Under a Tuscan Sky. Karen Aldous
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the bedside table. ‘Oh, best put that in in the morning,’ she muttered, leaving a charger beside her bed.
She then opened the drawer, picking up her passport and two small purses. Taking them around to the bottom of the bed, she opened an envelope and, removing half the notes, stashed them into one purse, placing it into a pocket in the side of the suitcase, then stashed the other wad of notes into the other small purse and inserted it into a side pocket of her handbag and zipped it up.
Turning and straightening up, she saw that Will – out of breath – was at the door, dressed in his grey suit. He looked so handsome in a suit. She sighed. ‘You’ve not been home yet?’
‘No. Thought I would drop this in before you leave. Wouldn’t want you obsessing about your key and security whilst you’re away.’
‘Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you,’ she said, reaching for the front door key in his hand, and curling back her tongue to keep the sarcasm contained. ‘I’ve got packing to do but would you like a coffee? Beer?’
Sucking in his breath as he observed the various piles on her bed, he said, ‘No, I’ll let you get on. I know you have a lot to do.’ He signalled with his head and transferred his weight from one foot to the other before he said, ‘Just one thing. I would like you to give me another chance. I’m sorry I let you down when you needed me. I would really like to join you in Italy and offer my support.’
Glaring at his apologetic face for several seconds, her resolve briefly weakened. He did seem to care. But then she remembered all the discussions and excuses that she’d heard over the last few weeks and how those photos had captivated her. Now, it seemed, he felt the need to show his hand and it wasn’t the hand she wanted.
‘It’s too late. I’m not going to change my mind,’ she said, swiping her phone and selecting a list. Then concentrating with her tongue licking the side of her mouth, she said, ‘Ah, here we are: “door key”.’ She tapped the screen to strike through the item. Having the phone to hand was a comforting distraction but she had to be firm. There was no use giving him any snippet of hope. ‘I made it perfectly clear, Will,’ she said glancing back at him, and watching his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘How do you know it’s for the best? You’re still upset about your nonna and I appreciate it isn’t easy for you, but you know I love you and I want to be with you, marry you. You’ve made a split-second decision that will affect us for the rest of our lives. All those plans … Now that Chiara is having a baby, I thought you might change your mind too. I wasn’t going to mention it yet, what with your nonna just passed away.’
Fighting back a sad but not sorry tear, Olivia slid the phone into her jeans pocket. ‘Will, that just proves to me that you really don’t know me. What makes you think you always know what’s best for me? What do you know about what I need? Why would I want to start a family when I’m not even in a relationship with a man who loves and supports me, who makes the effort to see me? I’m not going back on my decision, so if you don’t mind, I will get on with my packing. I still have lots to do.’
She noticed the near-empty pack of contraceptive pills stacked with the new one and threw them in the bin. ‘I won’t even need these. Thank you for returning the key. I’ll see you out.’
***
On the train as she made her way to the airport, Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about Will. He did seem genuinely hurt, and whilst the break-up was sad, there was no point in continuing to harbour guilt. She had done the right thing and therefore she should now embark on a journey that would certainly force her to think for herself. Or, at least try.
Dealing with her grandmother’s death ten years ago in England was going to be quite different to Italy. She wanted to do the best for her nonna but she hadn’t a clue about the legalities and would be relying on the lawyer her nonna had appointed. Her Italian was fairly good but she dreaded having to deal with legal documents.
As she anticipated the journey ahead, her nerves felt jagged. Someone had always travelled with her, sharing the responsibility of it all. Nearing her stop, she bit her lip, opened her handbag once more and flicked through it. Passport, phone, charger in bag and one in case, flight check-in on phone, a flight check-in printout, car hire confirmation details on phone, car hire printout, insurances on phone and in print, and two purses.
At the airport, after checking in her large case, she raced across the hall to security. The train journey had been delayed twenty minutes due to an ‘incident’, which had been announced on the train line from Bermondsey to Canning Town, and she was cursing as she rifled through her hand luggage to take out her Kindle, laptop, and phone, which all had to go separately into the security box.
‘Oh damn,’ she cursed again, as her Chanel sunglasses dropped to the floor. She bent down in a harassed stupor. Twisting around to grab them, she saw a large olive-skinned hand retrieve them and she stood back up.
‘Thank you,’ she said, grasping them and peering up, catching a sparkling glint from dark eyes behind heavy-rimmed specs. She stared for a few seconds. Too long, then in a fluster as the queue behind her seemed to be bustling, she thrust the glasses, along with her handbag, into another box and pushed it forward on to the small rollers in the security machine.
‘Prego,’ he muttered in Italian and proceeded to concentrate on his own box.
Olivia continued in a fluster through security, gathering her belongings on the other side and moving to an out-of-the-way area to reorganize herself before checking the screen and heading for the right gate. It was so chaotic and for some reason, being on her own, she felt so much more self-conscious. Maybe it was the handsome Italian who was making her more so.
Relieved to be on the plane, snuggled away in a seat next to the window, she blew out a sigh, placed her handbag by her feet, lifted out her Kindle, and switched it on. She was just starting to read the prologue of the book she had deliberately downloaded for her trip to Italy when a small hand waving in front of her face appeared.
‘Hello, Lady,’ the small child said peering over the chairs in front.
Olivia looked up. ‘Hello.’
‘Freddie, sit down. So sorry,’ said his harassed mother who was stashing bags into the overhead locker and carrying a baby on her back. ‘I’ll buckle him down as soon as I’ve put these away.’
‘No worries. He’s excited I imagine.’
‘Very.’
Olivia smiled and began the page again struggling to ignore the child as he began telling her about his baby sister. His large blue eyes soon had her hooked as he told her about his sister crying because she hadn’t had her dinner and his mummy crying because it was the wrong milk.
‘Oh dear, poor Mummy – she’s having a tough morning,’ Olivia told him, feeling helpless as his mother closed her eyes probably wishing the ground would swallow her up.
‘Can I help?’ she asked watching her wriggle the baby carrier off.
‘Here. Allow me,’ a deep Italian voice intervened. The man reached his tanned arms up to shut an overhead locker and then he reached for the baby carrier on the woman’s back. He held the weight of the baby in the carrier so that the woman could slip out her arms with ease.
‘Thank you. You’re very kind,’ she told him. Then the woman steered her eyes to Olivia. ‘You have a gem of a husband here.’
‘Oh, he’s not with me.’
‘Oh.’ The woman sniggered, covering her mouth. ‘Sorry, well, enjoy your journey. Hope we don’t disrupt it too much,’ she said squeezing in to the seat in the row in front, next to the toddler, and trying to get herself organized with the infant on her lap.
Olivia buried her head back into her Kindle, feeling slightly exhausted herself after watching the woman try to manage. It couldn’t be easy trying to cope with more than one child, she imagined. She wondered why the woman was travelling