Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? by Joanne Bonny

Author:Joanne Bonny [Bonny, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838932954
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

36

On a Promise

Marco parks the bike in front of his annex and leads me up the glass staircase, which leads to a vast attic.

‘Excuse the mess, I don’t come here often.’

I look around the room, which is plastered with stellar and galactic maps, and filled with heavy volumes on astrophysics and cosmology, and pick up an old worn-out tome that talks about the thermodynamics of black holes. The text is full of underlinings and notes in the margins. I try to decipher some of them, while Gaia joins me to film over my shoulder.

‘So you were serious about your talent for sciences,’ I say, looking at Marco.

‘Not that I used it much ... my life went in a different direction. Hey, be careful! ‘

The last exclamation is not addressed to me, but to Luigi, who has smeared mayonnaise from his burger on a big silver-coloured telescope mounted on a tripod.

‘Sorry, I was trying to get a good shot. What a beauty.’

‘Yeah,’ the owner nods, hastily removing the stain.

Damn, that must have cost thousands of euros.

‘You rich people like your expensive hobbies, don’t you?’ I observe.

‘It’s not a hobby,’ says Marco, offended.

‘So what is it, a whim?’ I insist, gesturing around the attic, ‘It’s not an accusation, everyone does it. I once got it into my head I wanted to play the ukulele, so I bought a second-hand one from a market. I strummed it a bit for about a week and then left it in a cupboard, gathering dust. Of course, the difference is that your telescope doesn’t look like it came from a flea market.’

‘You just can’t believe that this handsome face can hide a thinking brain, can you? A feminist should be less superficial.’

‘Let’s hear it then, if it’s not a whim what is it?’

‘A passion! At least it was a passion ... I gave it up a long time ago. But it was never a whim.’

‘I understand, sorry.’

I wander around the room in silence, while Marco stands by the telescope, his hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. Damn it, I have to stop being so aggressive, otherwise I’ll never win him over. But it just all seems so absurd: Marco Bernardi, the most incorrigible playboy in all of Italy, taking refuge in an attic to read incomprehensible volumes on the multiverse?

‘So tell me. How did this passion of yours come about?’

‘It was when I was a child,’ he answers, looking at the floor, ‘I bet you can’t guess who my childhood hero was.’

‘Hmmm ... Maverick from Top Gun? Ronaldo? Donald Duck?’

‘No. It was Stephen Hawking. Listen, if you keep teasing, I’m not going to tell you anything.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry!’ I exclaim, putting a finger to my lips and choking back another laugh, ‘And why did you have this interest in him?’

‘I should say that when I was a kid I was very different to what I am now. Let’s just say that I was a first-rate loser.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Oh, yes, trust me.

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