‘And you swear you’ll call your mum, right away, to tell her where you are and where you’re planning to go?’
‘I promise,’ said Daisy, brighter now she knew she’d pretty much got her own way.
I was still worried, but the evidence suggested it would all be fine. If Nick had answered his phone, I’d know for sure, but he hadn’t, so I had to work out what to do myself.
‘You’d have to meet us back here. Right by this statue of Donatello. At eleven thirty sharp.’
‘Sure,’ said Daisy. ‘Back here in two hours. Got it.’
‘And don’t go too far. Stick to the busy areas. The main streets. Don’t wander off down any quiet alleyways or anything.’
Aidan gave me an empathetic smile.
‘Promise,’ said Daisy, already backing away.
My stomach swirled as I watched her walk away. I really, really hoped I was doing the right thing.
Chapter Nineteen
Once Daisy had gone, Francesca marched off in the direction of the entrance. I glanced at Aidan as we both adjusted our headsets. I was already wishing that I’d told him not to bother coming.
‘Just us?’ he said.
‘Looks like it.’
What I had to hold on to was that this was possibly my last chance to find out what had happened to Aidan a couple of years ago, and although I’d tried to convince myself that I was doing it for me and Nick, so that I could focus on our relationship and on getting to know his family, deep down I knew that I was doing it for me, for my own peace of mind. And I’d decided that that was probably OK. Why shouldn’t I put my own needs first for once? I wanted Aidan out of my life and out of my head and hopefully I’d have achieved both by 11.30 this morning.
‘Reckon you can take video footage in there?’ I asked Aidan.
Francesca, who clearly had ears like a hawk, replied instead, ‘No videos in the museum!’
Aidan caught my eye and raised his eyebrows.
‘Are you still at Holiday Shop? Working for that dickhead, Tim?’
‘Yes. And yes.’
He looked surprised.
‘He’s been promoted to senior producer. My friend Lou is a director now. And I’m still exactly where I was two years ago. For now, anyway,’ I said, thinking about my website idea.
We navigated the security to get into the gallery, an airport-like set-up similar to the one at the Galleria dell’Accademia. Once we’d had our bags checked, Francesca led us through what felt like the backstage area of the gallery. A series of corridors painted in white and grey, and lots and lots of stairs.
‘You know, not getting promoted isn’t something to beat yourself up about,’ said Aidan. ‘It’s a tough industry. It’s easy to get stuck.’
‘I guess we can’t all fall on our feet like you,’ I said.
Aidan looked confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I hadn’t put you down as aConde Nast Travellertype.’
‘It’s a job, Maddie. And I get to travel the world and write interesting pieces that go onto glossy pages with beautiful glossy pictures. So what if it doesn’t align perfectly with my values?’
Great. I’d made myself sound all bitter and twisted about his success.
‘As long as you’re happy,’ I said, seemingly unable to lose the snippy tone.
It was like I’d turned in to Sophia Mark 2.