I had to stop worrying so much. I’d never had a relationship longer than a year before I met Nico. My tough times with a bloke had tended to be less ‘We’ll work through this’ and more ‘Suit yourself, you know where the door is’. I turned my attention back to Massimo, who was still instructing Mum on how to have a proper holiday.
Mum wiped the sweat off her top lip. ‘Hot, isn’t it? Shan’t know what to do with myself. Not very good at putting my feet up, but I’ll give it a go.’
‘Where’s Lara? Will she want to see the view?’ I didn’t want to put up any black marks by taking over her husband at the wrong time.
Massimo waved the suggestion away, leading us through into a sunny courtyard, with faded frescoes and elaborate arches. ‘She’s seen it all before. She likes to unpack and get settled in. We’ll all come up later, but I just wanted to give my favourite new guests a little preview.’
Mum nudged him. ‘Right old smooth talker you are, Massimo.’
‘I do my best, Beryl, I do my best.’
Massimo called Sam over with a proper fingers-in-the-mouth, builder-up-a-scaffold wolf-whistle. I hoped some of Massimo’s exuberance would rub off on Nico this holiday. I wanted to recapture that sweet spot from about a year ago when Nico’s grief had dissipated enough to stop feeling guilty about falling in love with me but he wasn’t yet worn down by the realities of blending two different families.
Massimo stood back to let us go ahead up a narrow set of stairs.
Sam scampered up with the boundless energy of an eleven-year-old. Mum hauled herself up by the banister. ‘Jeepers. These steps aren’t made for old fatties like me with buggered knees.’
‘Would you like a push, Beryl?’ Massimo asked, managing to sound both cheeky and helpful.
‘Get away with you!’ Mum was giggling in between wheezes.
My worries about the holiday began to dissolve. I never used to be so pessimistic but I hadn’t had so much to lose before. A few steps up, I turned round to smile at Massimo, who was standing silhouetted at the bottom in the sunlight, so stereotypically Italian handsome, with his linen jacket slung over his shoulder. Yet again I wondered how Lara – who never seemed to relax completely – coexisted with a man who breezed through life, always looking for the fun and adventure. I told myself off. Better than anyone, I knew outsiders only saw a fraction of what a marriage was really like.
Massimo squeezed past us, pulling back a wrought-iron bolt and turning a key so huge it looked as though it should be hanging from the belt of a town crier. We burst out into bright sunshine, the sort that scorched your hair and made you want to shield your eyes in an exaggerated film star fashion. Down below us, fields shimmering with sunflowers, a frothy yellow sea, stretched for miles.
Massimo stood back, his arms folded, enjoying our pleasure. He put his hand on my back. ‘Look, if you lean out to the right slightly, you can see all the castle vineyards.’
I nodded and moved away, conscious of my sweaty back under his hand. I didn’t want to turn round and see him surreptitiously wiping his palms on his trousers. I started to tell Sam about how grapes grown on the vines were pressed and made into wine but he was more interested in whether they used to shoot arrows from the ramparts and blow up the neighbours with cannonballs.
‘So Beryl, are you going to come down into the cellars with me later and check out some of the wines? They do a fantastic fizz.’
Mum let out a big roar of laughter. ‘That’s an offer I can’t refuse!’
I glanced at Massimo, ready to be embarrassed that Mum read innuendo into everything, but he was laughing along. I was ashamed of wishing that she’d chosen something other than a vest T-shirt, which left the tops of her arms completely exposed, wobbling away with merriment. No doubt Anna would be a vision of maxi dresses and flowing shirts.
‘We probably ought to go down and help Nico. I feel a bit guilty about leaving him to heave all the luggage about.’
Massimo looked at me, his dark eyes teasing. ‘For you, Maggie, I’m sure it will be his pleasure.’
I was old enough to recognise a load of flannel when I heard it. But I was still flattered.
I stepped away from him and hauled open the heavy door leading back downstairs. I beckoned Sam. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find our rooms.’
Massimo scooted in front of Mum. ‘Let me go first, the steps are a bit steep.’
She lumbered down the stairs behind him, her feet spilling off the edges of her sandals. When we unpacked, I’d paint her toenails for her. Massimo offered his hand to help her down the last few steps.