Page 40 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

The walled medieval cities south of Florence and north of Rome are incredible. I love San Gimignano, of course, with its soaring towers and unique skyline. It’s also known for the best gelato in Italy, or so they say. Don’t tell them, but I have had some pretty spectacular gelato in Venice and Rome?oh, and on the Cinque Terre.

There are other walled cities I adore too?Orvieto, renowned for its zebra-striped cathedral and Montepulciano for its brilliant food and wine?especially the wine?but my favourite of all has to be Siena.

Ah, Siena!

It’s been a dozen or more years since I’ve been and when we arrive, it’s clear that their ‘shoulder season’ would make any tourist bureau proud?it’s teeming with tourists, even in October. As Mum and Jaelee jabber away in the back seat, I sense Cat getting increasingly frustrated with the search for a parking spot, something confirmed when I ease the four-wheel-drive into a tight spot and she sighs.

‘Ready?’ I say, smiling at her brightly.

‘Absolutely.’ I fear that with Cat’s fluctuations between elated bride and could-become-a-Bridezilla-at-any-moment, we’re dangerously close to the latter. Mum and Jaelee ease out of the back seat, careful not to hit the doors against the cars either side and Mum strides off purposefully to pay for parking.

‘Hey.’ Cat looks at me. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine. Let’s just get on with it.’

I want to tease her with, ‘That’s the spirit,’ but hold off. ‘You’re up and down today. Did you know that?’

‘Yes. Sorry.’ A few rows of parked cars away, Mum is frowning at the ticket machine and Jaelee joins her to help.

‘Don’t apologise, just tell me what you need. Pep talk? Tough love? Permission to whinge?’ My last offer elicits a smile and she turns towards me.

‘When we first had this idea?tagging along on your fortieth and getting married in Italy?it sounded so romantic and dreamy and … well … perfect.’

‘It can still be all those things.’

‘I know that?in here.’ She taps the side of her head, like I do when I’m sharing the same sentiment. ‘But in reality, it’s intense and busy and all these issues keep popping up. Is it terrible that I just want everyone to sod off so we can have a quiet week together to celebrate?you, me, Jean-Luc, and Josh? I mean, I love everyone?you know I do?but …’ She shrugs.

‘No, it’s not terrible. I’ve thought the same thing myself. Look, they’re coming back so let’s just have a fun day out, okay? We’ll find you something perfect to wear for your wedding?’

‘You are a lot more convinced of that than I am.’

‘We will?and Siena is a beautiful city, Cat. You’ll love it, I promise.’

Mum opens my car door and hands me the ticket. ‘Come on girls, we’re not here to sit around all day,’ she says. I place the ticket on the dashboard and scrunch my nose at Cat, making her smile.

‘Coming, Mum,’ we sing-song together.

‘Oh, I love Italy,’ sighs Mum, leaning against the counter of a bar, an espresso in one hand. She takes a delicate sip.

‘You certainly fit in, Mum,’ I say. She does, actually. Mum has always dressed well but she also carries herself with a casual elegance?quite similar to many of the Italian women we’ve seen today, those that move fluidly through the crowds of gawking tourists, chins slightly elevated and with the occasional toss of glossy hair. (In a million years, I will never be like that.)

She’d even ordered our coffees with a surprisingly good Italian accent. ‘Quattro caffè per favore,’ she said.

‘Americano?’ the man behind the counter asked.

Mum frowned slightly, then said, ‘No, normale,’ as in, ‘How rude of you to ask?we’ll have regular espressos, thank you very much!’ He nodded approvingly and a short time later, slid four tiny cups and saucers across the counter. To us, Mum stage-whispered, ‘The guide from our last trip to Venice taught us that. The indignation really sells it?that way you get a proper coffee.’ Our mum?International Coffee Snob.

She tips her head, finishing the shot, and says, ‘Shall we?’ Even Jaelee, who I sense is usually Queen Bee, hurriedly finishes hers and moments later, the four of us are standing on the footpath. I look about, getting my bearings. Again, it’s been years since I’ve been here?and that was on a tour with fifty people following me around. But from the expectant expressions of my party, it’s on me to lead this expedition.

‘Sightseeing first or dress shopping?’

‘Sightseeing,’ says Cat right as Mum and Jaelee say, ‘Dress shopping.’ Great, so that settles nothing. Cat looks between us, her anxiousness evident?or is it frustration?

‘How about this. We’re really close to Piazza del Campo?we should see that before we do anything else. It’s … well, it’s breathtaking, the heart of the city. You’ll love it.’ Two of three faces look unconvinced. ‘This way …’ I start walking, expecting the others to fall in behind me, and we navigate the crowd in a close clump. ‘And you’ve probably heard of the Palio, that famous horse race? It’s run every year?twice, actually?and the Contrade?they’re like neighbourhoods of the city?compete. Look.’ I stop and point to a banner fluttering above us. ‘That tells us what Contrada we’re in.’

‘Which one are we in?’ asks Jaelee.

---