If Only Read online

  Everything in Blackpool has to be the best. This rollercoaster is the highest; this shop on the seafront sells the finest Blackpool rock; the pubs compete to sell the cheapest beer. If you believe the signs, there isn’t a single fish and chip shop that hasn’t won prizes.

  Gina drinks her wine as if it’s water. Before their food has arrived, she’s ordering another mezzo. She can get touchy when she’s had a lot to drink, reading things into everything he says, so he tries to choose a neutral subject to talk about.

  ‘What are we thinking of doing this summer?’ he asks.

  ‘Why? Aren’t you happy?’

  ‘I just thought . . . we said we’d go travelling.’

  ‘But we don’t have the money,’ says Gina.

  The fact is that they do, just not for the way Gina likes to travel. Gina likes nice hotels. For her, travelling is about getting somewhere as quickly as possible then having a luxurious time, whereas what he had in mind was going on a journey, not really having a destination in mind, seeing where they ended up. They probably should have discussed it more before they left.

  ‘I thought you liked Rome,’ Gina says.

  ‘I love Rome.’

  ‘And me?’

  ‘Of course and you,’ Alf says, because it would be impossible to say anything else, even if he’s not sure any more whether he still does. Or ever did.

  LETTY

  The place Heidi has invited Letty for brunch is on the roof of a high-end hotel in the expensive area at the foot of the Spanish Steps.

  After the oppressively opulent reception area, the view from the terrace over the rooftops is unexpectedly luminous and uplifting, a bit like Rome’s dark church interiors with their shining domes of painted sky above, a short ascent from Earth to Heaven.

  Heidi is already there, sitting at a table looking at her mobile phone, but when she sees Letty she jumps up and kisses her on both cheeks as she arrives at the table.

  There is a lavish breakfast buffet with an array of cold cuts, smoked salmon, fresh fruit salad, and baskets of tiny patisserie that make the air so sweet and buttery Letty feels she’s taking in calories just by breathing.

  ‘Or you can order something,’ says Heidi, handing her a menu where the charge for egg dishes made to order is twenty-seven euros.

  Letty helps herself to a small bowl of fruit salad and a miniature croissant, and is relieved to see that Heidi is equally abstemious, taking just a sliver of smoked salmon and a slice of pumpernickel bread.

  There is a moment when they sit down that they both look at each other’s plates and then they look up, catching each other’s eye for just a second. Neither of them says anything, but Letty suspects they are thinking the same thing.

  ‘So how do you like my hotel?’

  ‘You’re staying here?’ Letty is amazed.

  ‘It’s in the same group as the hotel I work for,’ Heidi says, explaining how she can afford it. ‘All it lacks is a spa. But next weekend I will go to Capri for the spa.’

  ‘Capri. How lovely!’ says Letty.

  She saw the island from Naples when they went on the day trip to Pompeii, a distant jagged rock floating on the bluest sea she had ever seen.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go there,’ she says.

  Marina used to sing a song called ‘Isle of Capri’ when she was babysitting her as a child. Letty suggested it when Rollo was asking for music for Marina’s funeral, but neither Ivo nor Rollo remembered it, and decided that an aria from Così fan tutte would be more appropriate. When Letty googled ‘Isle of Capri’, she found that it wasn’t an Italian song at all, but an American one that was popular in the dance halls of the 1950s, and she’d wondered if it had held romantic memories for her grandmother. Perhaps she and her grandfather had danced to it? Or maybe there had been another admirer? The song is all about a flirtation with a married woman, and Marina was a great beauty in her day.

  ‘So, why don’t you come?’ Heidi is saying. ‘I can get us a deal.’

  Letty doesn’t know how to cope with Heidi’s over-familiarity. Her natural instinct is to shrink away, and yet why? Why be so suspicious of everyone? Why not use some of Marina’s money to go to Capri? She knows her grandmother would approve.

  ‘Actually, that would be lovely,’ she says.

  Heidi’s face lights up. She comes across as pushy, Letty realizes, but it is because she is lonely and insecure. People often think that life is easy for people who are pretty, but she knows it isn’t. Maybe that is why Heidi has latched on to her.

  ‘Shall we leave Friday? Make a long weekend? We miss a day, but that’s OK, yes?’ says Heidi.

  It’s not in Letty’s character to skip class, but when she thinks about Friday’s lesson and how bored she was, she doesn’t object.

  ‘The class is quite slow, yes?’ says Heidi.

  ‘Maybe that’s how it has to be when you begin to learn a language,’ Letty says, unwilling to criticize.

  ‘And what about our classmates?’ Heidi asks.

  ‘Mostly, they seem nice,’ Letty says.

  If she’s learned anything from this week, it is not to make assumptions about what people are like from appearance. A shy Japanese boy who suddenly bursts into song; a gorgeous Swiss woman who is lonely and troubled.

  ‘Do you like Alf?’

  For a moment, Letty wonders if Heidi saw them together in the Forum.

  ‘He’s good-looking, no?’ says Heidi.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Lots of – what is it?’ She searches for the word. ‘BDE, yes?’

  ‘BDE?’ Letty assumes it’s a social media acronym that everyone else knows; even Frances said ‘YOLO’ when she told her she was going away to Italy.

  ‘Big Dick Energy!’ says Heidi.

  Letty wasn’t expecting that.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says Heidi, laughing. ‘It just means like cool, you know, with charisma, but not making a big deal.’

  It’s amazing, Letty thinks, that someone who isn’t a native speaker of English knows these things and she doesn’t.

  ‘I don’t really do social media,’ she says.

  ‘He likes you,’ says Heidi.

  ‘No more than anyone else, I’m sure,’ says Letty. She’s never been good at girls’ talk.

  ‘I would,’ says Heidi. ‘But it’s not me he’s looking at all the day.’

  Letty’s about to ask ‘Would what?’ when she realizes exactly what Heidi would.

  ‘I’m having a break from relationships!’ she says quickly.

  ‘Also I,’ says Heidi, suddenly sad.

  ‘How long have you and your husband been apart?’ Letty asks, relieved to have withstood the pressure, and now able to relax as she knows that Heidi doesn’t share any of her inhibitions talking about personal matters.

  ‘Four weeks now. I was staying with my sister and her family, but it made me too sad with the children.’

  ‘Why Rome?’

  ‘Honestly? I worked here as a nanny a long time ago, and I know Italians love a blonde woman. I need this boost to the confidence,’ Heidi says. ‘And you?’

  ‘My grandmother left me some money,’ Letty says. ‘I also needed to get away.’

  ‘So it’s a holiday?’

  ‘Yes, in a way,’ Letty says.

  It’s not the whole truth. But it is true. And that will do for now.

  ALF

  Alf decides to make Gina breakfast in bed because he’s feeling guilty.

  It wasn’t really a row, but it was enough for her to get up from the table and walk away, leaving him to get the bill, pay, then run after her. Worse than that was her remorse when she realized that she’d got herself into a state for no reason, and kept asking his forgiveness all the way home.

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ he’d told her.

  And she’d said it didn’t sound like he meant it.

  And he’d said, ‘Well, what do you want me to say?’ Because it was like he couldn’t win with her.

&nb
sp; She was all over him when they got in, wanting to make love, but she was so drunk she’d passed out in the middle of it. And then he’d felt bad that they’d even started because he hadn’t wanted to, and so he’d withdrawn limply and lain awake listening to her snoring and wondering how the hell it had come to this.

  He goes downstairs to get a couple of croissants from the bar. In the square of garden in the courtyard of their apartment building there’s a shrub that, in the past week, has produced a crop of exotic-looking red flowers. On his way back, Alf picks one of them, hoping that none of the other residents is watching. He puts it in a small glass of water, and carries it in on a tray with the coffee he’s just brewed.

  Gina’s face lights up for a moment when she opens her eyes as she hears him coming in. It’s the look he wanted to see. Gina loves a gift, and the pleasure on her face is as innocent as a child’s when their birthday cake comes in all lit with candles.

  ‘That’s so cute!’ she says, but as she sits up, her face contorts with pain.

  ‘Actually, do you mind if I have a bit more sleep? Splitting headache.’

  ‘Take as long as you like,’ he says, picking up the tray.

  ‘Do you forgive me?’ she says, stretching out to grab his hand.

  ‘Nothing to forgive,’ he says, then drops a soft kiss on her lips.

  The smell of stale wine is weirdly at odds with her angelic appearance.

  ‘I’m going for a walk.’

  ‘Later, babe!’ she says, turning over.

  In the kitchen, Alf eats both croissants and drains both espresso cups of coffee. He can hear the unmistakable sounds of sex happening in Mike and Sally’s bedroom. Mike has this habit of shouting ‘Go on! Go on! Go on!’ as if he’s whipping a horse to the finish in the Grand National. Alf’s only ever seen him clothed – in cheap jeans, usually, and a Smiths T-shirt at weekends. He doesn’t like to imagine him naked.

  Rome doesn’t make much of its river. With main roads running along both banks, the Tiber sometimes appears like a bigger-than-average central reservation in the middle of a busy motorway.

  There are walkways at river level, but very few people use them, Alf has discovered, so it’s a good place to go if you want a think. He has walked the entire length of the river northwards – towards the Olympic stadium, where Roma play – but he has never gone southwards towards San Paolo fuori le Mura. As the ancient city gives way to a more contemporary suburban landscape, he is on his own, apart from an occasional runner jogging past with earphones.

  Walking at a steady pace, he suddenly realizes that the only noise he can hear is the trudge of his footsteps. It’s so quiet it’s like going for a country walk. A family of ducks swim alongside him. He takes a picture of them, realizing it’s one of the few photos he has posted that could have been taken anywhere in the world. Anywhere there are ducks.

  Gina will love the photo. She loves animals, especially baby animals. Almost every picture he’s seen of Gina as a child is with a kitten or a puppy. Gina can be as vulnerable as a puppy herself. The first time he saw that, it made him want to protect her, and he liked that feeling. That, and the sex, and the thrill of being with her.

  Has she changed? he wonders. Or does he just want to think that because he has?

  Alf replays last night’s row in his mind.

  She was asking him about his class, having recognized, maybe, that she’s always talking about her own students.

  He ran through his classmates. Showed her the video of Masakasu singing. And then she pointed and said, ‘Who’s that?’

  He didn’t realize that Violetta was visible in the background, staring amazed at Masakasu’s unexpected performance.

  ‘Just an English girl,’ he said.

  ‘You didn’t mention her.’

  ‘Didn’t I? I don’t really know her,’ he said. ‘The teacher never pairs us up because of speaking English, you know?’

  He thought he’d got away with it, but the ‘didn’t I?’ and ‘you know?’ were too much. Gina’s extremely sensitive to nuance when the subject is other good-looking women.

  ‘I’m just surprised you didn’t say,’ she’d persisted, looking at her pizza, not at him.

  ‘Maybe because you didn’t ask,’ Alf retaliated. ‘You haven’t shown any interest in what I’ve been doing!’

  It was unfair to throw it back at her. He has avoided talking about school, and now he feels like a shit for trying to make out she was the one in the wrong.

  The stakes didn’t need to get that high – he doesn’t really know what’s going on with Violetta and needs a bit of time to figure it out. Or does he? Maybe he’s kidding himself as well as Gina.

  As he approaches a bridge, he notices that the walkway has graffiti on it in white chalk, a message to be viewed from above. The words are: Non cercavo niente, ma con te ho trovato tutto!

  He thinks the first bit means ‘I’m not looking for anything, but with you I’ve found everything!’

  Ti amo!

  Amo, I love, the same as in Latin.

  LETTY

  The thing Letty likes most about Rome is the way that ancient and modern coexist. Most European cities, like London, date back to Roman times or before, but the traces of the past are buried. Here, there are houses built into bits of aqueduct. The ancient is integral and present even in Pigneto, the neighbourhood she’s living in, which is a couple of miles from the historic centre.

  When she arrived a week ago, in a taxi from the airport, she was alarmed by all the graffiti around, and by the cardboard city just opposite her building, but in daylight it isn’t really scary at all. The main street has cafes and bars, a dry cleaner’s, a library, a couple of small supermarkets.

  Her landlord mentioned a famous cafe called Necci that appeared in a film. In such a normal neighbourhood it seems unlikely, but eventually she is directed to it, feeling a ridiculous sense of achievement for being understood on the third time of daring to ask.

  She orders a sparkling mineral water and sits at an outside table. There are several people of about her age working at laptops. She doesn’t yet feel confident enough to ask them about exchanging English conversation for Italian, but she promises herself that the next time she comes, she will.

  Finally, she feels relaxed and resilient enough to ring Frances. She appreciates the fact that her mother has left her be for a whole week.

  ‘Come va?’ Frances asks.

  ‘Bene, grazie,’ Letty replies.

  ‘That’s such good news.’ Frances has reached the limit of her Italian.

  ‘And you?’ Letty asks.

  ‘Oh . . . fine, I suppose,’ says Frances distractedly, which makes Letty wonder if her mother is doing something else as well as talking on the phone. Frances is always multi-tasking, but sometimes she’s not as good as she thinks she is at focusing on two things at once.

  ‘No offers on the house yet,’ Frances informs her. ‘The market is dropping like a stone.’

  Letty thinks that’s probably an exaggeration.

  ‘Loving the photo,’ Frances adds. ‘Who took it?’

  Letty bristles. Why does Frances have no sense of the boundaries around her privacy?

  ‘Just someone in my class,’ she says.

  ‘So there are some fun people for you to go around with?’

  Perhaps it was just an innocently curious question because, after all, it was Frances who took the original photo.

  ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I had brunch with a friend from class. Heidi. She’s Swiss.’

  ‘She would be with a name like that!’

  ‘I’m trying to seek out some Italians to talk to, though.’

  ‘That all sounds excellent,’ says Frances.

  Letty thinks her mother is probably looking at something on her computer.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Is there a tiny crack in Frances’s voice?

  ‘Your father . . .’ Frances says.

  �
�How is he?’ Letty asks. She’s a little hurt not to have heard from him, but she thinks he’s probably trying to give her space. That’s what she said she wanted, after all, and Ivo has always treated her like a grown-up.

  ‘Oh, you know. Out and about,’ says Frances briskly.

  It sounds to Letty as if they’ve had a row.

  ‘It would be nice to speak to him if he has a moment.’

  Letty’s surprised by the silence at the other end. Usually Frances has lots to say.

  ‘Oh well, I’ll let you go,’ she says, using her mother’s phrase back to her.

  ‘Keep having a lovely time . . . Missing you!’ Frances says, as Letty taps the end call button.

  Her mother has never missed her. Certainly never said so, anyway.

  Perhaps, Letty thinks, being made redundant and having to sell the house has had more of an effect on Frances than she admits. For a woman whose identity depended so much on having a successful career, it must be tough.

  Back in the apartment, Letty opens her books. There are pages and pages of verbs to be learned and another beautiful sunset to gaze at.

  7

  Monday, Week 2

  ALF

  The language point they are learning is called the imperfect, the tense you use to talk about things that happened in the past. Alf wonders who decides these things.

  Susanna wants them to practise by talking about when they were young. What did they like doing? What pets did they have? Where did they go on holiday?

  Alf partners up with Masakasu, who says he wasn’t good at school so his parents made him do extra work during the holidays.

  Alf didn’t really go on holidays, either, because he was always dancing.

  Sometimes, the competitions were in holiday places like Bournemouth, sometimes in cities like Stoke, but it didn’t really make any difference because you spent the whole day inside a ballroom, trying to hold on to the bit of space where you’d put your bags, listening out for if you’d got through to the next round and being ready to go again, changing your costumes in cramped cloakrooms alongside dozens of other sweaty boys in clouds of Lynx body spray.