“Nervous. Ashamed. Unsure of yourself.”
I knock back the contents of my glass. “Alright, alright. It’s supposed to be my birthday.” I hope I don’t sound tetchy.
But Theo doesn’t seem offended. “What does he say?”
“They’re going to Umbria, apparently. Next week.” I show him the email.
Theo scratches his ear. “Umbria really isn’t far, you know. Well, it depends where they are exactly. But why don’t we find out and see if we can meet up?”
Theo has only met Dad once—a few months ago, when Debbie retired from her job as a GP’s receptionist and threw a party. It was a big event so we only got to speak for five minutes, which is one of the reasons I’d agreed to go. But he’s been suggesting the four of us get together ever since.
He sags back in his chair. “You know, it might be good to spend some time together while we’re all relaxed and in holiday mode.”
“Dad!” shouts Mabel. “What program do we put the dishwasher on?”
“Coming!”
While Theo’s inside, I consider his suggestion. I have been feeling bad about giving Dad such a hard time when he got together with Debbie. Being subjected to Callum and Mabel’s hostility at the start of the summer brought back how awful I’d been as a teenager. Well, now I’ve got the opportunity to make up for it.
And not just that but the news of Mum’s affair has made me think. Maybe Dad found out about it and was gutted. If Julie suspected—and even I could tell something was going on—then it’squite likely he did. But would that change anything? It may have made his feelings more complicated when Mum died but it shouldn’t have altered the way he felt about me.
I watch two wasps buzzing around a bunch of grapes. They join together and drop down a few inches, suspended in the air. I can’t tell if they’re playing, mating or fighting. But I suddenly realize how dangerous it is to have them living so close. What if they sting one of the kids? We’ll have to set some traps. Mice are one thing—not only are they cute but they run away at the first sight of a human—but wasps are nasty.
As I move to a seat farther away, another thought occurs to me: if Mum knew I was gay, wouldn’t she have told Dad? Wouldn’t they have discussed it? So why didn’t he make things easier for me?
“What do you think,mio tesoro?” asks Theo, sliding back into his seat.
I look at him and realize once again just how much I love him. Just how much he loves me.
I’m about to tell him what I’ve learned about Mum—and how it could have impacted on Dad—but stop myself.
“No, thanks,” I say, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to rake all that up again. I’d rather just let it lie.”
There’s a pause.
“What is it?” Theo says, his brow furrowed. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
I press my hand to my heart. “Nothing,mio carissimo. Well, it’s not nothing exactly, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“But we’re a team, remember? You’re not on your own anymore, Ads.”
I want to let him in—I really want to—but I can’t. Something’s holding me back.
“Yeah, I know, I just don’t understand it yet. But I will tell you. Just let me get my head around it first.”
Theo nods. “Alright, fine.”
I shut down my email and put my phone away. “Right, how’s that kitchen looking?”
Chapter 37
“Aparty?”
“Yeah,” I say, “a party.”
It’s the start of our fifth week in Italy and I’ve had a progress update from Giuseppe, who’s assured me that the builders are still on course to finish at the end of the following week—just about. Now that they’ve replastered Mabel and Archie’s bedrooms, they’re currently painting them lilac and sky blue: we needed colors the kids liked but that would also be understated enough to work for guests. Archie originally wanted his favorite color green, but he insisted on a bright green and didn’t like any of the paler shades I suggested—so we settled on the sky blue of Manchester City’s kit. Once the painting was underway, I checked my finances and saw I still have plenty of money left over from the sale of the cigarette case. So I’ve gathered everyone together in the big lounge—which bears no traces of its former role as a temporary kitchen—and have just suggested throwing a party to celebrate the launch onto the rental market of the Castello Montemagno.
“Only a little one,” I elaborate. “Obviously, we don’t know that many people in Italy. But we could invite Luisa and Stefano, Angelika, Giuseppe and the builders, everyone on the dig, and even people like Vito and our lawyer, Signor Mancini. We coulddo drinks and a buffet and make pizzas and show everyone what we’ve done with the place.”
