“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’sDavidflanked 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 wishIcould 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.
