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‘Divorce is horrible.’ Sarah literally shivered at the memory. ‘But being with the wrong person is worse. Not that I can tell her that yet.’
‘She’ll get there.’ Lucy sighed. ‘Stella is one of the strongest people I know.’
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
Upstairs in her room, Stella stood with her face under the hot jets of water from the shower, tears falling so fast she feared they might never stop.
14
The four women set off from the hotel, Lucy in charge of navigation. Stella had arrived in the hotel reception with her sunglasses firmly in place and smiled and nodded as each of her friends quietly asked if she was OK. They knew the answer, but they also knew their job was to carry her through the day as best they could.
Within moments, they reached the bridge Stella had crossed that morning, stopping to look back along the river at the Ponte Vecchio, by now busier with tourists. Cotton-wool clouds hung casually above the city in the bright blue sky, a gentle breeze moving them along slowly.
They walked up through the narrow streets into the heart of the city, through small squares and along roads lined with shops, many still yet to open. Sarah took in her surroundings. ‘The whole place has a decidedly unrushed feel about it, like no one’s in a desperate hurry. Don’t you think?’
Lucy coughed. ‘Well, kind of. I didn’t want to freak you all out by making lots of plans, but I have booked us tickets to the Accademia this morning, so we don’t have to queue.’ Lucy held up a piece of paper.
‘When did you do that?’ Bridget turned round. ‘I mean, thank you, obviously. But that’s so organised!’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it.’ Lucy laughed. ‘We’re booked in about fifteen minutes, so perfect timing. I just knew if we didn’t, then we wouldn’t get in, and if there’s one thing I really want to see while I’m here it’s David. Just to see if he’s as big as I remember.’
Bridget and Sarah raised their eyebrows at Lucy. ‘No, not like that.’
Stella laughed. ‘Thanks, Lucy, that’s really thoughtful of you. And you’re right. We should absolutely see the real David while we’re here.’ Silently, she wondered who the real Simon was but pushed the thought to the back of her mind, not wanting it to spoil the day ahead of her.
They walked on, turning a corner to see the Duomo in front of them, so tall it momentarily blocked the sun from view. They stopped and stared, taking in the details, from the vast bronze doors of the Baptistry to the arches, frescoes and sculptures on the front of the cathedral. By now, crowds of tourists moved slowly around the outside of the buildings, eyes turned upwards to take in their surroundings rather than down towards their phone screens. Groups gathered around various tour guides, the gentle hum of humanity on a city mini-break all around. The queue to enter the cathedral snaked around the outside of the building.
‘We can come back and do this later, it should be quieter this afternoon,’ said Lucy. ‘Let’s keep going.’ She nodded towards a street leading north away from the cathedral. ‘The Accademia’s up this way.’
‘I’ve never seen anything so…’ Sarah whispered, still standing gazing at the Duomo. ‘Unbelievable.’ She tried to take it all in, the scale seemingly impossible to comprehend.
‘I bet the view from up there is amazing.’ Bridget pointed at the clock tower to the side of the building. ‘Come on, or we’ll lose the others.’ She grabbed Sarah’s arm and they turned towards the road Lucy had gestured to and walked quickly to catch their friends up.
Restaurant tables on the narrow pavements were being set for a day’s trading, awnings now covering them. The women continued past shops selling perfume, leather goods, books and art supplies. Scooters and bicycles jostled for position on the sides of the roads, left by their owners as they went about their business in the city.
Thanks to Lucy, they bypassed the queue of people waiting to enter the Accademia, an unassuming building from the outside with no-nonsense square windows and a simple wooden doorway. Inside, it was a completely different story. A long hall led them towards the heart of the museum, a statue depicting women looking tangled and tortured dominating the space. Lucy nodded towards it. ‘Rape of the Sabine Women.’ She gazed at it for a few seconds, then carried on walking towards a second hall. ‘This way.’
‘I feel like I’m on a school trip,’ whispered Bridget to the others.
They dutifully followed Lucy into the next hall and there, beyond it, bathed in natural light pouring from the ceiling above stood Michelangelo’s David. Sarah, Bridget and Lucy walked on towards the bright white marble stone, but Stella was drawn to the sculptures on either side, seemingly half-carved, unfinished. She walked up to the first one on the other side of the room, peering at its form as she got closer to it. The figure looked as if he was desperate to escape from the rock holding him in place, the force of movement almost palpable. The rock still bore the marks of a chisel.
Lucy appeared at Stella’s side. ‘The Awakening Slave,’ she said, nodding.
‘What are the others?’ asked Stella, her eyes still scanning the statue.
‘The series is known as the Slave Sculptures. Michelangelo did them, but they were unfinished. There’s this one, the Bearded Slave up there, Atlas over there and The Young Slave.’ Lucy pointed at each in turn. ‘I love how they’re incomplete, don’t you? Like, we haven’t got the whole story. There’s more to come once they’re set free, if you know what I mean.’ Lucy carried on looking ahead.
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ Stella kept her eyes on the statue.
Lucy turned to Stella and winked. ‘Come on, let’s go and have a look at David and his enormous right hand.’ She took Stella’s hand and pulled her over towards the others.
* * *
An hour later, saturated with sights of statues and paintings, they stepped back into the sunlight, the warm air a sharp contrast to the coolness of the museum. Stella had enjoyed it more than she’d expected; not only that, but she was also delighted to note that, yet again, she was starving. ‘Anyone else hungry yet?’
‘Me. Are we far from that market you made me draw on the map?’ Sarah asked Lucy.
‘I don’t think so, hang on.’ Lucy tapped at her phone for a moment, then looked up and pointed along a road. ‘Five minutes or so that way. Follow me.’
