by Helen Mcginn
‘Don’t worry, I won’t stand in the way if you have other plans.’ Tessa drained her coffee. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching the thin curl of smoke from her cigarette as it did.
‘No, not at all! I’d love that, really I would.’ Julia meant it.
It was a long, hot summer. At the start the days seemed to stretch ahead of them like a swathe of bare, untouched sand. Before long they fell into a glorious pattern of late afternoon swims in the sea, early evening picnics at the beach and endless warm nights dancing up at the big house.
In the beginning, all four – Julia, Maggie, Richard and Patrick – would head down together to the bay, but as the summer went on, Patrick and Julia found themselves alone at the beach more often than not. It was as if Maggie and Richard realised they were surplus to requirements. Not that either of them minded; a few weeks into the holidays Maggie had indeed grown tired of Richard’s company, just as Julia had predicted. And he, in turn, had moved seamlessly, if a little surprisingly, on to Maggie’s older sister.
At one end of the bay was a rock with a series of hidden caves set in the cliff behind. Each day the tide would come and wash away their footprints from their last visit. It felt like this particular spot on the beach was in on Patrick and Julia’s secret. They were happiest together, hidden from view, with nothing but the sea, sand and seagulls overhead to witness them.
For hours they talked, lying side by side on the rock. About their favourite books, music, people, places they’d been, places they wanted to visit, about what might be ahead for them. And for hours they stayed hidden from view inside a cave, their bodies pressed against each other as they lay on the cool sand. They kissed, exploring each other’s body with their hands and mouths until every curve and mark on their skin became familiar to the other.
The summer raced on and as it did, both became aware of time coming to an end. Neither wanted to think about it. Instead, Julia had insisted they lived in the very moment, just as Aunt Tessa had told her to.
But that day, when they’d found themselves lying on the rock drying in the sun before lighting a fire on the beach to cook the mackerel, eat the tomatoes and drink the cider, both knew that something between them had changed. Together they’d made a small fire from driftwood collected after their swim. And as they sat on the sand by the fire, Julia carefully turning the mackerel, their silence was charged. Patrick was the first to speak.
‘I know we only have a few days left but I want you to know—’
‘Patrick, don’t. I can’t bear to think about it.’
‘I want you to know that I love you. And even though I have to go back to Oxford, I will write, all the time. And we can see each other in the holidays. You can visit. I’ll come and see you, wherever you are.’
‘I know, I know this isn’t the end. But I can’t bear that it’s the end of this time together.’
‘Yes, but this is just the beginning, Julia. Just think, you could go to college, do your course and then when you’re qualified we can go anywhere, anywhere you want.’
‘What I want is to be with you. Right now. I mean really be with you. Patrick…’ She held his gaze.
Patrick set the bottle of cider down on the sand and reached for her hand. ‘Julia… are you…?’
‘Yes Patrick, I’m absolutely sure. In fact, I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.’ She took his hand and together they left the fire behind and headed into the cool of the cave. Lying on the sand, her hair spread out as if she was floating in water, Julia had never looked more beautiful, Patrick thought. Their bodies responded to each other’s touch, their mouths on each other’s as words became futile. Outside the cave the clouds rolled slowly across the deep blue sky, the waves washing lazily over the shoreline. Flames continued to flicker in the fire, the mackerel scenting the rising smoke with the smell of the sea.
Afterwards they lay wrapped in each other’s arms in the cave, Patrick’s fingers in Julia’s hair. She traced her fingers gently across his back.
‘How did that manage to feel so right, when everything I’ve been taught is that it’s wrong?’ Julia wondered aloud.
‘I can’t even begin to answer that.’ Patrick laughed gently, turning his head to look into her eyes. ‘All I know is that I love you. And I want us to be together.’
‘Well, thank goodness for that…’ Julia’s eyes crinkled as she smiled right back at him.
But what now bound the young lovers together would become the reason they were soon to be forced apart.
9
Jess slowly opened her eyes but the brightness forced her to shut them again. The taste of something alcoholic clung to the inside of her mouth, coating her tongue. She opened her eyes again, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. With a lurch in her stomach, she saw that this wasn’t her hotel room.
The white sheets were soft and cool under her skin, the pillows soft as marshmallows. She glanced at her watch, barely able to focus on the tiny hands. It was early, really early. The small bedroom was quiet, the open window letting in a gentle breeze. The furniture was simple: an old armchair in the corner of the room, draped with clothes. Including her orange silk dress. She moved her hand down her body, relieved to find she still had her underwear on.
She moved her feet, slowly shifting her aching frame to sitting. Placing her bare feet on the cool tiles, she pulled back her hair, twisting it to one side of her face. She grabbed her dress from the back of the chair and put it gingerly over her pounding head, looking around for her shoes.
Assuming they must have been discarded before she’d made it to the bedroom, Jess moved towards the door, gently opening it so as not to make a sound. Still silent, she thought she might just be able to get out of here without re-meeting whoever it was she’d obviously met last night. Spying her brown leather sandals by the long sofa in the sitting room, she crossed the room, scooping up her bag from the coffee table as she did so.
Jess slipped her feet into the sandals and with one hand on the handle of the front door, turned the latch with the other.
‘You are leaving already, Jess-ee-ca?’
She turned to find a man standing there, towel wrapped around his waist.
‘Hey! I thought you’d gone already. I…’
‘Is no problem, really. I made you coffee but if you’d rather go…’ He smiled, his dark eyes fixing hers. He took a sip from the small white cup in his hand, pushing back his wet jet-black hair with his free hand. ‘It’s Vito, by the way. Just in case you forgot. Honestly, I understand if you need to leave. You must get back to your sister.’
Jess wasn’t entirely sure how much she’d told him. ‘Thank you, I will. And thank you for the… drinks.’ She hoped this was all she needed to thank him for.
‘Thank you for the dancing!’ He laughed. ‘You were amazing. Seriously, I couldn’t keep up.’
The club, the dancing, the heat, the beat of the music pulsing through her body… It was coming back to her now. And it was tequila she could taste. But then: nothing.
‘Did we… did you sleep…?’
‘I sleep here, Jess-ee-ca. On the sofa. You were asleep by the time I’d gone to get us a drink when we got back. So I lifted you into my bed. And I sleep here.’ He looked at her face. ‘Please, don’t worry. I promise you. We drank, we went dancing, we ate, we talked. And then you fell asleep.’
Her voice was quiet. ‘Thank you, Vito. I’m so sorry… I really must go.’
‘Of course. Ciao, bella.’ He kissed his hand and gestured towards her. ‘But remember, your sister and your mother love you. And I know you love them. You told me. So don’t be cross. Go and find them and tell them so.’
‘Oh God, did I really give you my whole family history?’ Jess was mortified.
‘I think just the interesting bits.’ He smiled at her. ‘If you want to find good coffee on your way back, turn right at the bottom of the steps and go to the caffè on the corner before you turn left to head back to the bridge. Tell Ele
na I sent you.’
Jess wondered just how many customers Vito had sent to Elena over the years. But she couldn’t help but be touched by his kindness.
‘Thank you, I will. I’m just sorry…’
‘Please, don’t be sorry. I had a wonderful time, really.’
Jess returned his warm smile before turning and opening the door. She picked her way slowly down the steps. The sky was clear, the air gratifyingly fresh on her face. The streets were still quiet. The thought of food made her stomach turn but she longed for water and strong coffee. Pulling her thin scarf around her shoulders, Jess fixed her sunglasses in place and headed to the caffè at the end of the road.
A few moments later the smell of coffee and bread hit her before she’d even walked through the door. Elena – at least Jess assumed it was her – greeted Jess with a casual ‘Ciao’. All long dark hair and enormous brown eyes, Elena sat behind the cash register at one end of the long wooden bar. She motioned down to the other end where a young Italian man stood in front of the enormous coffee machine, talking over his shoulder to an older man propped at the bar.
‘Elena?’ Jess managed a smile and lifted her glasses. ‘Vito sent me. Said your coffee is the best.’
‘Ah, Vito. He’s a very good customer.’ Elena smiled back. ‘Let them know what you’d like. And take a table, I’ll bring you your coffee. We’re still quiet.’
Jess ordered her coffee and took a seat at a small table by the door. With her back to the wall, she watched another young waiter carefully placing exquisite pastries in rows behind the glass counter, lined up like cake soldiers. The sound of the coffee machine, the chat at the other end of the bar and of Elena greeting locals as they came in for their morning caffeine fix was almost enough to take her mind off whatever was making Jess feel that familiar sense of shame prickling at her skin – but not quite.
Elena placed a white china cup and saucer on the table, along with a glass of ice-cold water. ‘Are you sure you won’t have anything to eat?’
‘No, thank you. Though I’d kill for a cigarette.’
‘I can’t help you, I’m afraid. But if I were you, I’d have a sfogliatella – they fix ev-ery-theeng. Please, on the house.’
‘Oh, no, I really couldn’t…’
‘No, you must. I promise you will feel better.’
Jess realised she wasn’t going to get out of here without having to eat something. ‘Thank you, I’d love that,’ she lied.
A moment later a small fantail-shaped pastry arrived on a plate, dusted with icing sugar, delivered by the young waiter. Elena waved from her post behind the register. Jess raised her hand back, took a small slug of coffee and bit into the offering. Her mouth filled with wafer-thin layers of crunchy pastry and cinnamon-kissed, light custard. She closed her eyes momentarily, lost to the flavours and smells and feel of the food in her mouth. She took another small hit of hot coffee before going in for another mouthful of pastry. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten for breakfast. In fact, it was about the only thing she’d eaten for breakfast for as long as she could remember. She looked up to find Elena grinning at her from behind the giant till.
On the other side of town, Annie woke up to the sound of her phone. She lifted her eye mask and tried to focus on the numbers on the hotel clock radio: 07:05 a.m. It was James. She hit the green button and the screen filled with the wide-awake faces of the boys.
‘Mama! It’s me!’ Ned’s face was smeared with jam. Rufus jostled behind him, trying to get a better look at the screen.
‘Careful, Rufie. Let Ned talk to Mummy first.’ Hearing James’s voice in the background, Annie quickly rubbed her eyes and propped herself up against the pillows.
‘Hi, darlings!’ How are you? Are you being good for Daddy?’
‘Yes! And, Mummy, when are you coming home?’ Rufus asked out of shot.
‘Tonight, darling. You’ll be asleep, but by the time you wake up I’ll be there.’
‘Are you bringing us a present back?’ Ned, as ever, got straight to the point.
‘If you ask, you might not get,’ James cautioned.
‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get, more like.’ Annie laughed. ‘I’m sure there’ll be something, boys.’ She made a mental note to buy some T-shirts for them that day and not leave it until the airport. No doubt even a small fridge magnet would cost a small fortune there.
‘How are you getting on?’ asked James.
‘Well, it was all going brilliantly but then…’
‘Oh, no, what?’
‘Well, we met Mum. And Patrick…’
‘The old boyfriend? What’s he like?’
‘Yes, the old boyfriend. He’s lovely, actually. He and Mum are sweet together. Like they’ve known each other for ever.’
‘Well, they have, haven’t they?’
‘Yes, but they’ve not seen each other for years. Not that you’d know it. Anyway, we met up with them last night for dinner and, I don’t know, maybe it was too much wine, or sun, or both. We’d had such a lovely day. But Jess and Mum had wound each other up within a matter of moments. About being late. About Ben. About being a serial bride…’
‘Oh God…’
‘I know. Then Jess had a go at me. Called me “lucky”. I’m afraid I flipped.’
‘When you say flipped…’
‘You know, just pointed out that you make some of your own luck and she shouldn’t assume that the only reason she is on her own is because she hasn’t met the right one. She has. She did. And she didn’t want him. Literally, the whole world loves her. But she doesn’t love herself. And until she does, she’ll keep deliberately pushing people away.’
‘Wow, you really did flip.’
‘I guess I did. I do slightly blame the wine but, to be honest, we’ve danced around this for so long. It needed to be said. The stuff about Ben, I mean. Possibly not in front of Patrick, but he was very good about it.’
‘So what happened?’ James dropped a piece of bread into the toaster.
‘Well, she left the restaurant. It was all a bit awkward. I went after her but I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t answering her phone. I told Mum I’d found her, though; that we were in a wine bar. I didn’t want her to worry.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘No idea. But she’s a big girl. Probably lying in bed with a hangover, feeling sorry for herself.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Do you think I was unfair?’
‘Probably not, but you can come across as a bit, you know…’
‘No, I don’t know. What do you mean?’ Annie knew what he meant, but didn’t want to hear it.
‘Just don’t let it carry on. It’ll just get worse.’
‘You were going to say smug, weren’t you?’
‘No… well, maybe. Sometimes, a bit. Only when it’s you, your mother and your sister. It’s like you two revert to being teenagers again when you’re with her. Come on, you know that.’
Annie sighed. She knew he was right. ‘I’ll go and find her in a minute, wake her up for breakfast. Or coffee, at least. Anyway, where are the boys? It’s gone quiet.’
‘They’ve gone to watch telly.’
James! It’s six in the morning there!’
‘I know. But I’m in charge, so my rules.’ He winked at her, taking a bite of his toast. He, too, was left with a smear of jam at the corner of his mouth.
‘I dread to think…’
‘See you later, then? What time does your flight get in?’
‘Not until about eight-ish but I’ll still have time to catch a train back. As long as there are no delays.’
‘Well, enjoy your last day. What are your plans?’
‘Find my sister, say sorry and then we’ll see what happens.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Love you. Tell the boys I can’t wait to see them tomorrow. I’ve really missed them. Feels like I’ve been away for a week.’
‘Missing you too. Safe journey home.’
> As planned, Julia and Patrick had reached the Orange Garden on the Aventine Hill not long after the sun had risen. The park was practically deserted and perfectly tranquil. The city lay before them bathed in gold from the early morning sun. Clouds hung like candy floss in the sky. To the left stood the magnificent dome of St Peter’s; to the right Victor Emmanuel’s monument sat awkwardly, like an out-of-place wedding cake. Below them the Tiber cut through the city like a thick, grey snake.
Walking down a flight of grey stone steps, Patrick and Julia made their way to a hidden nook they’d found on their recce. Julia perched on the edge and peered over the low wall, looking at the city over her shoulder.
‘There really is something about this city that feels eternal, don’t you think?’
‘Exactly that.’ Patrick looked at the city through the lens of his camera.
‘I think Richard would be very happy to be here.’
‘I think he’d be very happy to know that we are here together. He always did have a soft spot for you.’
‘Patrick, he had a soft spot for practically every available female in the village…’ Julia laughed.
‘Oh, come on, he was besotted with… what was her name? Your friend? The one who lived in the big house on the hill.’
‘Maggie. Wonderful, mad Maggie. I wonder what happened to her.’
‘Did you not keep in touch?’
‘Sadly not. That was all part of the deal. No more trips to Cornwall after that.’
‘Julia, are you sure about telling your daughters what happened? I mean, you must do whatever you think is right, of course. But it will mean they might want to know more.’
‘After last night, I’m more sure than ever. I’ve kept it to myself for so many years. There was no need to tell them when they were small. But now that they’re grown up, I feel like I’m keeping something from them that, really, they have a right to know. That they might want to know…’ Patrick reached for her hand. She took it, turned her gaze back to the city. ‘And to be honest, I just don’t want to keep him a secret any more.’