Page 14 of The Dolce Vita Divas
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We went and joined in an Aquarobics class where we jostled for space with some other ladies and boogied along, up to our waists in water, to The Jackson 5. We caused a bit of a stir when ‘Thriller’came on the sound system, and the two of us tried to do the zombie moves and I fell over and came up spluttering.
I had some cheerful congratulatory texts wishing me a happy birthday from Jess and Kat, a GIF of a zebra dancing from Alex, and an adorable video of my four-year-old granddaughter Violet singing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.
After a light lunch we had our facials in the spa when a sweet young thing called Gracie plastered my face and neck with unguents, and I went to sleep. Then we had Mixology with Tim later that afternoon.
Tim – who looked about fourteen – measured the ingredients for the cocktails into the shaker and rattled it above his head while we sat watching. He was then prone to muttering, ‘Well, the bottle’s nearly empty, might as well,’ and adding a bit more, so by the time we had finished our session, we were feeling very relaxed from the massage, decidedly giddy from the alcohol and had to go back to our rooms for a little rest before dinner.
I had a nice snooze for an hour, before I was woken up by a text from Alex asking if I had any white spirit as he had spilled something on the carpet. Nothing to worry about, just a splash of curry sauce. And a tiny bit of red wine.
I wondered which carpet and how much wine?
Just as I was about to ring him to find out what the damage was, he sent me a second text to tell me it was all sorted and wishing me a happy birthday again. This time without the zebra.
* * *
After we had enjoyed some under-seasoned minestrone soup and steak and kidney pie for dinner, we were thinking about our desserts and whether to have apple tart or lemon posset, when Kyle triumphantly brought in a birthday cake shaped like a volcano with a lot of candles already lit, and the whole dining room sang happy birthday to me and waved their napkins, which was lovely, but slightly embarrassing.
Two old gents in tartan cardigans came over and insisted on kissing my cheek while their wives took pictures and talked about putting it up ‘on the inter faceweb thing’. Or possibly sending it intoGreat British Bake Offto show the joy a cake could bring.
‘That’s it,’ I said, laughing and handing out slices of cake, which looked as though it had been constructed from bits of other cake and covered with a lot of brown buttercream, ‘no more birthday stuff. Now we need to think about Capri. Which is much more exciting!’
And the more I thought about it, the more I realised it was true. I wasn’t going to make any more excuses. I was going to go for it.
* * *
‘That place you went to sounds absolutely just the thing,’ Juliette said a few days later when she came over for coffee, ‘and a lot of fun. I shall get a brochure and leave it lying around for Matthew to see. Perhaps I will ring the place in red pen just to make sure.’
‘And while we were there we had an invitation to Capri in October,’ I said.
Juliette gasped and then sighed with pleasure.
‘How marvellous. Somewhere I’ve always wanted to go. I went on a school trip to the Amalfi coast once and we were due to go to Capri, but at the last minute the teachers called it off. They said it was too foggy, which was an absolute lie. I think they were all hungover.’
‘It’s for a friend’s memorial service. We were friends for decades. Ellen married another friend, Paulo, and his family owned a hotel there.’
‘That’s very sad, but on the other hand I wish I had friends like that, and Italian boys are so glorious, aren’t they? Wonderful olive skin, dark eyes, absolutely charming. On our school trip we had loads of them following our bus around in little Fiat 500s. Was Paulo like that?’
‘Oh yes, I suppose so, in a way. I really can’t remember,’ I said with a laugh.
Juliette wasn’t fooled for a moment.
‘You’re blushing! Ah, so you had a crush on him, did you? I can see it in your eyes.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ I said.
‘Yes, you did. I can tell. You looked all wistful for a moment, and you’ve gone pink.’
‘Don’t be daft. It was so long ago.’
‘Yes, but there is always something special about first love, isn’t there? I was madly in love with a chap when I was at university, Russell Ham. Can you imagine the jokes if I had married him? Juliette Ham. No one would have believed me. He was a percussionist, in the same orchestra as me. He used to wash his drum kit in my bath. And dry his cymbals on my clean tea towels.’
I laughed and Juliette joined in.
‘But I still remember him. I even googled him a couple of times. He’s played all over the world; I wonder what life would have been like if we had stayed together? Terrible probably, he was a bit OCD when it came to his beaters and lugs. I used his snare drum stand to balance a tea tray on once. He went ballistic and had to wash it all over again.’
I laughed until I had to wipe away the tears at that point. How great if felt to be able to laugh at the past. Perhaps that was what I should do, instead of looking back with such regret. Such guilt.
