Chapter Fourteen
The winery was way behind us now as we headed back into Florence. I’d loved being out in the countryside and my brain was hungry for more information on wine-making in the region, which I’d found surprisingly fascinating. I’d had no idea so much thought went into the whole process and we hadn’t even got to the bit about labels and marketing and sales. When Maurizio had showed us how different pasta with pesto could taste coupled with the right wine, I was converted. After all these years, I sort of understood the whole food/wine pairings thing. My dad would laugh at me if he could see me now.
We snaked along a winding road flanked by very expensive-looking houses on the outskirts of the city until Gino pulled over the van. A couple of coaches were parked up and I could see a café and an ice cream stall, as though there was some kind of tourist attraction nearby, but I couldn’t yet tell what.
‘Where are we?’ I asked.
‘From here you have the best views of Florence. It is the Piazzale Michelangelo,’ announced Gino.
‘Oh, I’ve read about this,’ I said, from my spot in the van squished against the window. Although it hadn’t felt so bad on the return journey. Somehow things were less fraught between Aidan and I. When his knee knocked into mine a couple of times as we went around a particularly sharp bend,I didn’t mind as much as I had on the journey there, when even the sight of him out of the corner of my eye had made anger bubble in the pit of my stomach.
Not that I wasn’t still angry, but it felt more manageable. Because I wasn’t sure, after all, that he was the monster I’d built him up to be. He’d treated me badly, there was no denying that, but I was beginning to put a slightly less obsessive and vaguely healthier spin on it: what if what had happened was about him, rather than about him wanting to hurt me? And also, if I’d stayed with Aidan I’d never have met Nick and I wouldn’t be about to start planning my wedding. So, in other words, he’d done me a favour, really. I bit my lip. I thought that maybe that should make me feel better than it actually did.
‘Can we jump out for a sec?’ I asked, deciding that this was a photo opportunity I simply couldn’t miss. I grabbed the video camera from my bag, too – this would impress Tim – he’d definitely be able to use it for his City Break promo.
Gino made a big deal of looking at his watch. ‘OK, you have five minutes. But then I must get back and return the van so that it can be cleaned and ready for the next tour party. You understand?’
‘Yes!’ I said, following Aidan out of the van.
The others got out, somewhat reluctantly I thought, except for Peter, who had fallen asleep and couldn’t be roused, even when Rosamund squawked,come on, Peter!into his ear. Nick and Daisy had had to get in the front, which I could sense had annoyed Nick because he was squeezed into the middle seat and had been forced to make stilted conversation with Gino for most of the journey back.
Nick fell into step beside me. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked, slipping his arm around my shoulders.
‘Fine.’
‘You’re not too annoyed at me for missing the first half of the tour, are you?’
‘It was more than the first half. More like two-thirds, I’d say.’ I was trying hard to contain my irritation as it would be pointless, anyway – Nick wasn’t the best at backing down or apologising. He probably didn’t get why I’d made such a fuss about it in the first place.
We made our way over to the railings where Florence was laid out in front of us, shimmering in the heat. I turned the camera on, pressed record and did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, taking in the hundreds of tourists and the level above us where there seemed to be – no, I couldn’t believe it – yet another version ofDavid! This one was smaller, and bronze.
I watched the footage back on my viewfinder – it was a lovely shot, even if I did say so myself. I did some pan shots and took some stills, ideas buzzing in my mind. I could picture my website, evocative and classy, with a section for all the different places I’d explored in the world. Italy was always a popular one, and it would be somewhere I could come back to relatively easily.
‘Please don’t tell me you’re working,’ said Nick, shaking his head good-naturedly.
He was used to me not properly switching off and in some ways he was the same. But his work involved lots of phone calls and meetings and emails and mine was more about capturing beautiful things while I had the chance.
‘It’ll only take me a minute. And this view is spectacular.’
There were lots of people like me taking photos of the city, chattering softly to each other, pausing to eat an ice cream, or wandering over to the particularly well-appointedcafé next to us that brought drinks to your table as you enjoyed the vista in comfort.
As I looked out at Florence again, I noticed how the Duomo dominated the shot, as it seemed to wherever you were, and next to it the tower of the Campanile, which I planned to climb later, if the queues weren’t too long. I panned across, taking everything in: the Ponte Vecchio, the Arno, so still and quiet. There were no boats going up and down, no floating restaurants or tour boats like you’d get on the Seine or the Thames.
‘I was surprised about what you said about Sophia,’ Nick remarked. ‘I didn’t think you had a problem with her being here?’
This was hardly the conversation I wanted to have when we had five minutes to take in possibly the most amazing view I’d ever seen in my life. When I’d dreamed of coming to Florence when I was young, I think it had been here I’d imagined myself. I must have read about it in a book, because this was exactly how I’d pictured it.
‘I did say,’ I insisted.
‘When?’
I’d clearly not made much of an impact if he’d forgotten already.
‘Look, let’s not do this here,’ I said, suppressing a sigh. I turned my camera off. I couldn’t concentrate now.
‘Did you really think calling me out in front of that Aidan guy was the best way to approach it? It was completely humiliating.’
He had a point.