‘Would you really do that for me?’

Maggie laughed in the way that people who expect good things from the world find people who don’t funny. ‘I’d love it. It would give me huge satisfaction. Mum never learnt to drive because we were too poor and it really limits what she can do. And anyway, you don’t want to be dependent on Massimo to trolley you about when he’s away so much. You’d be able to nip over and see your dad whenever you wanted.’

I tried not to sound as desperate as I felt, aiming for a ‘Yep, great idea, I’ll have a bash at this driving lark’ rather than like someone who’d fallen overboard on a cross-channel ferry and was clinging to a lifebelt. But, to my horror, I got all choked up. It was so long since anyone had offered to resolve any of my problems rather than just adding to them. But around Maggie, I always got a giddy feeling. Her down-to-earth optimism was infectious, the sense that yes, things might get a bit troublesome but putting the kettle on and calming down would be a good starting point. That even if I was myself – rather than the me that Massimo poured into a mould ten years ago – she’d still like me.

She stopped in a layby.

‘Oh bless you, you poor thing.’

As naturally as anything, she undid our seatbelts and pulled me into a big hug. I never had any spontaneous physical interaction with anyone any more and it was as though my brain had to be told my body didn’t need to be on standby. I was permanently braced for Massimo to turn on me, ready to dart out of his way, or primed to anticipate that any affection was a prelude to a demanding sexual marathon.

I drew back for a second before deliberately relaxing.

Maggie smoothed my hair while all my confusion, my fury for allowing myself to become this person, bubbled out of me. She was so capable, even though she was always saying things like, ‘What do I know? I just sew on zips. You’re the brainbox, Lara. I’d love to be able to tell people I had a degree in accountancy and have them all look at me thinking, wow, she must be bright.’

Yes, so bright that I’d allowed Massimo to stop me seeing my own dad.

I pulled back, away from the warmth and comfort Maggie offered. If I told her the truth, she’d expect me to rush home, pack my bags and do something about it. But what could I do? What could a woman like me with no money of her own, no family and, thanks to Massimo, no friends, do? Where could I take Sandro, where could I go, that wouldn’t traumatise him more than Massimo’s irrational behaviour?

I did what I always did. Forced the emotion back inside me and sieved through the stock of reasons I usually used when I had reacted badly to Massimo or, God forbid, stood up for myself: ‘I’m tired.’ ‘I’ve had a difficult day with Sandro.’ ‘Sorry, I know you didn’t mean anything by what you said, I’m just a bit oversensitive today.’ Anything to keep the peace and stop a heated discussion escalating to such an intensity that Sandro would run up to his bedroom with his hands over his ears or the dog would start barking, dancing around growling, while Massimo goaded him into snapping at me.

I cleared my throat. ‘Sorry, Maggie. I’m overreacting. It’s such a shock seeing Dad like that. He thought I was my mother.’

She put her head on one side and held me by the shoulders. ‘You’re not overreacting. Your dad is confused and hurt and you’re upset. There’s nothing weird about that. God, Lara, give yourself a break. You’re not some bloody block of concrete.’ She paused. ‘Do you want me to give Massimo a ring and let him know what’s happened?’

I had no plans to tell him that Dad was getting worse. ‘No thanks. I’d hate him to worry and rush home. He’s got enough on his plate at work.’

And she pulled the face, the expression I’d seen on my friends’ faces – when I still had some – the one that said ‘Don’t be such a doormat.’ And like them, a sigh of exasperation.

But I needed this friendship, this shred of normality in my insane world. ‘I would love you to teach me to drive though. Do you think we could do it without telling anyone? I’d love to surprise Massimo and just turn up one day behind the steering wheel?’

I held my breath, wondering whether I’d got away with it, whether that seemingly innocent suggestion would be enough to get Maggie on board.

She nodded. ‘Always good to surprise husbands just when they think they know you! We’ll have to meet round the corner, because I swear Anna has CCTV cameras trained on me to check I’m not flogging the family silver.’

I felt a thrill of excitement, a starburst of rebellion, sing to me, like the bars of an anthemic song drifting in from a distant party where everyone was stamping their feet, thumping their fists in the air as though the lyrics were written for them alone. I’d work out a way to squirrel enough money from the food shopping to apply for a provisional licence before I talked myself out of it. If I showed Massimo I was determined to take back control of my life, to stand up to him, he’d respect me more.

I was sure he would.

19

MAGGIE

Over the next week, I dithered about telling Nico I was going to teach Lara to drive as soon as her provisional licence came through. I didn’t want him to blurt it out to Massimo and spoil her surprise, but in the end I felt I’d already deceived him enough over that bloody box.

He laughed. ‘God help us. She’ll think that riding two inches from the bumper in front is normal.’

I swatted him with the newspaper. ‘You Farinellis are a bunch of bloody chauvinists. It will do Lara good to do something for herself, instead of just running around after Massimo and Sandro. And she’ll be able to see her dad more often.’

He reached for my hand. ‘I think it’s great and you’re very kind to do it. And don’t worry, mum’s the word. Massimo will be delighted – poor man won’t have to take her to the supermarket every Saturday.’

‘Yeah, that is a bit weird. So old-fashioned.’ I did peer into my heart and double-check that I wasn’t just a tiny bit jealous that Massimo loved doing mundane things with her. And was actually available to do mundane things with her, rather than being absent every Saturday, driving Francesca to yet another swimming competition.

I shooed away conflicting thoughts: that I didn’t want Nico hanging around me and that I’d like him to want to hang around me. Marriage was obviously turning me a bit soft in the head.

Nico stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Wouldn’t you like me coming to pick out my blueberries and raspberries with you?’

‘Sorry, but no. Maybe I’ve been on my own for too long, but I don’t need a bloke to help me choose what sort of lettuce to buy. Massimo and Lara do take that couply-couply doing everything together to a bit of an extreme.’

Nico shot to Massimo’s defence. ‘You’ve got to remember that Dawn walked out on him. It really shocked him. He’s just trying not to make the same mistakes again. He puts in much more effort with Lara. And I think she finds Sandro hard-going, so she needs a lot of support.’

I crossed my arms. ‘I know your mother likes to make out Lara can’t sort anything out by herself, but is that really true? I saw her take charge at the nursing home and I think she’s more capable than you all give her credit for.’

Nico frowned. ‘What’s this, a Farinelli-bashing session? Are you going off us already?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but motherhood is hard. Everyone is so quick to point the finger and have a go if your kids doesn’t eat peas, can’t spell onomatopoeia or, like Sandro, can’t swim. I think she needs a break. No one is tut-tutting at Massimo and saying he’s done a crap job. Somehow it’s Lara’s fault that Sandro isn’t a county swimmer like Francesca or doesn’t really like dogs.’

Nico started clearing the table. I felt an unexpected desire to start a row with him. It just seemed so unfair Lara was always putting herself through hoops to please everyone and no one could see what a lot she had on her plate.

But Nico, lovely man that he was, actually listened to what I was saying.