Learning to Dance Again Page 10

  She had tied her hair back with a silk scarf and worn her sunglasses, as she guessed Tony would be driving with the top down on the car. She felt the tops of her arms starting to burn, despite the sun-cream she had applied earlier, so she pulled her white cardigan out of her bag and draped it over her shoulders to protect them.

  ‘Not cold are you?’

  ‘No, just afraid of turning into a lobster.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want that, not with your fair Nordic skin.’

  ‘Not really. So, where are we going?’

  ‘Hmm, well I wasn’t entirely sure when we set off, but I’ve decided to drive to Agrigento. I haven’t been to the Valley of the Temples in years. It gets far too busy in the summer, but it’s quite a nice place to visit at this time of year. Most of the tourists have vanished, but it’s still pleasant out; sunny without roasting.’

  ‘Speak for yourself; it’s roasting as far as I can tell. But then again, a Shetland summer day rarely gets above twenty degrees.’

  ‘Really, it must be at least twenty five degrees today? Eleonora would have brought a jacket with her on a day like today.’

  ‘Funny what you get used to; it takes a lot for me to feel the cold. I could happily sit outside in just ten degrees without a coat on.’

  They continued the journey, and Julia took her turn at entertaining Tony, with stories about Shetland, and her life and family.

  They came across a service station at the side of the road and Tony pulled in and filled up with fuel, refusing to accept any donation from Julia. She went inside the shop to use the bathroom and when she came out Tony was sitting in the passenger seat.

  She shook her head at him.

  ‘I can’t. I’m not insured.’

  ‘My insurance will cover you. Go on, get in. It’s a really straightforward drive from here. If you find it too much we can swap again.’

  Julia got into the driver’s seat reluctantly.

  She started the engine and then sat for a moment, fiddling with the gear stick with her right hand. Then she took a deep breath and engaged first gear and then pulled away slowly. There were no cars in sight in either direction so she pulled out onto the road and carried on. Tony immediately started talking about his son and daughter in Rome and she listened as she drove, and before long she realised she was doing fine. It wasn’t hard at all. Other drivers overtook her from time to time and she sped up a little, and then started to relax and enjoy it.

  Before long they approached the outskirts of Agrigento. Tony looked at his watch and then up at the sky as if he doubted his watch was telling him the right time.

  ‘We should go for lunch first. Somewhere out of the sun for a bit. We’ll head into the town and find somewhere to park. Don’t worry, it won’t be busy; most places are closed on Sunday.’

  Julia followed the signs into the centre and when they drove past the grand Romanesque train station she pulled into a parking space in the shade of a high wall.

  They strolled along an avenue, under a dark canopy of trees and found a restaurant next to a small shopping centre. Most of the shops were closed, whether it was for a siesta, or because it was Sunday, Julia couldn’t tell, but it lent a peaceful atmosphere to the place.

  The restaurant was fairly quiet and the waiter leapt up eagerly at the presence of customers. He seated them at a table overlooking the square and handed them menus. He returned moments later with a carafe of water, breadsticks and a dish of olives.

  ‘What do you fancy?’ Tony said.

  ‘I’m not sure really. I don’t usually eat a big meal in the middle of the day. This does look nice though.’

  ‘I think I might just get some fish and salad. But you have whatever you like. Don’t forget you’re on holiday.’

  ‘I would quite like to try some proper pasta. But I don’t really understand the menu.’

  ‘Do you like seafood?’

  ‘Of course; I’m the daughter of a fisherman.’

  Tony laughed. He turned to the waiter and gave him their order in fluent Italian, which seemed to catch the waiter by surprise.

  ‘What did you order for me?’

  ‘One of the chef’s specialities, according to this menu anyway. Seafood pasta cooked in a creamy sauce, some salad and bread. Hope that’s OK?’

  ‘Sounds lovely. I don’t think that waiter expected you to speak Italian.’

  Tony laughed, momentarily looking like a naughty schoolboy.

  ‘I know. Everyone sees me as this posh Englishman who couldn’t possibly understand a word of their beautiful language. But I’m fluent in Italian and fairly proficient at the Sicilian dialect too; that’s what really surprised the waiter.’

  Julia looked up and saw the waiter talking to the chef behind the counter. They looked over at Tony as if they had been talking about him. Julia smiled at them. The chef lifted his hand in greeting.

  Their lunch was perfect. Julia’s seafood pasta was so delicious she asked Tony to get the recipe from the chef. She wanted to be able to cook it when she got back home. The chef came over to their table, perhaps to hear for himself how good the Englishman was at speaking Sicilian.

  When they left the restaurant, Julia stepped out into the sunshine and shielded her eyes against the sun, which seemed brighter still after the cool dark restaurant. She reached into her handbag for her sunglasses.

  ‘That was lovely, thank you so much.’

  ‘My pleasure. Now let’s go and see the Valley of the Temples. You’ll love it.’

  Tony drove down the hill towards the sea. It was a long and winding road, not particularly well kept, despite it being the road to a world famous tourist destination. Julia noticed a dead dog lying at the side of the kerb. There was something rather shocking about seeing the poor animal left to rot in full view of passing traffic. However, Julia forgot all about that when the first of the temple buildings came into sight.

  After the long drive across the mountainous and rocky centre of the island they were now driving across a relatively flat stretch of land that hugged the west coast of Sicily. In the distance Julia could see a multi-columned reddish brown structure. The afternoon sun shone a spotlight on it, making it centre stage in the beautiful green landscape.

  There were a couple of tour buses parked at the side of the road close to the monument, and within moments they had caught up with a group of American tourists, all speaking rather loudly, but good naturedly. Some of them were arguing about the origins of the temple.

  ‘But it must be Roman, we’re in Italy.’

  ‘No, it’s definitely Greek. They were invaded by the Greeks.’

  ‘And the French,’ said another.

  ‘No; it was the Normans.’

  ‘Same thing!’

  Tony took Julia’s arm and guided her past the crowd.

  ‘We don’t want to end up with that lot.’

  Julia was more concerned about the way Tony had taken hold of her than with the crowd of elderly tourists. It was a peculiar paternalistic gesture but it made her a little uncomfortable, although she was too shy to shake him off. She walked faster, and soon there was just the two of them walking around the far side of the temple from the other tourists.

  Tony let go of her arm and Julia moved away a little, as if she was in a hurry to inspect the building close up. Within moments she had forgotten her discomfort when they walked amongst the ruins of the Greek temple.

  She tried to imagine it when it was first completed. She stood still and scanned the surrounding fields and hills and pictured the lives of the people who had lived here in this idyllic setting. The land appeared to be fertile and there would undoubtedly be plenty of fish in the Mediterranean Sea. It seemed like the perfect place to live.

  They spent a couple of hours looking at the ancient monuments in the Valley of the Temples. By then it was late afternoon and clouds were rolling in off the sea. It was cooling a little, pleasantly so for Julia, but they decided it was time to drive back home. Tony insisted Julia shou
ld try driving back and since there didn’t seem to be too many cars around, she agreed.

  When they got back to the villa they were both tired from the drive. Julia thanked Tony profusely for the day out and went back to her little villa and took a shower before making herself something to eat for her supper.

  It was still warm on the veranda so after she had finished eating Julia took her iPad outside and decided to send some messages home, along with some photos she had taken that day. She sat on the lounger feeling exhausted, but her head was buzzing after the conversation with Tony and the excitement of exploring a new land.

  She uploaded some photos onto Facebook along with a status update: My day trip to the Valley of the Temples. What a lovely drive it was across Sicily.

  She checked her emails and replied to a message from Bryden, and then she looked at car hire prices in Sicily. She felt more confident about renting a car now, especially as Bryden had just announced he was coming over for a week with his girlfriend. She decided she would ask Tony’s advice on car hire companies before making the booking, and since that would have to wait until the next day she went back to Facebook to see what gossip she was missing out on.

  Cameron had commented on the photographs.

  “Looks amazing, great to see sunshine - a howling gale here.”

  Julia looked at the sidebar of the website and could see Cameron was still online. She clicked on his name and wrote a personal message to him.

  “I actually drove two hours across Sicily. Can you believe that? Me, who’s never even driven in Aberdeen.”

  “Well done you! Hope you’re having fun,” Cameron replied immediately.

  “I am actually. The landlord is lovely; he invited me to dinner with his friends. He’s a widower too, so he knows how I feel, which is nice.”

  “Ooh er, I hope he’s not some Mafioso type.”

  “No, silly. He’s English actually.” Julia sighed at yet another stereotypical comment about the Mafia.

  “Now I’m really worried!”

  “Don’t be daft. He’s the perfect gentleman and he’s a famous writer. Anthony Hugo. Duncan used to read some of his books.”

  “Impressive! You seem to have fallen on your feet”.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Julia frowned at the screen as she typed.

  “Nothing, just that he must be an interesting person to have running a holiday villa.”

  “Yeah, he is. He took me out for the day to see the Greek Temples. But it was a one off; he has a publishing deadline to meet, so now I have plucked up the courage to hire my own car. Bryden is coming over soon.”

  “Excellent, so you won’t be lonely then.”

  “No, but it does feel very strange being here without Duncan. I keep looking round to see where he is. Is that mad?”

  “Not really. I sometimes go to send Laura a text to tell her when I will be home from work, and then I remember – she doesn’t give a fuck!”

  “Sounds like you need a holiday too.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “Behave! You will owe me another bunch of roses at this rate.”

  “LOL!”

  “Anyway, it’s been a long day - I’m off to bed now. Goodnight.”

  “Cheerio!”

  Julia logged off the internet and put her iPad down on the little table beside her. She fancied a drink now so she poured herself a glass of red wine, which Maria had chosen for her. It was an excellent choice. She put on a cardigan and went back outside and sat watching the lights of the town below. It was so peaceful here; although it was far less peaceful inside her head.

  11

  The next morning Julia woke early, the warm sunshine once again beating its way through the un-shuttered bedroom window, and making sleep impossible. She got up and had a shower, feeling rather sluggish and tired, and the shower was insufficiently refreshing. She got dressed and made breakfast and took it outside to eat on the veranda.

  There wasn’t a breath of wind and the sun was already creating a heat haze over the town. The Tyrrhenian Sea merged seamlessly into the blue sky and it was all set to be another glorious day. Julia should have been happy; after all this was exactly what she had hoped for when she had decided to run away from the autumnal gales and dreich weather of Shetland. Instead she felt gloomy and miserable.

  She struggled to remember the good times with Duncan. Sometimes she struggled to recall anything about him other than his funeral. As she held her cup of coffee up to her lips and inhaled the strong dark aroma, she tried to remember their wedding day, but her brain refused to call up any kind of comforting image. Instead, all she could see was Duncan lying lifeless on the hospital trolley. She could feel the awkward touch of Liam’s hand on her shoulder as she sat beside Duncan. She heard the sound of the young doctor’s voice explaining what they had done to try and save him. She heard people talking in the corridor outside. She could recall every minute detail of Duncan’s death and the week leading up to the funeral. All she wanted was to see him smile at her; even if that was only a memory of a smile. And yet if she looked at a photograph of him, all she could still see was the photograph of a dead man. It seemed as if the light had gone out of his eyes in all the pictures of him she had once loved. It was impossible; a trick of the mind, but they gave her no comfort.

  She had never felt more lost and lonely in her life, and yet there was nobody she wanted to share this burden with. All of her closest friends and family were struggling in their own ways to accept Duncan’s death. If she rang one of her sons she felt she would only add to their distress if she told them how she truly felt.

  She stood up abruptly and put down her coffee. She needed to do something, quickly. Anything; anything at all to stop thinking this way. The dark thoughts were moving in like black clouds on a stormy day and she was afraid for herself.

  She hurried inside to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of juice. She drank it quickly, gasping as her temples succumbed to brain-freeze. She put the glass down and looked around the room searching for her iPad. When she found it she logged on to the internet with the intention of sending a message to Marianne, hoping she would have wise words to offer on how to get past this feeling of despair.

  Instead she logged onto Facebook and, in a moment of madness, logged in as Duncan. She had never done this before, although she had always known his password. As his page loaded up she could see there were hundreds of posts that had gone unread, a new friend request and six private messages. She clicked on the friend request button, curious to know who had asked him to be their friend. She stared at the name, trying to place where she had heard of Alasdair Barton before. It took a while to remember he had been at University with Duncan, and now he was living in Dubai, which no doubt explained why he had sent a friend request two months after Duncan’s death. Julia sent a quick message to explain and then turned her attention to the personal messages.

  In reverse chronological order the first message was from Marianne, which really surprised Julia. She had sent it in the early hours of the morning after her birthday party.

  “You missed a great party Duncan! I’m still so mad at you for not being here. We miss you so much. Love you! Marianne xxx”

  It was typical of Marianne to rage at Duncan like that and Julia smiled sadly.

  The second message she opened was from Bryden; sent at the end of August, on the first day of the new school year.

  “Dear Dad, I feel stupid writing to you when you can’t read this, but it’s my first day teaching as a proper Maths teacher, and I wish you could be here so I could tell you how it went. I’m really nervous now. A new school, new kids, new everything. I miss you. Bryden.”

  Julia didn’t even attempt to blink back the tears as she read her son’s message. She wondered why he hadn’t said anything like this to her. He had rung her that morning, sounding happy and excited. He had rung again after school and sounded exhausted but content.

  The remaining messages were all
sent in the first two days after Duncan’s death. They were personal tributes from friends and colleagues.

  It had never occurred to her to send Duncan a message like that. She almost felt guilty she hadn’t attempted to contact him in any way, but whilst her beliefs about life after death were unfixed and changeable, she certainly didn’t think Duncan was sitting up in heaven logging onto Facebook. He had hardly bothered with it when he was alive.

  She looked at some of the new posts that had appeared in the newsfeed. There was nothing of interest. She stared at the message button and had half a mind to freak Marianne out by replying to her message on Duncan’s behalf. But that would be mean. She did however, smile at the thought.

  She switched off the iPad and decided to ring Marianne instead, risking an expensive international call. She looked at her watch and rang her at work.

  ‘It’s me, are you busy?’

  ‘I’m never too busy to speak to you. How’s Sicily?’

  ‘Hot, well hot for me anyway. It’s twenty seven degrees already.’

  ‘Wow. Make the most of it; it’s a day of utter shite here. I would give anything to come over and join you by the pool.’

  ‘I wish you could…’

  Julia paused, unable to release her vocal chords from the iron grip of sadness.

  ‘Hey, are you alright? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing; everything. I just logged onto Duncan’s Facebook. I saw your message and one from Bryden…’

  ‘I’m sorry; it was stupid of me … I was drunk.’

  ‘No, I’m not mad at you; it was sweet. We did miss him at the party,’ Julia said.

  ‘We miss him every day.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do now?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In every way. I feel like I’m being swallowed up by a black hole. I’m kind of scared actually.’