would need hers so quickly …
The hotelier handed Kathy the key to her room on the top floor.
A room with a view.
In the room, she made a cup of tea and called her mother, fudging the reason why she was still in Italy, saying it was just another flight mix-up. A proper explanation would have to come later, face to face.
‘It’s like Florence has decided to keep you!’ Clare said. ‘You know, the funny thing is, I always thought you might end up in Italy one day. I was surprised when you never left England.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Kathy sighed. One day she wo
uld tell her why that was so frustrating to hear.
The hotel had a small garden. When she’d finished her phone call, Kathy went downstairs to ask if she could have an early supper outside in the shade of a tree. The hotelier grimaced. ‘We have a party here this evening,’ he said. ‘We need to set the garden up. But perhaps if you are quick …’
‘I’ll be quick,’ said Kathy.
The staff were already laying out tables for the evening’s event, spreading them with pristine white linen. One of them broke off to ask Kathy how he could help her. She ordered a plate of antipasti and an Aperol Spritz. Sod it if it was unfashionable. Right then it was exactly what she wanted.
When the bright orange cocktail was placed in front of her, Kathy raised a toast to herself. ‘Kathy Courage. Kathy Brave. From this moment on, I follow my own rules.’
The Aperol Spritz was delicious.
Scribbling on a hotel notepad, Kathy made a list of things she would need to do when she got back to London. It started practically. She’d need to chase her replacement credit cards. Start looking for a new flat. And a new job …
But, gradually, the list became more interesting. She’d look into joining a choir. Or a band. Definitely get some singing lessons. When she had her own place, she’d get a keyboard. Or a real piano, depending on how much space she had. As for a new job, she was going to make sure that this time it was a job that fulfilled her. Maybe she should go back to university instead.
Kathy’s dreams filled the whole notepad, like a list of old friends’ names. As she sipped her Spritz, the future unfolded on paper in the most wonderful way.
Then …
‘Cazzo!’ From behind the jasmine-covered trellis, came a burst of angry Italian, in a voice that wasn’t entirely Italian but which Kathy recognised at once. ‘Cazzo. Cazzo. Cazzo. Arse.’
Kathy leaned back in her chair so that she could see around the trellis to the kitchen door. And there he was, swearing at the screen of his phone.
‘Henry?’
‘Kathy?’
They both asked at the same time, ‘What are you doing here?’
Stepping round the trellis to get a better look at her, Henry said, ‘Sheba, tell me you’re not drinking a bloody Aperol Spritz?’
It turned out that Henry was to be the hotel’s musical entertainment for the evening except that, just as happened on Sunday, he was a singer down.
‘She’s got flu,’ he said, miming the speech marks with his fingers. ‘By which she means she has a wealthy new boyfriend, and an evening with him seems like a far better investment than doing a gig she agreed to three months ago. I came back from Rome for this.’
‘How was Rome?’ Kathy asked.
‘Bloody amazing.’ Henry grinned. ‘I’ve been asked to write the score for a movie.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Means I can give up the weddings and birthday parties.’
‘Which will be a great loss to the Tuscan party scene.’
Henry sat down at Kathy’s table and helped himself to a breadstick.
‘But what about you?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you meant to be back in London?’
‘Got my flight details mixed up.’
‘Again? Where’s …’
Henry cast a not-that-surreptitious glance at her hand. His mother and sister must have told him that Kathy had stopped at the house to pick up her engagement ring. Of course Kathy noticed what Henry was looking for.
‘The ring made it onto the flight,’ she told him. ‘With Neil. It might even be back at Tiffany’s by now.’
‘I see.’
Henry pinched another breadstick. He didn’t ask for a more detailed explanation. Kathy would tell him all about it later.
‘So, what are you going to do about this evening’s gig?’ Kathy asked, playing it cool.
‘Dunno. I’ll have to find another singer, I suppose. I don’t suppose you know anyone who would do a gig at short notice for peanuts and free Prosecco by any chance?’
‘Cash in hand?’
‘Of course.’
‘Split the tips?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Then I might. I can certainly think of someone who needs to replenish her running-away fund.’
Henry picked up Kathy’s drink, took a swig, grimaced, then tipped the half-empty glass towards her as if in a toast.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Practice starts in half an hour. We’ll start with your favourite song.’
‘You mean “Yellow”?’ Kathy joked.
‘I mean your favourite song.’
‘Can we make it a duet?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I’ll get changed.’
Henry punched the air with delight.
‘I’m so glad you’re back, Queen of Sheba. Kathy Brave.’
An hour later, Kathy and Henry were on stage together again. In the warm embrace of an Italian evening, Kathy couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so happy or so free. Being on the stage just felt so right.
Kathy and Henry performed together as though they’d been playing as a duo for years. The audience was enchanted by their easy chemistry. They ended their set, as they had ended it on Sunday night, with ‘The Way You Look Tonight’. While the audience applauded, Kathy insisted that Henry got to his feet to take a bow. Leaving his keyboard, he joined her in the centre of the stage. He took her hand and raised it above her head.
Then, with a deeply serious look on his face, Henry wrapped his arms around Kathy and tipped her backwards in a ballroom hold. When he let her come back up again, he kissed her. And this time, it wasn’t a nearly kiss.
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Acknowledgements
Well, here I am again at the end of another novel. As usual, I wouldn’t have got here without the support of a cast of thousands, including …
Editorial team Kimberley Atkins and Madeleine Woodfield at Hodder, who worked so hard to turn this book around in a matter of days. Thank you very much. Thank you Louise Swannell for your wonderful PR work. Thank you, copy-editor Hazel Orme for catching all my typos. And thank you Jo Myler, for another lovely new cover look. Thank you also to Laetitia Rutherford and Megan Carroll at Watson Little.
Once again, in what’s been another occasionally challenging year, I’m hugely grateful for the love of my friends. Victoria Routledge, Jane Wright and Alex Potter. You’re the best friends anyone could wish for.
As always, I’d like to thank my family. Mum, Kate, Lee, Harrison and Lukas for their support and all the good times. And finally darling Mark. Still on tea duty. Thank you for everything.
May 2019
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Three Days in Florence Page 26