‘Where to?’ he asked.
‘San Gimignano, per favore. Vigneto Almagno?’ I said it more as a question, than a direction, but he nodded. ‘I don’t suppose we could go past the Leaning Tower on the way?’ I added, in gabbled English. That way I could tick it off my bucket list.
The driver looked aggrieved. ‘Iz very busy there,’ he said, with a frown.
‘Just for a few minutes?’ I asked, my fingers crossed. We were too close not to.
He shrugged and nodded. ‘Will be very slow, but it’s your money, lady,’ he said, pulling into the stream of cars flowing out of the airport. The air conditioning gushed through the car, and I put my sunglasses on, enjoying the hot bustle of Pisa. I could see the Leaning Tower in the distance, cars driving alongside us, horns bibbing away happily, and the pink and white buildings got prettier the closer we got. The driver slowed a few streets from the tower, pointing up at it as part of his tour.
‘There it is,’ he said, crawling to an almost stop. There were thousands of tourists posing for photos, one hand in the air as if to hold the tower up. Some faced into it and pushed with both hands and a leg in the air, everybody smiling.
‘Would you mind if…?’ I opened the cab door while the car was still trickling along.
‘No, no, no,’ he called out in alarm.
I held up my phone, with one foot out the door. ‘A quick photo?’
It wasn’t really a road where cars could stop as such, but the driver checked his mirrors and pulled over. He took my phone as I ran to the pavement and put my hands in the air.
‘More left,’ he said, art-directing the shot. I waved to the left. ‘Now, more right,’ he said, and I inched back a little. He snapped a few pictures then nodded in satisfaction. The tower was much smaller and cuter than I’d thought it would be. Plumper. The cutesy saltshaker sister of the metal-headed Eiffel Tower.
‘Polizia!’ the driver shouted, as I took another couple of photos and jumped back in the car.
‘Grazie mille,’ I called, mentally ticking Pisa off my bucket list as he sped off. Done.
The scenery quickly shifted from city to country as we left the motorway and made our way through the winding roads of Tuscany. The greens and browns of the fields, against the hazy sunshine and clear blue sky. I’d finally get to see one of the sunsets Holly had been raving on about, followed by a sunrise if I was up in time tomorrow morning. My 6 a.m. London run would be an hour later over here, so I’d have to see. The roads became thinner and dustier as we got closer to San Gimignano. I was following the route on Google Maps – just in case I was being trafficked; we’ve all seenTaken– and I had a tingle of excitement as we started the final ascent into the hills. Two years of promising to visit was ridiculous. Just goes to show how time flies when you stop paying attention. I couldn’t wait to give Holly a big hug. My phone started buzzing on the seat next to me. It was Chris.
‘Buongiorno, little bro!’
‘Hey, Abs,’ he said, quietly.
‘Everything OK?’ My protective older sister radar immediately kicked in. Chris messaged a fair bit, but he rarely picked up the phone and dialled my number. The last time he’d called me was from the police station when he’d somehow got mixed up in a pub brawl and been hauled off to the cells. He’d used his one phone call to ask me to come and get him. Reliable old Abs. He obviously didn’t trust Mum and Dad to answer.
‘Not really. Me and Em have split up.’
‘What??! Noooo!’
‘We both knew it was coming. She finally got tired of me being skint.’
‘Is that what she said?’
Chris gave a sad sigh. ‘No. She said we’ve been living together long enough to know we’re not compatible, and she wants to move on and find her person. I don’t think being skint helped very much though.’
‘Oh, Chris, I’m sorry. I know you liked her. I’m away, otherwise I’d take you for a cheer-up drink.’
‘It’ll take more than a drink this time – I’m going to need the whole bottle. She wants me to move all my stuff out as well, like, pronto.’
‘Straight away? That’s brutal. Although I suppose it makes sense if you’re not together anymore.’ I knew what was coming next.
‘Any chance I can stay at yours until I get myself sorted?’
My little flat was not designed for two people, and the last time Chris had come to stay I’d nearly lost my shit with him leavinghisshit all over the place. Muddy boots by the front door, smelly socks down the back of the sofa, half-full coffee cups cultivating in hidden spots and the TV permanently on. He was a nightmare house guest, which might explain Em rethinking him asher person, but I couldn’t abandon him in his hour of need.
‘You’re in luck. I’ve just landed in Pisa for a couple of weeks, so you can stay in the flat while I’m away if you like.’
‘Pisa? As in Italy?’ Chris said, clearly gobsmacked.
‘Yes. I know. Travel shocker – this is not a drill.’
