Page 80 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘To all those things and more,’ I said at last.
My phone buzzed with the arrival of a text. It was from Alex, of course.
I’ve been working from home and there’s no milk or bread left. I’ve looked in your freezer and I can’t find any. When is the next supermarket delivery?
‘Is there a problem?’ Paulo said.
‘There certainly is,’ I said, biting down my irritation.
And then I knew there was something I had to do, and soon.
‘I’m so much better now, I certainly don’t need any more time in bed, and you have some decisions to make. About the hotel, and the future. And so do I. Well, not the hotel bit because obviously I haven’t got one, but we both have plans to make and ideas to sort out, don’t we?’
He topped up my wine glass and then he nodded.
‘I will arrange some flights for you and Susie. It will be up to you to drag her away from Raimondo. I know one thing – when all this is sorted out, I don’t want to lose you for a second time.’
I didn’t think I could breathe properly for a moment and then I took a deep breath and I smiled up at him.
‘No,’ I said, ‘nor do I.’
‘I would like us to start again,’ he said, ‘to find our own contentment. To remember the past but also learn from it. You had your life, and I had mine, and I do not wish them away, not at all. And I do not regret the choices I made. But I do want something else now. I want to get to know you again. I don’t want to remain stuck in the past.’
‘No,’ I said, with a huge smile, ‘nor do I.’
And suddenly those things seemed possible. There were opportunities for both of us. How marvellous that felt, to know that we both had new chances to explore the future, new lives to find.
* * *
We talked and talked about the past. He even went to find a couple of photographs in his desk, not of just us two because that would have been rather strange if he had kept them, but of all our friends. Parties we went to, picnics on the beach which went on for hours while the sunset faded, and the only light on our faces was from our driftwood bonfire.
It was strange looking at us back then. The colours from the photographs had faded with age. There was Susie with her shock of pale, red-gold hair. Ellen, beautiful, and aware of the camera, posing her long legs like a model. Me, head thrown back in laughter, a beer bottle in my hand. I could almost feel the warmth from the fire, hear the chatter, the terrible guitar playing from a young chap I’d dated for a few weeks whose name I couldn’t remember.
We had thought we were invincible back then. Old age and illness and mortgages and relationship difficulties were for other people. We were different, weren’t we?
Perhaps every generation feels the same at that age – ridiculously confident, invulnerable to the problems life might throw at us. We thought we were special, that we knew so much more than everyone else, didn’t we? And yet we hadn’t; we were wrong, of course.
Those decades had gone by in a heartbeat. We’d both had careers, triumphs and disappointments. Our children had grown up, relationships had come and gone, marriages had failed, illness had come for some of us after all.
We laughed and exchanged memories and agreed we had been so young back then, so foolish. And yet after all that time we still liked each other – wasn’t that what Ceci had said was the most important thing? And because of that, there were still possibilities. For what, I wasn’t sure. Friendship? Companionship? Something more maybe.
There was a part of me that was enthusiastic about the prospect, and a little part of me that held back. This was not the time for reckless declarations. To take our relationship any further. There was time for that. Apart from anything else, my ribs were still sore; I didn’t think I would be very alluring when I was covered in scratches and bruises even if I did put my best underwear on. And yet the prospect of it was so exciting. I’d waited for so long to feel like this, to want to be close and intimate with him. To be able to touch his skin, be near to him.
He needed to get his life in order, and I needed to do the same. Thinking about that in this place, where life seemed warm and easy, where every corner revealed a new, wonderful view was impossible.
I needed to go home to my funny little house where the front door stuck in wet weather and the garage and the attic were full of my children’s junk. Boxes of schoolbooks, unwanted furniture, a mountain bike in pieces, skateboards and tennis racquets.
You can’t throw that away! Just hang on to it for a bit, and I’ll sort it out one day.
Well, that day was coming sooner than they thought.
* * *
‘Do we have to go home?’ Susie said mournfully at breakfast the next morning when I told her my decision. ‘It’s so lovely here. And Raimondo really does have a boat and a beautiful house. He wasn’t stringing me along, and he has mentioned no interest in my bank account or my pension, so you can stop worrying about that.’
‘Paulo is going to arrange our flights, and yes, we do need to go home,’ I said firmly. ‘There is nothing stopping you from coming back.’
‘True,’ Susie said, brightening up, ‘and I’ve realised I want to sort out my flat. I’ve been meaning to redecorate for months, but I kept putting it off because Simon said he couldn’t bear the disruption and we could never agree on colours. And of course, Raimondo could come and see me, couldn’t he? I’d better clear out the spare room. It’s full of junk at the moment.’
