Learning to Dance Again (18 page)

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘It’s written all over your face.’ Tony smiled, and led her into the kitchen, where Maria was sitting reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. She looked up at Julia and smiled.

‘Buongiorno
!’ Maria said, as she folded her newspaper and stood up.

‘Buongiorno’, Julia replied, wishing she could think of something else she could say in Italian, like “please don’t get up on my account.”

‘You like coffee?’ Maria said, walking over to the coffee pot on the stove.

‘Act
ually Maria, I was thinking Julia and I might open a bottle of wine and enjoy the last of the sunshine on the terrace. It might be the last chance to eat lunch outside. I think winter is on its way now.’

Maria stared at him, and Juli
a realised she was translating what he had said. They conversed in Italian normally.

‘OK! Lunch, it is outside?’ Maria replied.

‘Yes, but we’ll manage. You may as well get back home if you like. I’ll clear up afterwards.’

Maria smiled again, and picked up her handbag and newspaper and said goodbye.

After she had gone Tony excused himself to go and switch off his computer. Julia sat down at the kitchen table, feeling a little guilty. She had clearly interrupted his day, and she wondered what Maria thought about being sent home early. Would she wonder what they were up to? Julia realised she was becoming paranoid. She took a deep breath, and noticed the kitchen was full of the most heavenly smell of food. In her anxiety she hadn’t seen the rosemary focaccia bread cooling on a rack beside the sink.

She stood up and walked over to the bread and held her hand over it, feeling the heat rising up.
She turned at the sound of footsteps on the marble floor behind her.

‘Maria does make the best bread in the world.’

‘It smells heavenly.’

‘You should get her to teach you how to make it, before you go home.’

Tony walked over to the French doors that opened out onto the terrace. The sun had come out again, and steam rose from the lawn, but it was definitely cooler than it had been. Julia shivered.

‘You know, I don’t think it is warm enough to sit outside is it?’ Tony said, pulling the doors closed again. ‘Let’s just sit at the kitchen table shall we?’

Julia nodded and looked at the date on her watch. It was 21st October and it was finally too cool to sit outside. Back home it was cold and wintry and she would soon miss the sunshine she had started to take for granted.

Julia helped Tony lay the table
, smiling at how familiar she felt with his kitchen. She opened the fridge, knowing full well what wine she would find inside. She took out a bottle of Prosecco and held it up for Tony’s approval.

‘My thoughts exactly!’

‘I’ve lost count of how many bottles of this stuff I’ve drunk on this holiday. I must be a borderline alcoholic.’

‘I don’t think alcoholics drink Prosecco,’ To
ny said, laughing as he set a large terracotta dish of pasta onto an ornately decorated tile in the centre of the table.

They sat down to lunch and Tony opened the wine and poured a glass each.

‘Now, tell me, what’s troubling you today?’

‘I don’t reall
y know where to start actually.’

‘Does this
have anything to do with your architect friend?’

‘Partly;
mostly. My friend Marianne said his wife has just split up with his brother, and so they might be getting back together.’

Tony put down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair grinning at Julia.

‘My God, you couldn’t write this, could you? Oh, but I’m sorry; I suppose this must be a bit disappointing for you.’

Julia smiled back;
acknowledging the soap opera nature of the situation.

‘Well, I’m not sure what to feel really. I mean, for
his daughter’s sake I hope they do get back together. And it’s not as if I expected anything more to happen between us, but…’

‘I kn
ow. But it probably feels as if what happened between you was totally insignificant to him. You feel slighted.’

‘Exactly!’

Julia sighed with relief. It was good to feel understood, especially when she didn’t quite understand herself entirely.

‘Well, if I may say so, it’
s probably for the best. It solves the problem of how to tackle the situation when you go home again. You can both pretend it never happened.’

‘That’s true. This morning I wanted to go home with Bryden, but now I wish I could stay here forever.’

‘It is the perfect place to hide away from the world.’

Julia turned her head and looked out of the window at the garden. She nodded her head in agreement.

‘Have you had any more ideas about what you’re going to do when you get back? I seem to remember you were going to spend some time thinking about your future,’ Tony said.

‘I still have no idea. I need some inspiration.’

Tony stood up and walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of sparkling mineral water and brought it back to the table. He poured two glasses and handed one to Julia.

‘I’ve
been giving some thought to how you might come up with a solution.’

Julia looked puzzled. She took a sip of water
and waited for him to continue; flattered he had spent any time at all mulling over her problems.

‘When I’
m starting a new novel I have to spend a lot of time creating new characters. And because I have such a bad memory I tend to write down all the details about these people so I can look at my notes while I’m writing. I have come up with a funny kind of interview questionnaire for my characters I fill in, after asking them a series of questions.’

Julia snorted with laughter.

‘Hold on; let me get this straight. Are you telling me you’re inventing people and then asking these imaginary folk to tell you about themselves?’

‘I suspect you think I’
m losing my marbles.’

‘No, but
it does seem a little strange; but what would I know, I’m not a writer.’

‘I can show you how it works if you like
. We’ll make up a character right now. Male or female?’

‘Female,’ Julia replied, nodding her head emphatically.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Rebecca?’

‘Good name; timeless, solid Biblical roots. Surname?’

Julia looked around the kitchen for inspiration and a bottle of sherry beside the stove caught her attention.

‘Sherry; her name is Rebecca Sherry.’

‘I like that. So what do
es this Rebecca look like? Is she young, old, blonde, brunette?’

‘Well she’
s younger than me, maybe forty? And she’s definitely a brunette.’

‘What does she do?’

Julia bit her bottom lip and frowned in concentration.

‘She works for the mountain rescue service in the Cairngorms.’

Tony laughed.

‘She does, doesn’t she? See how a pers
on can start to come alive after just a few thoughts about their name?’

Julia nodded in understanding and then she frowned again.

‘But what does this have to do with my situation? How is that going to help me decide what I want to do with my life? I already know who I am.’

‘Precisely. You do know who you are. But perhaps you haven’t spent enough time working out what makes you tick. This is where my questionnaire comes in. But we need to wri
te stuff down on paper, so we’ll finish this after lunch. But I might keep Becky Sherry for one of my books. I like the sound of her; mountain rescue, hmm…’

They finished their lunch whi
lst talking about Tony’s latest novel. When they had finished, Julia helped him clear away the table and stack the dishwasher. Tony made some coffee and then he disappeared off to his office and came back with a large pad of drawing paper and some pens. He set them down on the kitchen table and sat down.

After he had served
the coffee, he picked up a pen and drew a little stick figure in the middle of a sheet of paper.

‘This is you in the middle,’ he said, pushin
g the pad towards Julia and handing her the pen.

‘OK?’ Julia replied, doubtfully.

‘Right; what you have to do now is surround yourself with all the things that are precious to you. Family, friends, hobbies etc. Just write them all down.’

Julia instantly drew two more stick figures and wrote Jamie and Bryden beside them. Then she drew a little circle and wrote Marianne and family. She drew some more circles and wrote down some other names of friends
, which included Cameron. She drew a childish sketch of her house and included a figurative map showing how close to the sea it was. Then she paused, not sure what else to include.

‘What about hobbies?’ Tony prompted.

‘I don’t really have any. Isn’t that an awful admission?’

‘What do you do in your spare time then?’

‘Up until Duncan died, I never really had much spare time. We used to do lots of things together; walking, going out. I can’t think of anything specific. We use to join in with whatever was going on in the community; you know, dances, quizzes, craft sales…We also used to go to the theatre and the cinema and out to dinner. But nothing you could really class as a hobby.’

‘So you’
re quite a sociable person then. Write that down.’

Julia wrote “sociable” next to her little stick figure.

‘Do you consider yourself to be creative or artistic?’

Julia shook her head sadly.

‘Musical?’

‘Not really. I like music, but I don’t really spend much time listening to it.’

‘Gardening, cooking?’

‘Gardening is a bit tough in Shetland. I keep on top of the weeds, but that’s the extent of my g
ardening. I love cooking, but I’m not exactly brilliant at it.’

Tony shook his head slowly.

‘I’m a hopeless case aren’t I?’ Julia said, staring down at the paper with its sparse detail about her life. ‘I wouldn’t make a very interesting heroine in one of your novels. I bet you would kill me off in chapter one.’

‘Not at all. This simply says to me your character – Julia Robertson – is a family and community minded person.
  She’s sociable and a bit of a homebody. Nothing wrong with that. You haven’t written down anything about your work. Is that significant?’

Julia wrote “nurse” and “care home manager” in the top left corner of the page.

‘Well, that speaks volumes in itself. You’ve listed your profession as far away as you could from your icon.’

Julia looked down at the paper and nodded.

‘I just don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to work with people who are in the later stages of their lives. I don’t want to spend my time with old people. I used to love my job, but I need a change now and I would rather be with younger people, children even. I envy my friend Marianne. She became a grandmother today.’

‘So children and grandchildren are important to you.’

‘Well yes, of course my children are important, but I don’t expect to be a grandmother for years yet.’

‘But you would rather work with children?’ Tony said, tentatively.

Julia snapped her head up suddenly.

‘Yes
, I would actually.’

‘Well there you have your answer.’

‘It’s not quite so simple though is it? I don’t have the qualifications for teaching, or even for working in a nursery; and I don’t think I would like to work with large numbers of children.’

Tony leaned forward and pulled the paper towards
him and then tapped the sketch of Julia’s house.

‘Didn’t you say the other day you have a five
bedroomed house, and now there’s just you living in it?’

Julia nodded.

‘Plenty of room for a child or two.’

‘I don’t get it;
are you saying I should do an Angeline Jolie and adopt some orphans?’

‘No, but I bet you would make a brilliant foster mother.’

Julia put the pen down and folded her arms and leaned on the table. She dipped her head in thought. She spoke without looking up.

‘About a year after Bryden went away to
university, and before Duncan was ill, I actually thought about fostering. But we kind of dismissed the idea, as Duncan felt it would be difficult, what with him being a teacher. He would have felt awkward if he had to foster someone who he might be teaching. But that doesn’t apply now does it?’

Tony shook his head and smiled sadly at her.

‘It’s definitely worth a thought isn’t it?’

Julia looked down at the paper, looking for more inspiration.

‘Julia Robertson, a petite attractive blonde widow starts to rebuild her life when she becomes a foster mother to a series of children in need of love
, affection and a safe home environment,’ Tony said, as if he was narrating a story.