by Prosecco
I didn’t miss her swerving mention of the funeral, and gave her a grateful smile.
‘She was here for, like, two days and she came in to mess with your kitchen?’
‘Darling, I would have got down on my knees and begged her to stay if I thought it would make a spot of difference.’ Bel gave a theatrical sigh, then took Salvatore’s other arm. ‘Well, let’s get you seated, darlings, and Jacques will whip you up our special cocktail, won’t he?’ Bel shepherded us to a table, and Jacques nodded.
‘He will indeed.’
As we slid into a plush purple booth, I watched Bel’s face, looking out across the room as if she was worried.
‘Everything okay?’
She threw back her shoulders and raised her chin. ‘Everything’s always okay. No matter what.’
I grinned. ‘I know that feeling well. Have a drink with us?’
She patted my hand. ‘Thank you, but I’ve got paperwork galore and the show’s starting soon. Plus, a last night in London should be romantic and brilliant. I’ll catch you at the end. Enjoy!’ She stalked off, eagle eyed for something out of place, a customer that needed flattery or a staff member who wasn’t paying attention.
Salvatore squeezed my hand. ‘This place is… something else.’
‘I know. And just wait for all the dancing, half-naked people covered in glitter.’ I grinned as his eyes widened. ‘Is that a blush?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, focusing his attention on Jacques, who came over with two yellow-tinged drinks in Champagne coupes, lemon peel swirls hanging from the sides, and frozen red grapes on a cocktail stick.
‘What is it?’
‘Savvy whipped it up before flitting off again like the flighty cow she is,’ Jacques huffed, and I could tell how much he missed her. ‘It’s called “It Happened in Naples” – prosecco and limoncello, amongst other things.’
‘It’s going to blow our heads off, isn’t it?’ I said, as he placed them on the table.
‘Oh, abso-fucking-lutely. But who doesn’t need that, once in a while? Shake out the cobwebs.’
And then he was gone, and Salvatore was left giving me a Who the hell are these people? look, but whether that was the club, the sparkles or the fact that they mixed limoncello with prosecco, I couldn’t tell.
The show was spectacular as always, and it was a perfect final night. The food was not quite up to Savvy’s excellent standards, but it was pretty damn good. Just being able to sit there, cuddling into each other, watching the show, made me wonder how possible it would be to do this every night. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I should beg him to stay, stop finding reasons to keep us apart.
And then my phone buzzed. It was such a relief be waiting for my phone to go without it being bad news. I checked my email, took a deep breath and turned it towards Salvatore.
‘I’m going to Antigua.’
His smile was trying to be sincere, but missed by a mile. Still, he squeezed my shoulders and asked Jacques for Champagne to toast my success.
‘How long will you be gone for?’
‘Three months,’ I said, trying for a smile. ‘I’m a little scared.’
‘After everything, I’m surprised you can even feel scared any more.’
I laughed. ‘Good point.’
We sat leaning against each other, sipping Champagne and trying to figure out whether to stay silent or find a way to say goodbye.
‘You know, I’ll miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you, too.’ He kissed my head. ‘But I think it’ll be good to go home. We’ve got the grape harvest now, so I’ll help with that. And there’s the shop.’
‘I hope Antonio wasn’t too upset about the shop, and me not saying goodbye. I’ll write him a letter.’
‘He’d love that. He’s okay. He thinks he’s going to sell it, but I don’t think so.’
‘I hope not.’
The silence settled, until Salvatore nudged me, smiling. ‘Come on, the band’s starting. Let’s dance.’
He swirled me around, back and away again, and I laughed and revelled in it. Later on, we slowed down, cheek to cheek as we swayed. I just wanted to keep him close, hold on to the moment and remember that, just once, I felt something real. That I was capable of missing someone – it felt like someone was twanging a thick elastic band in my chest, reverberating and scarring the skin.
* * *
We had one night, that night. Skin against skin and lips and laughter in the darkness. Making memories that would remain in that bedroom until I left for my own adventures.
He was leaving early in the morning, a cab picking him up from the house. He didn’t want me to go to the airport. I wondered if I’d regret it, if I’d wish I’d gone to watch him walking away through airport security.
The kisses slowly became sleepy and languorous, then desperate and sad and quiet. I was worried we’d slowly slip back into strangers as the hours passed, but we didn’t. We just talked, about stupid things. About the games we played as children, and the best ice cream we’d ever eaten. He told me about Antonio giving him a spanking as a kid, when he stole some sweets from a shop. I told him about getting lost in London on a school trip, and being bought a hot chocolate by a police officer. We shared stories of Christmases, Easters and birthdays, disappointing and impressive. He told me his middle name was Michael, and I told him mine was Valentina. He said he’d never heard anything so unlikely in his life.
Voices take on a special softness in the early hours, like velvet sharing secrets. We lay in my bed, his arms around me as the sun threatened the curtains, creeping in at the edges.
‘What will we do?’ he asked me, lips resting against my shoulder.
‘We’ll say goodbye and live our lives, of course,’ I said.
‘What does that mean, Mia?’
I rolled over and smiled at him. God, he was beautiful, looking so out of my place in my teenage bedroom. ‘Well, I’ll go play in the mud and be a fucking nightmare, and we’ll say we’ll stay in touch, but it’ll be difficult. You’ll get angry that I’m not calling, and I’ll get pissed off that you want things from me… and in the end you’ll marry one of those girls your mother likes.’ I kissed him, laughing against his lips. ‘That sound about right?’
‘Impossible woman,’ he growled, but kissed me all the same. When I caught my breath again, he tried again. ‘How about you go do what you need to do, I’ll try and figure my life out on the island, we’ll talk whenever we can, and when you’re ready… come home to me?’
I traced his cheek with a fingertip, meeting those dark eyes. ‘Home?’
‘Home is people, not places. We’ll figure the rest out later.’
I believed him.
Later, when he was gone, and I was fully awake, I noticed the gift on the desk. It was wrapped in brown paper, with a black ribbon. Simple, and beautiful. I carefully unfolded the wrapping and revealed the box beneath. I picked up the little tag attached to the paper. In Salvatore’s careful scrawl, it said:
To help you find your way.
All my love, S
I knew what it was before I opened it, my chest tightening. He couldn’t have found it, could he? After all these years?
Sure enough, nestled in tissue paper was a heavy brass compass, not as large as I’d remembered it as a child, but just as unique and magical. I traced the detail around the edge, and watched as the pointer quivered.
And then I burst into tears.
* * *
Not so long ago, I was an angry girl with forgotten dreams and no one. I had dreaded becoming an orphan, being alone in the world. But he’d been right, Dad. He’d not only spared me the pain of seeing him decline, he’d given me back my mother. Hearing stories about her had made her alive in a way she hadn’t been before. I’d kept the photos Allegra gave me, the ones of her and Mum, and the ones Antonio gave me.
I told Marjorie about my mother, and it was the first time I properly shared what I’d learnt. That I
was like someone, that there had been someone before me who gave me things, like strength and stubbornness and bravery. That my worst and best traits were not solely down to me, but were gifts from the past, a link through my family tree.
Marjorie asked to see the photograph – the one of Mum and my father, so young and reckless and bold, making choices that would shape their futures, bind them together – and when I handed it to her, she smiled, her eyes filled with tears. ‘God, he was so young. And look how beautiful she was.’ She took a trembling breath. ‘I hope they’re together now, Mia. I really hope he found his way back to her.’
We both cried, sitting at the kitchen table, so used to crying together that it had become companionable. My father had left the way he had always meant to, and somehow had given me someone to miss him with. I had never expected to care about Marjorie, to share jokes and memories with her. She was starting her life over, just like I was. And I was incredibly grateful to have her.
‘You’re going to come, right? When you finish your dig? A week with me in Bali at the retreat?’ Her eyes were wide, and it was only then that I realized she was scared, too. I grasped her hand.
‘Do I need to wear things made of hemp? Because if so…’
Marjorie burst out laughing, wiping away her tears with the heels of her hands.
‘We’re gonna be fine, Marjorie, he made sure of that.’
We sipped green tea and said nothing, enjoying the sound of birds in the back garden and the wind chime tinkling by the kitchen window. It had been decided – the house would be sold, and we’d both be nomads on our own journeys. And that was okay.
‘So what’s happening with the boy?’ she asked me suddenly, staring me down.
‘I seem to be in love with him,’ I said, gritting my teeth and shrugging.
Marjorie blinked. ‘How entirely un-Mia of you.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it just?’
Epilogue
Ischia looked different in autumn; the warmth was more of a kiss on the breeze, and the sunlight had an orange tinge. And yet, it was still as beautiful as it had been before. I stepped out onto the airport concourse, trying to remember what it had felt like last time. Whether the air smelled different.
I started walking towards the bus station when a car careened around the corner to beeps and yelling.
‘Hey, get in! I’m kind of on a deadline!’ Nikki yelled from the driver’s window, sunglasses on and curlers in her hair. She wore a black T-shirt and jeans.
‘Are you insane?’ I yelped, dragging my case and chucking it into the back before I hopped into the passenger seat. ‘You’re getting married this evening!’
‘Which is why we need to make the ferry, or my groom’s going to be pretty upset.’ Nikki grinned. ‘It’s good to see you! You seem good, are you good?’
I tapped her leg, then gripped the edge of my seat as she sped around the corner and out of the airport parking.
‘I’m good – I’m… I’m alive!’
‘You found all the stuff you needed to find?’ Nikki said.
‘What, like self-respect, comfort, happiness?’
‘No, like big pots, or old jewellery, or something? Whatever it is archaeologists find.’ Nikki snorted, swearing as a moped swerved past us.
‘Yeah, I found some old shit. It was great. Look, why are you picking me up? I was going to get a cab to the port. You’re getting married!’
‘Eh!’ She shrugged. ‘It’ll be fine. We’ve got hours. As long as these bastards start moving!’ She pressed on the horn aggressively.
‘Nikki, come on. You’re not a little bit nervous?’
My cousin paused in the traffic and looked straight at me, her Bambi lashes flickering. ‘I am fucking terrified. But I’ve just got to hope and pray that he doesn’t turn into every other husband I know.’
‘He won’t. He’s too crazy about you,’ I said. ‘Plus, you won’t let him.’
‘Hmpf.’ She nodded seriously, taking the turning for the port. I was happy to leave the noisiness of Naples behind, creep the car onto the ferry and watch as the land disappeared into the distance. We got out of the car and leant over the edge of the boat, watching the water.
‘So, have you spoken to him?’ she said.
‘Nikki, it’s your wedding day – it shouldn’t be about me and my drama, for once.’
‘Well, nothing happens here!’ She nudged me. ‘We need the drama.’
‘No drama. I am a drama-free zone!’
‘Guess you have changed, then.’ She stuck out her tongue and I knocked her with my hip. And then we talked. We talked as Ischia came into view, beautiful and simple with the green trees of the groves visible from the water. We talked as we drove off the boat and onto the familiar roads to Sant’Angelo. This time, I talked. I spoke about Antigua, and the people I worked with, and what I was part of. I told her about seeing Marjorie in Bali, and waking up at an ungodly hour every morning to do yoga as the sun rose. I talked about meeting up with Savvy on the way home, seeing her new place in Prague, and actually talking to Milo properly, sighing a little at how perfect their lives were. The way he looked at her, how easy they were in each other’s company. She deserved every wonderful thing, and yet I was just a little jealous. I was living my best life, but I kind of wanted someone to share it with.
‘I’ll ask again, have you spoken to him?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘We sent postcards, though.’
‘Lame.’
I suppose it did sound lame, but it’d always sent a little thrill through me whenever they arrived. They were always cheesy ones of Ischia: the beach, the grapes, sailboats bobbing in the harbour. I sent more serious ones, historical and boring. The notes were silly, about nothing much – sentences about finding things in the dirt, or how the grapes were better than last year. I got excited whenever I saw his chicken-scratch writing in that bright blue pen. Sometimes he just wrote about what his morning coffee tasted like, or a story Antonio had told him.
‘Does he know you’re coming?’ Nikki asked, and I raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, you know, and Allegra knows, and Nonna knows… so I’m assuming the whole village knows.’
‘Hey, you’re getting it,’ she laughed.
‘Aren’t you stressed about the wedding? Even a little worried? You’re the most relaxed bride I’ve ever seen.’
Nikki shrugged. ‘All this princess crap isn’t for me. But Mama’s friend is a wedding planner on the island, and she had a drop out, so we got a good deal. And Enzo was so pleased I finally said yes, he didn’t want to wait another five years for us to actually get married.’
‘Cool as a cucumber,’ I said, kissing her cheek. ‘I wish just once you’d freak out about something.’
‘You watch women pushing out babies, or drunk tourists in bars trying to make them, then tell me if anything freaks you out.’
She drove in that same manic way through the twists and turns of the island, and we were relatively silent as we approached Sant’Angelo. The leaves rustled and the sun shone, and everything was as it should have been. There were fewer tourists by the beach, though a determined few lazed on deckchairs in their shorts and T-shirts. I couldn’t blame them.
‘Mia!’ Allegra grabbed me as soon as I walked in the door. ‘I told her I would get you but she insisted, crazy girl.’
‘Believe me, I told her.’
Allegra held me back from her and assessed me, her eyes beady. ‘You look good.’
‘I feel good.’
‘Dirty fingernails and suntanned cheeks is a good look on you.’ Nikki stuck out her tongue again as she took the stairs two at a time.
Then, as my nonna reached up to stroke my cheek, a warm smile on her face, I asked her in Italian how she was, and told her I’d missed her. I hadn’t been wasting my time, although my skill with the language was terrible.
She looked overjoyed, tears running into the crevices around her eyes, making her look like a sad, wise owl. She
kissed my cheek and thanked me.
‘Hellooooo? Is anyone coming to help me get ready? I’m getting MARRIED today!’
Allegra shared a look with me, grabbed the bottle of prosecco that was chilling on the side, and up we went, to wonder how we ever thought Nikki wouldn’t take to being a bride.
It still shocked me that I hadn’t made the most of the island, when I’d visited. I hadn’t visited the thermal pools, the gardens, or the island off the island. I’d always respected its beauty – taken it for granted almost – but as we stood at Castello Aragonese at dusk, little candles lighting the way along the long, natural bridge that connected Castello Aragonese’s island to Ischia beside it, watching the sun set, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anything so beautiful in my life.
Nikki wore a form-fitting dress, highlighting how slim and tall she was. Her hair was pinned back, but fell loose around her shoulders, and the tiniest tiara sparkled in her glossy black hair. Enzo looked handsome, if oh-so young, as he always did. He kissed me on both cheeks and called me family.
And then the quiet hush and gorgeousness ended, and a new type of joy emerged. Family and friends, and seemingly everyone from the village, was at the castle, picking at food and dancing to the live band, talking and singing and congratulating.
I saw Antonio across the crowd and looked past him, wondering if Salvatore had accompanied him. The old man noted my look, and grinned at me as I approached. ‘I’m sorry I’m not enough.’
‘You are absolutely enough.’ I threw my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. ‘I’m sorry I left in that way, I didn’t mean—’
‘Your letter said it all, darling girl. You look well. You look happy.’
‘I am.’ I smiled. ‘I am happy.’
‘I know someone who will be heartbroken to hear it. He was hoping you’d been pining all these months, like he has.’ Antonio lowered himself gracefully, if gently, into a chair, and waited for me to ask. My heart fluttered a little.