Page 18 of The Dolce Vita Divas
I put on some makeup. And found a lipstick. And a small handbag I’d discovered at the bottom of my wardrobe. I’d last used it years ago at an evening wedding party and Greg had said it was ‘a bit much’, but here it seemed perfectly okay to go out with a scarlet bag decorated with a sequinned butterfly and some coloured feathers.
As I got older, I was beginning to see the appeal of handbags. Unlike shoes (I was sure my feet had been spreading) or clothes (sizes always unreliable), a handbag always fitted and never got too small. And that was somehow very reassuring.
I looked at my nails. I’d had a manicure, and for once they looked okay. Instead of being rather grimy from time spent in the garden, they were coloured a rather sexy crimson to match my toenails. They were the nails of a woman who was going out for drinks in the garden on Capri and was staying in a beautiful hotel with her friend. Not someone who didn’t usually give her appearance much consideration. This could be something I did on a regular basis from now on. After all, if I didn’t care what I looked like, why should anyone else? No wonder women like me were ignored or not even seen at all.
Manicures were another thing I was beginning to see the value of. The rest of me might be gradually looking older, but with minimal financial outlay, my nails looked okay. They could be the nails of a much younger woman actually if I held my hands out in a particular way to hide the age spots. Nails didn’t wrinkle or sag like some bits of me were doing. Interesting.
Then I straightened my shoulders and stood up properly instead of slouching as I often did, taking a last look in the mirror to check. Much better.
There was a knock on my balcony door. It was Susie, looking very sophisticated in strappy sandals and a delightful cream cotton dress patterned with lavender wisteria, which made the most of her bosom.
‘I couldn’t decide between striped capri pants in honour of the location, or this dress. I was feeling in an Audrey Hepburn mood.’
‘You have the figure for it,’ I said. ‘When I wear capri pants, I always look like I’ve been paddling. Or I’m standing in a ditch.’
Susie laughed and went to check her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was glossy and shining and pinned up into a messy chignon. The now permanently evicted Simon would have been kicking himself if he had seen her.
‘It’s a pity you decided to foreswear off men,’ I said, ‘because you look sensational.’
Susie blushed and fiddled with her straw bag, pulling out a pair of oversized sunglasses.
‘Oh, you,’ she said with a little smile, ‘don’t be daft. No one’s going to notice me.’
I watched her preening in front of the mirror for a moment and wished that I could be more like her. More confident, sure of herself despite all the years when Simon had tried and failed to control her. Perhaps the effect was wearing off quite fast. She had such energy, and a poise that was very endearing, just as she had when we were younger. Could I do that too? Discard all the negative feelings I’d had about myself for so long, and believe in myself again?
We went down the marble staircase and out into the gardens below our rooms. Through a stone archway and some luxuriant swags of yet more bougainvillea, we found a small gathering of people clustered around a long table covered with a white cloth, where waiters were serving drinks.
‘Ah, there you are!’
It was Paulo looking very elegant in a dashing Panama hat with a striped band. I felt a silly little thrill of excitement. On other men it might have looked as though he was umpiring a cricket match, but yet again, here things looked very different.
‘At some point I must introduce you all to the family,’ he said, ‘at least the ones who are here. Firstly, let’s find you some Prosecco.’
He held up a hand and instantly a waiter brought a tray of drinks. The place seemed to run like clockwork; it was very impressive.
How could he be so relaxed at meeting up again? Had he forgotten everything? Or had he really just forgotten all about me, the feelings I thought we had shared all those years ago?
It felt horrible to realise that, yes, he probably had. That he hadn’t given me a second thought for decades, while I remembered him in so many ways. His birthday, the way he could throw on any clothes and still look stylish, the sound of him singing in the kitchen, his unwavering support for Inter Milan football club.
At that moment I wondered if he remembered anything about me at all.
‘And now come with me. My son and his wife and my grandson are here somewhere, but for now I must take you to say hello to my mother and stepfather,’ he said, and he gave a funny little grimace. ‘Do you remember her? And please don’t take too much notice of what she says. She can be a little outspoken these days.’
In the possible comments for ‘how to put guests at their ease’, this didn’t work at all, but obediently we followed him through another stone archway to a little pergola where an elderly but very elegant woman was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, holding court to a group of young people.
She looked up as we approached.
‘Paulo, eccoti finalmente.’
‘She said “There you are at last”,’ Susie murmured.
I caught my breath. Ah, yes, I did remember her. This woman might have been my mother-in-law if things had worked out differently. I had met her at Paulo and Ellen’s wedding, a rather intimidating but striking figure in a blue outfit, loaded down with jewellery. Next to her sat an elderly man in a dark blue blazer and cream trousers with a sunhat tilted over his eyes, who looked like he might have been in the middle of a nap.
The group of young things parted respectfully, and Paulo bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.
‘Mamma, questi sono gli amici de Ellen. Do you remember Jo and Susie? These are Ellen’s oldest friends. From England.’
‘It might be true but I’m not sure I like the use of the word “oldest”,’ I murmured.
