Part Three.
Well I did control my emotions and even opted for another glass of wine in an attempt to drown out the screaming goat. Of course the inevitable happens and I get my usual headache, this may have been the goat rather than the wine. We all make our way back to the family home, stuffed full of food and with our goodie bag of more wine and a first edition print, courtesy of the grooms father. By now my head is thumping and we decide to go back to the hotel and skip the dancing which only the young people were staying on for. A snoring peaceful night is had by hubby while I toss and turn and swallow painkillers, which eventually send me to sleep. I wake with a sore throat and a heavy head. I remember with dread the discussion the night before.
‘I though we would all go up into the mountains and then back here for pizza.’ Andrew’s sister had suggested and everyone in our party seemed keen. Well, I did at the time. This morning it is the last thing I want to do. I decide I can stay back with the in-laws. After all someone should guard them. Good plan. Dave meets us at the front of the hotel and we climb into the car and sister in law greets us with the news that the bride and groom were not officially married after all. Is this a joke? Please don’t tell me this. I cannot cope. Surely I have not endured lost passports, pregnant goats, possible swine flu and creased clothes for a wedding that never was.
‘Too many witnesses invalidated it’ she says gleefully, although I can’t imagine why it is funny to anyone. I am relieved to hear that all has been taken care of since. They are all dressed appropriately for the walk of course, shorts, trainers, hats.
‘I have a sore throat so will stay with mum and dad,’ I say weakly. I am given a look that clearly indicates I am the wimp of the family. Oh good, I continue to live up to expectations then.
More swapping of cars and this is the moment when I nearly do die on the spot. Luciano, my Italian brother in law will drive us to the mountains. Oh god no!! I clutch my husband’s knee and grit my teeth. We are the last to leave but manage to overtake the others. We drive along cliff top roads at 90 miles per hour with Zucchero blaring and horn honking. We overtake at break taking speed and I begin to feel like I am in a James Bond movie, except Luciano looks nothing like Daniel Craig.
‘Aren’t the views spectacular,’ says Andrew’s sister.
Are they? My eyes are tightly closed. Like a child I ask in a trembling voice
‘Are we there yet?’
It takes an hour. I am a quivering wreck and feel certain my legs will give way but amazingly I do not crumble and begin taking photos of the view. When I look round everyone has gone. Mum and dad are sitting outside the café. We cannot see the others so we go inside for a coffee and a chat. Father in law strolls off the loo and mum in law and I continue chatting, or I should say she chats and I listen. Twenty minutes must pass before I realise father in law has not come back.
‘He did say he was going to the loo didn’t he?’ I question mum in law.
‘Oh he always takes a long time.’ She says unconcerned.
But twenty minutes.
‘They will be back from their walk soon’ I say and which she ignores.
She considers ordering another cappuccino, I consider organising a search party. While she orders the coffees I sneak to the loos. It is pitch black and I fumble for the timer switch.
‘Thank Goodness,’ sighs a voice I recognise.
Father in law unlocks the door of the loo and walks out. I stare in disbelief.
‘The light went off. I couldn’t find the door and when I could I couldn’t find the lock.’
I whisk him back to mother in law and then use the loo myself. To put things very bluntly, they like you to be quick in Turin it seems. No sooner had I finished and was ready to tidy myself up (a neat description) then the timer clicked off. Darkness. I fumbled for five minutes and finally fell through the door panting. Deep breathes. I had the journey back yet. Note to self-pack Valium for next trip.
The sun is shining and we sit outside soaking it up. I take a few more photos and then father in law says worriedly.
‘They are a long time aren’t they? What time is our flight?’
I check my phone.
‘Plenty of time, they will be back soon’
‘What if they have got lost?’
Lost?
‘That is unlikely,’ I reassure him.
‘One of them may have fallen’ says mother in law anxiously and he nods.
Fallen? Fallen from where?
Another couple are looking at us and mother in law explains her worry to them.
‘My son and daughter, walking on the Alps with family, very worrying,’ she shouts at them, which is understandable as they are Italian and are bound to understand if we speak louder.
They smile at us and I let out another deep sigh.
‘How long have they been gone?’
I hate to tell them it has been almost two hours. I zoom in with my lens to see a group walking back.
‘I see them,’ I lie, unable to cope with mass panic. Luckily it is too. Much picture taking and arguments about who is going in what car. We end up going back with the cousins from Scotland. It takes forever. There is a slow driver in front and everyone is afraid to overtake and then cousin Colin says.
‘Do you think I should flash your brother, I am very low on petrol and there is a station coming up’
By the time any of us answers it is too late and we pass the garage.
How much more can my frayed nerves take. Luckily we make it just as the light comes on.
Lunch is a rushed affair as we are late back and have 25 minutes before we have to leave for the airport. We say our goodbyes, lots of hugs, thanks for a great time and all that stuff and then we are in the car (yet again). We go with Dave and wife and arrange to meet mum and dad in law at the airport. Off we go, a bit late but we will make it, until…
‘Oh honey, my handbag’ says sister in law.
Dave screeches to a halt and I fly forward in my seat clutching my laptop for dear life.
‘Where did you leave it?’ he asked, and I envy his calmness and shoot hubby a glance. Huh, I think, my life would not be worth living right now.
‘Back at the house, oh so sorry Honey’
I am getting nauseas at the honey stuff now.
He pulls out his blackberry.
‘Best to check’
Oh yes lets. After all there are a hundred other places it could be. Meanwhile we all look around us as though it might magically materialise. Visions of missing the flight begin to torture me.
‘It’s there, we’ll go back’
GO BACK! Can’t someone bring it to us? No, it is decided that idea is far too impractical. So back we go. Hubby’s sister is dangling the offending bag as we screech round the corner. It is grabbed and we shoot off yet again.
‘Look for a petrol station, we need to fill up the car’
Oh for goodness sake.
We point out three, all closed. It’s a Sunday. Guess they never thought of that?
‘We have enough to get us to the Airport,’ says a confident Dave and they are the only words I want to hear.
The sight of the airport feels me with such emotion I need to don my sunglasses so no one can see my tears of happiness. Ok, a bit extreme.
There were surprisingly no problems with our departure and before we know where we are we are on the plane.
All ended happily and as you know I even posted photos onto facebook. I am now fully recovered from my ordeal in Turin.
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