‘I could, but I just can’t imagine being in Florence, and not going to the Botticelli Room.The Birth of Venusis one of Dad’s favourite paintings, and we had a massive print of it on the bathroom wall growing up. In fact, it’s still there. I remember Dad telling five-year-old me that the original was over five hundred years old and had been painted with egg yolks, and both facts had blown my young mind. To be so close and not see it would be unthinkable. I’d rather wait and come back some other time.’ The problem was some other time never came. A moment in the future that was always just out of reach. ‘So you studied film, and now you work in film,’ I said. ‘That’s impressive. Setting out your intentions early on.’
‘Mom always loved Sophia Loren, which sparked an early obsession with her – and with film – for me,’ Tony said, with a wicked smile. ‘And it’s been my passion ever since.’
‘Oh. Well, that makes sense.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I had a similar situation with my mum and Marilyn Monroe’s make-up, so I totally understand.’
‘I watched every one of Sophia Loren’s films, several times, and then eventually moved on to the others, you know; Batman, James Bond, Star Wars – the usual.’
‘Spaghetti westerns?’
‘Er… no. Sophia was my only screen siren. Clint Eastwood didn’t do it for me.’
‘Fair enough. He’s not my type either. And then you went to LA to find a modern-day version of her?’
Tony was painting exuberantly now, splattering different colours onto his easel. He had quite a job on his hands to make my body work under this dress. Layering yellow over purple would not be easy. I was dying to see if he’d just given up and drawn me as a stick woman with boobs.
‘No such thing as a Sophia Loren outside of Italy. The women in LA are quite a different breed – in my experience anyway. Best avoided.’
‘That’s quite the generalisation.’
‘Hmm… fair enough,’ he said, looking forlorn. ‘Maybe I’m just unlucky in love.’
‘OK, you have been going for nearly an hour,’ Mia said, clapping her hands. ‘Time to take a break and share with each other.’
I glanced up at Tony, feeling shy to show him, but knowing I had to. ‘I’ll go first,’ I said. I’d started to get the shapes and colour blocks in place, and some of the details of his face, but it wasn’t anywhere near ready. He came over and stood behind me, the heat from his body giving me goosebumps, as I tried to read his thoughts.
‘It’s just a rough outline really,’ I said, dismissing it.
‘No, not at all. You’ve captured me well,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Especially my face. My expression is spot on.’ He raised a well-coiffed eyebrow and nodded slowly. I think he was impressed. I hoped so. I wanted him to be.
‘My turn,’ I said, ducking under his arm and running over to his easel. I felt my breath catch as I stopped and stared. Tony’s painting was full of colour, bright pinks and purples, my hair an acid blue. At first glance, it looked like some kind of sea monster, but as I stood back, I saw her face.My face, swirling amid all the colours.
‘I love it,’ I breathed, my eyes fixated. It was so different to what I’d been expecting; my style was so classic and ordinary in comparison. Boring.
‘Well, it’s just the beginning of something,’ he said, with a modest shrug.
‘It’s much more than that,’ I said, mesmerised. ‘It’s beautiful.’ I couldn’t work out what he’d done. Why it grabbed me so completely. My hair was wildly billowing in blue, my eyes larger than life. ‘I can’t stop staring at it,’ I said, glancing up at Tony in wonder. He gave a bashful smile at my obvious pleasure. How had he captured me so masterfully? The painting was a version of me laid bare that even I hadn’t seen for a while. I felt completely exposed. He’d painted in the smiles as well as the sadness. The everything. It was all somehow in there. The me I didn’t think people could see. Wrapped up in the feelings I hadn’t realised were so visibly on show.
Thirteen
Wednesday 14thAugust
I felt a shadow over my face and opened my eyes, to find Tony blocking my sun. I’d already done fifty lengths of the pool and was taking a moment to enjoy some morning tanning time, before the heat got too intense.
‘You are going to be SO impressed with me,’ he announced, confidently.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ I said, sitting up, my head now level with Tony’s crown jewels. He sat on my sunbed and bounced around excitedly, clearly very pleased with himself.
‘I’ve got us in,’ he said.
‘Who in where?’ I frowned, confused.
‘Usinto the Uffizi.’ He held his hand up for a high five. ‘Can you believe it?’
I couldn’t and I didn’t. He must be winding me up. The website said it was closed, and social media had been in a frenzy as tourists rocked up day after day and were turned away.
‘Yeah, right,’ I said, rolling my eyes and lying back down.
‘I have!’ he insisted. ‘An old pal from uni works there and said he can get us in for a few hours. We’ll have to use a secret underground entrance, but he’ll open it for us.’
