The little italian hotel, p.8
The Little Italian Hotel, page 8
“Thank you, but I don’t need any assistance. I have the balance of a tight rope walker.” Edna waved a hand as if swatting a fly.
“Everyone, try to keep close together so you don’t get lost,” Heather called out.
Ginny stepped off the minibus and rotated her arms to stretch them. The bustle of people around her sounded extra loud after the peacefulness of the countryside. Cars and mopeds beeped their horns and tourists chattered while examining maps and their phones. She heard Nico and Loretta exchanging words again as they stood in front of the minibus.
“I’ve been to the gallery before,” Loretta said. “I will meet you here later.”
“Where will you go?” Nico asked.
She pointed over her shoulder. “Somewhere.”
He called out to the back of her head as she walked away. “Where? What time will you be back?”
“The middle of the afternoon.” Loretta didn’t turn back around.
Nico watched her with his shoulders rounded. He sighed deeply as he returned to his flock. “Follow me, friends.”
He led them further into the city where ochre stone buildings contrasted against the periwinkle sky. Offices, shops and hotels had arches of every description and were topped with statues of cherubs and saints. Flags fluttered and pigeons strutted. A man on a bicycle rang his bell as he rode along a narrow street, followed by his two young sons, wobbling on their own bikes. Ginny heard the peal of church bells and glanced around her in wonder, admiring the gelaterias, tiny coffee shops and designer boutiques. She saw Nico’s eyes were pained after his discussion with Loretta and she caught up with him to talk.
“My daughter, Phoebe, went through an argumentative phase in her teens, too,” Ginny said gently. “Young girls can be challenging when they’re finding their independence. Patience is key. My advice is to keep a good sense of humor and grit your teeth.”
Nico bared his molars to her. “Soon, I will have none left,” he said. “How old is your daughter?”
“Twenty-four. She’s getting married soon.”
“Ah, congratulations.” Nico placed a hand on his chest. “I will have to wait a long time for Loretta to marry, maybe forever. She is...” He struggled to find a word.
“Determined? Spirited? Feisty?”
“All of these things.” He laughed. “She reminds me of her mother, Maria.”
Ginny hadn’t seen any photos of Maria around Splendido and wondered where she was.
Nico, Ginny, Eric, Curtis and Heather walked together at Edna’s pace until they reached the Uffizi Gallery.
Portrait artists sat outside the building, using pencils and burnt umber pastels to sketch tourists in the Renaissance style. Living statues posed on top of plinths with their faces and clothes painted chalk white. They moved and waved whenever passersby dropped coins into their hats on the pavement. Tour guides raised their voices to inform visitors about Florence and the gallery.
Fortunately, the queue outside wasn’t too long. People talked as they filed alongside the curved gray walls of the U-shaped building. Majestic Doric columns were punctuated by ancient statues set in arched hollows and a replica statue of Michelangelo’s David flanked the entrance, standing almost three times Ginny’s height.
Nico ushered Ginny and the others around him. “The building was constructed in the sixteenth century, originally to house the Florentine magistrates,” he said.
Ginny looked up and around her with her mouth agape, admiring the three stories of windows and sculpted balconies. She felt honored to be in the presence of such history and beauty. As she inched along in the queue, she didn’t look down at her feet once.
When they reached the entrance doors, Edna already looked withered from the morning heat. She slumped and a damp strand of hair stuck to her forehead. “I don’t need a wheelchair,” she announced to no one in particular. “My legs work perfectly well without assistance.”
Nico sidled up beside her. “There are forty-five halls over three floors in the building, with many corridors,” he said. “I wish I could use a chair with wheels. You will be like Boudicca riding her chariot into battle against the Romans.”
Edna lifted her chin and considered this. She rearranged her bag on her shoulders. “I suppose you can all be my generals...” she said.
Nico winked at Ginny. She grinned back and noted it was the first time she’d smiled properly in weeks. It felt strange and most welcome.
She paid for everyone’s tickets and guides to the gallery and handed them out, trying not to think about her bank account balance. It was unlikely that she, Nico and the strangers would stay together in one group. “Let’s meet outside the gift shop in two and a half hours’ time,” she said.
Curtis immediately headed off on his own. “Catch you guys later,” he said, twisting his baseball cap back to front. He pressed his mobile phone to his lips and talked as he walked.
Ginny helped Eric settle Edna into a wheelchair. When a security guard stopped Eric to search through his rucksack, she felt quite territorial.
The guard took Eric’s tin out of his bag and held it on the flat of his palm. The two men had an animated conversation until Eric took the tin back and twisted off the lid. They both peered inside it and the security guard raised an eyebrow. He took a pink collar out of the tin.
Eric’s bottom lip wobbled a little and the guard patted his arm sympathetically.
Is Eric’s bereavement a dog? Ginny thought as she watched. Surely, there must be more to his heartache than that? She still missed her childhood Jack Russell, even though it bit her many times, so she could understand his sense of loss. Was it really enough to take up a free place on holiday with her?
Eric checked his rucksack in to the cloakroom and paid for a pair of headphones. He hurriedly placed them on his ears before anyone had the chance to talk to him. Taking hold of Edna’s wheelchair, he whisked her away.
“I’m going to take photos and make notes for my class,” Heather said. “They’ll be useful for one of our art history projects.”
Ginny frowned, trying to remember when the UK school holidays fell. She was sure it wasn’t in June. “It’s term time now, isn’t it? Are you taking some time off?”
Heather’s movements became twitchy and she scratched her neck. “Yes, yes, I’ve been granted special leave from my job until the autumn term begins.” She opened her mouth to say something else, then changed her mind. She skirted off into the first gallery, homing in on a painting of cherubs.
Ginny was left standing with Nico, feeling thankful she didn’t have to solve anyone’s heartache that morning. Her guests seemed like a random bunch with random issues and, hopefully, the art would make them all feel better.
The art gallery brought on a touch of nostalgia and Ginny thought back to when Phoebe was young. It had been awkward going to galleries and museums as a family of three. She needed eyes like a hammerhead shark to keep track of both Adrian and Phoebe. Her daughter grew bored easily and preferred to draw rather than look at paintings. She dragged her feet so Ginny had to constantly look back over her shoulder, to tell her to keep up. Adrian strode ahead, so if Ginny wanted to discuss any of the artwork, she had to rush to catch up with him.
They’d only been able to have one child and Ginny thought she, Adrian and Phoebe would be like an equilateral triangle, with all sides and angles the same. However, their family was often scalene-shaped, a little spiky and askew. Sometimes they were all best friends, and sometimes they weren’t. It was easy for one person to feel left out of their trio, and she supposed it was most often Adrian.
Ginny and Nico silently admired works by Raphael, Caravaggio, Leonardo da Vinci, and ancient statues from Rome. The artists had left great masterpieces behind that would be cherished for centuries to come and Ginny considered what her own legacy might be. Helping others was noble, if not as visible as the art.
There was a buzz of excitement emanating from the small crowd gathered around The Birth of Venus. Ginny caught her breath when she finally stood in front of the painting she’d always wanted to see. The canvas was much larger than she’d expected, almost two by three meters. Painted in the fifteenth century, it depicted the goddess of love and beauty standing on top of a giant scallop shell in the sea and arriving on land. She was naked and her hands and long hair covered her modesty.
Ginny was struck by how serene and nonplussed Venus was by her own nudity, ignoring a woman on her right who held out a red shawl. Ginny wanted to grab it and wrap it around the goddess. (“Come on. Let’s get you nice and warm and you can tell me why you’re standing in a shell with no clothes on.”) She loved how Venus was calm and beautiful in the face of adversity.
Look and learn, Ginny told herself.
“The painting is superb,” she whispered to Nico.
“Si,” he said. “I have seen it on several occasions and each time feels like the first.”
“It makes me feel quite emotional.”
“Me, also.”
Ginny suspected Adrian would have glanced at the painting, nodded and moved on to the next one, treating the gallery like a checkbox exercise. It made her appreciate Nico’s patience.
“What would you like to see next?” he asked, after a while.
Ginny looked around her. “There are so many rooms, it feels overwhelming.”
“Perhaps I can show you my favorite painting?”
“Yes, please. Surprise me,” she said, thinking it was something she’d never usually say. She let Nico lead the way, trying to guess which piece of art he’d choose, perhaps a small vase of flowers or a cockerel, to match his hotel decor.
She was surprised when he stopped in front of a Piero della Francesca. It was a double portrait diptych of the Duke and Duchess of Urbino, facing each other across a strip of ornate gold frame. Their expressions were stagnant and Ginny thought they looked rather passionless. They were together while also separate, a little like her and Adrian, she supposed.
A wave of sorrow washed over her and she accepted they might have drifted apart, just like her husband claimed. “I can’t tell what they’re thinking,” she told Nico.
“The duke lost his right eye during a tournament, so the painting only shows his left side,” he explained.
Ginny thought the duke had a strong noble nose, not dissimilar to Nico’s. She envied people whose prominent features made their faces more interesting to look at, especially because she considered her own profile to be unremarkable. “Why do you like this one best?” she asked.
Nico opened his gallery guide and pointed to a picture. “The two paintings have another side, different scenes on the back. It is like a secret.”
The images on the reverse showed the duke wearing armor and the duchess sitting on a chariot. These pictures were more dynamic and Ginny would have displayed these sides instead.
“Maria does not like the painting of the duke,” Nico said. “She says it is miserable.”
Ginny admired the portrait. “The duke has a lot of character so it’s a shame he hides half of his face. He should be proud of his appearance...” She let her words fall away, realizing how much time and effort she spent trying to enhance her own.
Nico nodded. “It is always better to show your real self,” he said.
Ginny stared at the painting again and nodded, thinking it was something she really had to try for herself.
11
Rickshaw
Everyone met up as planned outside the gift shop. When they filtered outside, the sun was high and the day had grown hotter.
Heather pulled a giant tube of lotion out of her bag. “Don’t forget to top up your sun cream, everyone. We don’t want any burnt shoulders.”
Edna folded her gallery guide, concertina-style, to make a fan. Her white hair fluttered as she waved it in front of her face. She took Eric’s arm again as they strolled back toward the minibus.
Nico drove them a short distance to Boboli Gardens and retrieved their lunch bags. “I already have tickets and we can sit in the shade to eat,” he said.
Built in a series of terraces, the gardens boasted symmetrically cut hedges that formed hexagons and squares. Tall cypress trees stood to attention, surrounding them like bodyguards and bees buzzed between the rose bushes. A turquoise dragonfly shimmered past Ginny, settling on the edge of a fountain of Neptune brandishing his trident. Edna’s eyes lit up when she saw wild orchids. “They’re breathtaking,” she whispered.
The sandwiches Nico had made were delicious, filled with provolone cheese, shredded lettuce and onion, with oil and vinegar. Ginny didn’t care when it trickled down her chin.
She pictured Adrian sitting in The Vehicle Emporium, nursing a boring cheese sandwich at his desk, and it brought a slight smile to her lips.
When lunch was over, four sets of eyes fixed on her, especially Heather’s. “What’s next on the curriculum?” the teacher asked.
Ginny hadn’t thought of anything beyond the gallery and she racked her brain, trying to think of something to do that might suit everyone.
Perhaps the heat was making her feel uncharacteristically selfish, but she wanted to think about herself for once. It was her holiday after all. Convinced her suitcase had vanished forever, she wanted to buy new clothes, makeup, toiletries and underwear. She wasn’t sure where to source a phone charger in the city.
“Why don’t we all go shopping?” she suggested, choosing to ignore the look of terror that flashed across Eric’s face. “Retail therapy usually works for me.”
“I’ll join you,” Heather offered. “Two heads are better than one if you’re buying things.”
Eric and Edna opted to stay in the gardens and Curtis strode off on his own again, talking into his phone. Nico texted Loretta to tell her he was parked at the Boboli Gardens and he gave everyone a time to meet. He warned them that, just like in any city, they should look after their belongings.
It soon became apparent that Ginny and Heather had different tastes in everything. Heather was interested in organic cotton, vegan shoes and candles. She liked bracelets made out of tiny beads and handbags that looked like cloth sacks. Ginny’s eyes shone at all the labels and shops she’d seen in glossy magazines: Jimmy Choo, Prada, Longchamp and Gucci. She drooled at the clothes and winced at the price tags.
Heather peered over Ginny’s shoulder a lot, saying, “My goodness, it’s fabulous but pricy. Are you sure?” Ginny felt pressured into buying a cream linen dress she didn’t love because Heather extolled the sustainability factor of the fabric. They spent fifteen minutes in a shop while Heather decided whether to buy an amber scented candle or one that smelled of patchouli.
“I’ve become interested in aromatherapy recently,” she said. “Smells can help to evoke memories and I think it’s helping Mum.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Ginny asked. “Because of her?”
Heather gave a slight nod that made her blond curls bounce. “Sorry I was evasive in the gallery earlier. Mum’s poorly and I’ve been looking after her for quite some time. It’s been taking its toll on me and that’s why the headmistress insisted I take some time off school.” She ran a hand down her yoga trousers several times. “I’m sure Mum and I will be back on our feet in no time.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Ginny asked gently.
Heather smiled but her eyes were sad. “Remember when you were little, when you thought that all teachers were invincible, and that they knew everything? That’s the person you try to become in my profession. And when you don’t feel that way, can’t act that way, it’s difficult to pretend.”
“You don’t have to pretend here.”
Heather took a moment to gather her thoughts. She turned away from Ginny and fixed her sights on a musical instrument shop. “I’m sure Mum and I will be fine, nothing that a little rest, recuperation and vitamins won’t sort out,” she said. Her tone indicated this part of their conversation was now over. “Oh, would you look at that shop over there. My class is learning to play the recorder. Do you mind if we take a look?”
Ginny desperately wanted to find a lingerie store. Her underwear was crispy from the soap. “Perhaps we should go our separate ways for a while,” she said. “I need to buy some personal items.”
“Oh, okay, I don’t mind,” Heather said, sounding like she did. “Don’t forget that heartache feeds on solitude.”
Too hot to think what that meant, Ginny tried not to feel guilty when Heather bounded off to look at a display of violins.
Ginny experienced a new sense of freedom going into whichever shops she wanted without Adrian standing outside looking at his watch or Heather assessing what she was buying. There was no one to question if she really needed another pair of shoes or not.
Ginny bought a floaty zebra-print dress, underwear and a smart linen jacket, getting changed into them in the shop’s fitting room.
Each time she took out her purse, a floating sensation lifted her up for a few minutes before she came back down to earth. It was like being dunked in and out of a river for witchcraft, the euphoria of being alive soon canceled out by water flooding the lungs. She really shouldn’t be spending money like this.
Ginny applied makeup in a cosmetic store and almost cheered when she saw herself in a mirror looking poised and sleek again.
Her celebration was short-lived when a nagging voice appeared in her head. Isn’t this the version of you that Adrian has rejected? it asked. The problem-solver, the helper who looks composed on the outside, but who is struggling underneath? Which person is the real you?
