‘What’s that?’ Luke says.
We haven’t spoken since we set off. My stomach’s churning and I’m too hot, even though the car has air conditioning.
‘What?’ I say.
‘In your hand,’ he says, nodding at my lap.
‘Oh,’ I say. I take a deep breath, staring straight ahead. ‘That’s my dad. Well, my bit of him. Leonie and Elyse and Mum have got a bit too.’
‘You brought him,’ Luke says, glancing at me and then back at the road.
‘Is that weird? It is, isn’t it?’
I turn to look at him, but it makes me feel even more wobbly, so I look back at the road. The shutters are down on a few of the shops and they’re covered with graffiti. I hated it the first time we came here – I thought it was sad and a bit scary – but now it’s just part of Rome.
‘Not if it makes you feel better,’ he says.
‘Has anyone died in your family?’ I ask, running my finger along the edge of the pot my dad’s in. And then I wonder if that’s something normal people want to talk about. But then I guess it’s better than not talking at all.
‘My mum’s mum,’ Luke says, glancing over at me and then back to the road. ‘She died of cancer before I was born.’
‘Your mum must’ve been young.’
He nods. ‘Twenty-eight, I think. And they were very close. Mum says she was her best friend.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘Yeah. She still misses her a lot, I think. But I’ve been very lucky otherwise. Still got all my other grandparents. And my dad’s grandad’s still alive even, but we don’t see him.’
‘My dad didn’t talk to his parents,’ I say. ‘So we don’t see them. I mean, they came to the funeral, but they didn’t talk to us. They had a huge row when he dropped out of uni to be with Mum and they never really recovered. We used to see them a bit, but we were never close.’
‘That’s hard,’ Luke says.
I nod. ‘Yeah. And … it’s not like I want to get to know them just because of Dad, but now that he’s gone, I wish they were in our lives. They have all these stories. They knew him when he was little. They know everything about him. Up to when he was eighteen. Mum knows pretty much everything after he was eighteen – they met at university – but before that …’
‘Didn’t your dad tell you stuff?’
I glance out of the window and see a building that’s being renovated and it’s been covered with a picture of how the building looked before. Or maybe how it’s going to look after. I like that.
‘Some stuff, yeah. But now if we have questions, there’s no one to ask.’ My throat goes tight.
‘My mum says that too,’ Luke says gently. ‘Her dad doesn’t remember things the way her mum did. So she says that when her mum died, she lost a part of her history. I mean, she did anyway, I know that. But also the stories.’
I nod. ‘Yeah. It sucks.’
‘It really does.’
The streets are even wider here, and tree-lined. The buildings are bigger, cleaner, more expensive-looking. We pass a park I remember going to the first time we came. I think we fed some ducks, but I might be misremembering.
‘Would you ever contact them?’ Luke asks. ‘Your grandparents?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve thought about it. But if Dad had wanted us to know them, he would’ve contacted them.’
‘Maybe,’ Luke says. ‘Maybe he was just waiting for the right time. I mean, maybe one day he would’ve done. But now –’
‘Yeah,’ I say, interrupting. ‘I know. And I’m not ruling it out. It’s just … I don’t want to do anything that would’ve made him unhappy. And I know he wouldn’t know.’ I twist the pot in my hands. ‘But … maybe.’
‘He was so proud of you, you know?’ Luke says. ‘You do know that, right?’
I nod. I do know that. And people keep telling me. But it doesn’t help as much as people seem to think it will. Because he’s still dead.
‘Do you want some music on?’ Luke asks, a bit later.
We’ve reached the outskirts of Rome now and I can see a flyover and enormous blocks of flats in the near distance. I’ve thought about telling him what happened with Carlo. Telling him nothing happened with Carlo. Because it’s him that I want. But I haven’t been able to do it.
‘Is it okay if we don’t?’ I say. I like the quiet, the rumbling of the road. And I don’t want to be distracted. I want to look out of the window and see Italy. And I want to look at Luke.
The sun is low in the bright blue sky and I watch Luke’s hand as he flips down the visor. His fingers are long, his nails short and clean.
We’ve been driving for about an hour when Luke says, ‘I’m just going to stop for a bit, okay?’
I’m glad, because I could really do with a pee. I was wondering when he was going to suggest stopping. We pull off the motorway into the Italian equivalent of motorway services and Luke opens the door and gets out.
I open my door and swing my legs out, stretching them out in front of me before standing and reaching my arms over my head. The sun is low, the air warm. It smells like home – like service stations at home: petrol and grass and hot tarmac.
I turn back to look inside the car for my bag and see Luke’s put his hands on his seat and he’s leaning over, stretching his back. His shoulders look really strong and I can see his muscles tensing and releasing.
He looks up suddenly – to stretch his neck, I think – but he catches me staring and grins.
‘You okay there?’
‘Shut up,’ I say, trying not to smile. It’s the first time I feel like the tight knot in my belly is starting to uncurl.
‘I was going to say we should get something to eat, but if you want to climb into the backseat …’ He waggles his eyebrows at me.
‘Shut up,’ I say again, but I’ve failed on the trying-not-to-smile thing.
I open the back door and Luke says ‘Wahey!’ but I just pull Toby’s box towards me and see what he’s packed.
‘What do you fancy?’ I ask Luke.
He opens the back door on his side and reaches for the box, pulling it towards him.
‘Hey!’ I say. ‘I was looking!’
‘And now I’m looking,’ he says and grins at me.
‘Pizza bianca?’ he says, peering into a brown paper bag.
‘I’ll take some of that,’ I say.
‘And olives and deep-fried aubergine,’ he says.
‘And that,’ I say.
I hold my hand out and he passes me the pizza. I shut the car door and lean back against it, pulling a chunk of the pizza free and folding it into my mouth. I hear the other door shut and then Luke is standing next to me, a tub of olives balanced on his hand. I take one. It tastes like the sea. Luke leans against the car next to me and I can feel the warmth from his arm against mine, even though we’re not touching.
‘Thank you for this,’ I tell him.
‘For this?’ he says.
I smile. ‘No. For driving. For coming with me.’
‘I think you’ve actually come with me,’ he says. ‘If we’re being pedantic.’
‘To find my sister though,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ he says.
We both stare straight ahead and I finally take in the incredibly beautiful view. Fields and hills stretch off into the distance, different shades of green from lime to dark khaki. The sky is still bright blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds. I think about taking a photo for Instagram, but remember yet again that that is not appropriate behaviour when you’re on your way to find your missing sister.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Luke says.
I pull my phone out and take a photo anyway. As if there’s no point to taking a picture if you’re not going to Instagram it.
‘I miss London though,’ Luke says.
‘I don’t,’ I say. ‘But I love it when I’m there.’
‘I think I’m a city person,’ he says. ‘I like the buzz.’
I nod. ‘I like street noise. I like hearing a city waking up.’
‘I like looking up at planes,’ Luke says.
I barely have to look to know he’s smiling – I can see his dimple.
‘I like the moon,’ I say. ‘I never get tired of it.’
‘Oh you’ve gone big,’ he says. ‘I was going to say I like the escalators on the tube. Especially really early or really late when it’s just me. I always pretend it’s the end of the world.’
‘I like finishing things. Like a tube of toothpaste. Or a bottle of milk. I like throwing it away and getting a new one.’
‘I like popping the top on a new jar of coffee.’
‘Everyone likes that!’ I say.
‘Everyone likes the moon!’ he retorts.
‘Or Nutella.’
‘What?’
‘Popping the top on a new jar of Nutella.’
‘Good call,’ he says. ‘I like driving. I like driving with the windows down and my music on loud and singing along and no one knowing where I am.’
‘I don’t like it when no one knows where I am,’ I say.
‘We’re doing things we like, Milly,’ he says.
I laugh. ‘Okay. I like … weeding. I sometimes go out in the garden and pull up the dandelions on the path. Even though they look kind of cheerful. I like how tidy it looks without them.’
‘You like order,’ Luke says.
‘Hmm,’ I say.
‘You don’t like untidiness.’
‘Does anyone?’
‘Typical middle child.’
‘Is it?’ I ask, frowning.
‘No idea,’ Luke says. ‘But it seems legit.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I think it’s all crap, that birth order stuff. People are people with their own personalities.’
‘And you don’t think those personalities can be shaped by the way you’re brought up? Really?’
‘Maybe a bit,’ I say.
‘The bit that makes you love order and hate mess and be scared to start over and want to take care of everyone?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, eating more pizza. ‘That bit.’
‘I definitely have the only child thing going on,’ Luke says. ‘Totally self-centred and self-contained.’
I swallow. ‘That’s not true at all!’
‘It could be!’ he says, stepping away and opening the car door. I have to step out of the way too. I watch him pull the box towards him, the muscles moving in his forearm. I spend a lot of time watching his muscles move. You’d think I’d never seen muscles before.
He pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to me before taking another for himself. Muscles in his hand as he unscrews the lid. Muscles in his jaw as he drinks. Muscles in his throat as he swallows. I want him to pour the water over his head and shake himself like a dog. Instead I shake myself. I should probably pour some water over myself too. I’m ridiculous.
We both go inside the service station to use the loos. When I come out, Luke is already waiting for me, leaning back against the wall and scrolling through his phone. I want to walk over and kiss him. Why can’t I? He looks up when I’m just a couple of feet away and gives me one of his slow smiles. My belly flutters.
‘Any news?’ I ask him.
He pushes his phone back in his pocket. ‘Just a text from Toby asking how we’re getting on.’
‘I’ve just texted Leonie again,’ I say. ‘But she probably hasn’t even got her phone on. She tends to go a bit head-in-the-sand at times like this.’
We walk back outside and I follow Luke to the car. Once we’re back on the motorway, Luke suddenly says, ‘What’s the grossest thing you do that you secretly enjoy?’
I laugh. ‘Like what?’
‘Cutting your toenails? I love cutting my toenails.’
‘Oh my god,’ I say. ‘That is gross.’
‘Cleaning my ears with a cotton bud,’ Luke says. ‘One of life’s greatest pleasures.’
‘Ah, we were never allowed to do that,’ I say. ‘Mum’s a doctor, don’t forget. Nothing in your ear smaller than your elbow.’
Luke grins. ‘I know. I know you’re not meant to do it, but it feels so good.’
‘Whenever I went to friends’ houses when I was little, I always looked in the bathroom and if they had cotton buds, I’d clean my ears. Furtively. And then feel guilty when I got home.’
Luke laughs loudly. ‘You rebel, you.’
‘I know,’ I say, deadpan. ‘I was out of control.’
We go opposite ways around a parked car and when we meet again in front of it, I say, ‘I like plucking my eyebrows. And sometimes I get a really sharp hair on my lip. I love plucking that one.’
‘Oh, now we’re talking!’ Luke says, glancing over and laughing. ‘Tell me another.’
I drop my head to my chest, laughing. ‘Flossing. I like flossing.’
‘And I’m sure we can both agree there’s nothing better than a pee when you’ve needed one for a while.’
‘This is a terrible conversation,’ I say. ‘Leonie would love it.’
We reach Stefano’s car and we’re both quiet as we get in and put our seatbelts on. Luke starts the engine and I check my phone again – not only my texts, but Facebook and Twitter and even Instagram. Positano is so beautiful, I’d be amazed if Leonie could resist Instagramming it, but there’s nothing.
‘I’ve just thought of a good one,’ Luke says, as we pull back out onto the motorway. ‘Peeling skin when you’ve got sunburnt.’
‘Oh, gross,’ I say. ‘Once Elyse burned her nose and it didn’t peel but it sort of separated. So there was this crispy bit of skin that we could press like a clicker.’
Luke laughs out loud. ‘I once burned my shoulders so badly the skin was coming off in strips. Hurt like hell, but still … cool.’
‘I like cracking my neck,’ I say. ‘Particularly …’ I reach up and press my thumb into the indentation at the base of my skull. ‘Just here. I once said “Can you put your thumb in my head hole?” to Elyse and no one let me forget it for … well, they’ve never let me forget it.’
Luke laughs again. ‘I like cracking my knuckles. And don’t say it’ll give me arthritis – my mum says that and I don’t think it’s even true.’
‘I hate that,’ I say. ‘It gives me the creeps.’
Luke smiles at me and I smile back and keep smiling until he has to look back at the road.
‘Where are we?’ I say. I must’ve fallen asleep because the sun is much brighter and my neck is stiff as hell. I stretch it from side to side.
‘Want me to stick my thumb in your head hole?’ Luke says.
I laugh. ‘No, thanks. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t sleep well last night.’
‘That’s okay,’ he says. ‘You know you snore, right?’
‘I do not,’ I say. Even though I know I do – my sisters have told me.
‘You missed a great sea view,’ he says, as we head into another tunnel.
‘You should’ve woken me up,’ I say. ‘I love a sea view.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, smiling. ‘I know how you feel about sunrises, I didn’t know it also applied to sea views.’
‘Sunsets, sea views, sunrises, the moon,’ I say. ‘All vitally important.’
‘What else?’ he says, quietly.
‘What?’
‘What else is vitally important to you, Milly?’
I want to say ‘You. You are important to me,’ but I don’t even know if it’s true. I think it’s true. I think I like him, that I want to get to know him better, that I want to spend more time with him, but maybe it’s all something I’ve made up in my head. Maybe I like the idea of him, the fantasy of him, maybe if I let myself be with him, I –
‘Have you gone back to sleep?’ Luke says.
I laugh. ‘Sorry, no. Just thinking. My family. My family is vitally important.’
‘I know about that one. What else?’
‘No, it’s your turn.’
‘My mum,’ he says.
‘Cheating. That’s the same as mine.’
‘Tough. Your turn.’
‘Music,’ I say. ‘It used to be. But I don’t know if it is any more.’
‘Music for me too, I’d say,’ he says. ‘I can’t imagine life without it.’
‘Oh, well if the criteria is things we can’t imagine life without, I’m going to say Starbucks lattes. Twirls. Toast. Netflix.’
‘My iPhone. My headphones. My pillow.’
‘Oh god, yeah. My bed. My brown leather boots. I don’t mind when it starts getting cold cos it means I can wear my boots again.’
‘Football. Playing, not watching.’
‘Cheese on toast.’
‘Bacon sandwiches.’
‘A can of Coke when you’re hungover.’
‘A pint of lager on a hot day.’
‘A hot chocolate on a cold day.’
‘Pizza,’ we both say at the same time and then laugh.
We’re both quiet for a bit and then Luke says, ‘Kissing.’
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t know what to say.
‘Or,’ Luke says, ‘more specifically. Kissing you.’
I still can’t speak. Or maybe I can and I just don’t want to. I want to know what else he might say.
‘I know you don’t want to talk about it,’ he says. ‘And we don’t have to. But I want you to know that I would like to do it. Again. Kiss you, I mean. Or have you kiss me. Whatever you want.’ He glances at me and then back at the road. ‘Whatever you want is fine by me. That’s all I wanted to say.’
I reach over and press the tip of my finger against the birthmark on his neck and he ducks his head and leans into my hand. I pull it away and immediately wish I hadn’t.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
He looks at me, that line between his eyebrows again. ‘I don’t know what you want,’ he says.
I take a breath. ‘I want to kiss you,’ I say. ‘I want to kiss you all the time. And I’m sorry I’ve been so weird about it, but it freaks me out how much I like you. And how much I want to kiss you.’
‘All the time,’ he says, and he’s smiling.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘That’s good to know,’ he says.
We’re silent for a little while – the only sound is the swish of the tyres on the road – and then Luke says, ‘Were you trying to make me jealous with Carlo?’
‘Oh god,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry. There was nothing with Carlo.’
‘When I saw you walking back together yesterday … God, I thought I’d really fucked up.’
I take a breath. ‘I kissed him. First he kissed me and then I kissed him. But …’ I shake my head. ‘It was nothing. It was stupid.’
Luke glances at me then turns back to the road. ‘I mostly thought I’d missed my chance. I thought because of what happened at the funeral that you just weren’t interested in me any more.’
For a while I can’t speak. Luke looks at me again and I shake my head. And then I say, ‘I just … I’m not good at this. I never have been. And now, since Dad, it’s harder. I don’t know why, but it is. I know I was a dick to you after … and I’m sorry I never called you back. But I was … just freaking the fuck out.’
Luke takes one hand from the steering wheel and reaches out to brush his fingers over my wrist. I see a sign for Positano and my stomach flutters again. Part of me thinks Leonie’s going to be waiting there for us, crying and contrite, and we can just put her in the car and head back to Rome again. But I can also picture us searching and searching and not finding her, Mum and Aunt Alice getting increasingly distraught. I suddenly wonder, what if we don’t find her? What if she doesn’t want to be found? What if we never see her again? I curl forward in my seat. I feel like I’ve been punched.
“You okay?” Luke says.
My phone beeps with a text and I pull it out of my pocket.
“It’s Leonie,” I tell Luke.
It says. “Let me have one more day. Love you.”