Page 38 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘So has Susie. Well, not actually on her own. I mean, she did have other partners over the years. The last one was Simon, but he was a classic narcissist so she might as well have been alone.’ I needed to think of something sensible to say. ‘Is everything ready for tomorrow?’
Paulo nodded. ‘I think it will be fine. Everything is very organised. My staff are busy setting everything up in the ballroom. It’s not a place we use very often, unless we have a wedding party here.’
‘That’s great. And how many people do you expect?’
‘Quite a lot. Ceci and Frederico still have many acquaintances, and Ellen made a lot of friends here over the years.’
‘Did she? Of course she did. She was a lovely person.’
My tongue was sticking to my teeth, my mouth was so dry, and it made me sound as though I was drunk or having a mild stroke. I took a sip of wine.
‘This is great,’ I said. ‘I think it’s the house wine.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I hope you like it.’
‘Oh, I do.’
My goodness, this wasn’t going well. I was asking dull questions and saying silly things. And all the time, I just wanted to ask him about what he had been doing with his life: had he been happy – yes, of course he had been; there was no way I wanted to eradicate that – but did he, like me, have the tiniest twinge of regret or curiosity about how things might have worked out between us?
I had been happy, on and off, I knew that. I’d had three healthy children and a good career which had brought me a great deal of satisfaction and pleasure. It wasn’t that I wanted to erase all those years or regret them. I think the thing that was preoccupying me more than anything was – I’d been able to live my life for over sixty years, conforming to what people expected of me. Couldn’t I just please myself for once? So what next? There had to be a what next, didn’t there?
There was a long pause, which was beginning to get slightly uncomfortable when the silence was broken by the sound of china breaking from somewhere in the hotel. I resisted the urge to cheer as we always had years ago.
‘It’s great to see you again,’ he said at last.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ I replied. ‘I mean, it’s great to see you too.’
‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I have,’ I said. ‘It’s been almost forty years. If I hadn’t changed at all you would think I had a portrait in the attic.’
Shut up, for heaven’s sake.
‘You look just the same too,’ I added.
‘So how has life been treating you?’ he said. ‘I often wondered about you.’
Really? I’d assumed that he had completely forgotten about me. I felt a sudden wash of happiness.
‘Did you? Gosh. I married, had two daughters and then a son. I retired a few years ago; at least I have a decent pension. You hear such awful stories… and then I got divorced. And now I live in a little cottage with a garden. Just me and my wheelbarrow. Although my son has moved into the granny flat. Just temporarily while he sorts out his divorce; at least, it’s supposed to be temporary. He’s been there for seven months.’
He looked out at the view for a moment and then laughed.
Why was he laughing? Was he realising what a good life he had enjoyed in comparison?
‘I cannot imagine that,’ he said at last. ‘You were always so busy with friends and being sociable. The thought of you pottering around a quiet garden is very unusual.’
Hmm, what did that say about me?
If I thought about it, back then I had behaved in a way that I would not have found acceptable for my own daughters. The very thought of them smoking, dabbling a bit with cannabis and drinking pints of lager and snogging unsuitable young men on a regular basis was too awful. I had tried to find my place in the world, to feel good about myself. But that had led me to partying all night, stumbling into lectures, resitting exams when I failed them. Handing in work late, nearly getting thrown out altogether on one occasion when… well, never mind. Which really was tremendously hypocritical of me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I blurted out.
Paulo looked surprised. ‘For what?’
‘That we lost touch.’
‘Yes, it was a shame. I’m sorry too. I often wondered… Ah, well,’ he said, ‘non importa,it doesn’t matter what I wondered.’
