The Silent Wife(71)

I gazed at the castle. Yet again, I was trapped between what I should be feeling and what I really felt. I’d never been to Italy before, never seen sunflowers in great golden swathes, just the puny little things Sam grew during primary school, withering at the window of Mum’s dark flat. Yet part of me was still wishing that Mum, Sam and I were bouncing off to a crappy caravan, car piled high with everything from duvets to dishcloths, singing ‘We’re All Going on a Summer Holiday’ at the top of our voices.

But I managed to loosen up and crack a smile as I watched Sam shout to Sandro, ‘Cor! A real castle! Come on, let’s explore!’ He disappeared off into the gardens, Sandro trotting lightly in his wake, dodging in and out of huge terracotta urns filled with geraniums. Francesca was far too cool to look excited and slowly lowered her legs out of the car, checking her hair in the rear-view mirror as she went.

Mum, on the other hand, was in the Sam camp of enthusiasm. ‘Didn’t realise it would be a proper castle. Gawd, it’s got turrets and everything. Do you think we can get up there? You’d be able to see for miles. Look, Mags, a drawbridge. You can just imagine them knights charging over that on their horses.’

Nico put his arm around my shoulder. ‘So, Mrs Farinelli, what do you think?’

‘I think “Wow”!’ I hoped this holiday would put us back on track. In the month since Francesca trashed my workshop, Nico had steered a neutral line, condemning her behaviour but stopping short of a one hundred per cent conviction that I was entirely innocent of the box disappearing – ‘It is strange how it’s just vanished though. Perhaps it’ll turn up.’

If there’d been a moment for telling the truth, I’d missed it. I couldn’t think of a version of events that would keep Caitlin’s affair covered up and provide a suitable excuse for the box’s disappearance. I hoped over time we’d all just forget about it and it would pass into the realms of unexplained family mysteries, a bit similar to where missing socks ended up – mildly irritating but not interesting enough to waste any time on.

But just as I was relaxing into that tiny moment of connection with Nico, a little papering over the frightening amount of cracks that had crackle-glazed our marriage within a short space of time, we were interrupted. This time it was Massimo.

‘So Maggie, how’s the Italian experience so far? Living up to expectations? Let me show you the view from the ramparts, bring your mum.’

I looked at Nico, who nodded and said, ‘Go on. I’ll get Francesca to help me unload the car.’

I hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’ I wasn’t used to someone else doing all the donkey work. He waved me off, laughing.

Mum was busy deadheading the geraniums in one of the urns.

Massimo put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Now, now, Beryl, this is a holiday for you. They have gardeners to do that, so I want to see you with your feet up and enjoying the sunshine. Come on, let’s go and see the views.’

I felt a rush of gratitude that Massimo was including her. Anna had sat at the airport making barbed comments such as ‘Of course, we’ve all been backwards and forwards on planes forever. I simply can’t understand people who have no interest in travel. So parochial.’

I hated her for banging on about how ‘parochial’ we were. I tried to get my own back on her, adopting an evangelical concern for the environment, pointing out that air miles weren’t something to boast about, that plane exhaust fumes kill more than ten thousand people a year.

But Mum handled her brilliantly. She laughed and sucked noisily at the straw in her milkshake. ‘You can be interested all you like, but if you haven’t got the cash for it, then it’s not going to happen. We’d all like to be swanning about, hopping on this and that plane, and I wouldn’t say no to a bit of a cruise round the Mediterranean, but the reality is, I wouldn’t be here now if Nico hadn’t been so lovely and taken pity on his old mother-in-law.’

Anna had folded her face in but I’d be keeping an eye on her in case she hadn’t made the switch in her mind from Beryl, the carer/cleaner/general dogsbody, to Beryl, part of her extended family and holiday guest.

Other than Anna, all the other Farinellis had been very generous about the addition to their holiday. I’d got myself in such a state about telling Nico I’d invited Mum to Italy, fully prepared for a hands up in horror scenario, leading to an awkward withdrawal of the ill-advised invitation. Instead he’d just hugged me and said, ‘Maggie, of course she’s welcome. I hope she won’t mind sharing with Sam.’ I’d blathered on about paying for her flight and cost of accommodation and probably her share of the loo paper and hand soap as well. He’d just put a finger on my lips and said, ‘Sshh. It’s fine. Sam loves her and it will be nice for Sandro as well.’