This Changes Everything

by Helen Mcginn

  They turned and headed through citrus-scented, statue-laden gardens towards the edge of the park, down a flight of wide stone steps into the piazza.

  ‘This,’ said Annie, angling her phone and pointing towards the obelisk in the middle, ‘used to be in the Circus Maximus. God knows how they got it here.’

  ‘You’re talking about a city that built the Colosseum. I’m pretty sure moving that wasn’t a problem.’ Jess took in the wide oval space in front of her, the gate to her right, twin churches to her left. ‘Where now?’

  ‘Over there.’

  ‘What, that?’ Jess looked towards a rather plain-looking building standing quietly in the corner.

  ‘Yep. That’s the one.’

  They climbed the steps into the church, the simplicity of the white stone pillars and wooden pews seemingly a foil to the colour and creativity housed in the chapels along each side.

  ‘Now, I think it’s this way.’ Annie led the way, Jess following behind as she shoved her sunglasses onto her head. They turned right and headed towards the first chapel at the back. There, in the middle of the wall, was a Nativity scene, just as Annie had said.

  Annie stood motionless in front of the painting. Her eyes moved from the scene – a baby, an adoring mother – to the surrounding arch covered in carvings of plants and flowers.

  ‘I like the colour of the roof.’ Jess motioned to the deep blue on the vaulted roof, painted with tiny golden stars. A voice from behind, so familiar and yet totally out of place, made them turn to one another, eyes wide.

  ‘Now this is the one I was thinking of. Still can’t remember his…’

  ‘Mum!’ Jess and Annie chorused, spinning round at exactly the same time. Both stood, gawping at their mother.

  ‘Girls! What on earth are you doing here?’ Julia’s face was a picture.

  ‘Oh, Mum, I’m so pleased to see you!’ Annie threw her arms around her mother.

  ‘Hi, I’m Jess.’ Extending a hand to the obviously bemused man standing to the side of Julia, Jess flashed a smile at her mother.

  ‘Er, hi! I’m Patrick.’ He smiled back, putting out his hand to Jess, then Annie.

  ‘Hello, Patrick.’ Annie tried not to stare. He looked so like the photo her mother had shown her except for the hair, now grey rather than dark.

  ‘Hello, darling.’ Julia hugged Jess before standing back to look at them both. ‘This is extraordinary! What are you doing here? Did you come to keep an eye on me?’ She laughed, fixing them with a look: I know you did.

  They spoke at once.

  ‘No!’ Annie replied, nervously.

  ‘Yes, actually. We did.’ Jess looked at Annie. ‘Shit, we should have rehearsed that bit.’

  ‘Yes, you should have done!’ Julia turned to Patrick beside her. ‘Patrick, meet my girls. How extraordinary!’

  ‘It really is lovely to meet you. I’ve heard lots about you. Your mother is clearly very proud of you both.’

  ‘How funny. Because we don’t know anything…’

  ‘Well, we hadn’t planned to bump into you exactly.’ Annie spoke over her sister. ‘It was just that when you said you were coming to Rome, I realised that I desperately wanted to see the city, too. I’ve never been. And Jess had a few days off work…’ Annie looked at her sister, hoping for backup.

  ‘Yes, exactly.’ Jess nodded. ‘And we never get time away alone so we thought, well… let’s just go! We didn’t think we’d see you. Honestly.’ Jess could feel the red rising in her cheeks as she spoke.

  ‘Well, now we’re all here, we should meet up for dinner tonight. That is, if you haven’t got plans already?’ Patrick looked from one sister to the other, then to Julia.

  ‘Well, we… um…’ said Annie, slowly.

  ‘No, we haven’t.’ Jess sounded firm.

  ‘Great. We were going to eat somewhere near our guesthouse tonight, down in Trastevere.’

  ‘We’re staying at this end of town, just over the river. Could we go somewhere in the middle?’ There was an edge to Jess’s voice.

  ‘Yes, of course. Do you know anywhere?’ If Patrick thought Jess was being a little frosty he was too polite to let it show.

  ‘Yes, I do, actually. A fish restaurant.’ Jess racked her brain for the name of the place her PA had mentioned. ‘It’s called something like…’

  ‘La Rosetta, I know it. We’ll book a table for nine o’clock tonight on our way back this afternoon,’ said Patrick.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Jess forced a small smile.

  ‘Great, see you there. Look forward to catching up, Mum.’ Annie kissed Julia on the cheek.

  ‘Me, too, darling.’ Julia laughed, delighted at the kismet of it all. She hugged Jess. ‘It’ll be so nice to hear all your news. It’s been an age since we’ve caught up properly. Make sure you see the Caravaggio paintings before you go,’ she added as she headed towards the door.

  ‘We will!’ Annie called after her, only to be met with a glare from a fellow tourist, clearly trying to have a moment of quiet contemplation in one of the pews at the back of the church. ‘Sorry,’ she stage-whispered. ‘Scusi.’

  Jess watched as her mother and the man they knew little about stepped out from the church and into the just visible bright light of the afternoon. Patrick placed a hand in the small of Julia’s back as they disappeared from view. ‘Oh my God. Sorry if that’s inappropriate but…’

  ‘I know. I wasn’t expecting that. And Mum, acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world!’

  Jess dragged her eyes away from the door and back to Annie. ‘Well, she looks like she’s having a wonderful time. He doesn’t look like a serial killer. He could still be a conman, though. I think they’re more difficult to spot.’

  Annie laughed, once again disturbing the tourist, still in not-so-quiet contemplation. ‘She looked fine. And no engagement ring, at least as far as I could see,’ she whispered, winking at her sister.

  ‘Thank God. Right, can we please go and find a Bellini now. I’ve done the painting bit.’ Jess started towards the door.

  ‘Yes, just as soon as we’ve seen the Caravaggio paintings in the other chapel over there. C’mon, we’ll be really quick.’

  ‘OK. But after that, no more paintings until we’ve had a drink.’

  ‘Deal,’ said Annie, pulling a reluctant Jess by the arm to the front of the church.

  ‘So, you really had no idea they were here?’ Patrick couldn’t help but show the amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Honestly, I didn’t. I mean, I know the girls worry about me from time to time, but that’s because I’m getting old. And I think they worry about me being on my own. But to follow me out to Rome…’

  ‘Well, they knew you were coming out to meet me. And they wanted to make sure you were OK, at least be on hand if you suddenly needed them.’

  ‘I think you’re being too generous, Patrick. They were definitely spying. To see who I was with, to make sure I didn’t come back married, I should think.’

  ‘Why, have you done that before?’ He placed his camera on the table.

  ‘Well, yes, I have, to be fair. I left that one out when filling you in the other night. It is the one I’d rather forget, to be honest.’ Julia felt embarrassed, a feeling she wasn’t used to.

  ‘What happened?’ Patrick handed Julia a small, chilled flute of sparkling wine. By now back in Trastevere, they sat alone on the rooftop terrace of their guesthouse, the dipping sun casting long shadows across the piazza. The tourists below walked slowly, the heat of the day and the miles covered having taken their toll on their now-tired limbs. The Romani, on the other hand, walked with a light spring in their step, having escaped their offices for the day.

  Julia took a sip of her drink, the cool, frothy liquid spreading across her mouth. She swallowed, savouring the flavours. ‘Goodness, that’s gorgeous. Tastes of pears. Absolutely delicious.’

  ‘It’s from Cartizze, the best area for Prosecco. It’s not easy to find at home; the Italians drink most
of it.’ Patrick raised his glass to Julia across the table.

  ‘Cheers. I’m not surprised.’ Julia took another sip and put her glass back on the table. ‘So, the one I didn’t tell you about was Simon. Bit of a monster, as it turned out.’

  ‘What happened?’ Patrick picked up his glass.

  ‘Well, at first it was lovely. He was lovely. After David and I had separated, I was honestly quite happy to be on my own. I had the girls, of course, so I wasn’t really on my own. But I was fine with my own company most of the time. And I certainly didn’t think I’d marry again so soon. But then, we went on holiday and, well, I just got carried away. You know, with the thrill of it all. And I came back married. The girls were furious.’

  ‘How long were you married for?’ Patrick tried not to sound as surprised as he was.

  ‘Not quite three years. Quite long enough, though. He was a drinker. And not a happy drunk.’ Julia looked down at the table. She picked up her sunglasses and put them on, the orange light reflecting back at Patrick from her lenses. ‘How long have you had that camera?’

  Patrick accepted the deliberate change in conversation without question. ‘That one’s almost thirty years old. I got it just before the Berlin Wall came down.’

  ‘Were you there when it did?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. I was in Afghanistan, covering the Civil War. I was there on and off for a couple of years.’ Patrick took an olive from the bowl on the table, offering them to Julia as he did. She shook her head.

  ‘When did you decide you wanted to be a war photographer?’

  ‘Not long after you… we parted. I’m afraid I dropped out of university. My heart just wasn’t in it. I went back home and started doing jobs for the local paper as a photographer. No formal training, of course, but somehow I managed to persuade the chap in charge I could do it. At first it was covering weddings, openings, that sort of thing. But then I got sent to the local court house one day to get a picture of a man accused of something or other, can’t remember what exactly. And getting the picture was… well, it wasn’t just about being in the right place at the right time. It was about capturing the moment, despite what was going on around me. That’s when I knew I wanted to do more. The power of a great photograph, you know?’ Patrick popped the olive in his mouth.

  ‘How did Kathy feel about you doing that for a living? Being a war photographer.’ Julia draped her scarf loosely around her shoulders.

  ‘Well, obviously she didn’t like it much. But she knew when she met me that that was what I wanted to do. In fact, by the time we met I was working as a photographer for one of the big agencies. I was away quite a lot from the beginning. And I was young then, I took risks. So I got good pictures. And good pictures meant more work. Vicious circle, quite literally. But I knew I didn’t want to end my career wearing my boots, as it were. I knew that at some point, my luck would run out. The trick is getting out before it does.’

  ‘So when did you? Get out, I mean.’

  ‘The children were still relatively young. Coming back to “normal” life was hard. I loved the job. But I loved my family more. So I came back after about ten years and joined Kathy at the university as a lecturer. But after a few years I knew I had to go back. My pictures made a difference. And as awful as it might be, wherever I was I had the option to leave.’

  ‘You went back?’ Julia was aghast.

  ‘Yes, I did. And, well, that’s when I got shot. Only in the leg, but enough to give me the wake-up call I needed. After that, I never went to the front line again.’ Patrick finished his glass.

  ‘I’m not surprised! I think you were one of the lucky ones.’

  ‘We’re all the lucky ones. Not living in a war-torn country, I mean.’ He smiled across the table. ‘I was a terrible dinner guest for years.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Julia returned the smile. ‘But for what it’s worth, you’re a wonderful one now.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’ He laughed gently.

  ‘Now, I know I sound old but I’d quite like a quick nap and a long bath before we head out to meet Jess and Annie later. Would you mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I might head out for a short walk. This light is going to be too good to miss.’ Patrick glanced up at the sky, a pink glow now starting to creep across the blue.

  ‘Of course. Wonderful idea. So, meet you downstairs in a couple of hours?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Across the river, Jess and Annie sat at a table each with a small Bellini in front of them.

  ‘Tosca threw herself from those walls. To her death.’ Annie gestured to the giant round building standing guard on the bank of the Tiber behind them.

  ‘How gruesome.’ Jess reached for her glass and took a sip of her drink. ‘God, at last. I’ve been looking forward to that for hours.’

  ‘She was tricked into killing herself because she thought the man she loved didn’t love her any more. But actually, he did. And he had all along. She just didn’t know it,’ Annie picked up her glass, ‘until it was too late.’

  ‘What are you getting at, Annie?’

  Jess knew exactly what her sister was getting at. But however much Annie was dying to press her, Jess knew that she wouldn’t go any further. The only person to really push Jess on her love life was Julia – and the last time she’d broached the subject it had ended in six weeks of angry silence. Annie had eventually brokered the peace deal. Again.

  ‘Nothing! Really, I’m just pointing out that the ending of one of the most tragic operas ever written took place behind your right shoulder. That’s all.’ Annie’s took a gulp from her glass, looking up at the statue that topped the building, like a stone cherry on top of an enormous cake.

  ‘That doesn’t really narrow it down. They’re all pretty tragic, as far as I can tell. Look at poor Carmen! And Mimi dies of TB. Give me a good ballet any day.’

  ‘They’re not much better. The Swan Princess and the Prince throw themselves into the lake! It’s all too tragic. I can’t think of one with a happy ending.’

  ‘I guess it’s easier to move an audience with a tale of tragedy than one of plain happiness. People love a drama.’

  ‘I’m too tired for drama…’

  ‘How long have we got until we meet Mum and Patrick?’

  Annie glanced at her watch. ‘A couple of hours. Shall we go back to the hotel for a bit? Quick shower and change… Oh my word, look at that…’ Annie was looking beyond Jess towards the sky. Behind her sister, an enormous cloud of birds moved as one across the dusky backdrop.

  Jess turned to watch the show. ‘Starlings. Looks like some sort of weird organism, doesn’t it?’

  They watched for a moment, captivated by the constantly changing form and direction.

  ‘Hypnotic, isn’t it?’

  Jess drained her glass. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  7

  Patrick stood by the small fountain in the piazza across from their guesthouse, watching a series of small plays unfold. There was the husband and wife laying tables outside the front of their small trattoria. Although both looked to be in their seventies, they moved quickly, carrying trays loaded with glasses and crockery, stopping to place carafes of water on tables as they passed. The scent of bread wafted across the square; a few tables already occupied by hungry tourists.

  Two young boys raced around the square, the older of the two holding a giant plastic wand that left a stream of enormous bubbles, each one floating gently out of reach, much to the younger boy’s annoyance.

  Looking up towards the tops of the buildings surrounding the piazza, Patrick saw an elderly woman take her washing off the line whilst her husband watered geraniums in pots placed around the edge of the terrace overlooking the piazza.

  The sun was yet to set, the dark blue sky mostly clear bar a few streaks of cloud tinged with pink light. Patrick had just had time to change his shirt and throw water on his face. All that walking had left him hungry and thirsty. He checked his watch – a few minutes after eight – a
nd looked across to the door of the guesthouse just as Julia stepped out.

  Dressed in a pale green linen shirt, long white trousers and with her silver hair drawn back loosely off her face, she looked, Patrick thought, just as she had when they first met. Not exactly, obviously, but she had that same look; one that expected only good things to happen. He loved that about her. She smiled and waved at Patrick across the square.

  Maybe he had seen too much, become too worn over the years. But being with Julia made him dare to look forward to what lay ahead for the first time in years. After Kathy died he’d gone through the motions; saw friends, tried to keep busy. He didn’t want his children to worry about him, to be a burden in any way. But his life felt rather like a faded photograph, the colour drained.

  Being here, filling his senses with different sights, smells and sounds was making him feel properly alive – something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He wanted to engage with life again.

  Earlier, on his walk back, he’d taken pictures of doorways, of rows of motorini lined up against the walls of endless narrow, cobbled streets and of people sitting on chairs at the bottom of stone stairways. Sometimes they were talking, others were simply watching. Around every corner was a new frame, seemingly waiting for Patrick to capture it. Life was everywhere; interesting, with form and energy. Watching Julia come out of that doorway, smiling and waving, was the most perfect shot of the day.

  ‘You look wonderful.’ He offered her his arm.

  ‘Well, thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself,’ Julia laughed, putting her arm through his. ‘Right, where are we off to?’

  ‘It’s about a fifteen-minute walk, back up near the Pantheon.’

  ‘I think I can cope. Got my sensible shoes on.’ She smiled and motioned to her silver trainers.

  ‘So you have, very sensible. Right, this way. Watch out for the bubbles.’ The two boys scampered past, the younger one shouting after the other, trailing them as he went.

  The colours of the buildings around them looked different in this light, muted but still magical.