One Winter Weekend

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I ncredibly, the weather was sweltering, and not at all the festive picture postcard Molly had been hoping for.

The unseasonable December warmth meant that just in walking around the Forum of Augustus, she found herself sweating profusely, even though all she was wearing were jeans and a t-shirt.

She took a look around, perched on the steps just outside the Temple of Mars Ultor, trying to see it for the first time through her parents’ eyes.

She should have felt exhilarated – but instead, she seemed oddly let down. All around were tacky shops selling postcards, shot glasses, t-shirts, official Forum of Augustus chocolates – everyone looking to make a few euros off the tourists who passed through the gates each and every day.

Whatever the Forum might once have been, whatever its relationship to what Rome once was in the days of Caesar Augustus, it just wasn’t authentic anymore.

An hour and a half later, as they walked around the Colosseum, she felt little better. Here was the place from her posters and textbooks and Roman histories, a building of Italian antiquity that had haunted her dreams since she was a child…

“What do you think Dad?” she asked Paddy who was shuffling along behind her, looking hot and bothered in his red woollen jumper and heavy jeans.

“It’s nice, but I thought it would be bigger. I suppose it’s kind of a skeleton of the football stadiums back home?’” he said, decidedly unimpressed.

Ben noticed her dejected demeanour and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hey,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Having fun?”

“Actually, no,” she replied sullenly. “You know, I’ve adored this city since I was a little girl, and I loved it when I first came here back in college too, but whatever I’m seeing doesn’t seem to at all translate to my parents. I so want them to understand why we chose this wonderful city for our wedding. ”

“Yes, but what can you do only show them around?” he asked. “Maybe organise some gladiator battles? A few lions?” His eyes twinkled.

“I don’t know,” she replied glumly. “Maybe they have a point too. To a lot of people, this seems like just another Italian tourist site, something to be catalogued on Instagram photos and Facebook check-ins.” She sighed. “Or maybe I’m just stressed or overtired or something.”

Ben released his arms and took her hand in his. “Listen, Mol,” he said in a low, voice. “It’s not about where we are but where we’re going. You and me, we’re getting married in a couple of days. And I don’t care if we’re in Dublin or Rome, New York or New Delhi – all I want is you as my wife. This will be great because of you. And because of us. What matters isn’t this,” he explained, pointing to the ancient ruins surrounding them. “What matters is how we feel about each other now, and when you walk down that aisle on Christmas Eve.”

Molly stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ben on the lips. “You know,” she said, smiling, “you’re very sweet sometimes.”

“I do what I can, Mrs. Pembrey,” he replied, kissing her again.

She laughed. “I’m not Mrs yet, Lord Pembrey.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of the title. My mother does enough of that for both of us.”