The Truth About You (25 page)

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she responded, without really meaning it.

‘I’ve got to wonder, Lainey,’ he continued, ‘exactly what you’ve been telling them.’

Outraged, she cried, ‘What
I’m
telling them? Can I remind you, you’re the one who spoke to Max in the first place, not me, and it seems you somehow forgot to tell him that Kirsten has cancer. Just how did that manage to slip your mind, Tom?’

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to imply with that,’ he raged back, ‘but for your information, I didn’t get as far as that before he stormed out. And now we know what difference it makes, absolutely none, because he still won’t speak to me, and nor will Tierney.’

‘And I suppose you’re about to blame me for Tierney being hurt and angry too. Well, before you do . . .’

‘I’m not going to do anything of the sort,’ he broke in furiously, ‘and this is getting us nowhere. The reason I rang is to tell you that I’ve left money in the top right-hand drawer of my desk for the children to spend in Italy.’

Taking a moment to bring herself down, she said, ‘I’m sure they’ll be very grateful, though I don’t imagine for a minute that it’ll make up for you not being there.’

To her surprise he didn’t rise to it, and her words suddenly seemed petty.

His silence continued, but she knew he was still there, and as she pictured him in her mind’s eye a fierce longing engulfed her.

‘How are you feeling about going?’ he asked quietly.

Don’t be nice to me,
she wanted to cry,
it just makes it worse.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, more stiffly than she’d intended.

‘Have you managed to make contact with anyone in Tuoro yet?’

‘I don’t have any names,’ she reminded him, ‘apart from my grandparents, and for all I know they’re not even alive.’

‘So you never received a reply to the letter you sent?’

‘The one addressed to Signor and Signora Clementi, Tuoro sul Trasimeno? You know I didn’t. Maybe you’ve forgotten with so much else on your mind.’

‘No, I hadn’t forgotten, I just wondered if something might have turned up in the last couple of weeks.’

‘No, it hasn’t. I’ll be starting from scratch, more or less.’
Which is why I need you. We were always going to do it together.

As though he might have been reading her mind, he let the silence run until they finally spoke at the same time.

‘You first,’ he said.

‘No, you,’ she insisted. ‘What were you going to say?’

‘I was going to wish you luck,’ he said. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

Her eyes closed as emotion threatened to overwhelm her.

‘And you?’ he prompted. ‘What were you going to say?’

She’d been about to ask when she might see him again, but instead, she said, ‘It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t important. I should go now, I’ve still got a lot of packing to do.’

‘OK. I’ll try calling the children again, but if I can’t get through, please don’t let them think I don’t love them.’

‘Of course not.’ She waited for him to say the same to her, but they either lost the connection at that point, or he simply rang off.

‘
OH MY GOD,
what if it turns out you’re Bruno Tonioli’s long-lost sister?’ Tierney cried as they wheeled their luggage out of arrivals into the blistering heat and bedlam of Pisa airport. Every café and coffee bar was overflowing, the traffic was in chaos and there seemed to be queues to join queues whose ends were nowhere in sight.

‘Who?’ Zav said, wrinkling his nose as he checked to make sure he had a mobile reception.

‘You know, the bloke off
Strictly
,’ Skye replied. ‘The crazy one.’

‘That would be so hilaire,’ Tierney declared, ducking to avoid Max’s guitar as he swung round to watch a couple of passing girls.

‘You think you’re so funny,’ Lainey commented, relieved that everyone seemed in good spirits and that their driver had taken charge of her and Zav’s overloaded trolley.

‘Oh, Mum, what if you’re related to Fabio Cannavaro?’ Zav gasped eagerly. ‘That would be so cool. We could get to see all the matches,’ he told Alfie, who was looking faintly bemused.

‘Trust you to come up with a footballer,’ Tierney sighed irritably. ‘No, I reckon she’s going to be related to Nancy Dell’Olio . . .’

Skye and Stacy burst into laughter.

‘. . . or Donatella, or Giorgio Armani. Just imagine if you were, Mum. That would be like so amazing.’

‘Personally, I’d say there’s a good chance Pavarotti’s your dad,’ Stacy put in reflectively.

Lainey sliced her a look.

‘More like Berlusconi,’ Max put in. ‘The rate he knobs around he’s probably everyone’s dad. What are those parties he has? Bunga bunga. We’re definitely going in for some of those while we’re here.’

‘What, just the five of us?’ Tierney grimaced.

‘We’re seven,’ Lainey reminded her.

‘No way are you two coming,’ Tierney shot back.

‘Charming,’ Lainey muttered, struggling to keep an eye on the driver as he weaved through the crowds to where he’d left the car. That would be just perfect, if he turned out to be a fraud and she lost all her luggage before they’d even got on the road.

It was hard to believe that no more than two hours had passed since they’d left a wet and windy England, every one of them in a tense or querulous mood after getting up so early. Now, along with their coats and boots, the edginess seemed to have been shed and everyone, including Lainey, was feeling the pleasing anticipation that came with the start of a holiday. It was all going to be fine, she kept telling herself, just as long as she didn’t think about Tom.

‘Mum, have you got any suncream?’ Tierney called out from behind her.

Digging into her bag, Lainey found and passed back a tube of factor thirty, and received a groan of protest in response.

‘I’ll never get a tan with that,’ Tierney complained.

‘You’re already a gorgeous colour,’ Skye told her, sounding both envious and annoyed. ‘It’s me who needs to bronze up a bit. Max! What are you doing?’ she cried as his trolley crashed into hers.

‘Sorry, this thing is out of control,’ he growled, grabbing his guitar before it fell off the top. ‘Shit, man, it’s hot. Lainey, has this place we’re going got a pool? It better have, or we’re going to fry.’

‘It has a pool,’ she confirmed, helping Stacy to steer her trolley round a rowdy group of Brits. ‘Oh my God, look at the queue for the car rental. Max, are you sure you want to pick one up here? Why don’t you wait till we get there?’

Instantly persuaded, since it seemed half of humanity was waiting for the car-hire buses, Max swung his trolley along after them to where their driver was waiting next to his vehicle and Zav and Alfie were flirting with a couple of Italian girls in the next car.

‘That’s my brov,’ Max declared, giving Zav a playful cuff. ‘Getting his priorities right as soon as we arrive.’

‘Will you listen to him?’ Tierney groaned, handing her vanity case to the driver, who looked as though he ought to be modelling for Calvin Klein.

Flipping back her silky hair, Skye treated him to an outrageously suggestive smile as he took her bag next. ‘Thanks,’ she said, breathily.

Lainey’s and Stacy’s eyes met with no small irony.

‘Interesting times ahead,’ Stacy murmured as they began piling into the air-conditioned interior, Zav and Alfie in the far back, Max, Skye and Tierney in the middle and Lainey and Stacy behind the driver.

‘You wait,’ Max was saying to Zav and Alfie over his shoulder, ‘once these Italian chicks clock yours truly they’re going to come flocking, so we’ll have plenty of bunga bunga, guys.’

As Tierney attempted a withering put-down, and Skye thumped him, Lainey looked at Stacy again and rolled her eyes. Heaven only knew what they’d let themselves in for, coming away with two hormonal teenage girls and a budding musician who was so full of himself. She shuddered to think of how grown up Zav and Alfie might be by the time they got back.

Best not to dwell on it now, and deal with whatever disasters arose when, if, they ever did. On the other hand, worrying about them and how she was going to keep them all entertained might just be better than tormenting herself over Tom. He wasn’t here, nor was he going to come, so she had to put him out of her mind and focus on how wonderful it was to be in the country of her birth.

And it was wonderful, she decided, even calming, in its way, or it might be if she could force herself to detach from all she’d left behind and start to unwind. Actually, she felt sure it was already having a beneficial effect, because she really was loving the sound of Italian being spoken, even though she didn’t understand it, and the thought of exploring a history and culture that she was a part of was quite enthralling. Not that she was experiencing a natural affinity or anything, it was far too soon for that, but as they left the airport complex to start heading south, the sun-baked Tuscan countryside was definitely rousing something inside her.

She could hardly take her eyes from the swathes of dry brown fields and feathery grasses rolling away from the road to the languid stretch of mountains sitting watchfully on a close horizon. Their tops were hazed by heat, their slopes blotched by the odd cloud shadow. They passed windmills rotating imperiously against a backdrop of pristine blue; pylons linking like messengers across the landscape, orderly saplings, tangled woods and acres of sunflowers, their faces turned away from the road. It made her think of Tom and how he was turning his back on her, and the ache in her heart grew heavier and harder to bear.

Signs to Firenze began appearing, and for some reason a flood of memories rose up from the past. It wasn’t as though they’d ever been there, but she found herself remembering the places they had visited, the holidays they’d loved, the romantic weekends without kids, the excitement of new adventures with them. She began searching for signs from those days she might have missed or decided to ignore over the years: unusual silences, long phone calls she’d thought were to Nadia, or his publisher; an eagerness to get home when they’d seemed to be having such a good time. It was all there, and as the pain of it clenched around her heart she closed her eyes. Where was he now? What was he doing? Was he thinking of them, wondering how their journey had gone, feeling sorry he wasn’t with them, or glad? More likely he wasn’t thinking of them at all. He’d always been good at that, switching off, or compartmentalising as he called it. If only she could do the same.

By the time they reached the border with Umbria they’d been driving for over two hours and the others were all fast asleep. Stacy’s head was on Lainey’s shoulder, her phone still clamped in her hand. Since her job on the magazine had been confirmed, she’d been working all hours, rushing around the country interviewing potential contributors, and reporting back to her bosses at the end of each day. Her plan was to spend most of her time in Italy on the computer researching and writing articles for the first edition, submitting ideas for future issues and perhaps concocting a travel blog for the magazine’s website.

How much was Stacy actually going to see of the country? How ill she could afford this time away. Lainey felt terrible for not trying harder to persuade her to put her job first, but she hadn’t been able to face the thought of coming without her.
It’s only a week
, she reminded herself,
and if she needs to go back earlier I’ll drive her to the airport myself.

‘Lago Trasimeno,’ the driver suddenly announced, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.

Experiencing an almost childlike surge of excitement as she caught her first glimpse of the lake’s easterly shores, Lainey broke into a smile. The sparkle of water was soon gone, masked by dense woods and warehouses, but she was here at last, very close to where her mother had grown up and their roots were buried. She turned to gaze out of the other window, across the rolling plains to where a medieval-looking town, maybe a city, was perched in a sprawl and tumble over a distant hillside.

‘Is Cortona,’ the driver told her. ‘There is Tuscany. Here, where is lake, this is Umbria.’

Knowing Cortona was the closest large town to Tuoro, Lainey said, ‘How much further do we have to go?’

‘Is only few kilometres,’ he assured her. He glanced at the dashboard. ‘Is very hot today, thirty-seven degrees.’

‘Very hot,’ she agreed, already longing to step back into its scorching embrace.

‘Mum, have you got anything to eat?’ Zav called sleepily from the back.

‘Yeah, I’m starving,’ Tierney piped up. ‘Are we there yet?’

‘Almost,’ Lainey replied, pulling a handful of energy bars out of her bag. ‘We’ll have to go to the supermarket later,’ she informed them, and grinned past the hurt she’d caused herself as they gave a collective groan. That was usually Tom’s line when they arrived on holiday,
We’ll have to go to the supermarket later
, and he always gave her a mischievous wink as he was treated to the same unimpressed response.

Yawning and stretching, Stacy dragged a bottle of warmish water from her bag and passed it around. ‘I need a swim,’ she declared, fanning herself with a sodden tissue.

‘You and me both,’ Skye responded. ‘I can hardly wait to get my clothes off.’

Max responded with something Lainey didn’t quite catch, but whatever it was it made Skye squeal with laughter, and Lainey felt sorry all over again that Tom wasn’t around to keep an eye on things.

‘We’re there!’ Tierney suddenly cried. ‘Look, it’s a sign for Tuoro.’ She bounced forward to wrap her arms round her mother’s neck. ‘How do you feel?’ she asked. ‘Getting all déjà vu-ed, or anything?’

Smiling, Lainey said, ‘Not yet. I’ll let you know if it happens,’ and taking in every last detail of the passing terrain, from signs to a lakeside restaurant and campsite, to a removal-lorry park and an avenue of limes, she waited, almost breathlessly, for a burst of something, anything, whether awe, belonging, or simple pleasure, to ignite inside her. So far nothing much seemed to be happening; however, as they progressed along a leafy boulevard and began climbing towards the walls of what appeared to be a very old village she realised she was starting to feel faintly nervous, as though the ghosts of her past were watching her approach.