‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ve decided to sell them. Every last one,’ she said.
Peggy sank onto the edge of the bed, astonished. ‘But why?’
Christine paused and looked up, her eyes blazing. ‘It’s an investment.’
Five hours later, having traded in her entire collection at a record shop in the city centre, Christine stood outside Joe’s house. He opened the door expecting to pay the milkman. Instead, he found the girl who’d broken his heart, wearing hoop earrings and a shaky smile as she clutched a 1979 blond Gibson 335 guitar, just like BB King’s.
Chapter 61
‘She told him everything,’ Grandma Peggy says. ‘I’m sure they went through a lot of heartache than that before deciding to get back together, Allie. But I do know this. They worked it out. He loved her and she loved him.’
Beads of perspiration gather at the back of my neck. Because there’s one thing I still don’t know and all I’m left to do now is force myself to consider the one big question I’ve had since I first saw that picture of Mum and Stefano all those months ago.
‘Grandma: what about me?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asks.
‘I came along nine months after all this. So, I mean . . . there’s only one way to ask this: is Stefano my father?’
I can almost hear her voice harden before she speaks. ‘Of course not. You’re your father’s daughter. You’re Joe’s.’
The swarm of relief is a temporary sensation. ‘But how do you know?’
‘I just do. Anything else would be unthinkable.’
‘Unthinkable or not, Grandma, the timing is right. Surely it’s a possibility?’
‘No. Definitely not.’
But this is very obviously wishful thinking. I know it and she knows it. That’s why she was so determined that I shouldn’t mention the letter and newspaper cutting to my dad. Because she didn’t want to dredge up a question that all three of us know remains unanswered. A question that makes me feel sick to my stomach – about who I am and where exactly I’ve come from.
Chapter 62
I am shaky and overheated for the rest of the afternoon. I feel as though the world has started spinning the wrong way and that I can’t stop it.
Ed tries to engage me in conversation but I can’t explain to him what is going on. No matter how many times Grandma Peggy protested that she was absolutely certain it couldn’t be the case that Stefano – her son – was my father, she is not stupid and neither am I. What she actually meant was: I can’t bear the thought that it could be true. That doesn’t mean it isn’t.
Everything about this fits: the timing. The secrets. The fact that when I look at the picture of Stefano, at the gap in his teeth and the way his hairline traces his forehead in a high, inverted triangle, it’s almost like seeing a ghost of myself.
Back in the room, I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand. The searing heat stings my skin and makes my blood vessels dilate until rosy patches bloom on my arms. I lift up my chin and water snakes down my face, before I switch it off and step out of the suffocating cloud of steam into the bedroom. I dry myself and pull on a cotton vest and pants, before walking to the window to shut it, unable to bear the heady sounds of an Italian summertime.
I slip into bed, curling my body around itself as I sink into a dreamless sleep. It must be more than an hour later when I stir, as the sun is dipping below the horizon, the cotton sheets sticking to my skin. In the moment before I open my eyes, dread spreads like black mould through me, but I can’t remember why. Then Grandma’s revelations prickle into my head, and I’d give anything to plunge back into unconsciousness.
A knock on the door makes my pulse jump.
‘No thank you,’ I call out, presuming it’s the maid.
‘Allie, it’s Ed.’
I drag myself out of bed and throw on a cotton dress. Then I open up, my eyes brimming with unshed tears that I quickly sniff back. But he places his hand on my arm and it’s warm and reassuring and everything it’s not allowed to be.
‘Hey,’ he whispers. ‘Whatever your grandma said can’t be that bad.’
I shake my head and feel my stoic expression collapse. He takes me by the elbow and shuts the door behind him, guiding me to sit on the bed. ‘Allie, what’s going on?’
‘I can’t bear to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
The room is cast in a peach hue as sunlight slants through the voile on the window and the clean, uplifting scent of pine sap drifts in with the breeze. When I look up at Ed, the tenderness that appears in his eyes moves me beyond words. Then I start talking and it all comes tumbling out, polluting everything like garbage pouring into the sea.
*
I find it impossible to decipher the look on Ed’s face when I’ve finished.
‘Christ.’ It escapes from his mouth in a croak. ‘Are you okay?’
I nod fiercely. Then despair engulfs me and I squeeze my eyes tight.
‘Hey,’ he whispers and pulls me into him, his big arms around me. ‘It’s okay to cry.’
I press my cheek gently to his chest, feeling its warmth through his cotton shirt, and the throb of his heart against me.
‘I’m a freak,’ I mumble and he tuts and tightens his embrace.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘It’s true.’
He pulls back and tries to make me look at him. ‘It’s not true. Even if, for argument’s sake, Grandma Peggy is wrong. Even if your mum had sex with—’
‘Don’t say it! Don’t even say it out loud.’
‘Okay. Even if Stefano turns out to be your father . . . because he and your mum did something without ever knowing the consequences or implications, so what? None of it changes who you are.’
‘A freak.’
He clasps my hand. I’m hyper-aware of the dry warmth of his fingers against my skin. ‘Do not say that. Don’t ever say that.’
‘Why not? It’s true.’
‘No it’s not.’ I look away, but he moves my chin gently towards him, forcing me to look at him.
‘Allie, you are brilliantly intelligent and kind and beautiful and funny. And . . . none of those words are even remotely big enough to describe how amazing you are.’
His reassurance slips over me, devoid of impact. Only then he releases my hand and says, ‘Don’t believe me then. But you know what, Allie? I’ll tell you what you are. You are everything to me. Everything.’
When I look up, I realise he is almost as shocked as I am. Then he rubs his head through shallow breaths and his shoulders relax as if the solution to some mystery is unfolding inside him. He silently stands up and walks to the window, breathing in the air that billows in. I am immobile, unable to know what to say. He turns around and I’m convinced he’s going to walk out. But then he is on the bed next to me and he’s talking again, saying things that make my head throb.
‘You, Allie, are the one person on earth who can make me laugh no matter how bad I’m feeling. You are the one I can count on to be by my side, no matter what other crap is happening in my life. You are the one I want to have next to me when I’m feeling lost, as much as I do when I’m on top of the world.’
I look away.
‘Allie, I think I . . . ’ But he can’t say it.
Instead, I glance up and permit myself one sweet moment when all that matters is what I feel for him and what he feels for me. He reaches up and brushes the pad of his thumb against my cheek. My belly jumps as his eyes shift to my lips. Then he slowly moves towards me and places his mouth on mine, leaving it there for a fraction of a second, before pulling away, gazing at the ghost of his kiss.
A pocket of air hovers unreleased in my chest and I close my eyes briefly. In the darkness behind my eyelids, whatever has kept us apart no longer exists, or if it does I can’t remember its relevance. I move towards him and brush my lips against his. He responds instantly and we kiss, silent and soft at first, then harder and hungrier.
&
nbsp; As he tightens his embrace, I can feel the hardness of him pressing through the fabric of my dress. I move my hand inside his shirt, feeling my way along the small of his back, before dipping it below his waistband. His palm makes its way slowly up my leg and he cups the fleshy part of my thigh, squeezing it, before his warm fingers skim the edge of my pants. His lips make their way to my neck along the burnished skin on my shoulders, before he returns to the heat of my mouth.
I touch and stroke and kiss him as if I want to devour every inch of him.
Soon I am unbuttoning his shirt, overwhelmed by a feeling that this is more like my first time than my actual first time was. The uncertainty. The new, bare flesh. But, between my silent gasps of pleasure, I become aware that his kisses begin to slow. I pretend it isn’t happening at first, pulling him back towards me by his shirt, until eventually, he retreats.
I know what he’s thinking, but it’s me who says it out loud first. ‘We can’t do this, can we?’
He releases a long trail of breath. ‘No. We really can’t.’
Chapter 63
The salty perfume of the sea drifts through the window as the light in the room intensifies to daybreak.
I turn to look at Ed’s softly sleeping eyes, resting my gaze on the pores of his skin, the tiny birthmark that sits like a kiss behind his ear. I study every part of his face, at the features I’ve seen for so many years, but rarely this close. The curve of his eyebrows. The blurred line of his bottom lip. The tanned skin on his forehead and the faint dot-to-dot of freckles on his nose.
My unquenched desire has left me unable to sleep for most of the night. I think the same is true for him. He was restless until just before the sun rose. Now I lie next to him, not naked, but in a state of undress, only our underwear intact. His hand is clasped around mine as he sleeps. I am afraid of what will go through his head when he wakes up and sees me lying in bed with him, yet I don’t want to be anywhere else except next to him right now.
It’s in this strange bubble of contemplation that my belly lets out a loud, rumbling groan. I clench my stomach in an attempt to silence it, but it continues to complain cantankerously, until Ed opens one eye and smiles.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble.
‘Hungry?’
‘Apparently I could eat a horse,’ I reply and in that small moment we roll with the pretence that we are two new lovers with nothing to worry about except making breakfast.
He turns on his side to face me and prop his head up on his elbow. For a moment we just look at each other, wondering who is going to speak first.
‘So . . . this happened,’ he says, his tone untranslatable.
‘Yes. Well, nearly, anyway.’
‘Nearly,’ he agrees, because neither of us are sure what you could even call what we did last night. Not sex in the strict, biological sense of the word. But there is an exquisite kind of torment from going as far as we did, then holding someone all night, feeling the heat from their body next to yours, when you’re still glowing from their illicit kisses. It’s a primitive hunger that overtakes you, leaving you pulsating with frustration. The irony is, if this abstinence was supposed to make my conscience feel clear, it’s done the opposite. Yet I also feel something else. Rejection. I’m trying to convince myself that the decision not to go further than we did was a joint one. But it wasn’t.
He lifts up his eyebrows. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Kind of. Are you?’
He rolls away and lies flat on his back, fixing his eyes on the ceiling. ‘Allie, we need to talk.’
‘I know,’ I reply. ‘But I don’t know what to say.’
He starts running his hands through his hair.
‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ I say, reaching out for a towel to wrap to cover my body. But it’s about an inch too far and as I hook the fabric under my finger, it drops again.
‘I could just look away,’ he offers.
I nod. ‘Probably a good idea.’
He rolls over, the curve of his shoulders facing me, as I reach out and wrestle the towel around me. I grab my mobile and a couple of random items of clothing before I dart into the bathroom and shut the door. It starts vibrating. It’s only when I’ve already hit the answer button that I register Julia’s name.
Chapter 64
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you and Ed since last night.’
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask.
‘Everything’s fantastic. What am I ever going to do to thank you?’
I close the toilet seat and sink onto it.
‘What do you mean?’ I mumble.
‘What do I mean?’ she laughs lightly. ‘I mean, Ed is coming back to me. I mean, whatever you did or said, you’ve made him come to his senses. Thank you, Allie. Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you.’ Every repetition is like a knitting needle in the side of my head. ‘I really can’t wait to see him. And you. You’re wonderful.’
‘No. Honestly I’m not,’ I reply flatly.
‘Did you say something, Allie?’ Ed shouts through the door.
My chest clenches as I open the door and shake my head at him with flying saucer eyes. He frowns.
‘Who’s that?’ Julia asks.
‘Nobody, Julia,’ I reply, Ed’s eyes widening meaningfully at the name. ‘Just . . . the window cleaner.’
I close the door on Ed’s dilating pupils.
‘What has he said about me since he phoned yesterday?’
‘Um . . . we haven’t really stopped to talk. It’s been a busy couple of days. Sorry.’
‘Allie, is everything all right?’
‘Of course. Of course,’ I repeat.
‘Are you still flying in from Verona on Sunday? Or are you going to see if you can switch your flight after moving to Portofino? I checked this morning and there’s one to Manchester direct from Genoa. I can send you both the details if you like?’
‘Um . . . okay. That’s really good of you.’
‘I was trying to get hold of Ed to tell him that but his phone has gone straight to messages. Will you tell him to call me if you see him at breakfast?’
‘Yes, no problem. I’ll tell him as soon as I see him.’
‘Have you found what you were looking for in Italy, Allie?’ she asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You told me you were searching for some answers about your past. I hope you’ve found them.’
I open the door slightly and look through the crack at Ed, buttoning up his shirt.
‘Yes. I think I have.’
‘Oh, that’s great news,’ she says. ‘You know, when you get back I think we should have a big party, don’t you think?’
‘Sorry, Julia, the line is pretty bad in here.’
‘Okay. Well, I’ll try Ed again. Have a wonderful final day.’
I end the call, close the door and drag on the gypsy skirt I seem to have brought in with me, followed by a stripy yellow and pink T-shirt, an ensemble that makes me look as though I got dressed during an acid trip. I emerge into the room to find Ed fully dressed and standing by the window.
‘Julia is trying to get hold of you.’
His jaw tightens and he nods.
‘What are we going to do, Ed?’ I say. It’s then I realise that, despite everything, despite how wrong it is, I want him to tell me he’s going to leave her and be with me. I know this makes me a bitch but I don’t care. I wouldn’t care if it made me go to hell. I cannot get beyond my longing for him.
He turns to look at me and appears not to know what to do with himself. Then he says, ‘There’s nothing we can do, Allie. I’ve got to go back to Julia.’
The prick of rejection appears in my eyes and pressure builds in my stomach. I suddenly need to get out of there. I pick up a pair of slip-on sandals and quickly slide them onto my feet.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘I need some air,’ I mumble, opening the door, darting out, and refusing to look back as I click it closed. I walk-run down th
e corridor and head down the stairs two at a time.
When I emerge into the reception, the young man at the desk attempts to wish me a ‘buongiorno’ and I mutter a feeble response before stepping out into the tiny street. The little boutiques are only beginning to open their shutters as I race down the steep pavement, barely registering the pain in the balls of my feet as they pound the stone. I finally reach the piazzetta, where the morning sunlight is already intense and the restaurants are opening.
My feet slow, as if I’ve lost the energy to move any further. I flop down on the stone floor of the marina, the rippling blue sea stretching out from the arc of the bay. I look up to the vegetation, the chestnut and olive trees that rise above the pastel facades of the buildings, luxuriantly green and silver. And I have never felt a stronger urge to be at home, with my dad – my REAL dad, no matter what tainted blood is running through my veins. I sit for a few minutes with my head pounding, when a shadow appears on the ground next to me.
I know it’s Ed before I even look. ‘Allie, I need to tell you something. I need to explain.’ He sits down next to me but I refuse to look at him.
‘There’s no explaining needed,’ I tell him. ‘We both regret it. It was a huge mistake. Clearly, that’s why we didn’t actually have sex. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Not only that you’re married. I don’t even like you anyway. Just for the record. You’re not even my type. I’ve already told you I go for blonds and—’
‘Allie, Julia is pregnant. I’m going to be a father.’
A small bird with bright yellow plumage dives down to the water, before swooping off into the sky.
‘What?’
‘I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did. Except . . .’
‘Except what?’
He sighs. ‘Okay, I’ll just come out and say it because I have to. Then I’ll never say it again, because we cannot be together. We just can’t.’
I swallow.
‘I love you.’ I turn to look at him. The tremble of his lip is almost undetectable, but it’s enough for me not to be able to reply. ‘I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so very sorry.’
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