One Night in Italy (19 page)

The Bitter End was a pub a short walk from the college, Sophie remembered distractedly, putting on her coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She hadn’t been in – she hadn’t been anywhere lately, let’s face it – but it looked a proper old boozer, one that hadn’t yet been gastro-pubbed to death.

‘Sophie? Are you coming?’ Geraldine was suddenly right in front of her, beaming hopefully. For a pensioner she was surprisingly nifty on her feet.

‘Oh . . . me?’ Sophie said, taken aback.

‘Yes, you,’ Geraldine replied. ‘I’d ask you in Italian except I don’t know how yet. What do you reckon? Quick snifter before we go our separate ways?’

‘You don’t have to,’ Roy added in the next breath, as if he was used to deflecting his wife. ‘I’d love to pick your brains about Italy, though. Places you’ve been, tips for beginners . . .’

‘Better buy her a drink, love, if you’re going to be badgering her all night,’ Geraldine warned, with a fond smile at her husband. ‘What do you say? The others are coming – well, except Freddie. He’s busy, apparently Maybe next time, he said.’

Ahh, thought Sophie, remembering the romantic scene she’d witnessed in the Gladstone – Freddie and the pretty girl in the bomber jacket rushing towards each other. Maybe she was the reason Freddie was learning Italian in the first place, so he could impress her with his cultured ways.

Geraldine was still waiting for an answer. ‘Well?’ she asked.

‘Go on, then,’ Sophie said. It had been ages since she’d been out for a drink with anyone. ‘That would be lovely.’

‘So we’ve got a red wine for Anna, orange juice for Catherine, Guinness for George, a port and lemon for Geraldine, a . . . What was this one again?’ Roy squinted at the lurid red drink in the shot glass.

‘It’s a Sourz, Roy,’ Phoebe replied, smiling up at him. ‘Thanks, that’s mine. Nita’s having the cider.’

‘Thanks,’ Catherine said shyly.

They had found two large tables in a cosy corner of The Bitter End, an old-fashioned sort of pub with dark-wood panelling on the walls, horse-brasses nailed to the black beams and a roaring log fire.

‘A diet Coke for Sophie and a bitter for yours truly. There!’ Roy placed the last drink on the table with a flourish and tucked the tray beside the table. ‘Well, cheers everybody. Nice to come out like this together for a proper chat. We don’t have to speak in Italian now, do we, Sophie?’

Sophie grinned. ‘Certainly not. Now you can all relax and be yourselves for another week.’ She raised her glass. ‘Maybe I should just teach you how to say “Cheers” in Italian though, then I’ll switch off teacher mode. It’s
salute
!’

‘
Salute!
’ everyone chorused, clinking their glasses against each other.

‘God, I feel dead cosmopolitan now,’ Phoebe said, sipping her drink. ‘I’m telling you, my boyfriend loves all these words we’re learning. He made me keep whispering “
Tuuutti Frrrruuutti
” into his ear the other night while we were . . .’ She blushed violently, suddenly remembering she was with a group of relative strangers, then coughed. ‘Um . . .’

Nita elbowed her. ‘Pheebs! We don’t want to know your dirty little secrets!’ she cried, horrified, but everyone was laughing.

‘Now there’s an idea,’ Geraldine twinkled, nudging Roy. He looked startled for a moment, then raised an eyebrow so impishly that they all laughed again, even Phoebe.

‘It’s such a gorgeous-sounding language, isn’t it?’ Anna sighed. ‘
Mamma mia!
I can’t wait to go.’

‘Have you booked a trip?’ Sophie asked, vaguely remembering Anna saying something about having family in Italy.

‘Not yet.’ She looked furtive. ‘I’m still trying to decide where to go. I was thinking maybe Rimini. Has anyone been?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘It’s north, isn’t it? On the east coast. I haven’t been though.’

Nobody had, it seemed.

‘I’ve been to Sicily,’ George offered. ‘Had a fantastic time there. I’ve still got a guidebook if you want to borrow it.’

‘I was working in Sorrento before I came here,’ Sophie added. ‘That’s a great place to base yourself for a holiday. One – it’s absolutely gorgeous, and two – it’s dead easy to get out to Pompeii and Naples for day trips, as well.’

Anna didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic about Sicily or Sorrento. ‘I kind of need to go to Rimini,’ she said mysteriously. ‘I’m on a mission, you see.’

‘How intriguing!’ Geraldine said, leaning forward and setting her glittery earrings swinging. ‘What kind of a mission? Tell us more!’

Anna sipped her wine. ‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to bore you all with it.’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t be,’ Geraldine assured her, but Roy put his hand over hers warningly. ‘Don’t nag,’ he said. ‘She’ll tell us if she wants to.’

Anna looked really on the spot now, Sophie thought. ‘Well . . . It’s just . . . I’m looking for my dad,’ she said.

‘Is he lost?’ Phoebe asked in confusion.

‘Shut up, you spanner,’ Nita hissed. ‘You’re drinking too quickly.’

‘Ahh,’ Geraldine said, looking uncharacteristically awkward. ‘Sorry, dear – that was nosey of me. None of my business.’

Anna shrugged. ‘No, it’s cool.’ Her mouth twisted as if she was debating whether or not to go any further, but then out the words tumbled in a rush. ‘I’ve never known him, you see. Mum wouldn’t even tell me his name. Then my nan let it slip. He’s called Gino and he’s Italian. And I think he and Mum got together when she was on holiday in Rimini.’

There was a general chorus of oohs and ahhs. ‘Wow,’ Sophie said. ‘That’s pretty massive.’

‘Have you got anything else to go on?’ George asked. ‘I mean, have you tracked him down any further?’

‘I’ve got a photo,’ Anna said. ‘But that’s it, basically. I know it’s a long shot, but I was thinking of going over and just showing it to people – everyone I can. I’m a journalist, I’m used to pursuing a lead, so . . .’ She spread her hands out in front of her. ‘What else can I do? I really want to meet him. I’ve got to try.’

‘Hence you learning Italian,’ Sophie realized.

‘Yes.’ She grimaced self-consciously. ‘So please make sure I can say “Do you recognize this man?” by the end of the course, Sophie. I need the full Dad-finding vocabulary so that I’m tooled up and ready for action.’

‘Good for you,’ Catherine said.

‘Yeah, fingers crossed,’ George put in.

Geraldine leaned over and patted Anna’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll find him,’ she said. ‘And when you do, won’t he be thrilled to meet a lovely daughter like you.’

Tears appeared in Anna’s eyes and she blinked them away with a watery smile. ‘Oh Geraldine . . . thank you,’ she said.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Roy exclaimed. ‘You’ve gone and set her off! Honestly, I can’t take her anywhere. Sorry about my wife, everybody. Can you believe I’ve put up with this sort of shenanigans for nearly forty years? It’s no wonder my hair’s white.’

Sophie chuckled. Roy reminded her of her dad, pretending to be long-suffering, yet it was clear to anyone he adored his feisty wife.

Geraldine swatted him playfully then raised her glass. ‘To Anna’s mission,’ she pronounced.

‘To Anna’s mission,’ everyone chorused.

‘And a happy ever after,’ Nita said. ‘An Italian dad, that is so cool. Hey, and let us know if he has any fit sons, won’t you?’

‘I thought you liked Freddie!’ Phoebe blurted out, and received a whack from her sister in return.

Catherine cleared her throat and went bright pink. ‘Can I get anyone another drink?’ she asked.

As the first drink turned into a second, and then a third, the group split into smaller clusters of people, and more intimate conversations developed. Sophie was sitting near Geraldine and Roy, and listened as Geraldine began asking Phoebe’s advice about her hair.

‘It’s for the production,’ Geraldine said, rather grandly. ‘Remember me saying I do a bit of am-dram? If you could give me some pointers about the look I should go for, that would be splendid, dear.’

‘What’s the play?’ Sophie asked curiously. It had been years since she’d been to the theatre. ‘And have you got a good part?’

‘She’s the star, of course,’ Roy said loyally.

‘Give over, Roy Brennan, I’m no such thing,’ Geraldine scoffed. ‘I’ve only got two lines, love. The play’s called
Money Talks
, and I’m an estate agent. Two lines, that’s all I get, trying to sell a mansion to this daft bint who’s won the lottery.’ She pursed her lips and spoke in a hoity-toity voice. ‘Can I help Madam with anything?’ she said. ‘That’s my first line. I haven’t learned the second yet. Pacing myself, you see.’

Sophie laughed. ‘You can’t rush these things,’ she agreed solemnly. ‘
Money Talks
, did you say? I don’t think I know that one.’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t. The director wrote it and it’s a pile of you-know-what, to be honest.’ She rolled her eyes, and Sophie couldn’t help thinking that Geraldine was wasted in a two-line part. She had ‘leading lady’ written all over her. ‘So, Phoebe, as I was saying. Estate agent hair . . . What would you advise?’

Phoebe looked a bit tipsy and swayed slightly on her stool as she spoke. ‘God, I dunno, tidy and neat, nothing dead flamboyant or wild . . .’

Geraldine seemed dismayed by this advice. ‘Oh,’ she said, her mouth pinching together.

‘Unless she’s a rebellious sort of estate agent,’ Phoebe added quickly. ‘Y’know, like, she’s a bit edgy.’

‘Edgy, yes.’ Geraldine nodded. ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘In which case I’d say, try adding a thread of colour. Not a blue rinse or anything naff, just a gorgeous stripe of lilac or something.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘
Or
,’ Phoebe went on, seeing that this suggestion had gone down like a punctured dinghy, ‘I could do you a lovely chic bob. Maybe a bit choppy. Swingy at the front, quite glam. Yeah. How about that?’

‘Splendid!’ Geraldine pronounced. ‘That sounds just the ticket. Thank you, Phoebe. I shall book myself in nearer the time and you can do me over.’

Phoebe spluttered on her drink (this one was lurid green and looked positively radioactive). ‘You mean
make
you over,’ she said.

‘Make me over! Oh dear, I’ve had one too many,’ she giggled. ‘Roy, keep an eye on me, will you? I’m going to get myself in trouble at this rate.’

Phoebe opened her purse and pulled out a business card. ‘Here you are,’ she said, passing it to Geraldine. ‘Sophie, do you want one too? Anyone else? Cath, can I just say, you’d look awesome with a fringe. Thought it as soon as I clapped eyes on you.’

‘Oh!’ said Catherine, looking startled but pleased. ‘Do you think so?’

‘I know so. Give me a bell if you want me to work some magic for you, yeah?’

‘I will.’

‘We all will,’ Sophie promised, and slipped Phoebe’s card into her purse, planning to treat her mum as a surprise. After all the running around Trish had done for Jim lately, she could do with a bit of pampering. ‘So, Geraldine,’ she went on, ‘when can we expect to see you in your play? I hope you realize we’re all going to be getting seats in the front row now.’

Geraldine clapped her hands together and gave a squeal of excitement. ‘You must! Roy, when is it? I’m hopeless with dates. Sometime in February anyway. But do come along. It’ll be a hoot!’

It was nearly ten o’clock before Sophie’s class disbanded and stumbled away in different directions, calling goodbyes into the frosty air. A biting wind stung her face as she walked the short distance to the bus stop, but she couldn’t stop smiling. They were all so nice, so interesting! Even Nita, with the permafrown, turned out to be charming after a drink, and extremely intelligent too, judging by the sound of the PhD she was halfway through. Sophie and Geraldine had talked about acting for ages, then Anna had picked her brains about travelling around Italy. George had made everyone laugh, telling them about some terrible band he used to be in, and Catherine was so sweet and nice to everyone, even though she didn’t seem to have a single shred of self-confidence.

Sophie was used to striking up conversations with people she didn’t know; she’d become an expert after years of travelling. There was a standard pattern of conversation with fellow travellers – where you were from, how long you had been travelling, where you’d been, key highlights of your trip (magic mushrooms on beaches featured heavily), key lowlights of your trip (dysentery and mugging featured heavily), where you were going next. What struck her about tonight’s conversations was how deeply rooted they all were in Sheffield. Nobody was talking about moving on, or competing about the most remote place they’d ever visited. Instead, they seemed happy to be right where they were. Interesting.

She got on the bus and sat upstairs, still thoughtful. Then, as they drove past the cathedral, lit up against the dark sky, she couldn’t help remembering all the school Christmas concerts held in there, the way your footsteps would echo when you walked around, the dusty smell of the old building. There were so many memories in this city, ambushing her at every turn, reminding her of times gone by.

What are you running away from, Sophie?
her dad had asked back in the hospital. It was becoming hard to remember the answer any more.