Divas Don't Knit (34 page)

Daniel smiles. ‘I’ve got some tea back at the hotel, if you want it. Why don’t you all come back with me? Or we could put the boys in a water taxi with your brother and you two can come and get them, and we can have a drink?’

Vin looks enthusiastic. ‘Sounds like a good plan to me. Except I’ll do the tea bags and the girls can do the water taxi. I could do with a beer right now.’

Lulu shakes her head. ‘Oh no you don’t. I’m not having you coming back singing rude songs in the middle of one of your mother’s parties. No, Jo can get the tea and we’ll take the boys back.’

‘Spoilsport.’

‘Don’t whine, Vin. I’ve told you before: it’s not very attractive.’

Daniel laughs. ‘Right, well that’s sorted then. Yes?’

Everyone looks at me.

‘Okay, but tell Mum I’m on my way, will you?’

‘Sure. Come on, boys, we’re going home in a boat.’

They cheer.

We put them all into a water taxi and I make the boys promise to stay sitting inside in the warm, and then we walk to the hotel, which is very splendid and hushed, and smells of wood smoke and polish, in a non-Pledge kind of a way. Daniel
walks straight past the reception desk and towards the lifts, as a beautiful young woman comes out from behind the desk with an envelope.

‘This arrived for you, Mr Fitzgerald.’

‘Oh, right. Thanks.’

She smiles at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

‘Is there anything else you need?’

‘Yes. Tea bags, lots of them, but no Earl Grey.’

‘I’ll send some up directly.’

‘Great.’

The room turns out to be a suite, with a living room looking over the Grand Canal.

‘Bloody hell, this is amazing.’

‘I guess you’d like some tea now, right?’

‘That would be lovely.’

‘Do you want cakes or anything? I think they do quite good ones here.’

‘No, thanks, just tea, please.’

We sit talking and drinking tea while we watch the boats going up and down the canal, and the occasional gondola full of tourists, as it starts to grow dark. The tea’s lovely, and he’s very easy to talk to.

‘So why are you in Venice in this fabulous room all by yourself?’

‘I told you, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.’

‘I know, but you must know someone who’d like to spend a couple of days of splendour in Venice with you.’

He smiles.

‘I do. But she’s married.’

‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Is it?’

‘No, not really, but it’s nice to be able to talk about it. She’s quite high-profile, so it’s tricky.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘Or rather it used to be tricky. She just gave me my cards, just before Christmas, actually.’

He starts to look rather sad, and tired.

‘Oh dear. Tell me about her.’

‘What?’

‘Tell me about her, if you’d like to. How you met, everything. Just don’t tell me her name.’

He looks pleased. ‘I’d like that. Tea and sympathy, right?’

‘It helps sometimes, talking.’

‘God, I’m sorry. I forgot.’

‘What?’

‘About your husband. Look, let’s have a proper drink, shall we? Do you fancy a whisky?’

‘Yes please.’

He walks over to a large wooden drinks cabinet, and pours two tumblers of whisky.

‘Ice?’

‘Please.’

He hands me a glass and sits back down.

‘So do I start at the beginning, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, she’s Swedish, and we met on a job.’

‘Right.’

He stares at his feet. ‘I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.’

Three large glasses of whisky later I’m feeling very mellow, although I’m not sure I can stand up any more, and Daniel’s telling me about his first girlfriend, who was called Flora.

‘She sounds sweet.’

‘She was. I should have stayed at home and married her. I’d probably have kids by now, and a proper life instead of this fucking travelling circus I seem to have got myself into. God, I’m really hungry. Are you? Shall I get some food sent up?’

‘Yes, that would be—Christ, what time is it?’

‘It’s nearly eight.’

‘Fuck, I’m meant to be at Mum’s, serving canapés with a cheery smile on my face, not sitting getting pissed with you.’

‘Sod her.’

I laugh.

‘I mean it. This is your holiday, right?’

‘Yes, but.’

‘So sod her.’

‘Actually, you’re right, I don’t really need to be there. In fact, it’ll be hobble.’ Christ, I can’t say horrible now: I think I must be drunker than I thought. Maybe some food would be a good idea.

‘I just need to call Vin and check on the boys.’

‘I’ll get some menus sent up.’

Vin’s delighted. In fact, he thinks it’s brilliant. ‘She’s been going absolutely tonto.’

‘Oh God.’

‘Stop it; it’s fine. You stay and have supper. It’ll give me and Lou a brilliant excuse. We’ll say we’ve got to take the boys out for a pizza, and that way we all get to escape.’

‘She’ll be furious.’

‘It’s a good job she isn’t coming with us, then, isn’t it? Look, it’s not like she really needs us here, we’re only background interest. Anyway, I can’t stand here gabbing to you. I’ve got to go and break the news to Mum. God, this is going to be so great.’

‘See you later, then.’

‘Sure.’

‘Are you sure the boys are okay?’

‘They’re fine, and we’ve nearly finished building their pirate ships.’

The menus arrive and we order steak and chips and salads, which come with a bottle of wine and a waiter, who sets everything up on a table by the window and then leaves.

‘This looks wonderful.’

‘Good. Go on, it’s your turn now. Tell me all about your sordid past.’

‘There’s not much to tell, really.’

‘Make something up, then. Or tell me your top tips. I love getting top tips from girls.’

He pours us both some wine.

‘I can’t think of anything. Apart from how it’s not the end of the world.’

‘What isn’t?’

‘When things change. It feels like it is. But it’s not. I thought losing Nick was going to ruin everything, completely. And it did, of course, in some ways. But in some ways it’s better. Is that a terrible thing to say?’

‘No.’

‘It is. He deserves better than that – everyone does. But it’s true.’

‘Do you miss him?’

‘All the time. Mainly for the boys, but not just for them. I’d like to tell him things, show him how we’re doing. I want him to see how they’re growing up. He’d be so proud of them, I know he would. But it’s not as hard as I thought it was going to be. You carry on, even if you don’t think you can, somehow you do.’

He leans forwards and kisses me. Bloody hell.

‘Why did you do that?’

‘Because I wanted to.’

‘Oh.’

‘I might do it again. If you don’t mind?’

‘Well let me eat my chips first, would you?’

He laughs.

‘Sure. We could have a secret signal or something, if you like.’

‘A what?’

‘A secret signal, so we both know when a kiss might be on the horizon.’

‘Like when they say, “Brace, brace, brace,” when your plane’s crashing?’

He laughs again.

‘Something like that, only maybe slightly more upbeat?’

‘Okay. Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’

We carry on eating and I can’t help smiling.

‘It’s not much of a secret signal, is it?’

‘Not really.’

‘I think I’ve thought of one.’

He puts his fork down. ‘Go on, then.’

I lean across the table and kiss him.

‘That works for me.’

It’s nearly midnight now, and I’m feeling all glamorous and wanton, and I’ve always wanted to feel wanton. It’s absolutely brilliant.

‘I really should go.’

‘But baby, it’s cold outside.’

I hit him with a pillow.

‘Look, I’m sure your Mum will cope, if they wake up or anything.’

‘Not unless they need an urgent bit of stencilling she won’t.’

‘Please. Just stay a little bit longer.’

Christ, it’s nearly one now. ‘I’ve really got to go. Where’s my bag gone?’

He grins. ‘I’ve got no idea.’

‘Thanks. That’s very helpful.’

‘You’ll have to learn to keep track of your gear when you go out gallivanting, angel.’

‘I don’t go out gallivanting.’

‘You could have fooled me. Shall I ring down for a taxi?’

‘Won’t they be asleep?’

‘Then they can wake up, can’t they? That’s kind of how twenty-four-hour room service works. It doesn’t mean just when they’re not asleep, you know.’

‘It does in the hotels I stay in.’

He picks up the phone as I go into the bathroom. My hair’s gone all tangled and I’ve got a weird mark on my neck. Excellent.

‘The taxi’s on its way.’

‘Great.’

‘So when are you flying home?’

‘At the weekend.’

‘I’m off back to New York later today.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘And then we’ve got a job in Germany, I think. Tony knows all the details, at least I hope he does, or we’re going to look pretty stupid at the airport. So I’ll call you, shall I?’

‘Sure.’

‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic. Is this you telling me you don’t want to see me again?’ He’s smiling.

‘No, of course not. I’m just trying to be realistic, that’s all.’

‘Well, don’t be.’

‘You’ll be busy flying round the world with your supermodels, and I’ll be at home with the boys, not flying anywhere. So maybe we shouldn’t try to turn this into something it isn’t.’

‘You’re a total sweetheart, did you know that?’

‘Most people are, when you get to know them.’

‘Not the ones I meet.’

The phone rings.

‘The taxi’s here. And by the way it’s on the hotel account, so don’t go paying him. Shall I come down with you?’

‘No, stay up here in the warm.’

I kiss him on the cheek and leave.

Christ. I’ve somehow turned into the kind of woman who has passionate interludes in Venice and gets water taxis in the middle of the night. How bloody brilliant. I’m so pleased with myself I could almost skip. Although perhaps not out here on the jetty, because I don’t want to launch myself into the Grand Canal.

I’m just getting into the water taxi when Daniel appears, wearing a hotel bathrobe and clutching a plastic bag.

‘You forgot your tea bags.’

The doorman and taxi man both give us rather interested looks.

‘Oh. Thanks.’

He grins. ‘Christ, it’s fucking freezing out here.’

He hands me the bag and kisses my cheek. ‘Night, angel.’

‘Night, Daniel.’

The taxi glides away from the jetty, and he waves at me and then turns and goes back inside. I sit and watch the buildings float past. Bloody hell. I wonder how long I’ll have to wait before I can call Ellen? A few hours, at least. Bloody hell.

Mum’s sitting in the kitchen in her dressing gown when I get in.

Bugger.

‘I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.’

‘Sorry, Mum. Didn’t Vin explain?’

‘Yes. He said you were having supper with Daniel Fitzgerald. The photographer.’

‘Yes.’

‘When you knew I had people coming for drinks.’

‘Yes, but they weren’t coming to see me, were they?’

‘No, but I’m sure they would have liked to meet him. He is rather famous, you know.’

‘Oh, I see, that’s what you’re so annoyed about. Missing out on a celebrity guest.’

She glares at me.

‘Look, Mum, it’s late. Can we do this tomorrow?’

‘No, we can’t. You’ve always been the same, totally selfish. By rights the shop should have come to me, you know. I could have used the money to get us a little flat over here, but oh no, she gives it to her favourite, as usual.’

‘I don’t think a wool shop in Broadgate would buy you much in Venice, Mum, and anyway isn’t it up to Gran who she gives her money to?’

‘And what about Vincent? He seems to have rather lost out, too, doesn’t he? It’s absolutely typical of you. You always have to be the centre of attention, especially where she’s concerned.’

‘Mum, Nick died, I didn’t do anything to be the centre of attention. It just happened. And Vin’s fine about it, you know he is, and I’ve told him I’ll sell up if he ever needs the money.’

‘Oh yes, he always takes your side.’

‘Please let’s not argue, Mum.’

‘You could have stayed in London and gone back to work. Running a little wool shop isn’t exactly what I had in mind for you. When I think of the years I put into you two, and look at you, one off playing on boats and the other one playing shops. Honestly, it’s so disappointing. It’s important to make a difference, Josephine, do something special with your life.’

‘I am.’

‘In a wool shop?’

‘Yes, and it’s making me really happy, for the first time in ages. The boys are happy, and it doesn’t get more important than that, not for me, so please don’t start. I’m going up to bed now.’

‘I see. So you’re not in the mood for a bit of honesty, then? What a surprise.’

Oh bollocks to this.

‘All right, let’s give it a go, let’s be really honest for once, shall we? You can tell me what a crap daughter I am, and I’ll tell
you what a crap mother you are. Yes? Because once I get started there’ll be plenty to talk about. Mariella.’

She looks rather shocked.

‘Not keen? No, I thought you might not be. I’ll see you in the morning. And one crack, one sarcastic comment, and I’ll be off, because I’m not having you upset the boys. And I mean it, Mum. I really do. Goodnight.’

Blimey. I’m shaking as I walk up the stairs. Passionate interludes and standing up to Mum, all in one night. How completely brilliant is that? God knows what I’ll be getting up to tomorrow, but I think I’d better get some sleep.