Page 33 of Livia in Rome
Ma gulps down a mouthful of her lunch then bangs her fist against her chest as if it’s stuck there. Her voice is croaky when she answers. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mamma.’
Nina scoffs. ‘Don’t you? She seemed quite convinced I should consider...retiring, and I thought to myself...now where have I heard that before?’ ‘You’re ten years older now, Mamma. Are you going to work for ever? The bar isn’t just sitting behind a counter – it’s a physical job.’ She waves at Nina’s leg, still suspended in the sling.
Nina’s perfectly smooth forehead creases slightly, a movement so subtle I’d have missed it if I wasn’t paying close attention – which I most definitely am.
‘I’m not dead yet, Caterina. And there are plentyof capable older people in this country...it’s our Mediterranean diet.’
Ten years older now, that’s what Ma said. Ten years older than when the apology letters began, ten years older than the last time we came to Rome. I look down at my plate, at my white-knuckled hand gripping my fork. Am I finally going to find out what happened all those years ago?
Giulio shifts on the bed. He’s thinking the same thing I am.
Ma breaks the silence, her voice a little tight. ‘Well, talking of diets, can we just try to enjoy our lunch?’ She forces a smile at me and Giulio. ‘You two were out all afternoon yesterday, weren’t you? Why don’t you tell Nina what you saw?’
A flicker of disapproval crosses Nina’s face as she looks at Giulio; we left Ma to handle everything alone. But then, with a sigh, she relents, her gaze shifting to me. ‘Where did you go?’
‘The Giardino degli Aranci,’ I say, leaping on the opportunity to lighten the atmosphere. ‘The view was breathtaking.And the Basilica di San Clemente – Giulio was telling me about your historical lasagna theory.’
Her chin dips in a satisfied nod. ‘Yes, you’ve caught a bit of colour. And your accent has improved.’ She takes a sip of water, then turns back to Ma. ‘It’s ashame you didn’t take her to these places, Caterina.’
Ma shifts to the very edge of her seat. ‘I’ve been busy managing the bar.’
‘Yes, well...I hope that’s all you’ve been doing in my absence.’
There it is again, the insinuation Ma’s been up to something behind her back.
And with that, Ma’s up on her feet. ‘We should get going.’
Nina smirks. ‘Already?’
‘Yes.’ Ma’s tone is firm. ‘I have errands to run.’
Giulio stands too, clearly grateful for the out...but he offers me one as well. ‘I can take Livia back on the Vespa.’
I nod, eager to escape the thick air in the room.
In the hallway, I pick up my pace to match Ma’s. ‘Ehi, are you OK?’
She touches my arm. ‘I’m fine,tesoro.’
I don’t believe her for a second.
And she knows that, because she avoids meeting my eyes. ‘I need to stop by the market before we reopen. I’ll see you later,va bene?’
I nod again, but much as she tries to hide it...everything – Nina, the letters, the strained conversations – it’s etched into the lines of her face.
I’m about to thank Giulio for the ride as we pull up outside Nina’s bar, my plan being to throw myself on my bed and spill all to Isla before we open up again. But before I can even open my mouth, he reaches for my hand and gently tugs me down the street. ‘It’s Sunday, remember? We need gelato...it’s the law.’
A jolt ripples through me at his warm grip, but I brush it off. This is Italy – everyone’s touchy-feely, right? I see it all around me. Ren throws his arm around people all the time. It’s just...normal.
But . . . my heart doesn’t skip a beat when Ren does it.
The streets are quiet and empty, and I suspect everyone in Monti is snoozing off a food coma. There’s zero chance of me and Giulio getting separated by crowds of tourists like there was at the Pantheon, but he still holds my hand loosely in his until we find a little gelateria that’s open for business during the long hot afternoon hours – a little gelateria that stillhas about twenty-five different flavours on offer. There are classics likecioccolatoandcrema, but also caramelized fig and ricotta, and a purple hyacinth ice cream with real petals in it.
‘I’ll have to show Ren this place, although he’d probably convince them to make French onion gelato or something,’ I joke.
For a second, Giulio’s relaxed expression puckers into something like irritation, like it often does when Ren’s name comes up.
We each get a cone and walk over to the fountain that will for ever be tainted by Ma and Pa’s first kiss – knowledge I’m not about to share with Giulio. We find a spot on the ledge and I leave a decent amount of space between us. But then more people arrive, forcing Giulio to squish up next to me. He’s still doing that annoying boy thing, though, where he takes up all the leg room. I nudge the knee invading my space, and he pushes back...until we’re full-on knee-wrestling. My leg is about a foot shorter and I start to topple backwards. I fling my arm out just in time, waving gelato everywhere, but my hand slips on the edge of the fountain and my arm plunges into the cool water, right up to my elbow.
