The Silent Wife(83)

Poor Massimo. Robert was so gentle in so many ways, it was weird that he had a downer on the one bloke who coughed up for him to live in a decent nursing home where he stood half a chance of getting his own pants back from the laundry.

As we walked out to the car, Lara always turned to wave at her dad as he stood watching her leave through the big bay window in the residents’ lounge. She gave him a big grin, waving furiously as he pressed his hands against the glass. Then always crumpled into little sobs as we reached the car.

‘I feel so guilty leaving him. I can’t wait to pass my test so I can come whenever I want.’ She paused. ‘Not that you haven’t been really generous bringing me here. I’ve been more times in the last few months than in the whole of the previous couple of years.’

‘Why don’t you take him to yours one day so he can see Sandro? Mum would come and help with any nursing stuff. He’s not really infirm, is he? You’d just need to keep a careful eye on him.’

Her face clouded over. ‘I keep thinking about it, but I’m worried Massimo wouldn’t be very keen. Dad can be quite difficult, though I’d love Sandro to spend some time with him. I can’t really bring Sandro here because it would give him nightmares. I mean, it’s all right, but there is something of the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest about it.’

Sometimes I could shake that people-pleasing ‘mustn’t put you out’ nonsense out of her. ‘It’s your dad. If Massimo has a problem with it, perhaps you should point out he only has to see your dad a few times a year, whereas we have to put up with his old witch of a mother 365 days, 24/7.’

She nodded. ‘You do have a point there.’

Thank God my own mum was such a breeze with her retiring nature and understated opinions.





40





LARA




I continued trying to catch Massimo out. Kept informing him of what I was doing, buying, deciding without consulting him, waiting for him to turn on me. But apart from the occasional raised eyebrow, he just hugged me and said, ‘Whatever makes you happy.’ He’d had the odd flash of temper – no one could be expected to behave perfectly all the time – but it was never aimed at me, just a rant about work, the sort of behaviour I’d see from Nico, a moan about the incompetence of colleagues, a curse about the broadband going down. But for me, just praise and kindness. He’d walk up and massage my neck, bring me flowers, ladle out compliments about how I was the most attractive woman he knew. He went wild on gifts when he came back from trips – handbags, a watch, even a red and green coat, which felt a little flamboyant to me but that he thought made me look ‘Italian stylish’.

But I couldn’t relax. Couldn’t quite believe the man who’d killed my cat had come back to me with all the bad parts sieved out and the gold nugget remains gathered in one place. It was as though a dandelion of distrust was lodged deep within me, scattering seeds every time I tried to tug up its insistent root.

But today I couldn’t think about any of that. I needed a clear head for my driving test. I’d managed the theory, thanks to Maggie quizzing me every time we drove to see Dad, but now I had to perform for real. I’d deliberately booked the practical for a Friday in October when I knew Massimo was away for work. I had enough trouble keeping my own self-doubt at bay without worrying about his reaction to my little surprise. As Maggie dropped me off at the test centre, it was as though she could see into my brain. She had a way of staring that made me want to shrink away from her gaze, in case she could see the truths buried within me. Fear of failure, fear of change, fear of getting it wrong. Her fingers were drumming on the steering wheel.

‘You’re talking yourself out of it. I can see the cogs whirring. “I won’t be able to do my three-point turn.” “Dad always told me I didn’t need to learn to drive.” “Massimo might be cross we’ve done it behind his back.” Come on! Do this for you, for Sandro, for your dad. It will be so good for you to have a bit of freedom. You don’t want to be that person depending on other people – you’re smart, you’re educated, you don’t have to be that little woman at home. God, if I had your brains, I’d be running for Prime Minister.’

I nodded, wiping my hands on my trousers. She pulled me into a big hug. I still had to instruct myself to relax into her exuberance. I envied the way she scooped up everyone into an embrace, throwing herself on Sam, gathering up Beryl, giving Nico a cuddle when he came in from work. Just a casual ‘glad you’re back’ greeting. Not the full-on kiss Massimo favoured, with its implied message of sex at its heart.

I got out of the car. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’ I clung onto my determination, forcing myself to muffle the negative voices crowding in as I stood at the desk, giving my name.



When I drove back into the test centre, Maggie was sitting on the wall smoking, which I had only seen her do once before when she’d had too much wine. She leapt up. I tried not to look at her before I’d parked and put the handbrake on. She wanted me to pass so badly, I wouldn’t have put it past her to bang on the examiner’s window and press her face on the glass to see what he was writing. I leant back in my seat while the examiner finished ticking a few boxes on his clipboard, my mind switching between potential mistakes – pulling away from a junction too slowly, not looking in the rear-view mirror enough, getting too close to a cyclist. And then he said, ‘I’m delighted to tell you, Mrs Farinelli, that you have passed.’