Page 61 of The Dolce Vita Divas
Sylvia wasn’t really interested. ‘Yes, I am sure Quentin is destined for a career in the civil service; he is such a peacemaker. And he has always shared his toys with his sister. She on the other hand is very spirited. Quite self-absorbed on occasion.’
‘I wonder where she gets that from?’ Lucia mused, gazing at a picture of Amelia dressed as a fairy and clocking her brother over the head with her wand.
Ceci took a sip of her drink and dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
‘So what are you going to do with the rest of your time here?’
I wished that people would stop asking me that. It made me realise that actually I had no plans at all. Everything had been about Ceci’s birthday and remembering Ellen, and now that was over I was beginning to feel like one of the extras in a film, just wandering about in the background pretending to be talking or doing something and enjoying myself.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, trotting out the usual answer. ‘It’s such a lovely place, it’s a treat to just be here.’
‘Have you been to see the Salto di Tiberio?’ Freddy asked. ‘It’s well worth the trek.’
Ceci nodded and turned to Sylvia. ‘I really must take you there.’
Sylvia frowned. ‘I’ve been there. Not for many years. That’s up on some cliffs, isn’t it? Lots of steps, I remember that. I don’t think I would be able to manage now with my arthritis.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’d be happy to come along and give you a push if you needed it.’ Ceci smiled.
* * *
I went to bed that evening feeling even more as though my part in this event was over and I should start thinking about going home. Susie still hadn’t appeared and I hadn’t seen anything more of Paulo. And yes, I did realise she was having fun, and naturally he was busy. He had a job to do and other people to worry about.
But even so, I was feeling exactly as I occasionally had when I was younger, out for the evening with my friends perhaps, and enjoying myself with my latest date. Sometimes, out of nowhere, a terrible feeling of being alone had washed over me. The noise, the people, the pounding music, the giggling queues for the ladies; I would somehow stop being part of the fun and instead would stand, struggling with the feeling that I didn’t belong.
I could remember it so clearly, sitting at a sticky table, swigging back a drink I didn’t want, not sure what to do. But then, on other occasions, I had also been quite happy to go out on the dancefloor with or without a partner and spin and twirl to the music, so I couldn’t have been completely hopeless. Perhaps that had been the effect of the alcohol?
That was how I met Greg. I’d just broken up with my latest boyfriend, so I didn’t have a plus one to take with me to Ellen and Paulo’s wedding. Looking at all those other happy couples, watching Ellen and Paulo so much in love, exchanging their vows, her beautiful dress, the emotional speeches, the champagne, the applause and the excitement of the day. I realised that this was it; he had married someone else and I was probably going to be alone forever.
The evening DJ had been playing what I thought were called ‘floor fillers’, the sort of music that was irresistible. I had been slightly tipsy, still in my pale green dress which was made of some synthetic material, and I had collided with Greg as he crossed the dancefloor. There had been an actual spark of static electricity as he grabbed my hand to pull me back to my feet, and he had chuckled and made some comment about instant chemistry. Eight months later we were married.
I’d believed then that I wouldn’t feel lonely again. I’d had a family, a career, a busy life, a husband. But gradually I’d realised that even that didn’t really take away all those feelings, of not quite having got my life right. It wasn’t supposed to feel like that, was it? There was still a gap in my life, one that I couldn’t quite name. And surely I should have sorted it out by now? Weren’t women my age supposed to feel confident and satisfied with their lives? Not restless like a cat trying to fit into a cardboard box that was too small.
I thought about Juliette then, finding happiness with Matthew, or Ceci with Freddy, and I wondered what it would take for me to feel the same level of contentment.
But was Juliette right. Should I take the chance to tell Paulo how I felt? How I had probably loved him for decades without even realising it? Not acknowledging it to myself. Never confessing it to anyone, not even my closest friend. It seemed pathetic, to admit that a piece of my heart had been given irrevocably to a man who had married someone else.
But surely this was not the time or the place to do so.
But if that was the case, when would be the right time?
* * *
‘Raimondo wants to take me out for the day,’ Susie said the following morning over breakfast.
‘Again? Where to this time?’ I said. I realised I sounded a bit irritated, and the last thing I wanted to do was to upset her when she was so cheerful. ‘What’s he got in mind?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Susie said, running a careless hand through her curls.
‘And where did you get to last night?’
‘Nowhere particular. I could see Paulo wanted to talk to you so we went off down the road to a little wine bar Raimondo knows and had a lovely time. I don’t think I have talked to a man so easily for ages. And he doesn’t try to sort my problems out like most men do, he just listens.’
She was looking very happy this morning, more so than I had seen her for years. Perhaps this was the effect her new admirer was having on her, and I was genuinely pleased for her. Heaven knows I had seen her often enough looking worried thanks to Simon and his gaslighting.
‘We might take the ferry over to Amalfi today. I mean, you could come too if you wanted to?’
‘What a dreadful idea.’ I laughed. ‘I’d be a real third wheel. No, you go and have fun.’
