you??
?I s?pose,? I say doubtfully. I was hoping for a long leisurely breakfast with lots of coffee and orange juice. Still, I should be able to grab something near the Vatican. It?s so nice to be going somewhere cultural with Mike. He used to be so scathing of my attempts to get him to go to art galleries. He?d go if it was ?cool? and the right people were going to be there?a Damien Hirst private view, or something?but anything else was out of the question. And even if we did go to a gallery, we?d never actually look at the paintings; Mike would always head straight to the bar and end up flirting with everyone.
But now, well, we are in Rome and I am finally going to fulfill my fantasies of walking round arm in arm, looking at beautiful works of art, and eating delicious ice cream. Okay, so the ice cream bit hasn?t featured in my fantasies before, but I?m really starving.
Actually we don?t walk; we take a cab. It?s not far, but Mike doesn?t do walking. He doesn?t believe in it, he always says. I?ve never established whether he doesn?t believe that walking is actually possible, or whether it?s just the benefits of walking that he doesn?t believe in. Not that it matters, taxis are absolutely fine by me.
As we pull up outside St. Peter?s Square, I come over all overawed and amazed. It?s absolutely huge, a massive courtyard surrounded by statues and engravings and pillars. We stand outside St. Peter?s Basilica for about ten minutes, marveling. Then we stand outside for another ten minutes, kind of looking around.
?Do we need to buy tickets?? I ask.
Mike has shown no inclination to move from our current spot, next to a large fountain. Tourists are milling around everywhere. As he was in such a hurry to get here, I can?t really work out why he doesn?t seem too keen to go into the basilica.
He looks up absentmindedly. ?Tickets? What for??
?To get in.?
?In??
?Inside. The basilica. The Sistine Chapel. You know.? I gesture at the buildings behind us.
?You want to go in??
?Of course! Don?t you??
?Can?t, meeting someone in five. But go ahead. I?ll see you back at the hotel later, okay??
I can?t quite believe what I?m hearing.
?Meeting who??
?Just business stuff, it won?t take long.?
?Business stuff? Oh, bloody marvelous. I?ll just be your personal assistant, shall I??
How could I have been so stupid? We are not actually going into the Vatican. No, we?re just meeting some stupid contact of Mike?s. We?re not spending the day together at all. I feel so stupid. And now I?ve got tears in my eyes. Dammit. Why am I so upset? It?s not like the pope is actually here or anything.
I turn away from Mike so he can?t see how upset I am, but I needn?t have bothered; he?s already whipped out his mobile and is making another call.
I can?t believe I?ve come all the way to Rome and lied to David, and Mike just expects me to fit in with his bloody meetings. And he doesn?t even care that I?m hungry. If I?m not careful, the prickling around my eyes is going to turn into full-fledged crying, which would be incredibly uncool, particularly since I?m not wearing waterproof mascara.
I turn around and blink furiously. Mike is not worth crying over. I tell myself it doesn?t matter, that I don?t really care if he is meeting someone or not. But actually it does matter. Not just that we?re not going to go into the Vatican when we?re right outside, but that I?m never going to have my Roman Holiday. And the worst thing is, I knew it would be like this. At least, I should have known. This was what it was like when I was Mike?s girlfriend. I was always just kind of tagging along. I never felt I was the focal point for Mike; I was an appendage, and if I disappeared, well, I was never entirely sure Mike would even have noticed.
Not for the first time I begin to wish I was here with David. David would come into the basilica with me and let me read out all the information in my guidebook, even though he?d have the same guide in his hand. David would take me somewhere lovely for breakfast as soon as I even hinted I was hungry, and would hold my hand when we walked down the street.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that David isn?t perfect either?I mean, he wouldn?t even have made it to Rome in the first place because he?d never manage to leave his beloved work behind.
No, if I want a Roman Holiday, I?m better off on my own.
Mike wanders over and I feel his arms wrap round me. I stiffen slightly?a hug from him is the last thing I want.
?You?re not pissed off, are you, gorgeous?? he says into my ear. ?I?m sorry, I didn?t know you were interested in religious stuff. But we can look round later if you want? I just have to see this guy, okay? It won?t take long. You have a wander around and then we can grab some lunch. What do you say??
He turns me around and kisses me on the nose, then smiles at me hopefully. I relax slightly. I mean, I?m here with Mike, so I may as well make the best of it, even if he is a selfish guy. It?s only two days, after all. And if he?s got a business meeting, well, that?s not so bad. To be honest, it?ll be nice to have a bit of time on my own.
?Well, I am pissed off,? I say pointedly, ?but you?ve got time to make it up to me. You have your meeting. I?ll see you back at the hotel, shall I??
?You?re one in a million. Have fun?? Mike grins and ruffles my hair.
?You too.?
I walk over to the entrance to St. Peter?s Basilica. There are hordes of people outside, shouting and screaming in every language possible. Mike turns away and makes another call. I join the queue. Already I?m feeling better, and actually, looking at art and architecture and stuff is better when you?re on your own anyway?you can really think
