She pictured Adrian sitting in The Vehicle Emporium, nursing a boring cheese sandwich at his desk, and it brought a slight smile to her lips.
When lunch was over, four sets of eyes fixed on her, especially Heather’s. “What’s next on the curriculum?” the teacher asked.
Ginny hadn’t thought of anything beyond the gallery and she racked her brain, trying to think of something to do that might suit everyone.
Perhaps the heat was making her feel uncharacteristically selfish, but she wanted to think about herself for once. It washerholiday after all. Convinced her suitcase had vanished forever, she wanted to buy new clothes, makeup, toiletries and underwear. She wasn’t sure where to source a phone charger in the city.
“Why don’t we all go shopping?” she suggested, choosing to ignore the look of terror that flashed across Eric’s face. “Retail therapy usually works for me.”
“I’ll join you,” Heather offered. “Two heads are better than one if you’re buying things.”
Eric and Edna opted to stay in the gardens and Curtis strode off on his own again, talking into his phone. Nico texted Loretta to tell her he was parked at the Boboli Gardens and he gave everyone a time to meet. He warned them that, just like in any city, they should look after their belongings.
It soon became apparent that Ginny and Heather had different tastes in everything. Heather was interested in organic cotton, vegan shoes and candles. She liked bracelets made out of tiny beads and handbags that looked like cloth sacks. Ginny’s eyes shone at all the labels and shops she’d seen in glossy magazines: Jimmy Choo, Prada, Longchamp and Gucci. She drooled at the clothes and winced at the price tags.
Heather peered over Ginny’s shoulder a lot, saying, “My goodness, it’s fabulous but pricy. Are you sure?” Ginny felt pressured into buying a cream linen dress she didn’t love because Heather extolled the sustainability factor of the fabric. They spent fifteen minutes in a shop while Heather decided whether to buy an amber scented candle or one that smelled of patchouli.
“I’ve become interested in aromatherapy recently,” she said. “Smells can help to evoke memories and I think it’s helping Mum.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Ginny asked. “Because of her?”
Heather gave a slight nod that made her blond curls bounce. “Sorry I was evasive in the gallery earlier. Mum’s poorly and I’ve been looking after her for quite some time. It’s been taking its toll on me and that’s why the headmistress insisted I take some time off school.” She ran a hand down her yoga trousers several times. “I’m sure Mum and I will be back on our feet in no time.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Ginny asked gently.
Heather smiled but her eyes were sad. “Remember when you were little, when you thought that all teachers were invincible, and that they knew everything? That’s the person youtryto become in my profession. And when you don’t feel that way, can’t act that way, it’s difficult to pretend.”
“You don’t have to pretend here.”
Heather took a moment to gather her thoughts. She turned away from Ginny and fixed her sights on a musical instrument shop. “I’m sure Mum and I will be fine, nothing that a little rest, recuperation and vitamins won’t sort out,” she said. Her tone indicated this part of their conversation was now over. “Oh, would you look at that shop over there. My class is learning to play the recorder. Do you mind if we take a look?”
Ginny desperately wanted to find a lingerie store. Her underwear was crispy from the soap. “Perhaps we should go our separate ways for a while,” she said. “I need to buy somepersonalitems.”
“Oh, okay, I don’t mind,” Heather said, sounding like she did. “Don’t forget that heartache feeds on solitude.”
Too hot to think what that meant, Ginny tried not to feel guilty when Heather bounded off to look at a display of violins.
Ginny experienced a new sense of freedom going into whichever shops she wanted without Adrian standing outside looking at his watch or Heather assessing what she was buying. There was no one to question if she really needed another pair of shoes or not.
Ginny bought a floaty zebra-print dress, underwear and a smart linen jacket, getting changed into them in the shop’s fitting room.
Each time she took out her purse, a floating sensation lifted her up for a few minutes before she came back down to earth. It was like being dunked in and out of a river for witchcraft, the euphoria of being alive soon canceled out by water flooding the lungs. She really shouldn’t be spending money like this.
Ginny applied makeup in a cosmetic store and almost cheered when she saw herself in a mirror looking poised and sleek again.
Her celebration was short-lived when a nagging voice appeared in her head.Isn’t this the version of you that Adrian has rejected?it asked.The problem-solver, the helper who looks composed on the outside, but who is struggling underneath? Which person is the real you?
Ginny wasn’t sure. WasGinny Splinter, Advice Angela role she’d grown used to playing? Who was the real person underneath the pastel suits?
As she strolled around the city, Ginny realized she’d been so fixated on the shops that she hadn’t noticed the architecture surrounding her. She found herself in a vast square where the smooth surface of the grand white buildings looked like icing on a wedding cake. Gray piping scored the arches, windows and doorways.
She spotted a rickshaw and waved to grab the driver’s attention, wanting to see more of the city. She climbed on board and gasped at the view when he turned the corner. The River Arno rippled petrol blue and the Ponte Vecchio bridge looked to be constructed of lemon, tangerine and peach blocks stacked on top of medieval stone arches. They drove along and, in the distance, she saw the terracotta dome of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and the slender white, pink and gray of Giotto’s Campanile. They looked pretty enough to eat.
The driver stopped the rickshaw and gestured for her to get out and take photographs. With her phone battery now totally flat, Ginny meandered around instead, happening upon an ornate carousel in the middle of a piazza. It was easy to imagine Phoebe as a little girl, riding up and down on a red and gold horse.
One day, Ginny would love to feel tiny fingers grasping her own again. Her heart melted whenever she heard laughter in school playgrounds and she wondered if Phoebe would ever have children of her own. She hoped so.
A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her daydream.
