by June Taylor
Their bickering could be heard even over the engine noise.
‘I just thought you’d keep it somewhere,’ said Chrissy.
Eloise couldn’t believe this was still going on. ‘Look, does it matter?’ she said, leaning forwards, putting herself between them. ‘It’s only a brooch.’
‘It’s all I had left of you, Chrissy.’ Juliet was almost tearful. ‘Why is that so terrible?’
‘Oh, because she bloody stole it, that’s why!’
Chrissy looked furious with her. Juliet, wide-eyed.
Once Juliet had recovered from the shock she began to laugh, and Eloise joined in.
Chrissy unbuckled her seatbelt and made for the toilet, leaving them to their amusement.
***
Eloise was relieved to see that it wasn’t Anton who met them at Fiumicino airport. Juliet had assured her he would not be coming on this trip, but he did have a tendency to appear from nowhere. She knew straight away this man was Luca. He had a loose-fitting white shirt over black linen trousers. His hair was slightly longer in real life than it was on the website, to his shoulders, dark, with a few grey flecks, and he had a sort of rock star presence: handsome but with a lived-in face. He gave Juliet a kiss on both cheeks, which struck Eloise as rather formal: more business partner than husband.
‘Luca, this is Chrissy,’ she said, smiling at them both. ‘You’ve met, of course, many, many years ago in a tiny little Fiat. She’s my best friend from university. And her beautiful daughter, Eloise.’
He shook their hands. ‘Benvenute a Roma. Welcome to Rome,’ he said, guiding them towards a newish-looking car with a dented rear-end. Nearly every car they passed seemed to have some battle scar, in fact. Eloise rummaged for her shades and tied her hair up so it wouldn’t stick to her neck.
‘Rome burns,’ said Luca, opening the door for her. ‘Forty-two degrees.’
He started up the engine, letting it run a few moments, examining them in his rearview mirror. But if he or Chrissy remembered each other, neither of them was letting on.
They didn’t get very far before car horns rose to a crescendo and arms were gesticulating out of windows at Vespas weaving in and out of impossible gaps in the queue of traffic. Luca slapped the steering wheel, uttering some profanity in Italian. Juliet turned to them, shaking her head as if to apologize for him.
‘As you can see, all roads lead to Rome,’ he said, blasting his horn and shouting at a young man not wearing a helmet.
‘You will get used to Luca’s ranting,’ said Juliet.
‘They are insane,’ he said. ‘You know, you are fifty times more likely to die on the roads in Rome than you are in London. And these guys, they die like flies.’
‘How have you been, my darling? Did you miss me?’ Juliet lit up a cigarette as she spoke, putting the windows down.
‘No, but the cat has,’ Luca replied, wafting the smoke away.
‘You have been feeding her, haven’t you?’
‘Just pizza and beer.’
They were moving again, slowly, and gradually the traffic began to flow. ‘Of course, this journey is much quicker by helicopter,’ said Luca. ‘I’m afraid it’s at the garage.’
‘Really? You have a helicopter?’ said Eloise.
‘No, but it would still be quicker to go and buy one.’
Juliet slapped him on the thigh. She turned to them once more and put her finger to her temple. ‘Crazy Italian. As I say, you’ll get used to him.’
They could only see his eyes in the mirror, framed by thick eyebrows which made them appear cartoonish. His gaze was still fixed on Chrissy whenever possible, and Eloise could detect it was starting to bother her. She tried to distract her mother by pointing to the river.
‘Fiume Tevere,’ said Luca. ‘The Tiber.’
Eloise recognized its green tinge from images she had seen on the internet, but wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing to mention. ‘I’ve read that some of the bridges are really lovely,’ she said instead.
Luca nodded. ‘You will see.’
When they hit more stationary traffic he twisted round to Chrissy. ‘I’ve heard many things about you.’
Chrissy wiped the sweat from her lip, glancing at Eloise. ‘What things?’
‘Don’t worry, I left out the really terrible bits,’ said Juliet, reaching for her hand, which Chrissy ignored.
‘Ah yes, only very good things,’ said Luca. ‘So good, in fact, I thought I was coming to meet Santa Chrissy today.’
‘Huh, I’m no saint,’ she said, sounding relieved.
They made good progress after that and everyone fell quiet, including Luca. Soon, however, they got to the Grande Raccordo Anulare where a lane-swapping frenzy began. Luca made circles in the air with his finger. ‘Great Ring Road,’ he said, unfazed by the near collisions happening all around them as cars swerved in all directions.
‘Not for the faint-hearted,’ said Juliet. ‘As you can see.’
‘My wife never drives in Rome.’
‘Your wife wants to live, that’s why,’ she said, extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray, blowing smoke into his face.
Eloise spotted a sign, making some attempt to read it out loud: ‘Roma Centro, Aurelia, and Città del Vaticano.’
Chrissy gave her a pat on the leg. ‘Not bad.’
Luca grinned at her through the mirror. ‘We live very near to everything,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes, you are at the top of Spanish Steps. The same for Via Veneto, Piazza Barberini, Fontana di Trevi. Piazza Navona. You know these places?’
‘I’ve heard of them,’ Eloise replied.
‘You might also have heard of our neighbour, Mister Pope? He has a very nice house, an entire city, in fact.’
Eloise was slowly warming to Luca. She sensed that maybe Chrissy was too; she even smiled at his last remark. The sudden drumming of tyres pounding over cobblestones, however, served as a reminder not to drop their guard. They had turned into a maze of one-way streets, jostling for space along with Vespas and pedestrians; vehicles parked haphazardly on either side. A panificio with its display of mouth-watering breads and pastries caught Eloise’s eye. A few of the bars had locals standing outside, chatting and smoking. She tried to take in every last detail: the graffiti on doorways of ancient buildings, and all of the street names – Via Francesco Crispi, Via degli Artisti – finding it impossible to keep up.
‘So …’ said Luca, switching off the engine when they eventually pulled up outside an old Roman Palazzo. It had a light grey façade and elegantly symmetrical windows. ‘We are just around the corner from Via Veneto and Villa Borghese. Remember these places and you won’t get lost. And we are on the sixth floor. Many, many steps.’ He pointed to the top of the building and laughed to himself as he got out of the car.
They followed him into a marble-lined lobby where two white lions stood either side of a sweeping staircase and several big palm plants were dotted about in huge Roman pots. Luca helped with their luggage, but apologized for having to go back to the office. Eloise was relieved to see that there was a lift, just to the right of the staircase, which Luca summoned for them before he left.
‘Hope this is okay,’ said Juliet, wedging her foot against the door for Chrissy to get in. It was the tiniest of spaces, made worse by the fact that their suitcases had to be rammed in as well.
When the lift door slid across they were pressed in even tighter.
‘So, do you remember Luca?’ Juliet asked.
It was like an oven inside, and it was obvious that Chrissy was finding it hard going. ‘Vaguely,’ she replied, letting her head flop back against the back wall. ‘But we only met him for two minutes. Look, are you sure he doesn’t know any of that stuff in France, Juliet?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied, her voice too loud for such a confined space. ‘Not a thing. Swear on my life. Swear on your daughter’s life even.’
‘Yours will do, thank you,’ Chrissy snarled. ‘Leave my daughter out of this.’
Eloise gave her mother a nudge and the lift jerked to a standstill.
The apartment was smaller than the London one, giving it a homelier feel. Juliet rushed to pull open the sliding door which led out onto a balcony, where they stood beneath a large blue awning to admire the view over tiled rooftops and the maze of narrow streets below. It was surprisingly peaceful up here. A white, fluffy cat casually appeared from behind one of the large terracotta pots, brushing against their legs then stretching its way indoors to greet Juliet affectionately.
‘How cute,’ said Chrissy. ‘What’s he called?’
‘She,’ Juliet corrected her.
‘How old is she?’ said Eloise, shooting Juliet a concerned look, suddenly remembering the cat’s name was Chrissy. She wasn’t sure how the real Chrissy would react to that. Not well, most likely.
‘Oh,’ said Juliet, calmly acknowledging. ‘Well, let me see. She’s quite an old lady now, aren’t you? Yes, you are. I brought her over from England so I’ve had her for sixteen years.’ Juliet shook a box of cat treats and it followed her into the kitchen.
A commotion down at street level drew Eloise and Chrissy back to the balcony. A car was trying to reverse park into an impossible space and a chorus of Italian voices rang out in a real-life opera.
‘Right, I’ll show you to your room if you like,’ said Juliet, reappearing behind them. ‘It’s quite bijou, but there are two beds.’
She took them up to the next level via some internal stairs. Their room was a good size by their standards. A flimsy white curtain billowed across the tiled floor, revealing French doors that were slightly open and pale blue shutters either side. Eloise was just about to claim the bed nearest the window when Juliet hurried them on again.
They hadn’t even noticed the spiral staircase in the corner. They followed the tip-tapping of her feet up wrought iron steps, emerging out onto a roof terrace. Eloise had never seen anything quite so sublime in her life: a panoramic view of Rome with all its domes, spires and rooftop gardens was on display just for them it seemed. In the foreground they could see St Peter’s Basilica, the Pantheon, and the church at the top of the Spanish Steps. Juliet gestured further out to the Gianicolo Hill and Villa Borghese. Eloise couldn’t wait to be out among it all.
***
The Spanish Steps were teeming with tourists posing for photos. Juliet said they should start by wandering the streets nearby. It was seven o’clock in the evening and everyone was out strolling. They stopped to admire the steps which linked Piazza di Spagna with the upper Piazza Trinità dei Monti. Eloise took picture after picture, being careful not to capture her mother in any. She had always refused to be in any photos, and now Eloise knew why.
They walked along the lively Via della Croce, lined with restaurants and bars. Many of the shops were still open but Juliet assured them they would have plenty of time for shopping. She led them into a tangle of alleyways, large white canopies marking out rows of pink and red tablecloths where waiters stood in readiness by their Cucina Romana chalkboards boasting pizza, pasta, veal and seafood, trying to tempt them in. But they peeled off down a narrow side street to leave the tourist trail behind, taking a seat at an outdoor trattoria, not a chalkboard in sight and whose clientele seemed more local.
The heat was still clinging to them.
‘Luca was right when he said Rome burns,’ Chrissy remarked, fanning herself with the menu.
Juliet poured out some water from a carafe already on the table. ‘You see why I prefer to be in London?’
‘Is that just for the summer?’ asked Eloise.
‘Maybe.’ Juliet looked away, sipping her water.
The sudden dip in tempo made Eloise wish she was back out in the livelier streets again. But then Chrissy felt comfortable enough to break the silence as the banter on the next table became more animated. She leaned in to Juliet, and said: ‘I’m intrigued about Luca.’
‘Oh?’ Juliet put down her glass, as if preparing for more questions. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Well we hitch a lift with him and his – I don’t know how many of his mates were in that car – six, seven? Judging by the number of hands, I’d say about sixty … then, a few days later, he gets married to his childhood sweetheart, and then the next thing I know he’s married to you.’
‘You’re missing out a whole decade there at least,’ Juliet replied, laughing. ‘And anyway, he was far too young to get married the first time.’
‘My mum was only nineteen when she married my dad,’ said Eloise.
Juliet reached over and placed her hands on both of theirs. ‘Wish I’d been there for that. And in your parents’ case it was the perfect match. In Luca’s, I’m afraid, fairly disastrous from the start. Why do you think he was getting it on with me on the way to his own wedding?’
‘Because you wouldn’t leave him alone,’ said Chrissy, pulling her hand away.
Eloise wished she would go easy on Juliet.
Juliet smiled, as if to say it didn’t matter. ‘Your mother’s still angry with me for kissing people I shouldn’t,’ she said.
‘You mean Luca,’ said Eloise.
Chrissy was looking pointedly at Juliet, who seemed embarrassed, and as the waiter hurried by with a tray of drinks she clicked her fingers and said: ‘Fabio, vorremmo ordinare.’ A few moments later he returned, greeting Juliet with a kiss on both cheeks, and they began chatting in Italian. The hand gestures suggested they were discussing food for their table, and this was followed by some introductions from Juliet.
‘Chrissy,’ said the waiter, shaking her hand. ‘Delighted to meet you. Welcome to Italy.’
‘And this is her daughter, Eloise.’
He kissed Eloise’s hand, holding it to his mouth for what seemed like a long time. She blushed, in the end pulling it away as she could feel the heat coming off her mother.
‘Bellissima ragazza,’ he said with a flourishing bow.
When he had gone, Eloise tried to disguise the fact that he had written his phone number on her wrist. Chrissy was incensed when she saw it.
‘He’s just trying it on,’ said Juliet. ‘It’s the Italian way.’
‘That’s no excuse,’ said Chrissy, rattling the ice cubes around her glass. ‘If you say “it’s the Italian way”, it will always be “the Italian way”.’
‘I don’t think he meant anything by it.’
‘It’s not as though I’m going to phone him, Mum.’ Eloise dipped her napkin into her water and rubbed the number off her skin. ‘Gone. Completely. Look.’
‘I can’t believe that you, of all people, Juliet, could ever say he didn’t mean anything by it.’
Chrissy glowered at her, and Juliet searched for a diversion.
‘More water?’ Eloise offered, shaking the empty carafe at her. She took it and handed it to a different waiter, whilst Eloise gave her mother a pleading look.
‘So when did you get back in touch with Luca?’ she asked, taking her daughter’s request on board. ‘How soon was it after we got back from France?’
‘Oh, it was years after. I got through three husbands first.’ Juliet wafted the air, as if batting them all away.
‘So what happened to them? Divorced, beheaded, died?’
‘Mum!’
Chrissy broke into a grin.
‘Something like that,’ said Juliet. ‘Divorced mainly. That seems to be my forte in life. You know, that’s what I’ve really missed about your mum, Eloise. Her razor-sharp tongue. So quick she could kill a man with one lash.’
Juliet froze.
‘Shit. I wish I hadn’t said that.’
For the first time, Eloise could see a film of sweat forming on Juliet’s top lip. She watched her dab it with her napkin.
‘I’m so sorry, Chrissy. I didn’t think.’
Chrissy took a sip of water. ‘Makes a change.’ Her glass made a thud as it hit the tablecloth.
Juliet fanned herself with the napkin. She tapped Eloise’s foot under the table, but it was Chrissy who th
rew her the lifeline.
‘You were telling us about Luca,’ she said.
‘Yes. Yes, I was. Well …’ She cleared her throat. ‘I ran into him at a fashion show in Milan. Amazingly, we recognized one another. He was married to his second wife at the time. Getting divorced. They had two children.’
‘And that coincided with you wanting a change of husband, did it?’
Juliet twisted her fork round her fingers, but when she saw Chrissy grinning at her again she shook her head. ‘You know me so well, Chrissy.’ She put the fork back on the table. ‘He wasn’t the love of my life but—’
‘Then why did you marry him?’
‘Oh. Well, I suppose it was our love of fashion, first and foremost. And then—’ She paused. ‘I think I can say this. The sex was great too.’
Chrissy frowned.
‘Oh, she’s old enough to know the ways of the world. Aren’t you?’ said Juliet.
Eloise didn’t answer, avoiding eye contact with either of them.
Suddenly Juliet’s expression became serious. ‘There’s another reason though. I mean, besides all that. Do you really want to know?’
‘Yes, of course I want to know,’ said Chrissy, screwing her eyes at Juliet.
‘This might sound a bit odd.’ She was twisting her fork again. ‘It’s just that … well, he reminded me a little bit of you. You met him briefly and—’
‘Oh, come on!’ said Chrissy. When she saw people looking over she lowered her voice. ‘You cannot be serious that’s why you married him.’
‘I think it did play a part, yes. You left such a massive hole in my life, Chrissy.’
Juliet slid her hand across the table, but Chrissy moved hers out of the way. ‘We should get the bill,’ she said, reaching down for her bag.
By which time Juliet had handed over her card and paid, much to Chrissy’s annoyance.
CHAPTER 24
Rome: 2007
‘We can just saunter back if you like,’ said Juliet. ‘It’s been a pretty tiring day for—’