Page 56 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘Well, not exactly, but yes, I suppose so.’
‘I am,’ he said. ‘It’s been difficult. I could sleep for a month. It’s been on my mind for so long and I didn’t seem to have the same grasp of things as Ellen did.’
‘Perhaps you need a holiday,’ I said, ‘to get away somewhere and relax.’
He shrugged. ‘And you? What will you do?’
‘Go home at the end of the week, I guess. Think about what to do next. Home seems a long way away. This place is so lovely. I wish I’d come here more than just once.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘You know why,’ I said.
We were silent for a few minutes then.
There. I had touched on the history between us. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but my mind was busy with memories of him, of us.
He turned towards me, searching my face for my reaction.
‘We liked each other, didn’t we, all those years ago? Despite all the arguments. And the misunderstandings.’
Ah yes, that.
There had been an incident around Christmas. We had all agreed we would do a Secret Santa, to keep the costs down. I had drawn Ellen out of the hat, and she had drawn me.
I supposed it had been the build up to Christmas that had made us all so prickly. There was always someone in the house arguing about something. Ellen’s ideas about Christmas decorations were quite subtle and tasteful, whereas mine were the exact opposite. We’d had a disagreement about whether fairy lights were a good idea above the fireplace, which I had won, and then, out of sheer devilment, added more and more. By the time I had finished it looked like Santa’s grotto and Ellen had tutted every time she came into the room.
On Christmas morning I had felt quietly confident because I had found Ellen a brand new, very expensive makeup case in a charity shop. She had bought me a foot spa which had been heavily promoted on television and must have cost a lot more than the limit we had all agreed on. Every time the advertisement appeared we had all scoffed at it, saying what a horrible thing it was, how it was almost insulting to consider that a suitable gift for any woman, and yet that day, there it was.
Ellen had watched me unwrap it with a little smile on her face.
‘I thought you needed one. You were complaining about your feet only the other day. You said they were like hooves. Apparently you can get special abrasive things to get rid of really bad bits.’
And of course, everyone looked at my feet and laughed and I had clenched my toes inside my socks with embarrassment. And thenHow generous, everyone said, forgetting that we had all thought it was a horrible thing.
My annoyance had continued unspoken all through the day, until we had drunk a few too many tequila sunrises, and in the end, I had taken myself off to bed early to avoid saying what I really thought. That she had pretended to be generous, but in fact had just been unkind. But of course, I couldn’t say so out loud. Everyone thought it was a nice gesture, but I knew different.
I got you back, her smile seemed to say.You won’t tangle with me again.
She’d said sorry the next day, she hadn’t meant to upset me, and she sounded so sincere that I had believed her. A week later she had put a multipack of Crunchies on my dressing table by way of an apology.
Now my mind was more focused and not wafting in the sentimental haze I had constructed of the past, other memories were resurfacing and somehow making sense. It had taken a long time for us to properly reconcile after that, and somehow she had made me feel that the whole thing was my fault.
I remembered her insistence on the loo roll being hung a particular way, her wanting the kitchen window open, me wanting it closed. If we had a disagreement she would later act as though nothing had happened and be very friendly, whereas I would sulk, once again putting me in the wrong. And then she would hug me and say something nice about my outfit or congratulate me for a meal I had made and there would be a truce between us until the next time. Had I just maintained that friendship with her over the years because of Paulo?
So, in answer to his question, had he and I been happy back then, despite all that?
‘Yes, I think so. You and I liked each other.’
My mouth was dry, my heart beating erratically. Perhaps it was the Prosecco, and maybe it wasn’t.
What a terrible answer.I think so.
‘And were you content,’ he asked, ‘after you married Greg?’
‘On and off,’ I said. ‘I have three smashing children, two lovely granddaughters. A nice home. Shouldn’t that be enough? And of course, I had my job and a home to run.’
‘I understand,’ he said.
