“Sensational,” cheeps Gloria, tipping back his Prosecco. “You can help us fight the patriarchy!”
Callum says he doesn’t know—and I can’t help noticing him squirm slightly. He looks for his dad’s reaction.
“We haven’t worked it out yet,” Theo says, reaching out and giving Callum’s shoulder a rub. “Cal’s very practically minded: academic work isn’t really his thing. He loves sport.”
“Me too,” says Dom, chugging his beer. “I used to hate school.”
Callum raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pursue the subject.
“And Archie wants to be a wrestler,” Theo goes on. “Don’t you, squirt?”
Archie shakes his head. “Not anymore. I’m going to be a builder now.”
Theo nods. “Archie loves watching our builders.”
“He’s not the only one,” says Gloria, picking up his fan and giving it a click. “That Giuseppe is smoking hot. He could renovate my downstairs any day.”
Ian and Dom burst out laughing and I can’t help joining in, as does Theo.
But Callum and Mabel exchange looks of horror. I feel a spike of resentment towards them. My mum and her friends from theshop always used to talk about who they fancied. Every time they’d had a few glasses of wine they’d fantasize about what they’d do with Michael Douglas or Harrison Ford. How’s this any different?
I suddenly realize that all the time I’ve been in Italy, I’ve been holding some of myself back, frightened of behaving inappropriately around the kids. But in the process have I been compromising who I am?
Maybe I was stupid to try and make this work. Maybe I should just tell Theo it’s a mistake and let him take the kids and leave.
Then I can go back to Manchester with my sisters.
Chapter 20
When Theo wakes up, he says he’s going to take the kids out for the day, starting with a trip to see the kittens. “We’ll give you guys some space.”
I’m about to ask if what he really means is he wants to get out of my way, just like I did with him yesterday. We still need to untangle our argument—but I can’t go there now my sisters have arrived.
“Brill,” I manage, weakly. “Thanks.”
The girls and I decide to go to La Lecciona, the gay beach in between Viareggio and the next resort along the coast, Torre del Lago. It’s another gorgeous day and we arrive to find a stretch of sand that’s much softer and closer to golden than the beach in Viareggio. The sea is a perfect turquoise, the reflection of the sun on its waves so bright I can hardly look at it, even with sunglasses. And framed by the much deeper blue of the sky is a Pride flag, curling and snapping in the gentle breeze.
As we spread out our towels, I feel uneasy about taking off my clothes. Regular sessions on the exercise bike may have stopped my weight gain but I still haven’t lost any of the weight I originally put on. I scan the beach, however, and can make out bodies of all types: there are old men and young men, fat men and thinmen, handsome men and not-so-handsome men. And I spot biceps, pecs, glutes and delts, but also guts, moobs, chicken legs, and loose flaps of skin hanging from arms. But nobody seems self-conscious. Some men are even nude—and this isn’t, to my surprise, the ones with the best bodies. I clearly have nothing to worry about.
Of our group, Dom is the first to strip off, flaunting his spectacular, gym-sculpted physique in a pair of tiny black Speedos. Ian’s next, his slim frame covered only with tufts of silver hair on the chest and gray, shell-patterned swimming shorts. And a wigless, bald Gloria flings off his clothes to reveal a woman’s jade-green bandeau swimsuit that accentuates every inch of his head-turning figure. If he’s rounded off the look with a coral sarong, I know this isn’t to cover himself up but to give him something to swish around.
The four of us lie in the sun and spend most of the day chatting. I tell my sisters about Wilf and what I’ve discovered of his story so far and they’re gripped, insisting I keep them updated—although I feel a pang of guilt as I still haven’t told Theo. We discuss Gloria and Dom’s most recent sexual encounters and they open Grindr to make contact with men and line up some options for later.
After lunch in a nearby beach club, Ian settles down to read his book; Dom plays volleyball with a group of similarly jacked, Speedo-sporting men; and Gloria slinks off into the dunes with the guy who was walking up and down the beach, selling drinks and fresh fruit.
“I need a closer look at his watermelons,” he jokes.
I slip off for a swim. The water is the perfect temperature: not cold but cool enough to provide some respite from the heat. As I plunge beneath the surface and reemerge to find my stroke, I feel a sudden rush of freedom. I realize how good it is to have a break from all the tension and hostility at the house, and a taste of my old, much simpler, life. I wonder again if I should let my new one fall apart and then I can just go back to it.
I stop swimming, let myself float and close my eyes, breathing in and out, deeply. Maybe I was never meant to take on a family. Maybe I’m not cut out for this kind of complicated relationshipor emotional baggage. Maybe it’s time to have a rethink and start again.
One thing’s for sure: I love being surrounded by people who like me, people who enjoy my company and actually want to spend time with me.
Being disliked is horrendous. And so exhausting.
I swim back to the shore, stand up and stride out of the sea. I throw myself down on my towel, ready to dry out in the sun.
Several hours later, we’ve showered and changed and arrive at the local gay club, which is a few hundred meters behind the beach, back in Torre del Lago. The four of us step through the doors arm-in-arm, and being out with my sisters makes me feel a power surge.
