by Lindsey Kelk
Paige pulled her phone out of her pocket and stood up, dark, wet stains all over her short grey sweater dress. We were messy drunks. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, waving the phone in our general direction.
‘OK, it’s nearly midnight,’ Kekipi said, watching while Amy struggled to open the bottle of vodka, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. ‘And we haven’t danced at all.’
‘I need a wee,’ I said, standing on shaky legs. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘We’ll be on the dance floor,’ Amy called, taking Kekipi by the hand and dragging him across the room, pushing tables out of the way and moving back and forth on a nonexistent dance floor, completely out of time with the music.
‘Scusi,’ I mumbled, bumping into a mirror on my way across the bar and trying the toilet door. Locked.
‘You’re drunk,’ I told my reflection as I fished my phone out of my bag. ‘Shame on you.’
With one more disgusted look in the mirror, I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweater and looked around for another toilet. I tiptoed through the little tables, smiling and waving at the other patrons until I pushed open a door and found myself outside.
‘This isn’t the toilet,’ I announced.
‘It really isn’t,’ a tall, copper-haired man replied, striding towards me across the piazza.
‘Charlie!’ I slapped my friend in the chest and laughed. ‘What are you doing here? Wait, you are here, aren’t you?’
‘Good God, you’re drunk,’ he said, smiling his crooked, bright-eyed smile. ‘Yes, Tess, I’m here.’
‘You’re here,’ I said, dropping my head onto his chest and breathing in his total Charlie-ness. ‘Why?’
‘For the wedding,’ he replied, grabbing hold of my wrists as I stumbled backwards into a gaggle of Italian smokers. ‘Paige invited me—’
‘Scusi,’ I said, very loudly before turning back to Charlie with a look of pride. ‘I speak Italian now. Paige invited you? To the wedding?’
‘Yes, and technically, I think you did too but you didn’t have an official plus one like she did,’ he nodded, offering the smokers an apologetic smile. ‘Are you OK? Should we call you a taxi?’
‘I’m fine,’ I promised, swiping my hair out of my face and poking myself in the eye. ‘I get it. Paige invited you because she hates Nick but it’s not going to work, is it?’
‘What isn’t going to work?’ he asked, looking around for back-up.
‘Me and you,’ I whispered. ‘I know you love me but I don’t feel that way any more and I’m really sorry.’
‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, a puzzled smile on his face. ‘Is this why you didn’t reply to my Christmas card? You thought I was making a move?’
‘I might be slightly tipsy right now but the note was pretty clear.’ I slapped his chest. ‘There aren’t that many ways to interpret “I love you”, are there?’
Charlie pushed my shoulders upright as I began to stagger forwards.
‘Tess, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘Of course I love you, as a friend – but I thought we’d cleared all the other stuff up?’
‘I do love you, just not like that,’ I went on, reaching out to stroke his face but accidentally slapping it instead. ‘Although Amy says the best way to get over Nick is to get under a sexing. Or something.’
‘I don’t think that’s exactly what she said,’ Charlie replied. ‘Where is Amy? Can you stand up on your own if I go in and find her? Have you seen Paige?’
‘We’ve totally done it before,’ I whispered with an elaborate wink. ‘We should just do it again. As long as we agree that it doesn’t mean anything and that it’s just sexing, we should totally do sex.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ he said with a laugh as I lurched towards him with my arms outstretched. ‘You’re very drunk, Tess. You’re more drunk than you were at the graduation ball.’
‘I wanted to have sex with you then as well,’ I said, kissing his ear. ‘But you didn’t even notice. Look, mistletoe!’
‘Where?’ Charlie looked up and I launched myself on him.
‘There isn’t any,’ I replied. ‘Shhh.’
‘Tess, pack it in,’ Charlie tried to unravel himself from my arms as I smothered his cheek in kisses. ‘I mean it.’
‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ I grabbed hold of his face and looked him in the eye. ‘You’re my Charlie.’
Leaning in, I touched my lips to his. He resisted but wasn’t this what everyone kept telling me? I was Tess Brookes, I didn’t give up without a fight. Especially not when I’d had a couple.
‘Oh.’
Charlie broke away, pushing me gently backwards, keeping a tight grip on my wrists. I blinked and followed his gaze to see Paige in the doorway of the bar, her phone in her hand and a devastated look on her face.
‘Oh no,’ I gasped. ‘Are they out of limoncello?’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘Paige!’ Charlie let go of my hands as though they were on fire and I immediately crumpled to the ground.
‘I’m going back to the house,’ Paige said with a decisive sniff. ‘I suggest you find a hotel.’
‘Shit.’ Charlie looked at Paige, then down at me. He grabbed me round the waist and hoisted me to my feet. ‘Paige, she’s drunk, it‘s nothing.’
‘It’s nothing,’ I agreed. ‘Wait, what’s going on?’
‘Just stay here.’ Charlie deposited me on a cold metal chair and pressed his hands on my knees. ‘And don’t move.’
Running his hands through his hair and straightening his collar, he ran across the piazza to where Paige had stalked off and was arguing with a taxi driver. I looked up to see an old man in the seat beside me, a rolled-up cigarette frozen in midair in front of his face.
‘Buongiorno,’ I said, nodding.
‘Buonasera,’ he replied, licking the cigarette paper.
‘No,’ I shook my head and prodded myself in the chest. ‘Tess. Not Sarah.’
‘What is going on out here?’
Kekipi and Amy barrelled out of the bar, clinging to the doorframe as they spotted me.
‘Paige and Charlie are arguing,’ I said. ‘And I made a new friend,’ I added, patting my table neighbour on the shoulder.
‘Why are they arguing?’ Kekipi asked. ‘Do they even know each other?’
‘Why is Charlie here?’ Amy asked. ‘Oi, cockwomble!’
‘That doesn’t look much like arguing to me,’ Kekipi grabbed hold of my shoulder. ‘Are they kissing?’
‘Noooo,’ I said, rising to my feet and struggling to focus on what was happening. Charlie and Paige were face to face and well, it did look a bit like they might be kissing but they couldn’t be, could they? ‘Amy, why is Charlie kissing Paige?’
‘Oi, cockwomble,’ she bellowed across the piazza. ‘Why are you kissing Paige?’
I watched as the two of them walked back towards us.
They were holding hands.
‘I wanted to talk to you about this,’ Charlie started. ‘Before.’
They were holding hands.
‘But I didn’t really know how.’
‘Nothing’s really happened,’ Paige added, her head ducked low, her face sheepish. ‘Not really. We both wanted to talk to you first, that’s why he’s here. Tess, are you OK?’
They were holding hands. Paige and Charlie were holding hands.
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I replied, flushing hot and cold from head to toe.
‘Me too,’ Amy said pointing at Paige. ‘This is gross, you can do better.’
‘No, really.’ I spun around and fell to my knees, one hand in my hair, the other propping me up against the wall of the bar as I threw up half a bottle of vodka into a Milanese gutter.
‘Now it’s a proper bachelor party,’ Kekipi declared joyfully. ‘Congratulations me!’
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Rise and shine!’ Kekip
i knocked on my bedroom door then opened it without waiting for a response. ‘I have snacks.’
‘Don’t bring them in here unless you want me to throw up again,’ I warned him from underneath the cold, wet flannel that was draped across my face.
‘Charming,’ he replied. ‘Suck it up, it’s my wedding day and I want a bacon sandwich.’
‘Why don’t you have a hangover?’ I asked, as he pottered around my room, picking things up, turning them over and putting them down, like a middle-aged Hawaiian toddler. ‘Why do you look so well?’
‘Wedding miracle,’ he replied, turning up his nose at the tampon holder he had pulled out of my handbag. ‘I’m getting married today, can you believe it?’
‘Are you excited?’ I sat up in my bed, trying to stay as still as possible. Still was good. He sat down in the armchair by the bed and began to eat a bacon sandwich I desperately wanted but didn’t dare attempt. ‘Is Domenico excited?’
‘We’re both thrilled,’ he said. ‘No, really, we are. Only I’m incapable of saying anything and not having it sound sarcastic at the moment. It’s all very strange.’
‘Try and knock that off before the vows,’ I suggested. ‘I’m not convinced your husband will be entirely happy about it.’
He shrugged and dove face down.
‘Then he should have agreed to eloping to Hawaii like I suggested,’ he said into the duvet. ‘Remind me to ask him what fabric softener they use here – it smells divine and I want this at home.’
‘Where is home going to be?’ I pressed the flannel underneath my eyes, hoping it would do something about the bloodshot monsters I had just seen in the mirror. ‘Where are you two going to live?’
‘Something else we probably should have discussed before now.’ He pulled up his head and rested on his forearms. ‘Who would have thought two middle-aged men who have spent their entire careers organizing the homes and lives of other people would be so ill-prepared to organize themselves?’
I lowered the flannel.
‘Me?’
‘Touché,’ he replied. ‘Have you spoken to Miss Paige? Or, wait, I don’t know Charlie’s last name.’
‘Wilder,’ I winced. ‘And no.’
‘And how do we feel about their little romance?’
‘Not good,’ I said, not feeling especially good about anything, really. ‘I know I don’t want to go out with him but that doesn’t mean I want my friend to go out with him. Is that bad?’
‘Are you sure you don’t mean, you don’t want him to go out with your friend?’ he asked.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, moving the flannel up onto my forehead. ‘I can’t believe I kissed him. I’m going to have to apologize to her.’
‘Apologize to Paige for kissing your ex who you didn’t know she was in love with?’ he asked. I raised my eyebrows at the L word and felt my stomach lurch. ‘Fine, in filthy lust with.’
‘It makes perfect sense,’ I admitted. ‘She’s totally his type.’
‘What, walking and breathing?’ Amy asked, letting herself in. ‘Ooh, bacon sandwiches.’
She bounced across the bed and my stomach lurched. Surely I’d puked all it was ever possible to puke?
‘Happy wedding day!’ She kissed Kekipi on the cheek and snatched the bacon sandwich out of his hand. ‘You shouldn’t eat this, you’ll get fat. I’ll take it off your hands.’
‘We’re discussing Chaige,’ he told her, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘Or Parlie.’
‘Well, neither of those are going to catch on,’ I muttered. ‘They’re doomed.’
‘They are,’ Amy agreed. ‘Wait until I get my hands on them. You don’t shag your mate’s ex. It’s bang out of order, Tess. I mean, I expect it of that wankpaddle Wilder but I thought more of Paige.’
‘I knew she was interested in someone but she said it was complicated.’ I groaned lightly. ‘Now I know why.’
‘I don’t know why she couldn’t be honest about it.’ Amy shook her head. ‘It’s sneaky.’
‘I feel like they’ve been lying to me,’ I admitted. ‘And it makes me not want to see them right now. That whole people talking behind your back thing.’
Not to mention that whole snogging one of them against his will thing.
‘What I don’t understand,’ Amy said, pulling a slip of paper out from the back pocket of her jeans, ‘is why he sent you the note. It’s a bit bloody emo for a job offer.’
‘Give it here.’ I held out my hand and sat up, the flannel flopping into my lap. I smoothed it out, as puzzled as Amy by Charlie’s motives.
‘Oh, no.’
‘What?’ Amy asked thickly through a mouthful of sandwich.
‘Oh no, no, no,’ I couldn’t take my eyes off the note. ‘It’s not from Charlie.’
Opening the drawer in my bedside table, I pulled out my passport and shook out Nick’s note. Nick’s first note. The paper was exactly the same, the faint blue grid pattern on a heavy cream background, and the handwriting … I would have known it anywhere.
‘You’re kidding me.’ Amy put down her sandwich. This was serious business. ‘Don’t tell me it’s from him?’
‘It’s from Nick,’ I said, comparing the two notes. I looked up at my best friends. ‘Even when he thought I’d ignored all those letters. Even after I showed up and was a total arse and stormed off. What do I do?’
The handwritten note. The bespoke camera case. They were so completely and utterly Nick Miller. How could I have not known?
‘Call him!’ Amy yanked my phone out of the wall socket and threw it at me. ‘Call him, Tess. Fuck, he’s walking about thinking he told you he loves you and you haven’t even replied. What a cow.’
‘Call him now,’ Kekipi advised in his best soothing manner. ‘He’ll understand.’
The pair of them stared at me with huge round eyes.
‘I can’t, can I?’ I pulled on my ponytail and made tiny, frustrated fists. ‘I tried to call before when I got the letters and he’s blocking my number. So what, I’m supposed to sit around and wait for him to call me? When is soon? What is soon supposed to mean?’
‘Use my phone,’ Amy said, throwing her mobile at my face. ‘He won’t know the number.’
Well, there was a bright idea we hadn’t bloody well thought of before.
‘Is it OK if I don’t do it here?’ I asked. ‘I need a minute.’
‘Of course,’ Kekipi said, even as Amy opened her mouth and shook her head. ‘Whatever you need.’
‘I’m just going for a quick walk,’ I said, pulling my New York hoodie on over my pyjamas and slipping my phone into the pouch. ‘Clear my head first.’
‘Don’t go far,’ Kekipi warned. ‘I don’t want to be late for my own wedding because I’m Tess hunting. You’re booked in for hair and make-up first, all that hair of yours. We’ll meet you in the dressing room.’
‘I’ll be there,’ I promised, sliding my feet into my trainers. ‘Just make sure Amy gets properly hosed down.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘She’ll be a regular Eliza Doolittle by the time you come back. From about a third of the way through the film.’
She frowned, sniffed her own armpit and shrank away from herself.
‘Fair dos,’ she said. ‘I am a bit ripe.’
‘So classy.’ I picked up my coat and left them alone on my bed. ‘She’s going to make the most elegant bridesmaid.’
‘Are you OK?’ Kekipi asked as I struggled to open my own door. ‘Do you want us to come?’
‘No, really,’ I said, not quite able to smile. ‘I won’t be long. I need a minute.’
A minute, a new brain and a time machine, I thought to myself. And then everything would be just fine.
After a brief pitstop in the kitchen, I pushed open the door to my secret garden behind the palazzo, cup of coffee in one hand and two stolen pastries in my pocket, and immediately felt calmer. I’d discovered this place the first time I’d visited Al in Milan and it had been my sanctuary ever since, even if it ha
d turned out to be less of a secret than I’d first imagined. Sitting down at the little wrought-iron chair and table set, I felt the chill of cold metal on the backs of my legs, even through my flannel pyjama bottoms and heaviest coat.
The garden looked so different to the way I had found it in summer but no less beautiful. The flowers had all died but the trees stretched up towards the sky, most of their leaves long gone, the branches and boughs basking in the winter sun. Domenico and Kekipi had chosen a beautiful day for a wedding. I had rarely seen a New Year’s Eve as promising as this one but then, I’d rarely seen a New Year’s Eve. I had worked every year before this, only stumbling out of the office after dark when everyone else was already half-cut. The fact that there was daylight in winter at all was something of a revelation to me.
I placed Nick’s note neatly on the table.
Tess, I love you. I want to try. I’ll call you soon.
‘He wants to try,’ I whispered, looking up at the clear blue sky. ‘He loves me.’
I wrapped my hands around my coffee to keep them warm and took a tiny bite out of one of the delicious flaky pastries to test my stomach at the exact same time my own phone began to ring. Swallowing so quickly I almost choked, I turned on the speakerphone function.
‘Hello?’ I answered, wiping my greasy hands on my PJ bottoms.
‘Tess-bloody-Brookes.’ Agent Veronica was using one of her cheerier tones of voice. ‘What the fucking fuck have you been up to?’
‘Stuff?’ I replied, picking up the phone with shaky hands and switching off the speakerphone. It occurred to me that not everyone in Milan wanted to hear my agent bitch me out on a lovely sunny morning like this. Even if they didn’t speak English, most of Veronica’s language was universal.
‘Haven’t you just,’ she cackled. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do, my little prize pig.’
‘I have?’
‘First things first, Ess wants you to assist him on a shoot next week while 7 is off in Aspen with Mummy and Daddy but I’ve told him to go and fuck himself, so don’t worry too much about that,’ she said. ‘Which leaves the tricky stuff. The photo editor at Gloss loved the Nixon-Jacobs shoot you did for them and wants to know if you could get your gorgeous little arse back to do another shoot for them. In New York, next week.’