‘Ciao!’ I called.
‘Ciao, Bella Ella!’
‘Is that going to be my name this whole trip, do you think?’
‘And back home. I think it has a lovely ring. Better than Laurie the Lorry.’
‘Broom-broom. Hey, did you see we have free wine in our rooms? Three bottles.’
‘What? Favouritism!’ Laurie ducked back inside for a moment, then popped back out. ‘Don’t panic, I found mine.’
We turned back to the view and I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses. It was nice to shut my eyes for a reason other than just because it was finally bedtime. After a while I found enough energy to open my mouth again. ‘Can we just forget London and move out here and own a vineyard and live happily ever after?’
‘That escalated quickly, considering you didn’t even want to meet anyone on this holiday.’
‘I’m not saying we have to find men; why don’t we do it? Me and you.’
‘Okay, darling,’ said Laurie, basking in the sunshine. ‘But I think if I made wine I’d drink all the stock.’
‘Maybe you could take stunning photos of gorgeous Tuscan scenery and sell them for thousands of pounds, and I’ll make the wine.’
‘I think you’d drink the stock too.’
‘But how happy we would be … My tummy is growling, I hope there’s food at the meet-and-greet tonight.’
‘Urgh, don’t remind me,’ groaned Laurie.
‘How am I more excited about this than you?’
‘Because my face is massive.’
There was no arguing with that. I leant my head against the window frame and considered having a nap standing up.
Laurie ruined my peace and quiet by shouting, ‘Do you want to stop ruining the peace and quiet with our shouting, and come to my room and get one of these bottles open?’
‘I’ll be right there.’ I discarded my flip-flops and pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. I never wear my hair up at home. It was nice being out of London, not caring about having perfect tresses or fancy shoes.
I padded barefoot down the hall, past a large mural of fat purple grapes, and walked straight into Laurie’s nearly identical room. She was standing in the cool of the inside, in front of the mirror, her sunglasses and scarf finally discarded.
She turned to me, and for the first time I saw the full extent of her pains: big bruised bags under her eyes, a bumpy forehead, swollen cheeks and red blotches down her neck. She looked so sad. ‘My face hurts.’
‘I know,’ I soothed, giving her a gentle hug. She let out a huge, shaky sigh.
‘I’m such an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not; you didn’t know this would happen.’
‘I just wanted to look amazing, like a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, and then have an amazing holiday.’
‘This’ll pass in no time; we’ll still have an amazing time.’
‘But now I’m going to be known here as “the girl with the botched Botox”, and everyone will think I’m some shallow princess who does this kind of thing all the time, and I don’t, I just—’ She sobbed, and tried to squeeze her eyes closed. I grabbed the bottle of white wine from the ice-filled cooler and held the cold glass up to her face. Laurie tried to steady her breathing, leaning her hot cheeks against the bottle. But she was too far gone, and with a sharp intake of Italian air choked out a sob. ‘I’m just tired of being lonely.’
‘Oh, Laurie.’ My heart broke for her. ‘This is nothing. We’ll fix your face up and no one will even notice. And don’t you realise you’re always one of the most stunning women in the room? Not just because of your bloody lovely face, but because you’re like human sunshine.’
‘Then why doesn’t anyone love me enough to marry me and start a family with me?’
‘But lots of men want to, they just haven’t been the right ones, and you’ve broken up with them.’
‘I’m so stupid.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. This is just the beginning of our “start a family” era – there’s plenty of time. I know some of our friends are already there, but don’t you think the grass is always greener? You want to be in their position, with love and security and babies, and they want to be in yours, with freedom and less responsibility.’
‘Please just help me make the most of this holiday, Elle. I don’t know where to go after here.’
‘Okay, I will be your wing-woman. This won’t be a wasted trip. Well’ – I smiled, picking up the white wine and pouring two large glasses – ‘maybe a little wasted. Now come on, the meet-and-greet is in two hours, so let’s sort out your face. Come with me.’
I grabbed the wine cooler and marched into the ensuite bathroom, dumping all of the ice into the bidet. ‘Put your face in there.’
‘In the bidet?’
‘Yes.’
‘Um …’
‘Put your face in the bidet.’
Laurie knelt on the floor and timidly pushed her face into the pile of ice.
‘Hang on, let’s add some water.’ I nudged her aside and we watched silently as the upward-facing hose spurted a cool fountain of water over the ice. We tried not to think where that water usually went. When a mini ice bath had been created, Laurie dunked her face back in. I sat on the toilet (with the seat down, we’re not that close) while she repeated the face-dunking several times and admired the bathroom. A large roll-top freestanding bath with cast iron feet sat under a window offering a panoramic of the vineyard, and opposite was a vanity table with soft lighting and scented candles. The walls were light peach, with vines hand-painted along the tops.
After a while, Laurie looked up at me between dunks. ‘This does feel good, you’re a genius. Just please don’t tell anyone here I did this. I don’t want to be the botched-Botox-bidet-facial girl.’
‘Of course I won’t.’ I sipped my wine. Oh my, it was delicious. I’m not a big fan of white wine – I think it often tastes like sick – but with one sip I realised I’d just been drinking the wrong kind. This one was icy cool and nearly transparent, with just a honey-gold hue. It had a tiny dash of sweetness and – perhaps this was also influenced by my view of a vineyard and being in Italy – it immediately made me want to eat a large plate of pasta, al fresco, and clink my glass with a lovely man. Now, where did that come from?
At that moment Laurie came up for air again and asked, ‘Do you ever feel lonely?’
‘No,’ I said, not meaning for a hint of defensiveness to come out. But Laurie was baring her soul for me, even putting her face in a bottom-cleaner for me, so she deserved a more rounded answer. ‘I mean, I’ve never been in love. Maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing, but when I think about meeting someone and having to move in together and share space, not being able to decorate exactly how I want, or watch what I want on TV, that freaks me out a bit. And I’m busy all the time anyway, with work.’
‘You’re always busy with work.’
‘It’s going to pay off in the long run: I’m doing well there.’
‘But you’re never lonely?’
Was I lonely? No, I was fine. I had plenty of time to meet someone when I’m done having ‘me’ time, if that’s even what I want to happen. I can’t be the only thirty-year-old out there who doesn’t know what they want to do with their life.
‘Well … I have a double bed which I only ever sleep on one side of. And sometimes I stand in the doorways of my house just looking into the room and wishing I had someone to talk to. So yeah, I guess I get lonely too.’ I took another big gulp of wine; we didn’t need me starting waterworks too. Laurie put a soggy hand on my knee.
‘What a great conversation to start ten days in Italia. Shall we try to get out of this funk and find a way to fix my face? That should provide some laughs.’
‘I have an idea. How tender is your skin? Can you put make-up on?’
‘Yeah, that’ll be fine, though we might use up all our make-up with one application, since my face is the size of a beach ball.’
‘O
kay, back in a mo.’ I stepped out of Laurie’s door and turned to head down the corridor back to my room when I smacked nose-first into a rather hard chest. Oof. I looked up at a tall man with dark hair and familiar dark eyes. He steadied me with his hands on my arms.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Ciao, hola, konnichiwa, g’day.’
‘Hello,’ I laughed.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello. I’m so sorry – scusi.’
‘It’s okay, are you hurt?’ He smiled at me, concerned yet amused, speaking in English but with a local accent. He reached up to touch my face at the exact moment I glanced down to check my boobs hadn’t leapt out of my dress and my nose got another thwack. ‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ He cupped my face in horror, and my eyes trailed his bare forearms and the neck of his crumpled pale blue shirt. ‘Benvenuti in Italia, please don’t sue me.’ He gave me a melting grin, like a schoolboy who’d been caught eating your Mini Eggs.
‘I’m fine, completely fine. Did my nose hurt your, um, chest?’
‘No.’
‘Or your hand?’
‘These old things? No, they’re quite … how do you say it …?’
‘Manly?’ Idiot.
‘I was going to say drawable.’
‘Drawable? Well yes, I guess they are.’
‘You know, they are tough from working hard.’
‘Oh, durable!’
‘Durable – gah! But thank you for saying they’re manly.’ He dropped his hands from my face and we stepped back from one another.
‘You’re welcome.’ Um. ‘Are you—’
‘Can I—’ he started at the same time. We chuckled and paused.
‘I’m—’
‘Did—’ The old chuckle and pause repeated itself.
‘Well, I must dash,’ I said formally, as if I was some kind of lady-in-waiting. Then followed the excruciating awkward dance, where you shuffle from side to side to pass the other person, always moving to the same direction they’re moving to. Eventually I yelped ‘Bye’ and raced past, my head ducked, and into my room. Well that was strange. Obviously I’m just feeling a bit fluttery because of our conversation and the wine, I’m not that easily won over, You Had Me at Merlot.
I grabbed my make-up bag and my iPad, but before leaving my room stopped to look at myself in the mirror. Loose dress, hair up, flushed cheeks – I looked kind of pretty. I looked carefree. Which was strange for me, because usually I think I look a little frazzled. Maybe I really did need this holiday, and maybe I should keep a bit more of an open mind.
‘You’re so drunk,’ I scolded myself.
Back in Laurie’s room I laid the entire contents of both of our make-up bags out on the writing table by the window. I then scrolled through YouTube.
‘My idea is this: one of the things I like to do as a happy singleton is experiment with YouTube beauty tutorials for hours on end, and I’ve seen one on contouring. I think I could do this on your face using your darker foundation and concealer and my lighter ones. I think it’ll make a huge difference to the appearance of the puffiness and will add your cheekbones back in. Look.’ I showed her before and after images of a pretty girl whose face had been transformed by some simple contouring tricks with make-up.
‘Let’s do it,’ said Laurie, leaning back in her chair. ‘Let me know if you need me to put down my wine.’
I started the video tutorial, and using Laurie’s concealer stick started to draw lines on her cheeks, nose and forehead. She winced a little, but was very brave. I then scribbled my lighter concealer under her eyes and at the top of her cheeks, between her brows and down the centre of her nose.
‘Finished!’ I said, and Laurie opened her eyes in surprise.
‘How do I look?’
‘Perfect.’
Laurie tottered to the bathroom and giggled. ‘I’ve never looked better. It’s like I’m going into a very girly war.’
She resumed her position and I picked up her foundation brush to start blending all the stripes together. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Better, thank you. Can I just marry you instead?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’m a little nervous about the meet-and-greet. Are you?’
‘A bit. I don’t really like talking to new people.’
‘Ah-ha! That’s why you’re single.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe you’re right – it’s a deep, psychological fear, and it’s a lot easier to just watch the Twilight movies over and over again and pretend Jacob Black is my boyfriend. You know what’s good about this holiday, though?’
‘The wine?’
‘Yes, but unlike when you go on a date with someone at work, or a friend of a friend, no one knows us here.’
‘You’re right! We can be whoever we want!’
‘Remember, you want someone to know you afterwards, so best not to lie and say you’re Victoria Beckham’s sister or anything. But you can be whatever version of you you want to present.’
‘That’s true. No one needs to know that I think my stomach is too big or that I pick my toenails.’
‘I don’t have to talk about work, which is what I talk about almost all day every day, unless it’s the weekend or if I’m on the phone to Mum when I get home late.’
‘No one needs to know that I’m jealous of people with babies.’
‘Or that I pee with my bathroom door open so I don’t miss any of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.’
‘But hang on, isn’t this hiding the real us?’
‘Not at all, I’m not saying we keep it secret, I’m just saying it’s going to be nice that we’re starting with a clean slate and can get to know people at our own pace. Well, you can.’
‘As can you. Don’t be closed off.’
I smiled, but didn’t answer. Wasn’t that the advice of the moment? First Mum, now Laurie. I’d never thought of myself as closed off – quite the opposite. Without a partner or babies I was always willing to socialise and to be the one who travelled about to visit others. When I had time and wasn’t working, of course. I finished blending and stepped back to admire my work. Not bad. Laurie definitely looked like a woman who liked to wear a lot of make-up, but there’s nothing wrong with that, and you couldn’t see any blotchiness or swelling now, and the darkness under her eyes was almost entirely gone – you wouldn’t even notice in low evening light.
Laurie looked at herself in the mirror for a long time, tilting her head this way and that. I sat back, my face to the sun, and let out the most enormous sigh.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I was just thinking about how far away from the office I am now.’
‘You’re not missing work are you?’
‘Not at all. I mean, you know I love it – I love all the craziness and business, I love knowing I’m getting better and better at something and that I’m respected, I love knowing I’m building a career, but my oh my, it’s nice to step away.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
‘I think I could sit on the veranda looking at the view for the whole holiday and be perfectly content.’
‘You’re going to join in with all the activities though, aren’t you?’
‘Absolutely, I’m going to do everything. I just mean it’s a refreshing feeling not having to be “on” or “professional” or having anyone watching my every move. And I don’t think I realised I needed refreshing until I got here.’
We sat side by side, reclining in the sunshine, for some time, eyes closed and listening to the silence. Eventually, I put down my empty glass and stood up. ‘We’ve had some very third-glass-of-wine conversations already this holiday, and we’re only on our first one. I’m going to leave you to get dressed now and I’ll come back and get you just before the meet-and-greet. Don’t go down without me.’
Laurie stood and wrapped me in a hug, tilting her work-of-art face away from mine. ‘Thanks, Elle, you’re brilliant.’
‘No problem, it’s nice to play make-up artist on someone else’s face for a chan
ge.’
‘But thanks also for coming to Tuscany with me. I know it wouldn’t have been your first choice.’
‘You’re my first choice, you big weirdo.’
‘Love you too.’
I left her room with a smile and dawdled in the corridor for a while, looking up and down at the doors. I wondered which room that man was in … I walked slowly, in the hope of another encounter, but then I realised the doors had spy holes and became paranoid that everyone was peering at me and thinking I was a pervert, so I scampered inside my room.
I wasn’t dressing to impress that evening (no I wasn’t, I told the part of my brain that immediately thought of yummy hallway man) but it was still baking at six o’clock, and because of that I was putting on a dress. Just a floaty turquoise number that was a little less travel-crumpled and sweat-smelling than the one I’d been wearing since leaving the UK. Very casual. And the thirty minutes I took pulling my hair back, taking it down, pulling it back, teasing out tendrils – that was all so I looked super-casual as well.
I knocked on Laurie’s door and was greeted by a bombshell. She’d done her eye make-up with dramatic smokiness, which balanced out the heavy face paint quite well. Her hair was in big, loose waves and her maxidress was violet ombré, the colour of unpicked grapes, with a plunging neckline.
‘Okay, I’ve tried all the wines,’ she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. ‘And I think I’m now just merry enough to be an absolute charmball at the meet-and-greet. Do I look like an extra from Dallas?’
‘Do you … want to look like an extra from Dallas?’ I asked carefully, not sure of the right answer.
‘No. I’m going for fabulous, exotic, intriguing English rose.’
‘Then you look perfect.’
‘Thank you! You look stunning too; how are you so naturally delish? You look like you should be in an Abercrombie and Fitch advert.’
I laughed. She really was a bit tipsy. We linked arms and headed down towards the wine-tasting room, which was where the do was taking place. As we reached the bottom of the stairs faint chatter got louder, indicating the party was already beginning to grow. Laurie stopped me to take a breath and then, head held high, plunged us around the corner.
You Had Me at Merlot Page 4