‘Just let me say this. We couldn’t give you the trips your friends have had, or the clothes, or fancy phones.’
My throat tightens.
‘But look at you now,’ she goes on, her voice catching. ‘You’re somewhere amazing, and I just … I hope you know how proud we are. You deserve something good.’
I press my palm hard against my eyes. ‘Mum,’ I croak. ‘Don’t.’
‘What? I’m allowed to get a bit teary.’
I try to laugh but it comes out wrong. ‘Thanks,’ I whisper.
Every lie I’ve told to get here – to Mum and Dad, to school – is a trap I have to tiptoe around, even in Venice, where no one really knows me. I can’t let my guard down. I can’t tell the truth.
And there’s no one I can talk to.
Except maybe Rebel. If only I still had a way to reach him.
The sky’s a deep indigo by the time I make it back to the palazzo. My feet are blocks of ice and my legs ache as I climb the stairs and throw myself on top of the covers. Mum’s voice still buzzes in my ears – all that pride, all that love I don’t deserve.
My phone starts ringing somewhere beneath me. I wriggle it out of my coat pocket and toss it to the bottom of the bed. It won’t be anything I actually want to deal with, not when I’m still booted off the app.
The ringing doesn’t stop, so I jab the screen with my foot to silence it.
‘Thank you,’ I groan, when it finally cuts out.
Then there’s a tiny crackle, and a tinny voice leaks through the speaker, distant and muffled.
‘Pronto?Hello?’
I bolt upright.
Oh no. No. No. No.
I didn’t mute it. I didn’t decline it.
I answered it. With my foot.
I snatch it up: that unsaved Italian number again.
‘Hi?’ I squeak, already sweating.
‘Ciao, Evie, it’s Paola. I am happy I caught you. Did you get my texts?’ Her English is good but heavily accented in a different way to Jacopo’s, softer and a bit breathy.
‘Yes, sorry. I’ve been busy in the lab … and finding my way around.’
‘I hope you like my city!’
‘Florence … is beautiful.’
‘Bene!Listen … your sister tells me your project is air pollution. I am studying particulate matter. It is perfect, no?’
I laugh weakly. ‘Ha! What are the chances?’
‘I know! Anyway. I would like to help you. We could have a hot chocolate together and talk about the experiment. I am free tomorrow afternoon. You are at the Novoli Residence?’
‘I … yes, I’m at Novoli,’ I say, voice small. ‘Only … I’m … ehm … supposed to be collecting data from the sensors.’ I gulp, hoping that sounds right. ‘Can I check times and get back to you?’
‘Of course. I will tell Grace I spoke to you. She was worried!’
