car from a side-street inched its way into their path, its bumper almost touching theirs. Nell was braced for some sort of showdown, but Ferdia laughed and held back. ‘Go for it, if it means that much to you.’
Her shoulders slumped with relief. Not long afterwards, they descended a slope into an underground car park.
‘We’re here? Wow.’
‘See?’ Ferdia said. ‘Driving is no bother.’
‘They’re terrifying, those Italians. I couldn’t have done that last bit.’
‘I wasn’t scared.’ He laughed. ‘Apart from when I was.’
‘Only because you’re young. The young feel no fear.’
‘Nah. It’s because you’re used to driving with an old man. An old man who’s an arse!’
She gave a wobbly smile. ‘Ferdia …’ She eventually said, ‘Liam’s my husband. He’s going through painful stuff with his kids. I know you’ve issues with him, but can we not?’
‘You’re over him forgetting about today?’
‘Yep.’ It was complicated but she no longer blamed Liam. It was the fault of her own unsustainable expectations.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I won’t say anything again.’
‘Are you pissed off with me?’
‘No.’ He sounded surprised. ‘Why would I be?’
‘… People think this is a fake because her beauty is so modern. Different standards of beauty in the 1400s …’
‘… Caravaggio painted people from life’s margins. He used a sex worker as a model to paint the Mother of God, and his patron went bananas …’
‘… At first look, it’s a painting commemorating a great battle, but see where the spears are pointing? At a hunting scene. There wasn’t any battle, it was a lie and this painting exposes it. Art being political.’
From room to room they went, Nell deconstructing dozens of paintings for Ferdia. ‘Am I talking too much?’ she asked.
‘No! I’m enjoying it, maybe not the way you are. Dilly’s phrase – you’re “in raptures”, right? But it’s interesting.’
‘You’re sure? Grand. Oh, my God, it’s Primavera. Very famous work by Botticelli. Look at the flowers, can’t you almost smell them? Literally five hundred different plant types in this painting. Botanists come to study plants that are now extinct. Ed might be interested.’
‘Ed’s interested in everything.’
As they moved into the next room, Ferdia nodded at a crowd clustered round a painting. ‘What’s that?’
‘Oh.’ She took a breath. ‘Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.’
‘Even I’ve heard of that!’ He moved closer to get a better look. ‘She looks a bit like you.’
WTF?
‘I didn’t mean the … no-clothes thing,’ he blurted. ‘I meant –’ What had he meant? ‘Her hair. Her hair reminds me of yours.’
‘Oookay.’ Her look was wary.
‘And, of course, the giant shell attached to her feet.’
‘Ha-ha. Grand.’ It was all okay again. ‘We keep going? Oh, cool, here’s Titian. See this one? Some rich dude commissioned this of his wife and …’
‘… Same doggo as the earlier painting. So definitely the same woman …’
‘… See the difference in Michelangelo’s palette? Much more vibrant than Botticelli’s? It revolutionized colour – you’re sure I’m not talking too much?’
‘Stop asking,’ he said. ‘If I’ve had enough, I’ll wait in the café. Keep at it.’
‘… Caravaggio painted people who actually looked like people. He didn’t flatter his subjects …’
Abruptly the stream of information stopped. Nell said, her tone awestruck, ‘In the next room is Caravaggio’s Medusa. I’ve loved it since I was fifteen, I’m so excited right now, I can’t even …’ She took a deep breath. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’
He followed her towards a round painting, protected by a glass case. Nell stood before it, silent for a full minute.
‘Tell me,’ he said.
‘The emotion. The horror in its eyes. He – or it might be she – has just realized that it’s dying. It thought it was invincible. Can you feel it?’
He could, actually. ‘The poor bastard.’
‘Yeah, but it went around turning people to stone.’
‘It’s just had its head cut off!’
‘Ha-ha-ha. Right.’ Then she was back to staring in wonder. ‘The realism of the snakes. Over four hundred years old …’
‘Okay,’ Nell said. ‘I’m done. Let’s get some food.’
In a nearby café, Ferdia asked, ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, my God!’ she exclaimed. ‘I loved it.’ She would have preferred to be there with Liam. She’d never again have a day in an art gallery with Liam. That was already in their past. But beauty helped heal the wound.
‘So what next?’ Ferdia asked. ‘The Da Vinci museum?’
‘If I see any more art my eyes will burst. C’mon, let’s walk it off, see Florence.’
Out in the crowded, sunny street, a man was playing an accordion. After a moment, Nell recognized the theme from The Godfather and her