Then, one day, Eric found her curled up in her bed and couldn’t wake her up. He dropped to his knees and stroked her fur. She looked so peaceful, just like she was asleep. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you,” he whispered, bowing his head. He wished he could have saved her, but didn’t even know if that was possible.
Losing her was the last straw in his run of bad luck.
Eric knew there were no set rules for bereavement, but he was surprised by the magnitude of his feelings of guilt and pain. He’d battled his way through tough times and Bess’s death was the thing that finally floored him. Everything felt dark and pointless from then on, as if he was surrounded by thick fog. He couldn’t be bothered to eat properly, nibbling on grapes and biscuits. He let his hair grow out and stopped shaving.
One day, when he couldn’t even rouse himself to get out of bed, Eric switched on his radio and lay there, feeling as low as possible while listening to an advice show. A lady named Ginny Splinter sounded anguished about her husband leaving and Eric could relate to her outpouring of grief. Calling the show was an act of desperation for him, an uncharacteristic cry for help, and he was astonished to secure a place on the holiday to Italy. His parents were worried about his state of mind so they paid for his plane ticket, knowing he might otherwise stay moping around at home.
And now he was here in Bologna.
Eric carried on climbing until he reached the top of the hill and the ache in his calves overtook the emptiness in his heart. He looked down at the pretty buildings and winding streets of Vigornuovo and knew Bess would have loved it up here, too. He took her collar out of the tin and slipped it onto his wrist like a bracelet. Slinging off his backpack, he sat down on the grass and reached out for a broken branch.
He used to be able to look at wood and picture it as a box, chair or even a bed, depending on its size. Now, he saw only a piece of a tree. Without Bess at his side, he felt as fragile as a curled shaving of wood.
Eric had hoped being around others might help him to fight his sense of hopelessness. Curtis was a fellow business owner, but Eric found him to be rather brazen, and Heather was annoyingly upbeat. Surprisingly, he felt the closest affinity to Edna, who appeared to be struggling with loss, too.
Pushing her wheelchair around the art gallery in Florence hadn’t been as dull as he’d thought it might be. When he’d removed his audio tour headphones, Edna had proved to be funny with her observations about the paintings and her assessments of other people’s clothes. He’d coughed a laugh when she’d said a woman’s black and white hat looked like she had a skunk sleeping on her head. And then Edna had laughed, too.
In the animal portrait gallery, Eric had found he enjoyed looking at the paintings of horses, dogs and birds. He’d admired the finer details; a cocked ear, how the artist painted fur, or a dot of light bringing eyes to life. His pleasure from the art was like a tiny crack of light breaking through a storm cloud and he hoped there’d be more to come.
But for now, Eric looked up at the Italian sky, gold turning to blue. He whittled the broken branch until only a stick remained in his hands. Then he batted wood shavings off his shorts and stood up, welcoming the strain in his muscles as he carried on hiking.
13
Selfie
The sound of Eric shutting the front door to go out for his early morning walk woke Ginny up. She initially felt weary after the day out in Florence before remembering she had all her belongings back. She sat up and pulled her cosmetic bag toward her, embarrassed at how excited she felt by the sight of her eyebrow tweezers and concealer.
She’d left her phone charging overnight and Phoebe had sent her a message.Hi Mum. Glad you’ve arrived safely. Have fun! x.
To her dismay, Adrian hadn’t called her and she felt like her emotional piggy bank was running dangerously low on currency for him. The distance between them seemed to be increasing with each day that passed.
It was too early to ring either of them, so Ginny sat up in bed and reread another page fromThe Power of Two.
Stage Three. Resentment and bargaining.
Hold back your negative thoughts. They’ll make you feel bad when you need to be strong. This isn’t a time for begging and bargaining. Assessing your own needs and desires, and putting them first, will prove to be a powerful tool. Good luck.
Ginny straightened her back, telling herself she was doing well, considering the circumstances. She was actually starting to have a good time and it was Adrian’s loss that he wasn’t here in Italy with her. They’d had some great times together on previous holidays.
In one hotel, the maids had folded their towels, like origami, to resemble swans. They’d looked more like dodos and Ginny and Adrian had laughed so hard they cried. In Tenerife, the sea stole Adrian’s swimming trunks, so he’d had to perform a naked dash along the beach to reach his towel. Ginny had kept inching it away from him, giggling as he tried to grab it. A woman covered her toddler’s eyes, protecting him from the sight of Adrian’s bare bottom, which had made Ginny laugh even more. She loved their candlelit dinners sampling local delicacies and stumbling back to their hotel room together after drinking too much wine. They lazily made love knowing they could stay in bed each morning without being awoken by an alarm clock.
Now that they were apart, was Adrian remembering all their good times, too? Or was he still intent on pursuing a divorce? She hoped his actions had been a heat of the moment thing and that he was taking time to collect his thoughts.
Thinking about him made her neck feel hot and Ginny pulled her nightie away from her skin. She lowered her chin to blow onto her chest.
Her mum used to lower her voice whenever she talked about menopause, calling it “the change.” It had arrived early for her, in her early forties, and Ginny had thought it sounded mysterious, like a magic trick performed on stage behind a satin cape. Perhaps a shiny top hat would disappear to be replaced by a cute bunny.
“The change” seemed to spark a fresh resolve within her mum, prompting her to issue an ultimatum to Ginny’s dad about their marriage.
While Ginny waited for her hot flash to subside, she heard a thudding noise outside her room, following by a female voice muttering. Ginny listened more intently—could Edna be sleepwalking? She peered at her watch and saw it wasn’t yet 6:00 a.m. When another bang sounded, she slipped on her dressing gown and crept across her room.
Ginny inched her door open to find Loretta crouching down on the landing. Her white cotton dress hung off one shoulder and her smudged eye makeup looked raccoon-like. She picked up one high-heeled shoe then the other. “Shhh,” she said, pressing her finger to her lips. She tiptoed barefoot toward her room and smiled secretively before slipping inside.
Somewhere in the distance, Ginny heard a moped chugging away and couldn’t help wondering what adventure Loretta might have been on. It made her feel rather envious. About to close her bedroom door again, she heard creaking along the hallway downstairs. Someone else was up and about, too.
Thinking Nico might have woken up early to prepare breakfast, Ginny padded down to offer to help. She assumed he didn’t know Loretta was creeping around at dawn. Father and daughter must have just missed each other.
She almost collided with Curtis who jumped back with widened eyes. He was fully dressed in his customary white sports gear and instantly moved his phone away from his mouth. “Oh, hey, Ginny,” he said.
