Headstrong in Tuscany

by Fay Henson

  I didn’t really know what to make of men and women who wore exactly the same things. Wasn’t Joe embarrassed? I wondered to myself. His parents were both wearing beige knee length shorts and khaki coloured vests, even their little rucksacks were twinned. They were a double act.

  ‘I understand che here was a summer storm last night on tis side of the volcano,’ Nadia said.

  In places, there was quite a bit of mud. Well, we had two choices, either to go with it, or climb back into the coach and wait. The decision was made to take the plunge, that was everyone except me. Even the two older women wearing flat sandals were going.

  ‘I can’t go in that,’ I said, ‘I’ll ruin these.’

  I knew I’d be heartbroken if I marked my light green All Star shoes and I wasn’t prepared to take the chance.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘But Caylin, why did you wear those?’ Dad asked. I bet he was annoyed because he’d paid for me to see the pigs.

  ‘Allora,’ Nadia interrupted us, ‘our driver Francesco will be waiting, so you won’t be alone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I said, ‘I’ve got my music, I’ll be fine.’

  I watched the group pick their way across the dryer parts but just before they went round a woody bend, I caught sight of Joe looking back at me. I wished he’d stop that.

  The wait was about an hour, during which time, I’d flicked through the driver’s newspaper just to look at the pictures, climbed in and out of the coach a few times and listened to various radio channels and my music until something broke my boredom. Strange sounds were mingling with my music so I removed an earphone. There were shouts and some ridiculous high-pitched laughing, until it became horrifyingly clear.

  I looked at our driver, his eyes practically catapulted themselves out of their sockets as we both watched the group return; most of them caked in mud. Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed when I heard him say a few things I hadn’t understood and when he did some hand gestures, but I was sure he wasn’t happy to see them. After he’d flapped around for ages, those guilty were finally seated again on the coach, shoeless. His coach was his baby.

  ‘So what happened that was so funny?’ I asked mum.

  ‘Apparently Nancy, the lady who likes your sketches, got her long skirt caught up in some bushes,’ she said, ‘but what they really found amusing was that everyone had seen her floral knickers.’

  I closed my eyes in disbelief, embarrassed that some women didn’t care about showing themselves up. I wondered what the driver thought about foreign visitors, because honestly, the older ones can be really childish.

  ‘But Mum, those two women even had pig muck on their legs,’ I said, ‘promise me you won’t get like them when you’re older?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but who knows; could be a lot of fun.’ Very funny, I thought.

  Why did old folks get like that, I mean what made them think they were cool when they’d reached sixty or something? I’d already seen too many video clips of oldies falling over at wedding reception parties because they couldn’t hold each other upright, or when they’d thought they could ride a kids bike. Ha, and they tell us to act our age.

  We were taken to a place around fifteen minutes away where we pulled up at a big stone farmhouse still somewhere on the side of the volcano and where we were going to be eating lunch. Some went to the loos to clean up and I followed Mum and Dad through the entrance into a cool open hall which had an ancient-looking stone staircase inside; our voices and footsteps echoed everywhere.

  There were tons of sketches and pictures of fungi and plants all over the walls and when I took a peek into one of the rooms we were passing, some people wearing white coats were looking at what seemed like plant specimens. Their voices hummed inside that room like a bunch of bees. It felt like a strange place to end up for lunch and not what I’d quite expected. Perhaps it was a trick to get us there and use us for experiments, maybe testing which fungi was poisonous or not and we were forced to choose one to eat in Russian roulette style. The stupid thought of that scared me.

  We continued to another room with more pictures and some long wooden tables. We were down to business; gorgeous cooking aromas were coming from a kitchen somewhere making my stomach beg for grub.

  The men were putting themselves at the end of the table which was fine by me except I really hoped that Dad wouldn’t divulge anything about me in front of Joe.

  A man and woman kept coming in and out of the room with trays of different cured meats for us to try. Bit of a shame if you were a vegetarian in my opinion. My favourite dish was the pork cooked in a spicy sauce with beans and tomatoes and there was plenty of red wine, again. I wanted to say, mine’s a lager please, but I wasn’t sure if there was a choice. Everyone was drinking wine or boring water. From where I was sitting, I could see Dad was looking pleased with himself and living up to his word; I just wished I could enjoy myself as much as he was. Mum was happy too, which I was glad about, but when was I going to be able to spend some of my money?

  Through lunch in that strange place, I spoke when I was spoken to and I made some sketches of Sora to relieve myself from all the excitement; if only. But then I just happened to catch what Nadia was saying.

  ‘You’ll love the trip tomorrow,’ she said, ‘the sheep’s cheese making is interesting and you’ll ave the opportunity to taste the different ones at pranzo, scusa, at lunch.’

  Now that made me wonder just how many trips like those they’d arranged for us. I wasn’t really worried about how the pigs were fed or how the cheese was made. I wanted to see city life, the shops, and people like me. I shouldn’t have come. It was like my fears were coming true. I tried not to show my disappointment and fought really hard to hold back my tears.

  From that moment, it was really difficult for me to act as if everything was fine and even concentrating on my sketches was becoming near on impossible. I was starting to feel trapped, just like I felt trapped in my home life and everything was planned perfectly for me and nothing I could have done about it.

  I felt so angry; surely Mum knew that this type of holiday would not be up my street. And now it figured that she must’ve given me all that money to spend, if ever, just to get me to stay on holiday with them.

  Looking back, I must have been blinded by the money. What I should’ve done was used my brain and actually asked Mum what the itinerary was going to be, then decided whether to have gone or not. I was regretting my decision and clearing up sick after a good night with Zoe and Em would have been the better choice.

  I did my best to hide my resentment and as soon as we’d returned to the hotel, I made an excuse to go to my room. I just wanted to be alone for a while.

  ‘Mum, I really need the bathroom and to have a bit of a rest, OK?’

  ‘Of course my sweet,’ she said, ‘you feel all right?’

  ‘Yup, just bursting and, you know, after the journey round those bends,’ I said, ‘they make me feel a bit strange, but I’ll be fine.’

  I closed my eyes and moved my right hand across my forehead as if I was trying to relieve my head, then I gave Mum and Dad a peck on their cheeks.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m OK,’ I said.

  But I wasn’t. I went over to the reception to get my room key and then I climbed up the couple of flights of stairs in twos, leaving Mum and Dad behind to chat to another couple. I couldn’t help it, but I was feeling conned.

  I fumbled with my flat room key thing to get inside; I definitely wasn’t in the right mood to be sociable and just needed to hide away for a while. I undid my All Star’s, frantically kicking them off and threw myself down onto the little bed, which for a split second noticed it had been neatly remade. I turned myself over and pressed my face into the white spongy pillow and cried.

  I wondered what the time was and checked my phone. It said five fifty
which meant I’d been asleep for ages during which time I’d managed to smudge my black mascara all over the pillow. I dragged myself off the bed and took the pillow case to the bathroom and gave it a bit of a scrub using shower gel and a nailbrush. Ta da, it came out. I stuck it near the open window to dry; couldn’t see it’d take too long, what with this hot air. I wondered what Zoe and Em were up to.

  Hy guys, it’s me, how was last night then? Did you get in? Today we went to see some pigs (wow) then ate some! L Actually it was scrummy. Know what? There’s a woman on our trip, who looks really stuck-up, loves high heels but she can’t hold her booze. I reckon one glass and she’s zonked. J Anyway, Mum put me in the picture earlier and she’d found out that the woman’s a national magazine food writer, and, wait for this, there’s a bloke on our trip who’s hobby is photography and the stuck-up looking woman seems to hate him taking photos of what we’ve been eating, especially when he’s gettin all serious with it. Well I haven’t seen her get her camera out yet, she just gets really stroppy and struts around. Bit of a psycho if you ask me. You remember the guy in the photo? Well Dad said he can speak Italian, lucky him. Nothing much else to report, cept I’m still dying to see some life. I need your news!! Cay xx

  ‘A domani! See you tomorrow!’ Well that sounded like Nadia shouting. And it was. I hadn’t realised until now that our rooms overlooked the front entrance. In fact, I could see Nadia inside her dirty Fiat Panda, waving her sun-tanned arm out of the window.

  I felt really fed up. I didn’t think I could stay on the tour another day; I needed to find life. Earlier, when we pulled into the hotel driveway, I was sure that I noticed a signpost somewhere near the turning which showed that the city of Siena was just forty something k’s away. What was that in miles? I wondered. A bit less I supposed. That was it, decision made, I’ll go to Siena. I felt myself go all hot and my heart raced, partly with worry on how my Mum and Dad would take it, and partly, but probably mainly if I was honest, excitement about leaving the tour to find something which could be much more fun. There had to be life in Siena.

  But then the thought of Mum and her disappointment in me made me feel guilty about my idea, and consequently the thought of Dad being angry over Mum being upset, frightened me. What would Zoe and Em had done?

  Help, I’m dead bored L . Tomorrow I’m supposed to go to a cheese farm, but I’m on the verge of legging it on my own to a city called Siena. If you were me, would you leave your parents until it’s time to catch the plane home? I’ve got dosh. Please hurry and tell me what you think, I don’t have long to get going or I’ll get collared by Mum and Dad and it’ll be too late. Hope you see this really soon. Cay xx

  Well, for the last fifteen minutes I’d been pacing around in my room trying to get together some essential things, like my five hundred euros, phone charger and plug adapter, toothbrush, make-up, change of clothes and underwear and at the same time, praying that Zoe or Em would see my WhatsApp message. But no such luck, the little ticks in the message hadn’t turned blue which meant it hadn’t been opened. Maybe they’re both away from an Internet connection. I had really wanted to hear their approval; just needed to see the words go for it.

  I couldn’t wait any longer, soon Mum or Dad would knock on my door to see how I was feeling. Then I suddenly realised I should leave a note or something; It would have been so cruel to say nothing so I ripped a piece of blank paper from inside a book I’d found in the bedside table drawer. I daren’t tell anyone it was a bible.

  Dear Mum and Dad, firstly, I’m fine and you mustn’t worry about me. I’ve decided to leave the hotel for a while and go to Siena; I’d like to see some city life and to find people my age. It’s not far, I’ll be all right. Don’t worry, promise I’ll contact you, love you both Caylin xxx

  I couldn’t think of anything else to put, my mind was racing and my writing was almost illegible I was that anxious. I grabbed my stuffed bag and closed my hotel room door behind me as quietly as I could. I stopped outside of my Mum and Dad’s room and listened; they weren’t inside. I slid my note under their door then went downstairs to the reception hoping I wouldn’t be met by them along the way.

  I handed over my room key, turned and walked towards the main doors. As the doors opened for me, I took a quick look through the windows to the terrace, and for a split second, thought I saw my Dad speaking with someone. My heart beat hard. Keep going, I told myself.

  ‘Hey Caylin, where ya heading?’ My stomach turned, it sounded like one of the younger women on our tour.

  ‘We’re going to the gym, why don’t you come?’

  ‘No thanks guys, ‘I said, ‘catch you later.’ And I just kept on walking; No way did I want to be held up.

  I really couldn’t believe what I was doing. My hesitant footsteps along the gravel driveway changed into a confident stride and I knew that I had a smile all over my face. It wouldn’t have taken much for me to laugh out loud because I was free and finally heading somewhere I hoped would be far more interesting.

  4

  Aches and pains

  It took me just over ten minutes to walk the long dusty gravelled driveway up to where it stopped and joined the main road. For the first time since walking away, I turned and looked back at Hotel Rosaria, and the moment Mum and Dad came into my mind, I felt an enormous guilt leaving them like that.

  I love you both, and I’m sorry, I said to them as if they could hear me.

  I had to force myself away from that spot because for a split second I thought it would have been better to turn around and go back. Don’t be stupid, you’ll regret it, I told myself.

  The signpost with place names I’d previously seen was just along the side of the road so I went straight up to it. There it was pointing to the left, written in big white letters on a sky blue sign, Siena forty two kilometres. I checked the time on my phone, it was seven ten in the evening. I wondered if it would have been better to leave in the morning but it was way too late, I knew it’d be impossible to return. I had to get walking.

  I didn’t have a clue if it was legal or not to hitch-hike in Italy, but I didn’t have much of a choice if I wanted to reach Siena before it was night-time, and I still had to find a place to sleep. I realised I needed to cross the road so that I’d be hitching on the right, the same side the traffic would pass, even though I knew it was safer to face the oncoming traffic which would be on the opposite side. I carefully crossed the road making sure I remembered to look firstly to the left.

  Starting my walk, I stuck out my left arm and raised my thumb; that’s it then, I’m definitely leaving, I said to myself. Plenty of cars, lorries and vans passed me, but not one stopped to offer me a lift, I was sure it would’ve been much easier hitching a lift back home. Some drivers even beeped their horns, but yet nobody stopped. The sun was still hot and occasionally little brownish-green lizards made me jump when they darted into the dry grasses right next to me.

  Up ahead I could see some buildings, maybe there was a coffee bar or somewhere I could get a drink; I was dying of thirst and I was sure I could sense the beginning of a blister forming at the back of my right heel. Great. As I approached the buildings, it looked like the start of a small village and I was certain that further along on the other side I could see a couple of parasols. I hoped that those belonged to a coffee bar, and luckily they did.

  From outside I could hear some people laughing and a radio was playing. Should be OK, I thought, and I went inside through the open door making a beeline for the bar. I didn’t think they’d find room for anything extra in that bar; there were stands on the floor full of packets of crisps and the bar was filled with chocolates, a cabinet with a remaining sad and shrivelled croissant, and a few bowls of knick-knacks.

  The barman who was pouring out a glass of red wine for an old man said something to me so I automatically smiled, even though I hadn’t understood him and there was a barwoman who was taking some money from a
nother man.

  Behind her were rows and rows of lottery scratch cards and above was a TV showing lines of numbers. When the woman moved, I spied a Campari Soda clock on the wall which said seven fifty-five. My heart beat hard as I wondered what Mum and Dad were doing and if they were really angry.

  The laughing I’d heard must’ve come from the three people sitting at a table I could see from the corner of my eye and they were near a slot machine which seemed to constantly flash and make annoying jingling sounds all to itself. Nobody else spoke to me, so I just waited at the bar feeling a bit useless, until the barman moved across to me and said something again I didn’t catch.

  ‘A Coca-Cola please,’ I said. Well, at least that wouldn’t be so difficult for him; that drink is all over the world, I thought.

  He pointed behind me and so I took it that I had to go over to a tall drinks cabinet. I pulled the door open and got a lovely blast of cool air where I probably lingered a little too long before taking a can and closing the door again. I fancied sitting outside at a table under one of the emerald green beer parasols, so first I went to the bar to pay.

  Up to then, I hadn’t actually had to unravel my lovely wodge of bank notes and I found myself trying really hard to discreetly unroll it inside my bag. The rubber band flung off and all my notes unfolded and separated themselves. Fortunately, I didn’t think anyone had seen what had happened, although I would have thought by that time, anyone had wondered what I was trying to do inside my bag.

  I put a twenty-euro note onto a dish on top of the bar I’d seen someone else do, and smiled at him feeling awkward that it was a big denomination for a small can of drink. I think he forced a smile in return and didn’t say a word to me when he replaced it with a ten and a five note and three euro coins.