I looked at the faces turned rapt towards him. Which of these women with their diamond stud earrings and waxed eyebrows would believe he’d deliberately set out to injure his own brother?
I’d been washing my hands at the sink, tension tightening in my stomach when the chant of ‘loser’ started up. Massimo was the competitive firstborn. He wouldn’t lose to Sandro at a game of Snakes and Ladders, let alone to Nico in a football game. And certainly not with a crowd to witness the less sporty brother trouncing the mighty Massimo. I’d watched his face growing tighter, the pursing of the lips, the vigour with which he’d punched away the footballs, the fury every time he wobbled off the beam. When I saw him spring off and barge into Nico, I didn’t even register shock. Just resignation that events had unfolded as I’d expected. And as soon as Nico had staggered next door and the kids were all hero-worshipping Massimo, he was his jovial self in the spotlight again.
The giggling women finally simpered out with their offspring. My relief was tempered with the knowledge that the real drama was about to begin. The moment Massimo had stopped waving from the front door, he said, ‘Stop sulking.’
I tried to head him off. ‘I’m not sulking, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.’
‘I can see it in your face. You blame me for what happened to Nico. It was an accident. So typical of you to think I did it on purpose, you always look for the worst in everyone.’
I knew not to contradict him directly. I carried on throwing paper plates and napkins into the bin. ‘We should probably pop next door and check that he’s all right.’
‘Off you go then. I’ll stay here and get Sandro ready for bed. I feel bad enough about what happened without all of you crowding round to point the finger.’
Yes, so absolutely gutted that he’d been laughing and joking for the last two hours with the little harem from school. He was waiting for me to do what I always did and spend the evening trying to defrost him. ‘Cup of tea?’, ‘Here’s the paper’, ‘You choose what you want to watch,’ until he’d reward me with a comment that wasn’t barked out or grunted.
But, for today, I’d run out of placating. And tomorrow, I’d not only go out with Maggie driving, I’d book my test.
28
Maggie
The morning after the party, just swinging my legs out of bed when the alarm went off felt like I’d exhausted my energy reserves for the day. It was incredible that before I’d married Nico, I never worried a jot about how late I went to bed, more afraid of missing out on an extra laugh with my mates or an outrageous antic that would be recounted for weeks than feeling a bit knackered the next day. Now though, I’d fallen into Nico’s rhythm of going to bed by ten-thirty. But the night before, we’d snuggled up watching films until late to make sure Nico wasn’t concussed. It was hard to believe that a post-midnight bedtime had left me quite so done in. I could only put it down to the exertion of dealing with the Farinellis en masse, with all their outright trickiness, not to mention their hidden undercurrents.
So once I’d sent the kids off to school and tried and failed to persuade Nico to stay at home to rest, I was hoping to have a quiet morning in the attic to finish off the final garments before we left for holiday.
But Anna had other ideas. She let herself in, then stood shouting in the hallway, ‘Helloooo? Anyone home?’
I’d been tempted to pull up the hatch to the workshop and hide up there with the suit jacket I was struggling to get right but in the end, I made my way down the steps. I wished I hadn’t bothered. Anna launched into telling me off for ‘letting Nico go to work’.
‘But Anna, how am I going to stop a forty-year-old man driving off in his car if that’s what he decides to do? He probably should have had a day at home but you know what he’s like about work. He was a bit sore, but he did seem all right.’
She sniffed and pursed her lips. ‘Massimo was so worried about Nico. He had a sleepless night over it.’
I didn’t know whether Anna said stuff like that to wind me up, but when I’d seen Massimo saunter out to his car that morning, he was whistling as though he’d had a fat eight-hour sleep then woken up to fresh coffee and croissants. And apart from a ‘You stopped seeing double yet?’ text, he hadn’t exactly been rushing round with the grapes and chocolates. I had a sneaking suspicion that Massimo, alpha male and sporting superstar, thought Nico had made a right old drama over nothing.
I’d just managed to shoo Anna out of the door and got my needle out again, when the doorbell went. I considered ignoring it but I thought I’d better check it wasn’t Nico on his last legs, crawling up to the front door on his hands and knees. As I peered out of the upstairs window, I could just see a glimpse of Lara’s beige sundress.
I sighed. No doubt she wanted to see how Nico was. She was a worrier at the best of times: I couldn’t leave her fretting away so I ran downstairs and invited her in.
She sat down for a coffee, and although she looked tired, there was a vigour, a determined energy about her that I didn’t often see, a brisk ‘things to get on with’ manner.
First on her checklist was Nico. ‘Has he been all right? His colour didn’t look great yesterday evening. I kept getting up in the night and looking out of the window to see if both of your cars were there. I was so worried you’d have to take him to hospital.’ She paused. ‘Massimo wanted to pop round first thing, but he thought you’d be too busy getting everyone ready for school.’
Personally, I thought Massimo hadn’t covered himself in repentant glory but Lara’s concern made up for him. I told her about Anna’s disapproval that I hadn’t locked Nico in the bedroom to make her laugh.
Despite not working, Lara always seemed to have something urgent to do, things that would never make it onto my list such as trying to recreate some fancy dish Massimo had eaten on one of his trips away. So I fully expected her to dash off after fifteen minutes on some ridiculous chore such as hunting down wild Alaskan salmon, organic grass-fed beef or some other delicacy you couldn’t buy down the road at the supermarket. But instead she fished about in her handbag and pulled out a piece of paper.
She looked at the floor. ‘I wondered if you were still happy to teach me to drive? I know I haven’t seemed very enthusiastic.’ She paused, then waved the paper at me. ‘But I’ve booked my theory for next month and I’m hoping to be driving by October.’