‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ Holly said, walking me to the car. ‘But you know where we are now, so you can come over any time. And you have to come back when the baby is born, so that’s not too far away. Aunty Abs.’
‘I’ll be here!’ I replied. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of a tiny Holly or Xavier in the world as I opened the door to the car. ‘Oh! I nearly forgot!’ I unzipped my bag and pressed the letter for Tony into Holly’s hands. I’d decided to keep it short and sweet; it would be too late by the time he read it anyway. I just wanted him to know that he had meant something to me. That it hadn’t been nothing.
‘I’ll make sure he gets it,’ Holly said, as Mia started the engine.
Dear Tony,
I’m so sorry I missed you! An incredible job has come up, so by the time you read this I’ll be at the Venice Film Festival doing what I do best – turning celebrities into Orcs. I got your note on Sunday morning and thought you’d flown back to LA. It was a relief when Paolo told me you were coming back – that you hadn’t just left without saying goodbye. And now I’ve had to leave without saying goodbye to you.
I’ve had the most amazing few weeks here with you – your film said it so much better than any letter ever could – the food, the wine, the laughs. Thank you for reminding me what it feels like to really live. For taking me to Florence and fot the car bonnet picnic in Siena. For the night at the opera and sneaking us into the Uffizi to see the Botticelli Room, for the road trip singalongs, for your beautiful painting of me (which I’ll treasure forever) and for being so lovely and fun. Thank you for looking after me. You wanted to take me for dinner in San Gimignano and I’m sorry I said no. If I ever see you again, my answer is yes.
Abi xx
Holly stood back next to Xavier, who had all three puppies in his arms. Paolo leant against his crutches and gave me a final wave, and Mia set off for Poggibonsi, the farmhouse and vineyard disappearing in the rear-view mirror. I took a quick selfie as we pulled out onto the road, and I managed to get theVigneto Almagnosign in. I felt so sad to leave. No, it was more than sad – I was bereft. This would never have happened if I’d just popped out for a quick four-day trip. I wouldn’t have got so attached to it all: the place, the people, the coffee, Nero. I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I clutched my handbag into my lap.
‘You can come back any time, you know,’ Mia said, giving me the side-eye.
‘I know. I’ve just had such a lovely time. I wasn’t expecting… it. Any of it.’ I felt strange and empty. But full at the same time. I needed to pull myself together.
Mia put her foot down to get me to the station on time, the radio playing quietly in the background. My last ever trip in the Uno. I wound down the window and looked out across the Tuscan countryside, a thousand different shades of green, each field producing a different wine, a different taste and style. The farmers were out stripping the vines and bringing in the grapes, in the same way they did every year, and this place would carry on without me – just one in a million tourists that came and went every summer.
‘Congratulations again on your baby news,’ I said, as Mia pulled up outside the station. I leant across and hugged her goodbye, and she popped the boot so I could grab my suitcase.
‘Safe travels to Venice, Abi! Another beautiful place to spend some time,’ Mia said, dreamily. I waved as she drove off, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was on my own again. I bought a ticket and validated it at the machine as the train pulled in. The doors could be quite aggressive, and the driver wouldn’t wait.Doors open, people off, people on, doors shut.No messing around. I leapt on, pulling my case up behind me, and miraculously found an empty seat. My Tuscan adventure was officially over and I was on my way somewhere else.Here I go again on my own,I hummed to myself. No more Holly or Nero, no more of Paolo’s pancakes and Mia’s kindness. No more Tony.
I pulled out my phone and put my headphones on to watch his mini film again. My happy Tuscan world encapsulated in just a few minutes. Whenever I needed a reminder of my time out here, all my memories would be sitting here on Instagram, or in San Gimignano waiting for me to come back. Although Tony wouldn’t be here next time. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched it – the star of this film really was a totally different me to London me. I was going home a new person and I wanted to hold on to that version of myself for as long as possible. I didn’t want to slip back into my old, controlling ways. I needed to start taking chances again. My lists had to be less about cleaning and more about trying new things and going to new places. I’d wasted so much time locked up in my own gilded cage, I had to start building my world around me again. No more being the bridesmaid, or the best supporting actress, observing everyone else’s lives progressing from the sidlines. I needed to back myself in my own story.
I watched the view change from green to grey as the vineyards got less and less frequent, dissolving into the distance, as the city buildings started to appear. The familiar sight of Florence beckoning. Botticelli’s Florence. Mine and Tony’s Florence.
No time to enjoy it today, though. I had to get on. A fleeting transition onto another platform and another train, cross-country through Italy on a double-decker to Venice. As the view changed once more from city to country and back again, the conductor announced the final stop, and a frisson ran through the train. I’d forgotten to feel excited, but all the feels came flooding in as Venice hit my eyeline. I was booked into the Danieli hotel, a few minutes’ walk fromPiazza San Marcoand I already knew I was going to love it. I hadn’t been to Venice before, and it was heart-achingly beautiful. The picturesque buildings in pale pink, cream, powder blue and egg-yolk yellow. Some crumbling, with huge cracks in the walls, others freshly painted with flowers at every window. Tiny tables thrown outside restaurants, lining the canals, as the gondolas glided alongside the walkways and paths. I jumped in a cab and took it all in, absorbing this new Italian friend. I could have walked, but the day had been exhausting enough already. Physically and emotionally. I wanted to get to my hotel room as fast as possible, unpack and get my head together, ahead of starting work.
The hotel reception was majestic. An Aladdin’s cave of polished brass and gleaming glass, full of glitz and glamour. A permanent spritz of Chanel Number 5 wafted through the air and the guests walked past with perfectly coiffed hair and immaculate nails. In comparison, I looked like a bedraggled Fraggle, my hair still full of chlorine from the pool, smelling of coconut oil. I needed to activate ‘work-Abi’ and speed back up. I pressed the bell on the reception desk and a tall, thin woman with curly blonde hair and black roots came rushing out to greet me.
‘Buonasera. Welcome to the Danieli,’ she said, adjusting her specs. ‘Are you checking in?’
‘Yes, please. Abigail Mason for three nights.’
She surveyed me from across the reception desk and smiled, her manicured nails flying over the keys. I looked down at my cotton sundress and flip-flops, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I was very much still in holiday mode, as opposed to working-with-film-stars mode.
‘Yes. Here you are,’ she said, clicking her tongue in concentration.
‘Abi!!!’ Phoebe appeared from the hotel bar and shot over to my side, increasing my street cred threefold. She was wearing a little black Prada number, with acid green shoes and a chunky gold bag, and very much looked the part.
‘Phoebs! You’re already here! I love your outfit,’ I said, giving her an exaggerated air-kiss.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled, looking me up and down. ‘I’m not so keen on yours,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not work-ready yet,’ I said, smoothing a hand over my frizzy hair.
‘You should always be work-ready,’ Phoebe tutted. ‘You know that. You never know who you’re going to bump into. Especially in a hotel like this. Dress for the job you want and all that.’
‘Room one-two-seven on the first floor,’ the receptionist said, pointing to the right. ‘The lifts are just around the corner.’
‘Lovely, thank you.’
‘Let’s get you sorted,’ Phoebe said, taking my key from the receptionist. I saw them exchange a look. As if I was on day release and needed supervision.
Twenty-four
