Euro Tripped

by Sally Bryan

  “We’ve both done some pretty shitty things these last few months, the fault is not all yours, I’m equally to blame,” I admitted and he didn’t argue.

  He turned to face me so that his shoulder rested against the wall and maybe it was the head injury but his voice was so soothing that it sounded like he’d accepted everything. “I think that maybe we were coasting so easily through our relationship that it prevented either of us from growing up. People need adversity to grow, couples need challenges to grow together, and we’ve had five easy years in a study bubble that it only needed one trip to break us.”

  And it would have happened eventually whether or not I met Arwen. “You’re making sense.”

  “You asked if I’d told your dad about being … you know.” He briefly looked away, unable to say the word and I realised that neither had he been able to say the name of the woman who’d taken me away from him.

  I smiled, “yes, you seemed happy to keep that from me at the time.”

  “Oh, what an arsehole I am.” He sniggered. “Well, I know I told him we’d broken up because I was sober when he contacted me, which was within my first few days in Gibraltar. I think he wanted to know how my proposal had gone and I told him not very well.” He left it at that but his tone suggested there was more.

  “And?”

  “And apart from that, I’m not too sure. I might have been drunk and sent a bunch of angry messages, abusing him, taking the piss out of his name, which sounds like something I was capable of in that state but I just don’t remember doing it, or not doing it.”

  My shoulders raised, “that’s easy, you can just check your messages.”

  He shook his head, “I lost that phone and I’ve no idea where, which kind of proves everything. God knows how I’ve kept my passport through all this.”

  I paused for a while and then shrugged half-heartedly, “oh well, it is what it is. If he knows then I’ll just have to deal with it.” It was hard to imagine a scenario where my dad would know I was in a lesbian relationship and he wasn’t on the first plane ready to drag me back to Scotland. It was probably about time we had that chat anyway. “I think, Gabe, you’re going to be ok.”

  “Aye, I will but what about you? Aren’t you the one giving up everything to…” he stopped because I’d slapped him on the knee and I was greatly relieved to see him making light of the situation, my life.

  “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

  “I will agree with you there.”

  I stayed behind for at least another hour as we caught up with each other because, at the very least, he’d missed me and had wondered what I’d been doing the past few weeks. I spoke about Dayna and Alessia, how I’d somehow found a new purpose, the work I was doing at the vineyard, whilst trying not to mention a certain person. He told me how he’d been so unhappy the last few weeks that even Dan had found his company hard to stand for more than a few days at a time, which was why his friend was now pretty much travelling alone with Floor.

  “I need to get back to my former self,” he admitted, “I miss the old happy guy.”

  If I’d been worried about his safety or sanity, I was now reassured. He knew what he needed to do and the nurse wasn’t concerned either because she soon kicked us out of the room.

  “No immigration holding cell?” I asked, wondering where the border guards had gone.

  He scoped the vicinity with mock urgency, “shush, you’ll wake them.” Maybe his luck was about to change.

  We were standing in an exceptionally long, narrow building that connected one part of the airport to another and there was a constant stream of people rushing to make connections. The roof was glass panelled and revealed the sight and sounds of the torrential downpour that pelted down upon it.

  “I’m really back in England, aren’t I. You should get off now before you destroy the illusion you’re still travelling.” He looked momentarily away. “Sorry I cost you your airfare.”

  “I’ll buy another … Gabe, promise me now.”

  He knew what I meant. “I’m sane, I promise and I will be ok.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and I knew this was it. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s for the best.”

  I was beholding him for the final time. “You got me through med school.”

  “And now we go our separate ways.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chianti 2

  There was no more delaying it, the procrastination had to stop now and I clamped my eyes closed as the phone rang, once, twice, thrice, if it gets to six I’ll hang up, four, five, it clicked.

  “Freya, what the bloody hell! You’d better be at the bloody airport. Shall I be coming down to collect you?”

  My heart thudded, “hi, Dad.”

  “Where?”

  “I said, hi.”

  “I know you bloody did. You’re in Inverness? You’d better bloody be.”

  I was beginning to remember why I’d put this call off for so long. Unfortunately, it could not have been postponed any longer because today was the latest I was supposed to be back home, yet here I was, still in Tuscany. Not that calling last month would have made a difference after hearing my news.

  “Dad … listen … um, I’m in Italy, near a town called Poggibonsi and…”

  “I know where Italy is! What I want to know is why you’re not in Inverness?”

  There was no easy way of saying it and my dad always wanted things told straight, so here it was. “Dad, I’m not coming back. I’ve decided to drop out of medicine and I already have a job here … a job here … working in a vineyard.” Kill me now.

  …

  …

  …

  “Hello, Dad? You there?”

  “Get back here this minute before I come over there and drag you back myself.” He boomed and I had to move the phone away from my ear.

  “Dad, I’ve thought long and hard about this decision and I’ve made up my…”

  “You’ve lost your bloody wits. That’s what travelling does. You need to get yourself back here right now.”

  “Dad, I’m stay…”

  “Where the fuck is this place?” He growled and I scrunched my eyes closed and pressed the phone against my forehead.

  “Italy.”

  “I mean where … the address … give it me!”

  And so, having no choice, I told him and now he was on his way and his voice, which I could still hear, would be in my head all day whilst I used the same to concoct my strategy, as futile as it would most probably prove to be.

  “That didn’t exactly go according to plan.” I groaned to myself.

  I’d thought long over my talking points and had even written them down because I knew that when the time came, my brain would turn to mush; Lizzie, Uncle Paul and if the convo went well, I might have mentioned I’d broken up with Gabe, that I was in a new relationship and left it at that. But I’d foolishly commenced with my plan to drop out of medicine to work in a vineyard, thinking it the least incendiary of topics to be covered, yet that was all it required for the man to blow his top.

  I collapsed back onto the bed and moaned out loud. “I should have started with the lesbian thing.”

  Speaking of Arwen, and judging from the photos, she was waiting out her prison sentence dancing, meditating on beautiful mountain vistas and snorkelling off Croatian islands, whilst I was forced to chew over what my dad knew or didn’t know and repeatedly question whether my news, what little I’d told him myself, would have been enough to prompt him dropping everything to visit, or did he know more?

  The next evening, which happened to be eighteen days into Arwen’s ninety, it appeared I would receive an answer, when Dad rumbled up the dirt track in a rented Land Rover.

  I was in my filthy overalls and took my time trudging up the slope to greet him.

  He heaved himself from the seat and slammed the door, “Trubbs,” his arms were open, the smile wide and apparently real, “come for a hug.”

  I hesitated but then
plodded forwards to accept his embrace. “It’s good to see you but you didn’t have to come out here just to…”

  If I’d been confused as to why he seemed so genuinely happy, I soon discovered why when she stepped out from the vehicle…

  In the form of a woman.

  I pulled away from Dad as my eyes adjusted on her and for whatever reason, the first word that came to mind was respectable.

  “Hello,” she said in my own Highlands accent as she walked around the vehicle, I came to meet her at the front, and we shook hands, “I’m Eleanor, it’s nice to finally meet you.” The finally was a bit of a giveaway, that they were most likely dating and had been for a while and now she appeared to be scrutinising my features, the girl from the photos, and now here in the flesh. “Gus, she’s very beautiful.”

  Dad slapped his palm against the bonnet. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  I was still recovering but managed to find enough wits to remember my name, as if she didn’t already know it. “Sorry, I’m Freya,” I cocked an eyebrow at Dad. I’d never known him with any woman besides my mother and I barely even remembered that. This might be weird for me.

  “She wasn’t about to let me come here without bringing her along.” Dad was still grinning but finally pulled his eyes away from us to survey the vineyard and whistled. “It’s wee wonder you don’t want to leave the place.”

  “Aye,” I had to quickly think whether to say more, “it’s home and I love it.” Was that too much? Probably. I was confused.

  He nodded, it was all going a little too well, which was odd, and I could only put it down to the fact we hadn’t seen each other since Christmas, maybe give it ten minutes. I glanced again at Eleanor, who was probably the other reason because she had to be having a mellowing effect on him.

  She was tall and slim, though it was hard to tell what her figure was truly like beneath her long red winter coat, having doubtless been in the mid-September Inverness climate only hours before. Her brown hair rested upon her shoulders and she had intelligent eyes in a face that gave little away through expressions, another dour Scot, and despite my putting her at thirty-five years of age, she was remarkably free of wrinkles … what never changing facial expression could do for you. Ok, Freya, stop being a bitch. I’d get used to it.

  “Where are you staying?” I finally broke the long silence. “There’s a spare room here and I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for…”

  He dismissed me by grimacing, “we’re staying at the Villa San something, so don’t worry about us … won’t be more than a few days.” He clapped his hands together. “Have you eaten? It’s been a while since I’ve devoured one of their famous Tuscan steaks.”

  “I’ve not, no.” I checked the time on my phone, I was about due to turn in for the evening and so I gestured to my filth covered overalls, “I’ll have to change first but I won’t be long.”

  “Freya?” It was Eleanor who spoke just as I was stepping away. “Is there a bathroom I could use?”

  I showed her to the facilities inside before rushing upstairs to change and then Dad drove the few miles into Poggibonsi from where we entered a restaurant called Leonardo’s.

  It was one of those family-owned places decked out to look old worldy, with vintage pans and other utensils hanging off hooks from the walls and because it was early by Italian dinner standards, the place was empty save for one couple who were speaking with American accents about seeing the Leaning Tower tomorrow.

  The waiter took one look at my dad in his brown shoes, tie, tweed jacket and cap with his overall demeanour that somehow suggested you’d best not displease him and we were ushered to the only table with a window, which had a view over twisting roads and the many vineyards behind the castle in the foreground.

  Dad and I sat as Eleanor removed her long coat and placed it over her chair, “excuse me one moment,” she said as she headed towards the bathroom.

  I watched her leave and centred on Dad. “She’s nice. Very,” I searched for the right word to use, “proper.”

  He was still watching after her then turned back to me, the warmth still in his eyes. “She’s head of the Equine Business Management department over at the University of the Highlands.” He said proudly, puffing out his chest.

  “Ooh, very specialist … a rider? … a lecturer?”

  “All of those, as well as a professor and a golfer, which is the main thing.”

  I was still trying to discern what, if anything, he knew of my situation and couldn’t work out why, after thirty-seven minutes, he still hadn’t raised the subject of the abandonment of my career. It was sure to follow, it was the reason he was here, after all.

  Eleanor returned and my dad filled her glass with water and touched her hand. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded and then the waiter returned to take our orders, we all going for the Bistecca alla Fiorentina, which arrived on its own trolley and then we watched as the waiter began to calve from the thick portion of meat that was still on the bone. It tasted beyond delicious, which made me wonder why, despite having been here so long, I’d only tried it that one time with Dayna and Arwen.

  Dad finished first by a long way. “I was last in these parts with your mother, before you were born, before it became such a tourist trap. They’re everywhere … God’s sake … and we’ve barely even touched down.” He grunted and gestured out the window as though there were tourists out on the veranda. “We counted twelve tour groups all waving those silly bloody flags, all swarming around the walls at San Gimignano, and they were just the ones we could see, we didn’t go inside.” He rubbed a piece of bread over whatever meat residue still remained on his plate. “At least the steak’s still the same though. How are you finding it?”

  This was to Eleanor and because she was chewing, politely raised her eyebrows in appreciation.

  “Not too warm are you, my dear?” He asked and titled his face up towards the ceiling, as though doing so might somehow regulate the room temperature.

  She hastily swallowed, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

  Who’d have thought my dad was such a considerate, um, boyfriend, which almost made me cringe to think. And he’d been considerate to us both by not raising the obvious subject in front of Eleanor because it had the potential to become heated, which would only have embarrassed her. That was also the reason I hadn’t yet brought it up myself, it had nothing to do with being a coward, honest.

  The restaurant began to fill with people and then Dad’s next words proved I’d maybe thought too soon. “I’m happy you dumped that other one, by the way. I won’t say his name because the less said about that man-child the better,” he glanced at Eleanor who made little reaction, “what a fanny he was,” his eyes were briefly distracted by the arrival of a trolley that went to the very next table and then a platter lid was lifted to reveal another steak, “I could certainly eat it all over again, anyway, Trubbs, you can find a much better man with ease,” he said and I wondered if I’d heard a strange emphasis on the ‘man’ or maybe I was just going paranoid. “No, you were right, because you’re moving up. There’ll be other doctors where you’re going and they’ll be queueing up to date you, just wait and see.” There it was. “Now…” he paused with a jabbing finger mid-air because Eleanor had touched his shoulder.

  “Excuse me, one moment.” She stood and her heels clipped against the flags on her way to the bathroom, which had to have been her third visit, not that I was keeping count.

  “Yes, my dear,” he stared after her then turned back to me, “where was I, ah yes, now … you’re coming home. No, don’t interrupt … you were meant to have been back today at the bloody latest and instead, I find you still here, prancing about in a Tuscan vineyard looking like a bloody farmer. Look here, you’ve had your fun, and I’ve kept quiet about it because you deserved it but now you must come home and go to whichever hospital you promised you were going to attend.” His voice had risen in volume since Eleanor left and I sensed it was only the
beginning.

  “Dad, I made no such promises to any hospital because I made my mind up weeks ago that I didn’t want to leave here.” It was remarkable how quickly my accent had descended back to broad Highland.

  “Aye, and kept it to yourself, which is why you’re bloody lucky I play golf with the Chief Executive at Inverness, both of them, as well as the Chief Surgeon … had him and his wife over just the other week. You could say I had a feeling you were about to piss away your future,” Gabe had to have blabbed something there, “and you cost me a forty-one-year-old bottle of Glenglassaugh, and I can’t tell you how much that was worth, but I was glad to do it, cos you’re my absolute last fucking hope, even if your options are now down to one and even that’ll fag out if you’re not sharp, so don’t make me drag you back by the bloody hair, because you know I will.” His face had reddened to the shade of a tomato and my next words would take the kind of courage I’d never shown in front of my dad.

  I gripped the table, “Dad, like I told you on the phone, I’ve decided to stay here.”

  There, I’d said it and now his eyes widened and the vessels in his face seemed to enlarge and he was just about to shout and cause a scene when Eleanor’s return was perfectly timed, in fact, it had the surreal effect of snapping him into another person, almost like a Jekyll and Hyde type being. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  She rested her hands on her coat. “I’m a little tired, Gus.”

  “Right! Il conto!” He surprised me by cutting the evening dead and waving at the waiter, who ran towards us and Dad settled the bill before driving me back to the vineyard.

  “It was nice meeting you, Eleanor,” I told her but Dad cut in before she could respond.

  “I’ll be back to deal with you in good time.”

  And I believed him.

  Though I was lucky to have a one day respite, on account of being away for most of it, carrying out errands, visits to the wholesalers, some local deliveries and of course, collecting the labour from Siena. However, an evening conversation with Dayna revealed my dad had stopped by.