She nodded. ‘I think it was a lesson to us all. Because he doesn’t say very much, I don’t think we realised how much he was absorbing. Without meaning to, we’d made him feel a failure. It’s really upset Massimo because he feels responsible.’
It was a testament to Lara’s generosity of spirit that she hadn’t felt the need to play the blame game. I hoped I wouldn’t have been that person shaking my husband awake in the middle of the night to relive the horror of what nearly happened and finishing with ‘And it would have been all your fault!’ I was still waking up myself, images of Sandro’s body, lying at an unnatural angle by the pool, kept creeping into the night-time hours.
God knows which emotions and pictures were on a never-ending loop in Massimo and Lara’s minds. Lara kept praising Massimo’s quick action – ‘Thank God he was there. I was just a jelly. Pathetic. I don’t know whether I’d have had the strength to get him out.’
‘Don’t underestimate yourself. Of course you would, if Massimo hadn’t been there,’ I said.
‘I’m not so sure. I would have gone to pieces completely. Thank God I never had to find out. It was partly my fault anyway. I should have been far more forceful about telling Sandro to stay away from the pool when there were no adults around. Because he was scared of the water, it never occurred to me he would go anywhere near it when I wasn’t there.’ Her voice raised a little, emotion clouding her words.
Massimo threw down his cards and grabbed Sandro’s arm, raising it above his head. ‘I officially proclaim you the Uno champion of Castello della Limonaia!’ Sandro’s face creased into a big smile.
Then Massimo knelt down by Lara and reached for her hand. ‘Are you all right, darling? Will you do me the honour of walking round the garden with me? Maggie, would you keep an eye on Sandro for us?’
Lara hesitated.
‘Go on. I won’t even blink until you come back,’ I said, sounding more confident than I felt. As Massimo pulled her to her feet, I felt weighed down by what seemed a crushing responsibility of keeping three kids alive for the next half an hour. I’d never been one for helicoptering around Sam as long as I knew roughly where he was, but now I felt as though I wanted to attach him to me with a pair of toddler reins. I found myself stressing about things I’d never given a hoot about before, like throwing up grapes in the air and catching them in his mouth, somersaulting off the side of the pool, swimming straight after lunch. And every time Francesca cartwheeled off the side into the pool, I had visions of her skull smashing on the concrete edge, making my heart lurch.
With a new intensity, I appreciated having a husband to share my worries with. Someone to put his hand out in the middle of the night and say, ‘I can feel you fidgeting. Snuggle up.’ Someone who didn’t make me feel stupid and attention-seeking for not being able to stop crying, even when Lara and Massimo got back from the hospital with an all-clear for Sandro, Massimo barely visible behind an enormous bunch of flowers for Mum.
Despite the fact that Sandro owed his life to her raising the alarm, she’d brushed off all thanks and praise. ‘Get off with you! I’d have been a darned sight more useful if I’d been able to swim meself. Good job Massimo spends so much time down the gym, ran like the wind he did.’
I prayed she’d be gracious about the flowers. And in deference to the seriousness of the day, the sense that our whole lives could have turned on a sixpence, she managed not to do her usual, ‘What a waste of money. Poor things. I prefer to see them growing in gardens rather than stuck in a vase.’
But the days had definitely taken on a more mellow feel with everyone being kind to each other. I drifted down to dinner without worrying whether Anna would pick on Mum for saying, ‘My most beautifullest grandson’ and launch into a boring explanation about superlatives, which Mum would wave away with ‘Oh who cares about superla-things. You know what I’m on about, so what does it matter?’
I called Sandro over, feeling nervous he wasn’t within grabbing distance of my sun lounger. ‘Are you all right, lovey? What are you drawing?’
‘That’s the nurse who looked after me. And that’s me with water coming out of my mouth.’
I wondered what his teacher would make of the ‘show and tell’ on the first day back at school: ‘This is a picture of me in hospital after I nearly drowned.’
Time to move on. ‘Would you like to learn how to draw a flower? I think you’d be brilliant at it. Come on, let’s go and find a good one for you.’
After instructing Nico to keep his eye on the other two kids even though Francesca was a better swimmer than any of us, I took Sandro’s hand and walked around the side of the castle where I’d spotted some large rose bushes. The simplicity of their flowers would be perfect. I looked up at the sky, a proper postcard blue, and thought how lucky we were that we could simply enjoy the day, fiddle about choosing a flower to draw rather than be making plans to transport a body back to England.
As we came round the corner I heard a noise, perhaps a voice. I scanned the formal gardens for any signs of life, but could only see a few stone busts and a small fountain. I pointed towards the rose bush – ‘Look, they’re the flowers I think you could draw.’
Then out of the corner of my eye, tucked inside the little summer house Beryl had called ‘that bus shelter thing’ and received a proper dirty look from Anna, I saw Lara and Massimo. He was leaning towards her, holding both her hands, everything about him intense and focused, almost as though he was trying to convince her of something. That she wasn’t to blame? That he wasn’t? She was tucking her hair behind her ears, looking at the floor. Then Massimo pulled her into a kiss, not a little peck, but a full-on snog. I didn’t wait to see any more in case Massimo had a bit of al fresco nooky planned for the afternoon.
I hurried Sandro to the other side of the garden, exclaiming that the roses looked a bit past it and perhaps a cactus would be better.
As Sandro and I inspected the plants for one with simple leaves, I wished that Nico would find little corners for us to get naughty in. Outside of the bedroom it already felt like a triumph if he held my hand. Francesca still looked as though she’d found a rancid green loaf in the bread bin if she ever caught us cuddling, which just about killed off any spontaneous touching.
And made me feel strangely envious of Lara and Massimo’s little rendezvous in the summer house.
37
LARA