24
Domenico’s shop stocked endless versions of stovetop coffee pots but so far Stella had only spotted one kettle. It was a ludicrously expensive, garishly patterned Dolce and Gabbana designer item that some sales rep must have talked Domenico into ordering in a moment of madness. Stella wasn’t going to splash that sort of money around. Maybe there was something in the basement, perhaps in the overflow area below the old milliner’s shop. There wasn’t much call for kettles in this part of the world. Any villager who wanted to boil up some water would probably use a small saucepan. And there certainly wouldn’t be many customers looking to steam an old cocktail hat back to its former glory.
Stella didn’t have time to go downstairs right now to take a look, she was about to open up and her phone was vibrating on the counter. Joe! She snatched it up. Why had she worried? Of course he wouldn’t sulk for long. Of course he would be missing her. She hadn’t missed him all that much but that was because she was so busy with the shop. He, on the other hand, had nothing to do but lie by their Portofino pool, thinking of what they might do together. But it was hard to feel sorry for him when she looked at the photos he’d sent her: dining in the hotel’s fancy restaurants, enjoying its luxurious spa, lounging by the pool.
‘Hi, Joe! How happy I am to hear your voice!’
‘So, you’ve come to your senses. Which train are you catching?’
‘You know I can’t leave today.’ Stella kept her voice steady despite irritation bubbling up like an overfilled milk pan. ‘Domenico is making great progress but Luisa wants him to stay with her for a few more days. If he comes back here too soon, he’ll only run before he can walk.’
‘He can’t walk? Is he in a wheelchair? Stella, this could take weeks!’
‘I didn’t mean it literally. It was just a turn of phrase.’
‘Oh.’ Joe didn’t sound any happier.
‘So, what have you done today?’ Her voice sounded too bright, just like when she’d quizzed a teenage Lauren after a day at school.
‘We went on a boat trip to the Cinque Terre. It was marvellous.’
‘We?’ Stella turned a page over in the ledger where Domenico jotted down the day’s sales.
‘Rachel.’ Or at least that’s what she thought he’d said. The line wasn’t terribly good.
‘Rachel? Who’s Rachel?’
‘Raquelis staying at the hotel. We’ve palled up together for some outings, seeing as we’re both on our own.’
Was she the blonde at the pool? Stella didn’t like to ask.
‘I hope you’re leaving something for us to do when I get there.’ She tried to sound breezy.
‘Well, you’d better hurry up. I’m getting impatient, Stella. I won’t put up with any of this when we’re married, you flitting off on a whim. I need a woman who wants to be with me and to do what I want to do, 24/7.’
‘Like Raquel?’
‘Raquel’s cultured and charming and she plays golf too. Look, Stella, I can’t stop and talk all day. Raquel and I are playing tennis. She booked the court as soon as I mentioned I used to play. Raquel wants to make me happy, to do what I want to do. Actually, perhaps there’s no point you coming here after all.’ And with that he rang off.
Stella stared at the handset. Had she really just been dumped over the phone? She could already hear Carol’s voice scolding her:Us women have to compromise, Stella. If you want to hang onto a man like that, you have to do what he wants to do.This could be your last chance of happiness.
About to turn sixty and alone again: she should be feeling devastated but instead she felt strangely calm. She switched her phone to silent and stuffed it right into the bottom of her bag. For too long she’d been ignoring the warning voice in her head. Joe had never tried to boss her around before, never been so uncompromising but maybe he hadn’t needed to assert himself. After all, she’d gone along with everything he wanted: the elaborate tasting menus, the dull dinner parties with his friends, Sunday lunch at the golf club where the portions were far too big, the concerts and bands that were his taste, not hers. She’d even let him buy her those slightly too short, slightly too tight dresses. She had bent to his will. Why had it taken her so long to realise?
The truth was, she’d fallen for Joe because he seemed so different from Ricky. But underneath the smooth exterior, the solicitous compliments, the expensive gifts and faultless manners lay the same selfishness. And she’d picked Ricky because his devil-may-care cheekiness reminded her of Gino. Both times she’d failed to look any further, like an optimistic second-hand-car buyer taken in by a new paintjob. It had been different with Gino. Beneath the surface was a solid foundation: kindness, family values and an honest heart.
She caught a blur of colour in the corner of her eye, a woman in red peering in the window. Stella glanced at her watch; she hurried to open the door.
The woman had specks of dried paint in her hair as though she’d been decorating. ‘Buongiorno! I don’t suppose you speak English by any chance?’
‘Yes, I lived there for many years… I still live there. I’m just taking care of this shop whilst my uncle recuperates from a fall.’
‘How kind of you, and lucky for me. I’ve just bought a holiday home a few streets away. It came with a few sticks of furniture but now I need everything else.’
‘You’ve come to the right place.’ Stella tucked her hair behind her ears; somehow it made her feel more businesslike.
The woman produced a sheet of lined paper, a list of items written on both sides. Stella was glad to immerse herself in the task, knowing it was going to be quite a challenge to unearth some of the more esoteric items.
Two hours later, she helped the woman and her bulging bags out of the shop, the Dolce and Gabbana kettle sitting proudly on top. Stella sank down onto the stool behind the counter and began carefully transcribing each item into Domenico’s book with a sense of pride she hadn’t felt since winning Area Manager of the Year in her twenties. This morning, she’d sold almost four hundred euros’ worth of stock. She reached for her phone to share her morning with Joe. And then she remembered. He’d be playing tennis with the glamorous Raquel, followed by what? Cocktails by the pool? Sunset drinks overlooking the harbour? Joe had met Stella only weeks after he’d split up with his ex. Maybe that was how he’d always operated, clutching onto the next woman who came along.
