Ava pushed her fingers through her hair and then noticed the pencil smudges on her hands and wiped them on her jeans. She went to check she hadn’t put any black marks on her face, but the knock came again. Ava tutted and muttered about the lack of patience of some people as she went straight to the door. Opening it, she did a double take as she took in the sight of the unexpected visitor.
‘Gino! What are you doing here?’ Ava tucked a stray curl behind her ear, aware that she must look a mess, having rubbed her hand through her hair as she contemplated her drawing.
Gino was leaning against the wooden porch, his legs crossed at the ankles, the sun causing a glint in his dark eyes. ‘Mary told me to come, so here I am.’
Ava stared at him, discombobulated. ‘Why? I mean . . .’
‘She said you needed a hand.’ Gino stood up straight as if readying himself to enter the cottage.
‘A hand? No. Perhaps she meant at the shop. I can’t think—’
‘In the bedroom.’
Gino stated the words matter-of-factly, and yet it took Ava a beat to absorb what he said.
‘What?’ Heat rose to her cheeks.
‘Pauline wanted to swap shifts, so I’ve got a few hours to spare. I went to the shop to talk through our idea a bit more, but Mary said I should come here to help you as you were having difficulty in the bedroom.’ He spoke slowly, making his accent more pronounced.
‘Wh—?’ Ava could scarcely believe what she was hearing. ‘I don’t . . . I mean, it’s been a while, but—’
‘With your mum’s things,’ Gino explained, attempting to curtail the grin that mischievously tugged at his lips. ‘Mary said you needed a hand to shift a few boxes and sort a few of your mum’s things.’
Ava stood, heat spreading across her neck at the thought of what she had almost said, attempting to make sense of Gino’s words.
‘She said she would help you herself, but she doesn’t do sentimental, or family. So, here I am.’ Gino shrugged as if his words explained everything.
Ava stared at him.
‘I don’t do sentimental either really, but family . . . family I get. Being part Italian, how could I not? And’ — he held up a bottle Ava hadn’t realised he was holding — ‘I’ve brought wine! Also, Mary’s suggestion.’
Ava looked at the bottle. She couldn’t think of anything worse than going through her mum’s things with Gino.What was Mary thinking?Wasn’t it the type of thing people had to do in their own good time? Ava thought about all the time that had passed since her mum’s death and the room upstairs, still crammed with her possessions. She knew she was a hypocrite; she regularly encouraged people to have a sort out and donate to the charity shop. Yet she’d been unable to let go of her mum’sthings, leaving them idle when she knew her mum would rather they went to a good cause. ‘OK.’ Still thinking it was a crazy idea, Ava found herself standing back and inviting Gino in.
Mary had obviously sent Gino to give her a kick in the right direction, which direction Mary exactly intended that to be, Ava wasn’t sure. But she knew she’d be foolish to turn the offer of help down. As Gino passed her the wine and stepped inside, Ava shook her head. ‘But you don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for.’
Chapter Nine
Having opened the wine and poured herself and Gino a glass, Ava realised she couldn’t keep putting the inevitable off. Gino had come round, as a friend, to help her. Not sorting a single box would mean she had wasted his afternoon off. It would also mean she would have to suffer the wrath of Mary. Leading Gino up the narrow twisting staircase, Ava felt tension wrap itself around her chest like a thick rubber band.You can do this.What she hadn’t confessed to Mary was that she had tried to sort her mum’s things a few times. But whenever she tried she felt engulfed by waves of sadness and fear at having to face her feelings. Putting it off seemed the logical solution. Before opening the door, Ava turned to Gino. ‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’
‘Of course, I’m here to help and—’
Ava pushed open the bedroom door.
‘Wow!’ Gino’s eyes boggled at the site of the boxes, stacks of paper and clothes in the room.
‘Bit of a hoarder was she?’ He shook his head.
Ava giggled, releasing some of the tension in her chest as she exhaled. ‘No. This is my fault. I put everything in here, like this. It was . . . easier.’
‘A kind of open the door and throw it in strategy?’
‘Something like that.’ Ava looked at Gino, embarrassed at her only strategy having been denial. ‘You really don’t have to . . . I mean . . . this, it’s my fault.’ Ava gestured to the room and the chaos within it, but as she spoke the last word, her voice wobbled. She felt tears well in her eyes and feared she was going to cry —in front of Gino, for goodness’ sake.
Holding her gaze, Gino offered a reassuring smile. ‘I know I don’t have to. But I want to help. Mary sent me because she wants to help. But you’re right. This is too much.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Ogni viaggio inizia con un singolo passo.’
