‘You like Italy?’ said Sofia.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Very much.’
‘And you like my son, yes?’
I glanced at Gabriele, who was looking utterly confused at the scene unfolding in front of him.
‘Very much, also,’ I said.
‘Then I hope that you will come to visit us again. It will be nice for me to have some female company around the place.’
Gabriele looked at Sofia.
‘Mama, are you feeling all right?’
He jokingly placed his hand on her forehead as though she might have a fever, and she playfully batted his hand away.
‘The only thing that would make this even better would be for Enzo to be here to see how happy you have made my son, Lira.’
Gabriele groaned with embarrassment. ‘Enough! Please, you two!’
All three of us cracked up. As I watched Sofia cry tears of laughter rather than pain, I thought how grief was a funny thing. How sparks of happiness could be found in even the darkest moments. And I had a thought. And I didn’t know why it hadn’t come to me sooner.
‘Gabriele, would you feel up to dancing the final performance ofSlow Burn? I’ll do two nights in Florence with Tomas, but then you perform on our last night. It’syourshow. You should be there, up on stage, bringing it to its rightful end.’
‘What a wonderful idea!’ said Sofia.
‘You’d come, wouldn’t you, Sofia? You would come and watch Gabriele perform?’
She nodded. ‘Of course I would. Sad as it would be without Enzo – because he was very proud of you, Gabi, you know. All he wanted was for you to be happy.’
‘I do not know what to say,’ said Gabriele.
‘Say yes,’ I said. ‘And then let’s call Carlos to tell him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXGabriele
The Teatro Verdi in Florence was completely sold out for the last ever performance ofSlow Burn. There had been a time when I hoped it would not be the last. That perhaps there would be a Broadway run, or the UK tour Carlos was still trying to secure. That could still happen, but it would almost certainly have to go ahead without me, a situation I was still struggling to come to terms with.
When I peeked through the curtain to look at the audience, like I often did, I felt a sort of calm wash over me. For the first time in years, I saw faces I recognized. In the fifth row from the front sat my mother, all dressed up, wearing black because she was in mourning, but looking happy and excited. It was good to see her joyfulness come back, even if it was just for tonight. My throat tightened as I took in theempty seat to one side of her, where my father should have been. And on the other side of her was Lira’s sister, Sedi, who I had never met in person, but who I had spoken to on video call because I had had to give her directions from the airport to the farm; very kindly, she had hired a car and had offered to drive all the way out to collect my mother.
Lira and I had been rehearsing at the theatre since this morning, because it had been a few weeks since I had danced and I could feel the rustiness, that I was not quite so confident in every single step as I had been. Mama had not been up to coming with us and waiting around all day, so Sedi had stepped in to help, which Lira had been amazed about – she said she had not even had to prompt her.
It was surprising enough to her that Sedi had booked a flight to come to Italy in the first place, simply because she wanted to see her sister dance. It had been wonderful to see Lira so pleased that her family were putting her first for once, and Sedi was charming – she and my mother seemed have hit it off, too, and were laughing and joking around, pointing to something in the glossy programme Mama was holding.
Lira came up beside me, placing her hand on my arm. I shivered involuntarily as she stood on tiptoes to whisper in my ear.
‘I see my sister managed to follow your very complicated directions,’ she said.
I turned to face her, pressing my palm into the small of her back, bringing her a little closer to me.
‘It feels wonderful to have family here to watch us,si?’ I said.
Lira nodded sadly. ‘I wish your dad could have been here, too.’
I swallowed hard. I could not let that thought consume me, not now, when I was about to go out on stage, possibly for the last time. I felt a small comfort in imagining that somewhere, somehow, hewouldbe watching.
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But now we must focus on the task ahead. On enjoying dancing together again one more time.’
