If the rain doesn’t let up, we’re both going to be stuck inside all day. I cannot spend the whole time with her, obviously. I’ll find somewhere separate to sit and do some work. I will also recheck my alternative travel options.
Back in the room, I find a note from Emma:
Gone for a walk. See you later.
Weirdly, because Ishouldjust be pleased that she isn’t here, I’m immediately annoyed, because now I’m going to worry about her. How have her family and friends coped with the terrifying thought that someone who’s gung-ho (stupid) enough to drive without windscreen wipers has been on this big journey alone?Anythingcould happen to someone travelling solo.
I decide to go for a walk myself. I need some lunch and I’d like to check that she’s alright. I mean, of course she is, but just in case.
And once I know that Emmaisokay, I’m definitely going to spend the afternoon working.
I don’t have too much time to fume because I find her sitting with a Kindle on a stone bench in a corner of the cloister.
‘Hey.’ She looks up just as I approach even though my shoes have echoed on the stone as I walk and she must already have known I was here, and I get the strong sense that she would happily have ignored me if she could have got away with it. And that’s obviously a good thing, because I don’t want to engage either.
‘Hey.’ I realise that I’m an idiot because now that I know she hasn’t gone off on any kind of lunatic expedition by herself, I have no need to talk to her. I’m also an idiot because I want toprovide an excuse for looking like I’ve followed her here. ‘Just on my way to find some lunch.’
‘That’s where I was going but the rain seems to be getting even heavier, and also we’re in the middle of nowhere and I think it would be quite a long way to anywhere that sells food.’
I nod and find myself sitting down next to her, before immediately regretting it. I’ve placed us in a conversation-having situation.
‘You know what I might do.’ I stand up again. ‘Go and ask if they might have a little bit of food they could spare for lunch.’
‘Good idea. Thank you.’ Emma’s half-smile has the ridiculous effect of making me want to see one of her full smiles. Her face is – always was, still is – beautiful in a very classic way, which is lovely to look at, but which is not what got me the first time we met. What got me was her smile, her real one, when she’s properly amused or happy. It’s wide, it’s cheeky, and it has this hint of naughtiness, and when she laughs you can’t help laughing too.
I say that; I imagine Icouldhelp laughing now if she laughed, because this day has not amused me so far.
‘Okay. I’ll report back in a minute.’ I turn round and Father Davide’s standing right behind me.
‘I should have offered you some lunch,’ he says. ‘Would you like to join us for some soup and bread?’
Emma and I say simultaneously that that would be wonderful. Clearly, it’s our best option.
A few minutes later, we’re seated in a hall at a long, oak refectory table with several monks and other guests of the monastery.
Introductions are performed and Emma and I are described as newly-weds on our honeymoon.
As one of the monks ladles steaming minestrone into bowls for us, Carla, one of the two American women sitting opposite us says, ‘Oh, I adore love stories. How did you two meet?’
Emma and I glance at each other at exactly the same moment and then away.
I’m still floundering, my mind fixed on when weactuallyfirst met, and how – as a previously commitment-phobic twenty-one-year-old – I looked at Emma and thought,that’s the girl I’m going to marry, when Emma speaks.
‘We were walking our dogs in the same park in London and the dogs started playing together and we started chatting and one thing led to another.’
Well. I have never owned a dog. Emma clearly doesn’t have a dog with her on this trip but maybe she has one at home. Maybe she met a different boyfriend while dog walking. I have to say that I don’t really like the idea of her putting my head onto a different boyfriend-meet.
‘That isgorgeous,’ Carla tells us. ‘What kind of dogs do you have?’
‘Cockapoos,’ Emma says, not looking at me.
‘Both of them?’ Carla queries.
Emma nods. ‘Yes. That’s probably why they got on so well initially.’
‘They must be so pleased to be living together now,’ Carla says. ‘Cute.’
‘Yes,reallycute,’ Emma says.
