The palace, the Palazzo dei Consoli, in the square she had seen from across the valley was even more beautiful close-up, built of cream-coloured stone and with crenellations indicating its defensive origins. The square itself was paved with red bricks in the same herringbone pattern they had seen in Tuscany and she felt sure Erasmus would love getting some aerial shots of this. Needless to say, she added this suggestion to her list.
Emma remembered that Mark had said that Graziella, his ancestor, might have had a hand in designing this spectacular building back in the fourteenth century. The fact that he could trace his ancestry back over almost seven centuries brought home to her yet again just how impossible it would be for her to expect him to leave this wonderful, atmospheric part of Italy, his family’s home for hundreds upon hundreds of years, just for her sake. She took a load of photos, but the sheer historical beauty of the place reminded her more and more of the impossibility of their relationship ever having a happy ending. Besides, she asked herself yet again, what relationship?
From Gubbio, they headed north, crossing the Apennines. Marina deliberately chose the cross-country route on narrow, winding roads and they traversed ridge after ridge of tree-clad hills, passing through one medieval gem after another: tiny villages boasting delightful Romanesque churches, remote hillsides dotted with spectacular villas surrounded by a variety of trees, and ancient fortresses and defensive towers on almost every outcrop. Clearly, hundreds of years ago, Umbria had been a dangerous place.
As they came down from the mountains onto the much flatter land that Marina told them now extended almost unbroken as far north as Venice, the scenery became more open and more bland, although the towns through which they passed were still beautiful in their own way. Cesena’s historic heart was delightful, as was Forlì with its massive fortress, but they didn’t spend much time sightseeing and Emma didn’t take many photos. In Dreaming of Italy, Emily and Robert, now growing ever closer, would have travelled up from Florence to Bologna by train and wouldn’t have come as far east as this. Still, after visiting and admiring the amazingly well-preserved castle at Dozza, with its chilling bottle dungeon into which hapless prisoners were once dropped to rot to death, they finally reached Bologna, their destination for the night, around mid-afternoon.
As they drove into the city, Emma received a message from Mark telling her his uncle was getting better and his aunt was finally calming down. Other family members had now arrived and so he was getting the train to Bologna, hoping to arrive at six o’clock.
The hotel was in the very middle of the centro storico, not far from a pair of gravity-defying brick-built towers that rose up impossibly high on such narrow bases. The façade of the hotel belied the stunning antique interior with amazing vaulted ceilings covered in murals, and floors clad in marble. As Marina went off to park the car, Emma and Rich stood at the main entrance, underneath the arched portico that circled the square, and soaked up the atmosphere. Emma was impressed.
‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting this. The centre of Bologna’s very grand – sort of like a larger version of Lucca. We’ve got to get it into the movie.’ She took a series of photos; impressed to see that the numbers of tourists here were substantially lower than they had been in Tuscany. It looked as though it would be easier for a film crew to shoot here than in big-name places like Pisa and she was already adding Bologna to her list when Rich asked her a question that immediately returned her mind to more personal matters.
‘Emma, do you mind if I ask you something? Are you and Mark dating?’
She felt her cheeks flush as she searched for an honest response. Finally she said the only thing she could say.
‘Of course I don’t mind, Rich. The simple answer is no.’
‘But you’d like it to happen?’
‘Rich, there are lots of things I’d like to see happen, starting with a solution to global warming or my winning the lottery.’ She was doing her best to sound blasé, but he wasn’t buying it.
‘I’ve seen you two together, Emma. He likes you a lot and I can see that you like him too. Surely you want to get together with him.’
Emma sighed deeply and gave in. ‘All right, I would, I think, but we all know it wouldn’t go anywhere. Or, rather, I’m going back to the US and he’s staying here. Where can it go?’
‘We’re not going back to the States until Thursday. A lot can happen in three days.’
‘Of course, but what then? No, Rich, it’s better like this. I know I like him a lot. I like Italy a lot too, but I know I can’t take it back to LA with me.’ She decided to go on the offensive. ‘And what about you and Marina? What’s going to happen there?’
He nodded slowly. ‘That’s kinda why I asked about you and Mark. I thought you might have some great plan that she and I could copy.’
‘Great plan? You’re joking. I haven’t got a clue what’s happening now, let alone what might happen in three days’ time, three weeks’ time or even three months’ time. It’s all in the lap of the gods.’
They spotted Marina crossing the square towards them. Rich turned back towards Emma and gave her a wry smile. ‘Looks like we’re all in the same boat.’
Emma smiled back at him. ‘Without a paddle…’
‘If anybody can figure it out, it’s you, boss.’
‘Some hope.’
The hotel rooms were as gorgeous as the entrance. Emma’s room even had a little terrace with two chairs and a table on it and she allowed herself a few moments to fantasise about sitting out here with Mark at her side, gazing over the red-tiled roofs of Bologna’s centro storico, the skyline punctuated by spires and towers. After a bit, the mirage slowly dissolved and she went back inside to take a shower. Maybe, she told herself sternly, she should follow Ethan’s example and make it a cold one.
At just after six, as Emma was sitting at a table outside the front of the hotel under the portico, a taxi drew up and Mark jumped out. As she spotted him, her heart jumped in unison. She gave him a wave.
‘Mark, hi. Over here.’
He hurried across to her. ‘Hi, Emma. Look, massive apologies once more. I hope I didn’t leave you in the lurch.’
‘You look hot. Sit down and have a beer. And no, you didn’t leave us in the lurch. Don’t worry.’ She waved to the waiter who came across at once. Mark took a seat and ordered a cold beer. Sitting down alongside her, their backs to the wall, he stretched his legs and wiped his brow.
‘It’s hotter here than it was in Umbria.’ He went on to tell her all about his uncle who was responding well to treatment, while his wife, Mark’s aunt, was now finally beginning to get over the initial shock. ‘Anyway, I’m here now. What did I miss?’
She filled him in on the day’s events, desperately wanting to turn the conversation to more personal matters, but before she could steer him in that direction Rich and Marina appeared and sat down with them. Emma was always pleased to see them but if they had decided on this occasion to go for a stroll on their own she would have been even more pleased. Instead, they ordered drinks and settled down to discuss the itinerary for the next day which, Emma knew only too well, would be their penultimate day on the road. As ever, Marina was on the case.