Italian Passion (2 page)

It was dark when Vanessa arrived back
at the hotel and, avoiding Maria’s curious gaze, took the stairs back to their
room – only to find it empty.

Richard had returned after midnight,
drunk and amorous. He barged into the room, switched on the light and stripped
off his clothes, before climbing into bed and begging forgiveness. He said all
the usual things, about how he had been stressed at work, about how she needed
to make an effort to understand him better, and that he was sorry he had
shouted and sworn at her, and that he would never do it again.

Vanessa had been relieved by his
change of mood, but not so grateful that she let him have sex with her. Despite
that she accepted his apology, and even said she was sorry for upsetting him,
sex was the last thing she wanted from Richard. He whined for a minute or two
before the alcohol did its work, and he fell into a deep sleep. Yet, Vanessa
lay awake for hours, staring up at the darkness and listening to the sound of
Richard’s breathing.

Was love supposed to feel this empty?

Now, in the soft morning light,
Vanessa was feeling much better. After a delicious breakfast of warm pastries
and coffee in the hotel’s breakfast room, she was eager to explore some of
Tuscany’s countryside. Richard was a good, confident driver who made an easy
transition to driving on the right-hand side of the road and navigated his way
through the narrow streets, and amongst the chaotic traffic beyond, as if he
had always lived here.

They drove into the countryside,
through picturesque rolling hills carpeted with vineyards, olive groves and
rows of bristling cypress trees. Vanessa spoke little, wary of breaking the
newfound peace between them. Richard, likewise, did not make an attempt at
conversation, save the odd comment about the passing scenery, and they reached
San Gimignano without exchanging more than half a dozen words.

Richard parked the Fiat on the
outskirts of the town, just outside the medieval walls, while Vanessa retrieved
a ticket from one of the pay-and-display machines nearby. As she waited for the
machine to print out her ticket, Vanessa glanced up at the collection of
medieval stone towers rising above her. They contrasted against the blue sky
like ancient stone sentinels; there were so many of them that she could see how
San Gimignano’s most distinctive feature had earned it the nickname, ‘the
medieval Manhattan’. Vanessa’s spirits lifted further. She could not wait to
explore this town.

They spent the rest of the morning
discovering San Gimignano; taking photographs, exploring back alleys and
visiting the shops selling local pottery, wine and food. Eventually, they found
a little trattoria at the top of the town to have lunch in.  The restaurant was
small, and run by a husband-and-wife team.

“Sit down and I bring you the menu!”
the wife, a short, broad lady wearing a white starched apron, beamed at
Vanessa, ushering them to their table.

Taking a seat on the narrow terrace
in front of the restaurant, Vanessa’s gaze took in the view of tiled roofs and
towers tumbling down to the city walls below, with a backdrop of green hills
beyond. She sighed in pleasure – what a magical spot.

They ordered lunch; bowls of home-made
egg pasta with tomato and bacon sauce followed by green salads. They shared a
carafe of local red wine with their meal, which was delicious – yet, as they
ate, Vanessa felt some of the earlier tension between her and Richard return.

They dined in silence. Whenever,
Vanessa would glance Richard’s way, he appeared distracted, either gazing out
at the view or checking his text messages. His phone buzzed constantly
throughout lunch, until Vanessa started to clench her jaw. She had to fight the
urge to snatch the phone and throw it onto the cobblestones below.

“Who’s sending you all those texts?”
she asked finally as the owner placed two dishes of tiramisu in front of them.
“Surely not work?”

Richard shook his head, his
expression shuttered.

“I mean, you hardly take any
holidays,” Vanessa continued. “They should leave you alone.”

“It’s not work,” Richard replied
coldly.

There was something in his tone that
caused Vanessa to pause. She was about to try her first forkful of tiramisu but
when her gaze met his, her stomach closed. She lowered the fork back to her
plate, untasted.

“What is it?”

Silence stretched between them before
Richard finally spoke.

“Vanessa, I can’t do this anymore.”

Vanessa went cold.

“The texts are from Tara.”

Vanessa stared at him, suddenly
understanding but not wanting to.

“I can’t pretend to love you when I
don’t,” Richard blurted out. “Tara and I have been seeing each other for a
month now. I’m far happier with her than I have ever been with you. She
understands me – you don’t.”

“Tara Gordon?” Vanessa choked out the
question. Of course, it could be no other than Richard’s new co-worker. A
young, insurance broker that had recently joined their firm. “I thought she was
married?”

Richard shook her head. “She’s left
her husband for me.”

“You’re leaving me for her?” Vanessa
was reeling. Tara was the polar opposite to Vanessa; perma-tanned, hair
extensions, fake nails and an even faker laugh. Tara had treated Vanessa with
disdain from her first week at the firm – and now Vanessa knew why.

“She understands me,” Richard
repeated, scowling at her. “We’re colleagues – we’re on the same level. You and
I never have been.”

Anger curled up within Vanessa.

“I’m a PA, not a lower class of human
being,” she said, straining to keep herself from shouting. “I can’t believe you
think Tara Gordon is more your intellectual equal than me!”

Richard shrugged. “Tara doesn’t nag
me. I’m tired of your whining.”

“I don’t whine!”

“See you’re doing it now,” Richard
put down his napkin, got out his wallet and threw a handful of euros onto the
table. “No wonder I ran straight into Tara’s arms. It’s over. I’m sick of
pretending we’re happy when we haven’t been for months. These days, I can’t
stand the sight of you.”

Vanessa stared at him, her eyes
filling with tears.

“Why do you always have to get so
nasty,” she whispered. “I’ve never deserved it.”

“See, once again, I’m the one to
blame. You’ve deserved every word!” Richard snarled. “I’m going back to Siena,
checking out of the hotel and getting the first plane out of here.”

“But what about me?”

“I don’t care what you do.”

Vanessa watched, stunned, as Richard
walked away. It was only when he disappeared around the corner that the full
impact hit Vanessa, as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. Getting
up, her dessert untouched, Vanessa added a few more euros to the pile Richard
had left and followed him.

Numb and sick, she walked back down
through the twisting streets in a daze. Ahead, she could just make out
Richard’s tall figure, striding purposefully back to where they had parked the
car.

It did not occur to her for a moment
that he would drive off without her.

Yet, when she approached their hire
car, she was appalled to see him start the engine and back out of the parking
space.

“Wait!” Vanessa shouted. She started
to run towards the car. “Richard! Wait for me!”

Pretending not to see her, Richard
gunned the Fiat’s engine and sped off down the street with a squeal of rubber.

Vanessa stood in the middle of the
street, watching the car disappear into the distance. For a moment, she was
unable to comprehend that Richard had abandoned her here, in a foreign country
without even a backwards glance.

“You bastard!” she screamed after
him, her words echoing off the walls – but only the pigeons, picking at scraps
in the gutter, heard her.

***

The sun was sinking behind Siena’s
bristling skyline, when the blue coach rumbled to a stop in front of the train
station.

Back in San Gimignano, she had sat on
the curb, sobbing for over an hour, before realising that he was, in fact, not
coming back for her. Then, pulling herself together, Vanessa had gone in search
of the local bus depot. It took her a while, but she eventually discovered that
the buses left from a stop just outside the walls, and that there was one in an
hour.

Vanessa got to her feet and followed
the stream of passengers onto the pavement. Then, weaving her way through the
crowds of excited tourists, she took the street that lead back into the centre.
Although the sun had disappeared, Vanessa still wore dark glasses. She had
donned them a short while after Richard had departed, and had no intention of
taking them off until she was in the safety of her hotel room.

Siena was bustling this evening;
crowds of teenagers ambled along the cobbled ways, eyeing each other up as they
went. The sight of them made Vanessa fight tears once more – she had once been
fresh and hopeful too. Love had been an adventure when she was seventeen; she
had never expected things to turn out so badly for her.

Reaching the
pensione
, Vanessa
rushed past reception, avoiding conversation with Maria, who called out to her;
her pretty face creased in worry. Upstairs, she discovered the room empty – and
despite that she had expected it – burst into tears once more. Richard’s
trolley suitcase was gone; only hers stood near the wardrobe. She had
half-expected him to leave her a note, but there was nothing. It was as if he
had never even been here.

Still fully-clothed, Vanessa lay down
on the bed and curled up. The sobs, which she had been struggling to contain
all afternoon, poured forth, and she cried until the tears ran dry. Afterwards,
she fell into an exhausted sleep.

The ringing of church bells woke
Vanessa the next morning. Groggy, she sat up on the bed and looked around,
trying to get a sense of what time it was.

Sunday morning – hence the bells.
Vanessa got off the bed, moving stiffly like an old woman, and stumbled into
the bathroom for a hot shower. Half an hour later, glowing pink and feeling
considerably more human, Vanessa returned to the bedroom and pulled out a clean
pair of jeans, her favourite black t-shirt and high-heeled leather boots. She
might have felt like death, but she did not need to show it. Once she was
dressed, she pulled her blonde hair back into a pony-tail, put on some silver-hoop
earrings and applied some light make-up. There was no way she could face the
day looking like a bereaved widow. A good night’s sleep had given her some
perspective. Her boyfriend might have abandoned her on the first day of their
holiday but she could still return home with some measure of dignity.

Home. Where was that now? The
one-bedroom flat in Bristol that she shared with Richard? With any luck he
would have moved out by the time she got home. However, she would still have to
organise to live elsewhere; she could not stay in the flat they had rented
together. With a sinking heart she considered the prospect of moving back with
her parents. The thought of her mother’s smug face immediately made her veto
that idea. I told you that you’d never keep him, her mother was likely to say.
She had made the comment when they got together and would be delighted to be
proved right. No, she would ask Anna, one of her old friends from school, if
she could stay for a couple of days until she found another place to rent. She
hoped Anna would not mind.

Slipping on her sunglasses, just in
case she found she could not face the world after all, Vanessa zipped her
trolley closed, slung her bag over her front and made her way downstairs to
reception. She was hoping that it would be Maria’s day off, but she had no such
luck. The young woman was there, as usual, and her face lit up at the sight of
Vanessa.

“Signorina Woods,” she rushed out
from behind the desk and blocked Vanessa’s exit. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Vanessa replied, feeling
tears threaten for the first time that morning and glad she had decided to hide
behind dark glasses after all.”

“Your boyfriend, he left yesterday.
I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Vanessa replied shortly.
“He wasn’t.”

Maria gave her a long, measured look,
before impulsively reaching forward and grabbing hold of Vanessa’s hands.

“Forget him,” Maria said earnestly.
“He does not deserve you.”

Vanessa had to laugh at that.
“Really? I think you’re the only one on the planet who thinks that.”

Maria shook her head. “It’s true.
He’s a bad man. In Italy we have saying:
è meglio essere soli che male
accompagnati
– better to be alone than in bad company. Forget him and enjoy
the rest of your holiday.”

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m going
home today.”

“But why? You just arrived!”

“I know – we’ve got another five days
booked in Florence but I don’t feel like it.”

Maria’s face grew fierce then. “Go to
Florence, enjoy yourself and forget about that
bastardo
. Remember what I
told you
.
It is better to be alone than in bad company!
”