‘Do you have a spare?’ I asked and three sets of eyes looked at me. Obviously not. There were people everywhere, so the likelihood of getting a cab seemed slim.
‘Gino will lend us a couple of his Vespas,’ Tony said. ‘We can bring them back in the morning.’
‘Si, bene. Yes. Good idea,’ Paolo said.
Mia smiled. ‘Don’t worry, this happens all the time. The car is falling apart, as you can see.’
‘It’s probably never had four passengers in it before.’ I laughed. ‘Thanks, guys, but I think I’ll pass on the Vespa. If we can’t get a cab back, then I’ll walk. I know where I’m going; it won’t take long.’
Tony stopped in surprise. ‘But why? Vespas are the best way to travel in Italy,’ he said. ‘They are totally safe. I’ll drive and you hold on. Like an Italian backie?’
‘Sorry, Tony, I can’t. I’m sure they’re very safe, but I’d rather not get on one.’ I didn’t want to sound too abrupt, but it wasn’t up for discussion. ‘I’ll be home for midnight if I set off now. I could do with the walk anyway, to be honest, after all that red wine.’
Paolo and Mia looked at each other, and Tony took charge.
‘You two go by Vespa, and I’ll walk with Abi.’
‘No… honestly, I’m fine,’ I tried.
‘I insist,’ Tony said. ‘The vineyards can be tricky at night and it’s easy to get lost, but I could do it blindfolded.’ He switched the torch on through his phone and lit up the path ahead of us. It was very sweet of him to offer, and I could hardly say no without a good reason. The truth was, I did feel a bit scared at the thought of walking back to the farmhouse on my own, but it was nowhere near as scary as the thought of getting on a Vespa. That was a definite no. It felt strange to have someone care enough to see me home safely twice in a week. There was no getting away from it – Tony was one of the good guys.
‘Well, when you put it like that. Lead the way.’ We kissed Paolo and Mia goodnight and walked down towards the main road.
‘Paolo and I have done this route a few thousand times over the years,’ Tony said, with a fond smile. ‘Mom always made me promise to get him home safe whenever we went out, no matter what. The curse of being the eldest child.’
‘Tell me about it. I’ve looked after my little brother my whole life. He’d never bother organising to go out with his own mates when we were kids, so Mum would make me take him out with mine.’
Tony laughed. ‘Smart guy – hanging out with his older sister and all her friends. Mine and Paolo’s friends were all the same, so we didn’t have that problem.’
‘My brother split up with his girlfriend last week, so he’s staying in my flat while I’m away.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ Tony said. ‘It’s good to look after your family, not everyone does.’
‘I’ve always kept my eye on him – I’ve had to – drama seems to follow him around. Last month he fell for a crypto scam, and I had to help him sort things out with the bank, the police and the fraud squad, it was a nightmare. They nearly cleared him out completely, not that he had a lot to start with.’
‘That’s some complex stuff. A proper big sister, eh?’
‘Yep. Although I somehow end up helping him with the basic stuff too; birthdays, Mother’s Day, Christmas presents. I’d rather that, though, than him forget.’
‘There’s a shortcut this way.’ Tony opened a wooden gate into a farmer’s field and started walking as the crow flies towards the vineyard in the distance. The traffic was finally behind us, and I felt much happier away from the chaos of the road, on a safe path home. The moon beamed bright as we walked, a sky full of stars alongside it lighting the way ahead. The night-time breeze was warm, and my dress fluttered about me as I followed Tony’s every footstep, single file, his torch shining in the dark.
‘I didn’t think it would feel this good to be back,’ he said, stopping to stare straight up at the sky. He had a wild, free energy about him tonight and it reminded me of myself in those photos with Josh. ‘It’s funny how home hits different, don’t you think?’ He stood still for a second and took a deep breath. ‘Remembering where you came from and who you really are.’ He took a photo of the vineyard in the moonlight, and a panoramic shot back round to San Gimignano lit up on top of the hill.
‘You’re lucky to have lived in different countries, I’ve only ever lived in the UK,’ I said, following his gaze into the night. ‘I think that’s why I don’t like to be away for too long. I like the bustle and the hustle…’
‘And the rustle?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, that too. I like all the noises. It’s too quiet here once you’re out of the town.’ The road behind us had emptied out, with only the occasional car or scooter whizzing past. A pair of owls were hooting, and the quiet crunch of our footsteps on the grass was all that could be heard otherwise.
‘LA is nothing but noise,’ Tony said, in contrast. ‘I can’t hear myself think most days. The traffic, the sirens, the shouting, the beeping. So much beeping…’
‘I quite like a beep.’
‘I’ve become anti-beep. I crave silence. When Mom died, I promised myself I’d be more mindful and start to meditate. Try and get back to a slower pace of life. I was totally stressed out – always rushing everywhere: from home, to work, out to dinner, back home again. I was struggling to keep up with myself, in a permanent race to get everything done. I was planning to visit Mom and Paolo once I got on top of things. I thought I had plenty of time, and then I got the call. I’d waited too long, and it was too late.’
‘I’m so sorry, Tony, that’s really hard.’
‘It was a shock to realise there was no time left. I could have chosen to stop at any time, or at least slow down. That’s one of the reasons I’m out here now. I vowed to visit at least once a year for a good chunk of time to see everyone and stay connected. I love my job – it’s got me to where I am today, and I’m grateful for that – but my family got me there too and I’ve learnt the hard way that working non-stop isn’t the way to get the most out of life. Being out here reminds me of the things I love. Of how to relax and what makes me happy.’
