Chapter 47

The next morning, breakfast was a help yourself buffet in the hotel restaurant. There was a good selection of food available so it was possible to have an approximation to an English breakfast or something more to continental tastes, with a selection of croissants and pastries and fresh fruit. I have to admit I had missed the full English so I went for the bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and some sort of fried potatoes. Mum had a couple of weird looking pastry things and plenty of coffee.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing was how similar the food was to previous hotel breakfasts I’d experienced. I guess some tastes are universal.

After breakfast, Mum hailed a taxi for us outside the hotel. The taxi driver frowned when Mum told him in Italian where she wanted to go and I thought he might object, but Mum fixed him with an icy glare. I was worried too when we didn’t seem to be getting nearer the centre of Rome, but rather we seemed to be circling around it. Eventually we arrived at our destination, which was bustling with people. Mum paid the grumpy taxi driver, and he shot off as though he’d deposited us in a seedy ghetto.

“Taxi drivers prefer straightforward journeys, like into the city or back. He might not pick up another fare easily in this area,” Mum explained.

“But where are we?” I asked. “I don’t see any famous clothing stores.”

“This is one of Rome’s hidden jewels, according to Barb. It’s a an open-air market specialising in clothing from independents. There’s a much wider range than provided by conventional stores and, if we’re careful, we should be able to get equal quality much cheaper. Make sure your valuables are secure: pickpockets specifically target tourists.”

When we entered the traffic-free plaza, it was evident that Barb had done Mum a solid. The place was crammed with stalls selling clothing of every conceivable type. The non-clothing stalls stuck out like a sore thumb, although several sold fast food and seemed very popular.

I soon realised Mum hadn’t come to any decisions on what she wanted to buy for Janey, who was in the middle of a growth spurt and would be likely to quickly outgrow any clothes bought for her; buying expensive clothes would be a waste of money. And although Mum thought Janey might be becoming more girly, I didn’t think Janey would be impressed by some of the more ostentatiously feminine clothing that Mum looked at.

If we had been looking round clothes shops at home, I would have been constantly rolling my eyes. A frilly nightdress? I couldn’t imagine Janey would appreciate it even if she was becoming more girly. Janey always wore pyjamas and, when on sleepovers with a few of her close friends, pyjamas were the standard uniform. Then there was the floral dress with the flouncy skirt at the bottom; I couldn’t imagine it surviving Janey trying to play football in it. And as for the skimpy silk bra and panties set, I didn’t even want to imagine my little sister wearing them.

“I can tell you haven’t approved of anything I’ve looked at,” sighed Mum eventually. “Do you have any better ideas?”

I belatedly realised I had been selfish. I loved my little sister and I should have been trying to think of what would make her happy rather than letting myself be passively towed around and silently mocking my mum’s choices. It took me a while to compose my thoughts, during which Mum probably assumed my silence meant I’d taken her question rhetorically, because when I did speak it took her by surprise.

“I think you’d be better off taking Janey on a shopping expedition when we’re back home,” I volunteered. “She’ll appreciate you spending the time with her and she’ll be happier with whatever you buy because she’ll have had a say in it. Janey may be becoming more girly but I think it will be more evolution than big bang.”

“You’re right,” sighed Mum. “This was a bad idea.”

I remembered something I’d seen earlier. “I think Janey would like it if you took her back a present to show we’d been thinking of her, and I saw something earlier that might be suitable.”

“Okay, lead the way,” said Mum.

Of course we ended up going round in circles a couple of times before I found the stall again. Mum looked sceptical, because it was a stall selling boys’ clothing, until I pointed out a pair of pyjamas decorated with ponies. “I wonder whether they have those in Janey’s size, or perhaps the next size up so she can grow into them,” I said.

Mum studied them for a moment then smiled. “I think you just became my favourite son.” Then, less light-heartedly, “You’ll make a good parent one day.”