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Johnny realised he’d not seen that look for a while. ‘In that case I’m going to ask for whatever the meat special is and have it even if I don’t know what it is. Mack said that’s the best thing to do here.’
Flora laughed. ‘Did he now? Well, you’re braver than I am.’
They ordered their food and Johnny topped up their glasses. ‘So, what do you fancy doing tomorrow? Anything you want to see in particular?’
‘I’m so happy walking and seeing what we find. I mean, we should maybe do a museum, don’t you think? And I’m sorry but we’ve got to do a gondola ride at some point. We didn’t do that when we came before. I remember Dad saying it was too expensive and buying us a lolly each instead. Billy was thrilled.’
‘You are such a tourist!’
‘Well, we can’t come all this way and not go for a gondola ride, surely.’
‘We’ll ask at reception in the morning if they recommend any particular ones. What about going out to one of the islands? There’s the glass one Mack mentioned.’
‘We’ve only got tomorrow. I’d rather we just walk around.’
Their food arrived. A plate piled with thick spaghetti was placed in front of Flora, the smell of sweet onions and a faint salty tang punching the air as it passed.
‘And today’s special for you, sir.’ The owner put down Johnny’s plate. ‘Figà àea Venessiana,’ he said with a flourish. ‘Enjoy.’
Flora waited until he’d gone. ‘Do you even know what it is?’ she whispered.
‘Not exactly…’ Johnny looked down, the meat sitting on a pool of creamy polenta. ‘But you know what, it smells incredible.’ He took a forkful into his mouth.
‘This, too.’ Flora lifted her fork, now holding a mound of spaghetti. She shovelled it in, the texture of the pasta and the salty-sweet coating of the sauce making her sigh with pleasure.
‘I’m not exactly sure what it is but whatever, it’s so good,’ said Johnny, still chewing, pointing at his plate with his fork.
As they wiped the last of the sauce from their plates with pieces of bread, cocooned in the warmth of the trattoria, Flora felt a fleeting sense of something she’d almost forgotten existed.
‘Johnny, do you think it might be possible to be sad and happy at the same time? I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I think I’m beginning to understand how I’ll have to learn to live with feeling sad about Billy – all the time, probably – but that maybe, just maybe it might be possible to live with it alongside happiness too. Does that make any sense?’ She looked at her husband across the table.
‘I think so.’ Johnny tried his best to appear convinced.
‘It’s just that, I don’t know… before all this happened, I thought grief was about crying, sobbing, falling to the floor, you know? I just wasn’t expecting it to be so… well, quiet.’
‘Now that does make sense.’ Johnny thought back to the time in the hospital waiting room, the long walk out of the hospital, no one able to say even a word, just stunned silence. ‘Flo,’ he took her hand across the table again, ‘it’s going to take time and I don’t think it’ll ever go away. But we have so much to look forward to.’
Flora blinked back the tears. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have had that Martini.’ She smiled at him across the table. ‘Gin always makes me cry.’
22
The sound of bells found its way through the heavy curtains and darkness to Flora’s ears. She turned and looked at the clock: a little earlier than she’d hoped, but the thought of a cup of tea in bed almost made up for it. Padding across the room to the small table with a tray of assorted teas, cups and a small kettle, she stubbed her toe on the edge of the bed. ‘Ow.’
‘What time is it?’ Johnny croaked. ‘Ow,’ he said, clutching at his head with both hands.
‘I know. Me, too.’ Flora rubbed her eyes. ‘It’s eight o’clock. Tea?’
‘Yes, please.’ He turned on the bedside light and propped himself up on the pillows.
She flicked the switch of the small kettle and walked back towards the bathroom. Turning on the tap, she splashed cold water on her face, peering at herself in the mirror. She realised she was looking more like her mother every day. Oh God, her mother. Thoughts of their last conversation came flooding back, Kate’s words in her ears. She made a mental note to avoid using the word ‘fine’ when talking to her in future.
She thought of her parents, sitting as they did at the table, her father at one end, her mother at the other, and Flora resolved to talk to Johnny about her predicament with her father. Then at least she could weigh up what to do. But not quite yet… She pushed the thought back down, along with all the other feelings she wanted to ignore for now, and set about making two cups of tea.
Johnny stretched and yawned noisily. He reached over and picked up his phone. ‘So, you sure you’re happy just walking about today?’
‘Definitely.’ Flora carried the two cups back to the bed, handing one to Johnny. She put hers down, then climbed back into bed. ‘Well…’ Johnny yawned again. ‘I worked out a route that takes in two churches and a museum, as you suggested.’
‘When did you do that?’ Flora laughed.
