Page 44 of A Wedding in Tuscany

Tuscany

What an incredible day. Although, with most of it eaten up by dress shopping, we haven’t seen as much of Siena as I’d hoped. We did fit in a quick visit to the Duomo right after lunch?but only the outside. Jaelee requested her usual ‘take a picture of me’ shots and we got some lovely shots all together with the cathedral in the background, a sweet elderly couple obliging us.

And Sarah was right?this city is beautiful. Maybe we can come back after the wedding?just me and Jean-Luc. With a destination wedding, we haven’t planned a honeymoon as such, but some time alone after the festivities would be nice. Siena might just be perfect for that.

When we finish our prosecco, having taken our time now that our quest is complete, Mum slides her Amex across the counter and they hand over the carefully packed dress. Outside, we stroll happily through the hordes of tourists, heading towards the car. It’s incredible how a sense of accomplishment can put a rose-coloured sheen on a crowd of tired, whiny tourists.

‘Gelato!’ I declare, spying a shop on the next corner.

‘Oh, definitely,’ says Sarah.

‘Oh, god, yes,’ says Jae.

‘Really?’ I ask her. The Jaelee I’ve travelled with rarely indulges in treats like gelato?and she’s already eaten a huge plate of pasta today.

‘We’ve earned it!’ she declares.

‘Hell yeah,’ says Sarah. It occurs to me again how much pressure they must be under as my wedding planners?venue issues, the lost wedding dress debacle …

‘My treat,’ I add.

‘Thank you, Catherine,’ says Mum, ‘that sounds lovely.’ It’s also the least I can do after Mum spent all those euros on my dress. I’m still reeling from the generosity.

Inside the gelato shop, we wait behind an antsy crowd, me trying to peek between the bodies at the selection of flavours. ‘Lemon for me, darling,’ says Mum. ‘Just one scoop in a cup. And here,’ she takes the dress from me and goes to wait outside.

‘What are you having Sarah?’ She’s five inches taller than me, so she’s got a better view of the display case.

‘Mmm, one scoop of cherries and cream and one of dark chocolate?amarena e cioccolatofondente,’ she says in a not-bad Italian accent. ‘In a cone. I’ll run hills tomorrow,’ she adds, almost to herself. When I glance at her, she’s frowning slightly. My sister is the fittest, healthiest person I know and I sometimes worry that she’s too hard on herself those times she ‘lets loose’. This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve heard her plan her penance for ‘overindulging’.

‘Jae?’ We’re close to the front now and both have a much better view of the display cabinet.

‘One scoop of pistachio in a cup.’

‘Really?’ I screw up my nose. ‘All these flavours and you’re going with that?’

‘Yeah, what’s wrong with pistachio? It’s my favourite.’

‘I love pistachios as much as the next person, but as an icecream flavour? Blech.’

‘Gelato,’ says Sarah.

‘Same difference,’ I retort.

She starts explaining that there actually is a difference, but gives up when Jaelee talks over her. ‘Well, what are you getting?’

I look along the length of the cabinet at all those glossy, swirly mounds of creamy goodness. ‘Umm, chocolate, I think.’

‘All these flavours and you’re going with that? Might as well just have vanilla,’ she teases.

‘Oi.’

‘Cat.’ Sarah pokes me.

‘What?’ I toss her an annoyed look.

‘It’s your turn.’ She points at the counter and when I turn around, a woman is waving at me to hurry up.

‘Oh, sorry!’ I rattle off the order in English, so I don’t insult her with my murdered Italian, and in a couple of minutes we’re outside, laden with gelato?two cups and two cones.