Girl Online (21 page)

Chapter Thirty

After publishing my blog post, I close my laptop and feel as though a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There is a reason I love writing and filling my little (private) corner of the Internet with life musings and advice: it's so therapeutic. When I next see Noah, I'm going to apologize for how I acted in the hotel lobby, and I'm confident he's going to apologize to me too. We're going to get through this.

I look out of the small window next to my bed and notice all the people below wandering the streets in the blazing sun.

I'm in Rome.

Rome.

A city I've only ever dreamt of visiting. This is the home of Michelangelo and Raphael and Sophia Loren! I can sit here and go over our argument for the rest of the day, or I can make the most of Rome and clear my head—even if it means going it alone. I can hear Elliot's voice in the back of my mind, yelling at me to go out and explore the city. This time, I'm going to listen.

I roll off the bed and drag myself to the mirror. I look a
sorry state. I wipe a tissue underneath my bleary eyes, then have a confident Ocean Strong moment surge through me.
It's nothing a pair of oversized sunglasses can't hide
, I tell myself. I scrape my hair back into a messy bun, grab my bag (making sure to take my room key this time), and rush out of the door before I can convince myself otherwise. I pass Larry on my way out.

“Penny? Where are you going?” He frowns, concerned.

“Out, Larry. I'm going out. If I have to sit and look at the walls of my hotel room any longer I'll go insane.”

“Let me come with you. What if you get lost? Do you have a map?”

A map? I hadn't even thought about it. My inner Ocean Strong wavers, but I tell her to pull herself together. I shake my head. “Honestly, I'll be fine. I think I just need a bit of time on my own to clear my head. If I get lost, I'll be sure to call you or grab a taxi and come straight back. I'm a big girl, Larry.” I smile at him and move to continue down the hallway.

“At least take this.” Larry digs a battered guidebook for Rome out of his jacket pocket. When I raise my eyebrow at him, he shrugs and says gruffly, “I just like to do my research. Have fun, won't you? My suggestion is to eat all the pizza and gelato you can. There's no problem that carbs and sugar can't solve.”

•  •  •

Standing under the enormous dome of the Pantheon, I send a whisper of thanks to Larry for his guidebook—without it, I would have never found any of the sights. Rome is breathtakingly beautiful. It seems like there's something magical
round every corner. When I first left the hotel, my camera might as well have been glued to my face. I kept wandering along the cobbled streets, thinking I was heading in the right direction, but when I ended up at the same fountain for the third time I decided to relinquish my pride and consult Larry's guidebook. I finally managed to make my way to the Pantheon. It's full of tourists, but the same feeling of sacred wonder descends on all of us as we enter the huge building, which is an oasis of quiet from the hustle and bustle of the streets outside.

From the Pantheon, I wander along the tourist trail down to the Colosseum and sit on a bench in the park outside to eat a huge slice of takeaway pizza. It's so surreal: I feel like I'm trapped in the pages of a history book, or maybe a TV show. I try to imagine what it would have been like to enter the Colosseum as a spectator, watching the gladiators enter the arena or maybe a dramatic reenactment of a sea battle. It would have been a bit different from the concerts I've been going to—but, then again, some of the fans at Noah's gigs are so rabid they might actually be out for his blood at times.

The illusion is suddenly broken when I am surrounded by a gaggle of Italian women dressed in their Sunday best. As they chatter away in feverish Italian, gesticulating wildly, I try to spot the object of their attention. Then I see her: a beautiful bride having her photograph taken with the Colosseum as a backdrop. Now
that's
an epic wedding photo.

The groom steps back into the frame, and the couple look so happy together, clutching each other's arms as they pose for their photographer. I snap a cheeky picture of my own,
if only to show Mum. Weddings always make me think of her, and she would love to see these two in such a grand and dramatic setting. Next up, a line of bridesmaids sweeps across the grass, all in long pink satin dresses. They're much more flamboyant than the more traditional bridesmaids' dresses I'm used to seeing in England. Once again, I know it's something Mum would love.

I feel a smile spread across my face as I remember Mum and Dad's wedding album. Mum had just given up her acting career for wedding planning—so, of course, they had the most extravagant wedding ever! They opted for a Royal Wedding theme, which in the late eighties meant over-the-top-Princess-Diana style—not chic and understated Kate Middleton. There's no way Princess Diana would have been upstaged by her sister's bum! Whenever I see pictures of Mum's dress, I can't help but giggle. It was essentially reams and reams of cream satin, inlaid with clusters of tiny seed pearls, and had the biggest shoulder puffs I have ever seen, each one close to the size of her head. Apparently she bounced down the aisle looking like a giant marshmallow.

Mum always tells me that the guests were dressed just as extravagantly. All the women wore shoulder-padded dress suits with matching hats, and all ten (yes, ten!) of her bridesmaids wore puffy sleeves and white gloves and had their perms freshly styled. I am actually pretty gutted to have missed out on their wedding, despite the fact I wasn't even a twinkle in Mum's eye then.

Good job I have all three of their vow renewals safely nestled in my memory, and their thirtieth wedding anniversary
coming up. Any excuse for a giant celebration in the Porter household.

Once the Roman wedding party moves on, there's another one ready to take their place. This is like a wedding-photo conveyor belt! As I watch each couple take their position in front of the Colosseum, I can't help but imagine what my own wedding day might be like. Mum will go to town and make it the most amazing wedding she's ever done, I know that much.

My favourite flowers, orchids, would be everywhere.

Elliot would be my man of honour.

Mum and Dad would give me away together, one on either side.

But would it be Noah waiting for me at the end of the aisle?

A week ago I would have said yes, but now I'm not so sure.

A wave of sadness washes over me as I go back through our argument in my mind. I feel all mixed up between guilt and anger, and I don't know what to think. Tears threaten my eyes, and my cheeks flush. I'm so confused.

This is exactly what I came outside to avoid. I stand up with purpose, frightening a flock of pigeons that had settled near my feet. One of the birds flies perilously close to one of the brides and launches a great stream of poop in the direction of her brilliant white dress.

“Watch out!” I yell, not sure if I'll be understood by the Italian bride. Her groom understands, and gallantly throws himself in the path of the pigeon poo. I scurry away as fast as I can.

The queue to get into the Colosseum stretches round the block, so I decide to forgo getting a close-up of the gladiator arena. I do feel some sympathy for the poor gladiators, though. Last year, I felt like I'd been thrown into the modern version of the Colosseum, with everyone on the Internet able to give me the thumbs-up or -down to decide my fate. Was I good enough for Noah?

Currently, I'd get a thumbs-down. I'd be fed to the lions, for sure.

The thought makes me shiver. I decide to head to another famous Roman landmark before I have to go back to the hotel: the Trevi Fountain. I somehow missed it on my meandering path to the Pantheon. I look up directions in the guidebook, and take a quick selfie in front of the Colosseum to send to Elliot, just to prove I am actually sightseeing.

When I finally arrive at the fountain, my jaw drops. Not because of how breathtakingly beautiful it is, but because of how busy it is. People are pressed round it like sardines in a large semicircle, all trying to get the perfect photo. I decide the best thing to do is to hang back a bit, but I also want to get a photo and leave. I manage to slip in a little closer to the front of the fountain and get my camera out to take a photo. All of a sudden the fact that the sun is blaring down on me and there are people everywhere becomes all too real, and I start sweating. I try to shake it off and slowly move away from the fountain, but I can't. I feel trapped against the pale stone of the fountain wall and all I can see when I turn round are the faces of other people.

My heart beats so hard inside my chest I feel like someone will be able to see it. My throat starts to close up and I can't
breathe properly. I put my head down and run from the fountain, pushing everyone out of the way with my camera, accidentally snapping pictures as I go. Miraculously I find a nearby bench with nobody on it and lie down, looking up at the sky. There is barely a cloud to be seen, but I concentrate on counting even the faintest wisp of a cloud. I focus on my breathing and take a deep breath in and let a prolonged breath out. I don't even care at this stage if anyone can see me; I just need to calm down.

When my breathing returns to normal, I look through the photos I took while running through the crowd, deleting them to free up my memory card, but then a face catches my eye: a girl wearing a bright red scarf. Her dark hair is styled into a neat, chin-length bob, but there's something really familiar about her expression. I zoom in closer, but the tiny screen on my camera doesn't give me a good enough view.

I look up, scanning the crowd for the girl, and spot her striding purposefully away from the fountain, her scarf fluttering in the breeze like a flag.
It can't be . . . can it?

I jump up from the bench and race to catch up with her. As I draw close, I reach out and touch her arm.

“Leah?” I say. “Is that you?”

Chapter Thirty-One

There's a moment of panic on Leah's face as she spins round, and a man behind me yells, “Hey! Stop right there!”