To Rome, With Love

by T A Williams

  ‘Hi, Gianluca, you all right? Has something happened?’

  He glanced over his shoulder to see if anybody else was nearby, but the two of them were well clear of the rest. He turned back towards her and nodded his head.

  ‘Sort of.’ He hesitated. ‘It’s nothing to do with the ride; it’s a personal thing, to be honest.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  He hesitated again. ‘No, not really.’ He sounded despondent, but Sarah knew better than to insist.

  ‘Well, if you need to talk about anything, you know I’m here for you, all right?’

  He nodded and managed a little smile. ‘Thanks, Sarah. That’s really sweet of you.’

  She slowed down and let the rest of the group come past until she was right at the back again, alongside Miles, reflecting that she now had two men in the group with problems they were loath to discuss. She gave him her report. ‘Gianluca says he’s got a personal problem, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He says it’s nothing to do with the ride so I suppose we just have to leave him to work it out by himself.’

  ‘Poor guy, he looks really unhappy. Maybe I’ll see if he wants to talk to me about it. You never know, maybe it’s a man thing and he’s a bit shy.’

  Miles’s tone was compassionate and Sarah took another good look at him. This gentle, caring side of him was something she hadn’t encountered before and she rather liked it. He seemed genuinely sorry for Gianluca. ‘You do that, Miles, but don’t tell him I said anything to you.’

  ‘Of course. If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll have a go. If you want my opinion, I think he’s grieving. Didn’t you say his granddad had died? Maybe he was especially close to him and it’s just hit him now. I know a thing or two about grief and it hits people in different ways, you know. Anyway, leave it to me.’

  As he set off back up the line, Sarah found herself reflecting on his unexpectedly caring attitude, and that phrase he had used about grief kept turning over and over in her head as she rode along.

  From time to time they passed large brick farmhouses, some fortified, some even with their own chapel, some large enough to be little hamlets in their own right. It was easy cycling and even yesterday’s gentle wind had disappeared. The reeds at the roadside only moved a fraction in the breeze created by the passing convoy of bikes, but otherwise, everything was motionless, baking in the sun. The grass was still green, but after another two or three months of this sort of weather, Sarah knew full well the landscape would be yellow and brown. As the ride continued deeper into the isthmus of three or four different rivers, they started to see fewer and fewer cars. The transport of choice around here was pretty evidently flat-bottomed boat or tractor.

  They stopped for morning coffee in a little village in the middle of nowhere. Lined up outside the café were no fewer than three tractors, whose drivers were sitting around a table under the shade of some fine old trees, smoking, drinking glasses of red wine and talking. There was one interesting moment as they were all getting off their bikes. There was a sudden squeal and Sarah looked across to find Glynis lying in Paul’s arms. She was about to go over when she realised what had happened. Like Sarah herself and many of the riders, Glynis was wearing special cycling shoes that clipped into the pedals, allowing the rider not only to push down, but to pull up for increased power. Clearly, in a typical Glynis moment, she had omitted to unclip her feet as her bike came to a halt and, as a result, had fallen off sideways. Luckily for her, Paul had been close enough to catch her. From the position of his hands on her body and from the smile on his face, he was enjoying playing Sir Galahad. As for Glynis, her face was a picture, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction that even a master portrait painter like Titian would have been hard-pressed to reproduce.

  Sarah was definitely feeling good today after her unbroken night’s sleep, and she felt even better when Paul brought her a big cappuccino, so frothy it looked like a chef’s hat. He sat down beside her and stretched his legs.

  ‘You’re looking happy today. You look good with a smile on your face.’

  ‘Most people do, Paul. But it’s hard to be unhappy on a lovely day like this.’

  ‘Have you been unhappy?’ He gave her a measured look. ‘When I saw you in your office last week, I thought something had happened. So is it all right again now?’

  Sarah had to stop and think before answering. She knew she didn’t want to talk about the wedding, but it was an interesting question. No, things weren’t all right again as far as her former fiancé was concerned, but that was his problem. The fact was that, ever since her epiphany the previous day, she certainly did feel better, freer, and much more cheerful than a week ago. She sipped her cappuccino before giving him an answer.

  ‘I’ve had a pretty rough time recently.’ As she spoke, she remembered what Paul had said about his brother and wondered, yet again, if what Miles had been through could possibly match her own anguish. ‘I won’t bore you with the details, but that’s all in the past.’ She managed a smile without too much difficulty. He nodded and then gave her a broad grin.

  ‘I think your coffee’s fighting back.’ He pointed towards her mouth. She reached up and ran her finger across her top lip. It came away white with cappuccino froth. She licked the froth off her finger while he looked on, still smiling.

  ‘Messy girl. So, what about the future, then?’

  Sarah pulled a paper napkin out of the container on the table and wiped her lips carefully, trying to formulate a reply. ‘I’ve been living in the past for a few weeks now. I think it’s time for me to start concentrating on the present. The future can look after itself.’ She looked across at him. ‘And what about you? Are you happy with life?’

  ‘Pretty much, although I wish Miles would open up a bit more. It’s as if he resents me coming into the company.’

  Sarah, having tried to help his cause in conversation with Miles the previous day, decided she could maybe return the favour a bit. ‘I’m quite sure he doesn’t resent you. He was talking to me yesterday about the fact that he’s coming back over here and you’re going to the US. He’s probably just worried how long it’ll take you to fit into the space he’s left behind.’

  ‘It’s like I said yesterday, Sarah. I reckon he’s convinced I’m going to bugger things up. If he could be in two places at once, I’m sure he’d rather run both operations.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re wrong.’ She paused and wondered whether to say more. Clearly, what needed to happen was for the two brothers to sit down together and talk, sooner rather than later. After reflection, she decided it was best to stay out of things. They needed to sort this out themselves. ‘Anyway, you’ll both feel better by the end of the ride, I’m sure. Personally, I can feel this trip doing me a world of good.’ As she spoke, she realised she meant what she was saying. ‘Polly said it’s all to do with endorphins.’

  He shook his head. ‘Too technical for me, but I’m sure you’re right. I think it’s the fresh air, the exercise, the sun and the company.’ His eyes met hers. ‘There are some lovely people on this trip, Sarah. Starting with you.’

  ‘And I think you’re a lovely person, too, Paul.’ Sarah could feel herself blushing, but she meant what she said. ‘I find you really easy to talk to. And Paul… that’s what you and your brother should be doing. You know that, don’t you?’

  ***

  Ravenna was a stunning city. Just like Ferrara, it was a cyclists’ paradise, dead flat with cycle paths and a sizeable pedestrian area in the old heart of town. All around were medieval and pre-medieval buildings, many of them set in beautiful, lawned grounds, punctuated by palm trees and flower beds. Sarah took Glynis for a walk around town that afternoon, partly to act as interpreter for her as she wanted to buy some things, but mainly because she found she really liked her a lot. As they walked, they talked; not just about historical buildings and cycling, but about life in general.

  They were in a rather fine shoe shop, redo
lent with the heady aroma of leather, when Glynis provided a fascinating insight into her world. It was sparked off by her managing to knock over the growing pile of shoe boxes beside them. As the impassive shop assistant collected them together again, a red-faced Glynis explained to Sarah.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I keep doing that sort of thing. You must have noticed. The thing is, when I was growing up, I was diagnosed with dyspraxia.’ She glanced at Sarah. ‘You know, clumsiness disorder, DCD or whatever they’re calling it now. It affects your coordination among other things. For instance, I only learnt to ride a bike two years ago. Up until then, I was just too wobbly.’

  ‘Wow, Glynis, I’d never have guessed. You seem so assured on a bike.’

  ‘Apart from when I forget to unclip my shoes from the pedals.’

  Sarah grinned at her. ‘Ah, but that was just so hunky Paul could catch you. I can see right through your ruses, you know.’

  Glynis blushed again and shook her head. ‘No, that was definitely an accident, although, if I had to pick somebody to catch me when I fall, it would have to be Paul, or Miles, of course – the handsome beast.’

  Sarah decided not to comment.

  ‘Anyway, I still keep doing clumsy things but, even though I’m sure you won’t believe me, I really am getting better.’

  ‘Of course I believe you. I’m just gobsmacked that you only started cycling so recently. And to undertake a big ride like this one must have taken courage.’ She felt genuinely impressed that this sometimes comic character possessed the depths of determination necessary to undertake something like this.

  ‘To be honest, Sarah, I felt I needed a challenge. I know I do some pretty silly things at times, and there’s a lot of talk around the office, not really unkind, but not exactly flattering either. I thought this would be the way to prove to myself, and to them, that I really am getting better and capable of achieving something when I set my mind to it.’

  Sarah couldn’t help herself; she leant over and gave Glynis a warm hug. ‘You’re an inspiration, Glynis. Now, are you going for the boring sandals or the sexy ones with the laces halfway up your ankles?’

  ‘Well, when you put it like that, there’s no choice really, is there?’

  By the time they all got to bed that night, their heads were full of Byzantine mosaics and monumental buildings dating back as far as Roman times, and their stomachs full of more different types of pasta than they had ever imagined could exist in one place. Ravenna was part of the region of Emilia-Romagna, the pasta heart of Italy, and the restaurant where they dined that night was happy to prepare an amazing selection for them. Sarah tried a number of different types, but decided her favourite was papardelle alla lepre. She had regained her appetite by now and put away a hefty portion, accompanied by a couple of glasses of good red wine. Miles was absent from the group and she felt a little pang of regret. Today she had seen a different side of him, less morose and more caring, and she had liked what she had seen.

  ***

  Next morning, for the first time, there were some clouds in the sky. These weren’t sinister, dark, thunder clouds, but puffy, white, high-level clouds that would, at least, provide some respite from the burning heat of the sun. Sarah was pleased to see them, as today was the day the flatlands finished and the hills began. She was one of the first down for breakfast and found Miles already there. As she walked in, he beckoned her over to his table. No sooner had she sat down than he leant towards her and started speaking in a low voice.

  ‘I caught up with Gianluca last night and we had dinner together. After a couple of beers he told me what’s been bothering him.’ He looked up to check they weren’t being overheard. ‘It’s as I thought. He was really close to his granddad. His mum and dad died young and, in consequence, the old boy looked after him when he was growing up. Apparently, Granddad was a pro cyclist himself, back in the days when they carried spare tyres with them and had to fix any mechanical breakdowns themselves. The old man’s death hit Gianluca really hard and it’s only now that he’s realising how much he misses him.’

  ‘Oh, how awful for him.’ Sarah was very sorry for Gianluca, but very impressed with Miles for wanting to help and managing to get to the bottom of the problem. ‘Thank you for doing that, Miles. I’m sure he appreciated it.’

  He shrugged off her thanks. ‘Anyway, we talked a lot and I think I managed to help him put things in perspective. Often all that’s needed is to talk.’ As he spoke, Sarah found herself yet again with two thoughts in her head – first, that Miles clearly knew his way around grief, and second, that what he and his brother needed to do was exactly what he had said. They needed to talk.

  An hour later, as they collected together in the little cobbled square outside the hotel, ready to start off, Gianluca, looking noticeably brighter this morning, warned them all what to expect.

  ‘Today we cross the Rubicon.’

  Sarah looked round the assembled cyclists and noted a few expressions of apprehension. But Gianluca was smiling. ‘I really mean that. Today, around mid morning, we’ll cross the same river that Julius Caesar crossed two thousand years ago.’

  ‘The point of no return.’ Polly jingled her keys. ‘If anybody wants a lift, just ask.’

  ‘Well, maybe not quite no return, but it’s only a few kilometres later that we turn inland and climb up to San Marino. We start at sea level and end up at 750 metres.’ Gianluca looked across at Chuck and the other Americans. ‘That’s a 2,500-foot climb, you guys, and it just goes on and on, not viciously steep, but probably the longest, toughest climb of the whole trip, so take it slow and stop if you feel you need a rest. Okay?’

  As they threaded their way out through Ravenna’s narrow streets and set off southwards along the coast, Sarah could sense a change in the mood of the peloton. There was still chatter and joking, but there was a discernible edginess about things now. Today would be their first big test. Paul dropped back to see what Sarah thought about the upcoming climb.

  ‘Today’s going to sort the men out from the boys, eh, Sarah?’ He was grinning.

  ‘Or the girls from the boys, Paul.’ She nodded in the direction of Terri.

  ‘Or, indeed, the girls. So who’s going to be first to the top?’

  ‘It’s not a race, Paul.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says me. I’m not racing up a hill in these temperatures.’ The clouds she had seen earlier were gradually disappearing as the sun rose higher in the sky; it was as hot as before and, if anything, a bit more humid. ‘And I’d rather you didn’t encourage any of our people to do anything silly. I don’t want a heart attack on my hands.’

  Sarah increased speed and rode up to the three Welsh girls who were looking worried. As Sarah approached, Jo voiced their concerns. ‘Sarah, what happens if we can’t do it? Will we have to drop out of the ride? We’ve raised thousands of pounds in sponsorship and we need to finish the ride.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry. I’ve seen you ride. You’re all fit – in fact, I reckon you’re some of the fittest in the bunch.’ This wasn’t really true, but she knew the importance of mental strength in any endurance sport. Confidence was everything. ‘Like Gianluca said, just take your time and you’ll be fine. If you see a café and want to stop for an ice cream, just stop.’ She grinned at them. ‘I know I will.’

  The others murmured thanks and looked a bit reassured. Sarah decided she would make a point of taking up her usual position at the back of the bunch when the climb started, so as to be able to encourage any stragglers and help out if, God forbid, anybody had any kind of health problems.

  The Rubicon was far less impressive than its legendary name might have led them to expect. When Gianluca called a halt and pointed off to the right of the road, the river turned out to be a muddy trickle barely a few feet wide, and it took quite a feat of imagination to think of Caesar leading his men through the water, heading for confrontation with the Roman Senate. A statue of the great man alongside the road marked the
spot, and they all duly photographed what was otherwise quite unprepossessing.

  As there was a café just down the road, they stopped for a break. It was here that the first problem of the day occurred. Polly had just parked her van and was walking towards the café when Sarah saw Glynis and Jo approach her. They spoke briefly and then came across to talk to Sarah. Polly explained the problem.

  ‘The girls have committed the cardinal sin of setting off with the key to their hotel room still in their pocket.’

  Jo shook her head sadly. ‘I’ve only got two pockets in this shirt and the key’s been sitting in one of them all this time while we’ve been riding down the coast.’ She smacked herself on the forehead. ‘What a moron!’ Beside her, Glynis, clearly amazed, and delighted, that for once she wasn’t the guilty party, was doing her best to look inscrutable, but failing.

  Sarah gave Glynis a wink and then smiled at Jo. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll give the hotel a ring. If they need it urgently, Polly can run back with it. If they can manage for a few days, we’ll post it to them from the next post office.’ She pulled out her phone and made the call. As she started to explain the problem, she immediately discovered the hotel had already worked out that they were missing a key. The receptionist was equally apologetic.

  ‘Normally it wouldn’t matter. We’ve got duplicates so you could just send us the key by mail. Unfortunately, we’ve just discovered that when we gave you back the passports this morning, we missed one. It’s here in front of me. I’ve been trying to find a contact number for you. The passport belongs to a Mr Paul Hall.’

  Sarah gave a silent hiss of annoyance. Paul of all people. Surely he should have realised he had to check he had got his passport back. There was only one thing to do. Polly would have to drive the forty kilometres back to Ravenna, return the key and collect Paul’s passport. She thanked the receptionist and slipped her phone into her back pocket, breaking the news to Polly, who took it cheerfully.