Learning to Dance Again (7 page)

‘Confident little thing isn’t she?’

‘She is. You don’t mind me bringing her do you? It’s my turn to have her tonight and we didn’t know what to do this evening. I bought you these; to say sorry.’

Julia took the flowers from him and
stood back to let him in.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘You know, for getting drunk and being silly.’

‘You must buy a lot of flowers.’

Cameron grinned sheepishly, and shut the front door behind him. He followed her into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

‘Would you like a tea or coffee? Would Amy like a drink?’

‘Yeah sure, tea
for me; Amy drinks milk or water usually.’

Julia took a glass of milk
and a biscuit into the lounge for Amy and then came back and made a pot of tea. She handed Cameron a mug.

‘Aren’t you going to put the roses in water?’
Cameron said, breaking the awkward silence.

‘No, you’ll have
to take them home with you. I’m going on holiday tomorrow so I won’t get the benefit from them. But thanks anyway.’

‘Holiday? Where are you going?’

‘Sicily. Duncan said he wanted to go there, just a few hours before he died. And I decided, if I’m going to sit around feeling sorry for myself, then I may as well do it where it’s sunny and warm.’

‘That’s a brilliant
idea. I’ve never been to Italy, although everyone who goes seems to like it. Good for you!’

‘I’m go
ing down to stay with Bryden to catch up with the boys for a couple of days, then I’m flying down to Gatwick and then off to Sicily for the whole of October.’

‘
Wow, you don’t do things by halves.’

‘It was a bit spur of the moment, but it was such a bargain for the flights and accommodation. And it gets me out of the country on my birthday. I shall have a memorial service for my youth on my own. A nice restaurant with a glass or two of Prosecco. Sounds perfect!’

‘It does actually. God, I wish I could just take off for a few weeks.’

Cameron
sipped his tea thoughtfully. Julia peered through to the lounge and saw Amy was curled up in an armchair watching a pop video. Her milk was untouched on the coffee table.

‘So
, we’re still friends then?’ Cameron said.             

Julia snapped her attention back to him.

‘Yes,’ she replied cautiously. ‘We’ve been friends since we were bairns, one stupid drunken kiss doesn’t change anything. But two might!’ She stood up abruptly and took her mug to the sink.

‘We’d better get going, leave you to get ready for your holiday.’

‘I’m already sorted, see!’ Julia replied, pointing to her suitcase.

‘Well anyway.’

Cameron stood up and went to get Amy. She got up from the chair without argument and switched off the television. She picked up her glass and drank most of the milk and handed it back to Julia.

‘Thanks!’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Daddy’s getting me a kitten tomorrow.’

‘Is he now? That’s very exciting. I’ll have to come and see him.’

‘It’s a girl
kitten; her name is Jessie J.’

‘That’s a bit like Postman Pat’s cat. That’s called Jess.’

Amy looked puzzled.

‘She doesn’t watch Postman Pat. Too old
fashioned,’ Cameron said, raising his eyes to heaven.

Julia laughed.

‘Jessie J the kitten. That’s going to be fun for you.’

Cameron
shrugged. ‘It will be company for me when she’s not around.’

‘I might have to get one too,
’ Julia replied, as she followed them out to the porch.

‘You have a good holiday. Take care now!’
Cameron smiled at her, and took Amy’s hand.

‘I’ll put up some pictures of the sunshine on Facebook. Make you jealous!’

‘Do that! See you when you come back.’

‘Don’t forget the roses.’

Julia
hurried back and retrieved them from the kitchen worktop.

‘Didn’t you like
the flowers? Daddy bought them in Tesco for you. They cost £9.99 and I put the money in the funny machine. I got a penny back,’ Amy said, reaching into her pocket and producing her change.

Julia grinned at
Cameron and handed the roses to Amy.

‘You should have them in your room
, Amy. Your daddy really bought them for you as a surprise.’

Amy’s eyes widened with pleasure.

‘Thanks Daddy. A kitten and flowers! Can’t wait to tell Mummy and Uncle John.’

Amy stepped outside and di
dn’t see Cameron put his fingers to his temple and pretend to shoot himself.

‘The innocence of youth; t
hanks anyway. I’ll see you when I get back home,’ Julia said. She reached out and touched his arm and squeezed it. Cameron smiled and followed his daughter out to the car.

9

Julia emerged into the bright Sicilian sunshine from the starkly contrasting gloom of the airport arrivals hall in Palermo. Weary from an early morning start at Gatwick and a sleepless night in a noisy airport hotel, she made her way towards the adjoining train station.

The marble
hall of the station was refreshingly cool and there was a train sitting expectantly on the platform. Julia hurried towards the ticket office, mentally rehearsing how she would ask for a ticket to Cefalu in Italian. The word for ticket seemed straightforward enough, if she remembered not to pronounce the g – un biglietto per Cefalu, per favore.

The
young man behind the counter frowned at her as she stood, plucking up the courage to speak.

‘Prego,
’ he snapped.

‘Um, sorry?
Oh I mean, un biglietto per Cefalu, si’vous plait, I mean, per favore.’

‘Cefalu?’

‘Si?’

He printed the ticke
t and tapped on the till so she could see the price. She handed over a fifty euro note and the man muttered under his breath in response, she could only guess it was because he was running out of change.

J
ulia took the ticket and turned towards the platform. The departures board indicated the train would leave in five minutes. Julia dragged her suitcase along the platform and got onto the train and sat down gratefully.

She sigh
ed with relief at having successfully negotiated her first Italian transaction. She put the ticket in her handbag and sat with her hands protectively over it, and looked around at the other passengers, listening to the sound of their voices; snippets of Italian gossip she had no hope of understanding, but it sounded so exciting.

The t
rain doors slammed shut after a garbled announcement of the destinations.  Julia realised she had not pronounced the name Cefalu properly when she had bought the ticket; it was Chefaloo, not Kefaloo. No wonder the poor man in the ticket office had been so impatient with her.

The train pulled out of the
dark station and back into the bright sunshine that blinded Julia to the view. Her sunglasses were packed inside her suitcase, and she didn’t want to open it up on the train. She picked up her suitcase and shuffled across the aisle to the seats on the other side.

Julia took out her guide book to Sicily and opened up the well-thumbed pag
e containing the map. The train-line hugged the North coast and would cut through Palermo and other seaside towns until it reached Cefalu and would then continue on to Messina, where it was possible to cross the narrow stretch of sea to the Italian mainland. She looked up from the book and concentrated on the view. The landscape was browner than she had imagined it would be. For some reason she had envisaged green fields, full of lush lemon trees and olive plantations. There were a few trees dotted about in the gardens of the apartments and villas she passed, but there were vast patches of bare terracotta soil, bleached by the sun; rocky and barren in places. It was still exotically attractive, particularly with the deep blue sea in the background.

Despite the fact Julia had a sea vie
w all year round from her house her attention was still drawn to the water. This was the kind of blue only available to Shetlanders on special days, when the skies were clear of clouds. Those were the days she loved best of all, and she smiled when she realised this would be her view of the sea for whole of October; or at least she hoped it would.

Julia
turned her gaze to the young woman opposite her. She wore a cream linen skirt suit, with short sleeves that exposed lean bronzed arms and a jangle of bracelets on each wrist. She had a corporate looking briefcase beside her, which looked incongruous with her vertiginous strappy sandals, coiffed hair and oversized sunglasses. She flicked through her Italian Vogue magazine impatiently, and then flung it on the seat beside her and reached into her pocket for her phone. She appeared equally annoyed with the phone and after tapping at it with her perfectly manicured fingers, she set it down on top of her magazine, but did not let go of it. She looked up and met Julia’s eyes and turned away to look out of the window, clearly disgruntled with something.

Julia wondered what it was
like to be so young, glamorous and attractive; she had never looked as immaculate at this young woman. She turned her attention to some of the other passengers and noticed the women, even the ones who were clearly older than herself, all looked glossy and elegant. She looked down at her jeans and flat, comfy Clarks’ sandals, her chain store tee shirt and felt very drab. She was like a dull brown Shetland wren by comparison to the pretty canaries that shared the carriage.

The door
to the carriage slammed shut. She looked up and saw a man in uniform weaving his way towards her, pausing to check tickets. He grunted his thanks and passed the tickets back to people, without a smile on his face. However, when he noticed the woman opposite Julia, his whole demeanour changed instantly. He leaned proprietorially close to her and rested his hand on the back of her seat. The woman moved away from him and reached into her bag for her ticket. They exchanged words, none of which Julia could understand, but it was obvious the ticket inspector was trying, unsuccessfully, to flirt with her. Brushing off his rejection he turned to Julia and scowled.

Julia handed
him her ticket, her hand waiting mid-air for him to give it back. However, the inspector did not seem very happy with it. He launched into what seemed to be a familiar speech. He poked the ticket and showed it to Julia.

‘I’m sorry
, I don’t understand,’ Julia said.

‘You not validate ticket, fifty euro fine please.’

Julia stared at the man, who glared back.

‘I
bought the ticket just now, what’s wrong with it? I don’t understand.’

The inspector, having run out of the only English he knew to explain the situation, sighed in exaggerated bad temper.

‘Fifty euro fine please.’

Julia had no idea what she had done wrong but she obviously had to pay some money or maybe risk being thrown off the train at the next stop. She started to unzip her handbag to ge
t her purse out, but in her haste the zip caught on the silk lining of the bag and refused to budge. She tugged at it, making it worse, all the while the inspector stood beside her, muttering darkly. She didn’t need to be bilingual to understand what he thought of her. When the zip refused to move in either direction, Julia’s hands started to shake with frustration and nerves.

‘I
come back!’

The inspector handed J
ulia her ticket and walked away, checking other passengers tickets as he went. Julia took a deep breath and returned to the task of trying to open her handbag. The zip still refused to open though.

‘Can I try?’

Julia looked up and saw the young woman lean forward and smile.

‘It
happens to me all the time. I’m good at this.’

Julia handed the bag to her
. The woman slipped an elegant finger inside and eased at the fabric and then carefully released the fold of material that had jammed the zip. She unzipped the bag a couple of inches then passed it back to Julia.

‘Thanks so much. I was getting really worried there; I wasn’t expecting to pay a fine
on my ticket. Do you know what’s wrong with it?’

‘Oh, it’s
simple; you did not validate the ticket before you got on the train. There are machines at the station that stamp the time and date so you can only use the ticket once. So many tourists get caught out. It’s a silly system; but now you know.’

‘Oh, right. How stupid
of me; I didn’t know you had to do that. I’ve never been on a train in another country before. In fact I have hardly ever been on a train, full stop.’

The woman smiled in sympathy. Julia took out her purse and withdrew a fifty euro note and held it in her hand in readiness for the inspector’s return.

‘You are on holiday on your own? You are visiting friends?’

‘Yes
, I’m on my own. My husband died recently. He really wanted to visit Sicily, so I decided to come here anyway.’

‘Oh;
I’m so sorry.’

Julia smiled her thanks, just as the inspector appeared at her side again. Once again he leered at the young woman, who turne
d away from him in disgust.

Before Julia had
time to give him the money the young woman suddenly launched into a tirade of abuse at him. He stepped back in surprise, and although he was annoyed, his shoulders dropped a little of their swagger. He turned and looked at Julia, and she realised she was being talked about.

He waved away the money from Julia and stalked off in a huff.

‘Thank you; but what just happened?’

‘I
told him off for being rude to a widow, and for harassing a young female lawyer.’

‘T
hat’s very kind of you. And thank you for telling me how to use the ticket machines. I won’t make that mistake again.’

‘No problem. It’s
my stop now. Enjoy Sicily.’

The train pulled into
Palermo Centrale
station and the woman got off with a little wave to Julia.

The rest of the journey passed
without any further drama and ninety minutes later Julia got off the train at Cefalu, into the scorching mid-day sun.

She
wheeled her suitcase over to the café just outside the station and took a seat at a table outside. A waiter hurried over and handed her a menu.

She ordered a dish of strawberry gelato and a bottle of mineral water. While she waited for her order she watched people wandering in and out of the station. A young couple pulled up on a
scooter close to her table. The girl climbed off the back of the scooter and kissed her boyfriend. Neither of them wore a crash helmet which made Julia feel anxious on behalf of their parents. The girl turned and walked towards the station, click-clacking along the pavement on high heeled sandals; she paused and blew her boyfriend another kiss and he revved the engine of his moped and sped off.

Julia took out her phone and sent the landlord of her holiday villa a text to say she had arrived in Cefalu
and was at the café where they had agreed to meet. Almost immediately she got a text back saying he would be along to pick her up in twenty minutes. Her gelato arrived as she put the phone back in her bag.

Julia was pretty fond of ice cream, but this was strawberry flavoured heaven. She sighed with pleasure and
put the spoon down. She did not want to rush this moment. It was so strange sitting in the sunshine eating gelato when just a few hours earlier she had been in chilly rainy London, and a few days before that in even colder, rainier Shetland. She took out her phone again and took a photograph of the gelato and sent it to Marianne.

She got a text a moment
later.

“
Lucky cow! It’s not ice cream weather here. Enjoy! Any gorgeous Italian stallions in sight?”

Julia looked around and noticed an old man selling newspapers from a cart outside the station. He wore a dark blue cap pulled down over his eyes and a battered looking leather jacket, which made Julia feel hotter th
an she already was. She discreetly took a photograph of him and sent it to Marianne.

“
You wouldn’t think it was so hot here. He must be melting,”
Julia wrote.

She finished her dessert, savouring every intense mouthful, and drank her water and felt
a little more refreshed after the tiring journey. She wanted nothing more than to get to her villa, unpack and then have a lazy afternoon by the pool, or even a siesta.

A bright red Fiat 500 convertible pulled up ou
tside the station. An elegant middle-aged man got out of the car and leaned against the door. He wore a white linen shirt, cream trousers and brown leather loafers. He took off his sunglasses and looked over at Julia and waved.

Julia paid the waiter
and hurried over towards him.

‘Hello, you mus
t be Julia. Lovely to meet you; I’m Tony Hugo. Welcome to Sicily!’

Julia shook hands with him.

‘Nice to meet you too. Thanks for coming to pick me up.’

‘No problem.
Let me take your bag.’

‘Lovely car!
I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car with the roof down before. This should be fun.’

‘Oh that’s right; you’
re from Shetland aren’t you? Well this must be a pleasant change for you.’

Julia grinned at him as she got in the passenger seat.

‘Just a bit.’

Tony started the engine and they set off
along the busy street towards the town centre and then took a sharp turn towards the mountains that rose up almost immediately from the edge of the town.

A cooling breeze ruffled Julia’s hair and she rested her arm on the edge of the door.

‘How was your journey here?’ Tony asked.