20. Louise

Clara was curled up on the couch petting Luna while she hummed ‘Fernando’. She was small for her age. Small and pale because she hated sports and only liked being outside if we were bird-watching or in a quiet park or forest.

I sat down beside her. ‘Well done on your tests, sweetie. All As, you clever girl.’

Clara stopped humming. ‘I only ever want to get As. Never, ever Bs.’

I stroked Luna. ‘I know, but it’s okay if you do get a B sometimes.’

‘No, Mummy, it’s not okay. I want As. I want to be as clever as you.’

‘You’re cleverer than I was at your age.’

‘Am I?’

Probably not, but Clara was very bright and had a photographic memory, like I did. Still, I didn’t want her putting too much pressure on herself because if she did get a B, it would lead to a meltdown.

‘I think so. I got Bs sometimes,’ I lied.

‘Julie said you were the cleverest in the whole school.’

‘It wasn’t that hard, our school wasn’t a particularly good school, to be honest.’

It hadn’t been. It was the local secondary school, the teachers were very average and only about thirty per cent of the girls went on to third-level education, so the bar was not set particularly high. I hadn’t enjoyed school. It had been something I’d needed to get through to achieve my goal, which was to study law at Cambridge. Julie had loved it and was in the thick of everything, sports, musicals, social life. Sophie was modelling part-time from the age of fifteen, so she had to deal with a fair bit of jealousy. She hadn’t liked school much either.

‘How are you getting on with the other kids? Is Jarlath being nicer to you?’

Clara picked Luna up and held her close. ‘No. He says I’m weird and useless at games, so he never asks me to play. I don’t mind, Mummy, I hate playing dodgeball. Why do people want to be hit by a ball? It’s so stupid.’

I laughed. ‘I agree. I always thought dodgeball was a ridiculous game.’

She smiled and I took the opportunity to tell her I was going away.

‘So, this weekend, Julie, Sophie, Granddad and I are going away for two days.’

Clara squeezed Luna tighter. I was on thin ice.

‘I’ll only be gone Friday, Saturday and back on Sunday. I’ll be back to tuck you into bed on Sunday night.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Italy.’

‘Why?’

‘For a little family trip away.’

‘What time will you leave and come back?’

‘I’ll bring you to school on Friday, then pick up your aunties and go to the airport for a ten-fifty flight. I’ll be back on Sunday. My flight lands at six twenty so I’ll be home before you go to sleep at eight. Gavin will pick you up from school on Friday and bring you back to his apartment for two days, okay? You’ll be sleeping in his spare bedroom. I’ll drop off your blanket and your bedside lamp, your pyjamas, iPad and your headphones. Luna is going with you too.’

Clara was quiet.

‘Maybe you could help Gavin look after Lemon.’

‘I only like Lemon when she’s asleep.’

I laughed. ‘That’s how most people feel about babies.’

‘But I suppose I could help push the buggy.’

‘That would be great.’

‘And maybe sing “Fernando” to her?’

‘She’d love that. So are you okay about staying with Gavin and Shania?’

She nodded. ‘As long as I have Luna and all my things, it’s okay. But only two nights, Mummy, right?’

‘Yes, pet. Maybe you and I can go to Italy together some time.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Mummy, I don’t like airports. They’re too noisy and crowded. I don’t want to go to Italy.’

I needed to keep her calm and feeling secure. I was so wound up about the trip and meeting Marco that I wasn’t sure I could handle a meltdown.

I kissed her head gently. ‘Okay, sweetheart, we won’t go. Would you like a snack?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yogurt?’

‘Yes, strawberry.’

Clara ate her snack and asked a few more questions about her weekend schedule, then seemed quiet and relatively content. I thanked my lucky stars that she loved and trusted Gavin and was used to being minded by him. I thought the addition of Lemon would throw her off, but she seemed open to the idea of helping Gavin mind the baby. It gave me hope that she could manage life in the future.

And what would her future hold? I felt almost sick at the idea of opening a can of worms with Marco. I had to control this situation from the very first moment, to suss him out and then, if we got as far as talking, to ensure he couldn’t mess up our lives in any way. There was no way some random man was going to undo all the hard work I had put in, with Mum, to make Clara as able for the world as possible. I had prepared airtight legal documents that set out the parameters of any future contact. If he didn’t agree to all my conditions, he was out. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect Clara.

‘Wish me luck, Mum,’ I whispered.

Dad was standing at the gate with a small, neat suitcase beside him. He popped it into the boot and climbed into the passenger seat.

‘Thanks for being ready.’

‘I’ve been up all night, worried the alarm wouldn’t go off. I wanted to be sure to be on time for you.’

‘I appreciate it. I’m nervous, Dad.’

‘Of course you are, pet. It’s a serious business, but I’ll be right behind you and if this fella steps out of line or seems a bit fishy, we’ll just walk away.’

I exhaled deeply. ‘I hope I’m doing the right thing.’

‘You’re doing the best for Clara. That’s all you can do. I’m glad you asked me along, I’m happy to help in any way I can.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ I was glad we’d asked him. He had been really touched and chuffed when I’d said it to him. It had been the right thing to do. Sophie had been right to push me. It felt nice having my dad by my side.

We arrived at Julie’s. I pressed the doorbell and banged on the door with my fist. I couldn’t handle Julie’s tardiness today. Like Dad, Sophie had been standing at her garden gate, immaculately dressed and made-up with a small, neat suitcase packed and ready to go when we’d arrived at her place. Here, there was no sign of Julie.

Finally, Julie yanked open the door. She was in a tracksuit and her hair was soaking wet.

‘Jesus, Julie! You swore you’d be ready!’

‘I was all set to be ready and then Tom forgot his project, so I had to whizz back to the school. I’ll be with you in two minutes.’

I was not letting her wander off. I followed her up to her bedroom. Her suitcase was open and there were clothes all over the bed. My blood pressure spiked.

‘You’re not even packed?’

‘I wasn’t sure what to wear to meet my niece’s biological father in a village outside Rome.’

Sophie came up the stairs behind us. ‘You left the front door open.’ Seeing the mess and my clenched fists, she took charge.

Glancing over Julie’s mound of clothes, Sophie pulled out a dress, a pair of jeans, a skirt, one T-shirt, two blouses, two pairs of shoes, a cardigan, a light jacket and two scarves. She rolled them up and packed them neatly into the case. She handed Julie a pair of cargo pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a light wool jumper and a pair of trainers to wear. While Julie got dressed, Sophie went into the bathroom and packed her make-up and beauty products.

‘Passport?’ I barked.

Julie said it was in her bedside locker. I opened the locker drawer. It was crammed with junk. I rifled through it and found her passport.

Within five minutes we were in the car.

‘I have to say, Sophie, that was impressive,’ I said.

‘Thanks. Neat packing is a tip I got from my heyday as a guest on luxury yachts where you can only bring small bags on board.’

‘Are you sure I have everything I need?’ Julie asked. ‘I usually bring a massive case when I go away.’

‘Julie, it’s a two-day trip. You probably won’t even wear everything I packed for you.’

I slammed on the brakes just before I hit the car in front of me.

‘Steady on, Louise, do you want me to drive?’ Dad asked.

‘I’m fine, just a bit tense.’

‘Do the Clara breathing thing, in and out for four,’ Julie suggested.

‘Maybe we should all do it,’ Sophie suggested, as I narrowly missed taking the side mirror off a car in the next lane. Dad clung to the grab handle and cursed under his breath.

We made it to the airport and onto our flight, despite Julie wandering off in Duty Free and Sophie having to find her and drag her to the boarding gate.

Even though it was only ten thirty a.m., I ordered a gin and tonic to calm my nerves. Julie ordered one to keep me company, Dad ordered a whiskey, but Sophie had water.

‘I don’t want to dehydrate,’ she explained.

‘After that car ride, I need this.’ Dad knocked back his drink.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Sophie asked me, turning to look through the gap in the seats so she could see me and Dad in the row behind.

I fished three folders out of my bag and handed them to my family.

‘I should have known there’d be a folder.’ Julie grinned.

‘It’s good to be organized, Julie. You could do with a bit more of it,’ Dad noted.

‘Thanks a lot. You try raising four boys.’

Sophie jumped in. ‘So we’re going straight to Pico, having dinner in the hotel and drinks in the local bar.’

‘Yes, the hotel is small and sweet, not luxurious, but it looks clean and has good reviews. The bar is where Marco drinks every Friday.’

‘It’s a medieval village with only 2,776 inhabitants,’ Julie read her notes. ‘It sounds gorgeous.’

‘I looked it up. It’s lovely all right, stone walls and cobbled streets. It’s a hundred and ninety-two metres above sea level,’ Dad told us.

‘In English, please,’ Sophie asked.

‘It means it’s up in the hills,’ Dad said.

‘It’s an hour’s drive from Rome,’ Julie read.

‘Correct.’

‘Can Sophie drive?’ Julie asked.

‘No! I’m taking over the driving. I’m sorry, Louise, but you nearly killed us on the motorway in Dublin so we’d definitely die on winding roads up to this medieval village.’

‘Fine.’ I was happy for Dad to drive. I trusted him. He had always been a good driver, unlike Mum who was the most distracted driver in the world. She’d had quite a lot of ‘bumps’ in her day. Mostly because she liked to do her make-up while driving.

‘Fine with me too,’ Sophie said.

We settled into a comfortable silence. Sophie took out her iPad and watched a movie. Julie fell asleep. Beside me, Dad drank his whiskey and studied his folder, underlining key points. It was reassuring having someone on the trip who was as invested in detail as I was.

I sipped my drink and read the research notes I had asked Zo? to write up on a prospective client. She had lasted exactly one week in Conveyancing before being bounced back to me because Brendan, the snake, told Walter that his department was overstaffed and ‘poor Zo? will be bored’.

The notes that Zo? had clearly thrown together were the laziest, most half-arsed thing I had ever read. She had blatantly copied and pasted the company’s home page and thrown in a few other random facts. No effort had been made to do a deep dive, as I’d requested, and there were several glaring spelling mistakes. I closed my laptop. This was not good for my already sky-high blood pressure. I took out my phone and watched videos of Clara to calm myself down.

Dad drove us carefully and skilfully up to Pico. I sat in the front beside him, navigating, while Julie and Sophie sat in the back oohing and aahing at the incredible scenery. Julie kept shouting, ‘ Bellissima ,’ which got a bit irritating after a while.

We pulled up outside the hotel, which I was relieved to see looked exactly as it did online. No trick photography here. Julie said it was bellissima , Sophie thought it looked ‘utterly charming’ and Dad said it looked ‘clean and functional’. I’d booked a three-bedroom apartment on the first floor. One bedroom for me, one for Dad and one for my sisters to share, with a small communal space for the four of us to hang out. The rooms were simply decorated, white linen, plain wooden furniture. I liked that they weren’t cluttered. The two bathrooms were compact but had large modern-looking showers squeezed in. I had an en-suite, while Dad and my sisters were sharing the main bathroom

Despite all our objections, Dad insisted on trying to lug the four suitcases up the narrow stairs, but ended up dropping two of them.

A young Italian employee rushed out when he heard the clatter. ‘Let me ’elp you,’ he said.

‘Not at all. I have it under control, thank you,’ Dad said.

‘For goodness’ sake, Dad, you can’t carry four cases on your own. Let the guy help. I don’t need you having a bloody heart attack in Italy, thank you. That would not be helpful in any way.’ The last thing I needed was my father collapsing on this trip.

‘No need to bite my head off,’ Dad said.

‘Let him help, Dad. It’s his job,’ Sophie said.

‘ Grazie mille .’ Julie was determined to use her few words of Italian.

‘ Grazie ,’ I said, tipping the young man.

‘Steady now, Louise.’ Julie winked at me. ‘He’s a bit young for you.’

‘We know how much you like one-night stands in Italy,’ Sophie giggled.

‘One half-Italian child is probably enough.’ Dad chuckled.

‘Sod off.’ I threw a cushion at them as they all cracked up.

‘What time is dinner?’ Julie asked.

‘Seven sharp. I want to be in the bar by nine. Benedict said Marco goes to the bar in the main square every Friday at about eight thirty and stays until ten thirty, eleven.’

‘What’s your plan?’ Dad asked. ‘How are you going to approach him?’

I’d thought about this a lot and decided that I first needed to figure out who Marco was before I even mentioned who I was, let alone Clara. I might leave Pico without ever telling Marco about his daughter.

‘The plan is to engage him casually in conversation and just see what he’s like. Hopefully he speaks some English.’

‘Send Julie over. Sure she’s almost bilingual.’

‘Can you be serious for a minute?’ I asked.

‘I think Dad should try to initiate a conversation with him and you two can join in. I want to stay in the background and see what sort of vibe I get from him.’

‘Good idea, Louise. I’ll approach him first, man to man,’ Dad said.

‘Yes, but not man to man in a threatening way,’ Julie said.

‘In a friendly how’s-it-going way,’ Sophie told Dad.

‘I know how to chat casually to a man in a bar.’ Dad shook his head.

‘We’d better be careful, though. We know, even though he looks like an Italian Danny DeVito, Marco is so charming that he charmed Louise’s knickers off.’ Julie giggled.

‘We promise to do our best not to fall into bed with him.’ Sophie snorted.

‘Stop that now. Louise is uptight enough,’ Dad said.

‘I’m not uptight. I’m just focused.’

‘Right, yes, whatever you say.’ Dad raised an eyebrow.

‘We know, Dad, we’re just trying to distract her,’ Julie explained.

Dad rolled his suitcase towards the door of his bedroom. ‘It’s not working. She looks even more uptight, sorry, focused than she was earlier.’

My sisters were trying to distract me, but I was too on edge to join in their banter. I was completely addled and sick with nerves. I headed off to have a shower and try to calm down before going out and doing something that might change my life for ever.