Really grown-up, actually.
I mean, I’m very, very conscious of her proximity. I can feel her warmth against my leg and if I turn my head in her direction I get a faceful of her hair, which smells lovely. At one point she nearly falls off the bench and I have to shoot an arm out to catch her, and am then reminded of how well she used to fit in my arms, like we were created specifically to go together, but really, I’m cool about it. Genuinely.
There’s no private chat between us, because there are lots of people around and everyone’s discussing their onward journey or sightseeing plans, until Emma suddenly turns to me, hitting me in the face with her hair, and says, ‘A lot of people are still trickling in for breakfast.’
I nod.
‘What time is it?’
‘Don’t know. Can’t get to my phone. Maybe half past. Maybe even quarter to.’
‘Hmm, did you not tell me that breakfast finishes at nine?’
‘Whoops,’ I say.
‘You lied.’ She shakes her head and tuts.
And I look at her upturned face and I can’t take my eyes off her lips, which are slightly moist from the sip of juice she just took and a tiny bit pursed. A coil of hair has escaped from her ponytail, framing her face beautifully.
‘Cheeky,’ she says.
I nod, because I have no idea what we were talking about. All I can think about is the way her lips moved when she spoke, and the way she’s now gazing at me in the same way I’m looking at her.
‘I…’ I begin.
And then Laura shrieks, ‘You two are too cute. Justeating each other upwith your eyes. Love it. Can I get a photo?’ She’s snapping before she’s finished speaking and then she checks the photos she’s taken and selects the best one and puts it on our ‘Montecastello Monastery’ group chat that she set up for us all last night.
And there we are in the photo, Emma and me, looking at each other, and it’s horrifying, because we really are doing an excellent impression of a besotted couple. From my side I’m very aware that in that moment I wasn’t acting, I was just… well, briefly besotted. In a lustful way I think. And Emma was eitherdoing some fantastic acting or feeling pretty similar in that moment.
‘Lovely,’ Emma says in a slightly strangled voice.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I say.
We look at each other and at the exact same moment give a small nod and indicate the door with our eyes.
‘It’s been so wonderful to meet you all,’ Emma says, ‘and we’d both love to stay and talk, but we have to get going. Long day ahead.’
It takes us a long time to extricate ourselves from all the genuinely lovely holidaymakers and then a further few minutes of chat with the very friendly monks before we’re back on the road with our bags.
‘I cannotbelieve,’ Emma says as she manoeuvres her case around a muddy puddle that the sun hasn’t reached because of the large tree above it, ‘that we have to walk all the way back now.’
‘Yeah.’
Once we’re about fifty feet down the lane, Emma looks over her shoulder and swivels her head in all directions.
‘Honestly,’ I say. ‘You might as well have put a sign with large neon letters on your head announcing that you’re now planning to gossip and you don’t want anyone to hear.’
‘Well, duh,’ she says. ‘Iamplanning to gossip and Idon’twant anyone to hear.’ She dives straight in. ‘Did you hear what John and Manda and those two Croatian girls ended up doing last night? Half of me wishes I’d been there too and the other half is ecstatic that I wasn’t.’
‘I did hear and yes, me too.’
And just like that we slip straight back into the way we always used to dissect evenings out. I go with it because walking in silence is actually quite hard work, and talking about other people is way easier.
The conversation carries us all the way back to the clearing and the van.
‘Hey, Miranda,’ Emma says when we get to the van. As in, she is addressing thevanasMiranda. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Sorry, what?’ I say as we place (me) and throw (Emma) our cases into the back.
