One Night in Italy (26 page)

‘Good for you,’ Sophie said. ‘Take a seat and I’ll bring one over. Can I get you anything else? Cake? Pastry?’

Catherine eyed the cakes on display then shook her head reluctantly. ‘Better not,’ she said. ‘I’m watching the pennies. Still haven’t found a job yet.’

Sophie lowered her voice. ‘Actually, they’re on special offer today. Free to members of my Italian class only. Come and choose what you fancy.’

‘Are you sure? You won’t get into any trouble?’

‘Nah. My boss is in the pub and he won’t know the difference by the time he gets back. Take your pick.’

Sophie made them each a coffee while Catherine deliberated over the cakes, eventually choosing a chocolate tiffin slice.

‘Good call,’ Sophie said, sliding it onto a plate. ‘Mind if I join you? I haven’t had a break all day.’

‘Be my guest,’ said Catherine with a smile.

They sat near the counter so that Sophie could leap up and serve any new customers if she had to, but the rain seemed to have emptied the High Street for the time being.

Catherine cut off a square of tiffin and popped it into her mouth. ‘Yum,’ she said. ‘How long have you been working here, then? It can’t be that long, you’re still so slim. If I had to serve cakes like this all day, I’d be the size of a house within a week.’

‘The novelty wears off, honestly,’ Sophie said. ‘I started just before Christmas. I was in Italy before then for a couple of years.’

‘I remember you saying. Sorrento, wasn’t it? Were you working out there, or studying, or just having a lovely long holiday?’

‘Working. Bar and café jobs,’ Sophie replied. ‘Nothing very thrilling – but somehow better for being abroad, if you know what I mean.’

‘God, yeah. I did some awful jobs when I was interrailing. Chambermaiding, cleaning, bar work . . . You do what you have to, don’t you?’

‘Exactly. And who cares when you can clock off and hit the beach?’ She gazed out the window as the rain continued to lash down. ‘Doing the same work in freezing wintry Sheffield doesn’t have quite the same appeal, funnily enough.’

‘But you’ve got your teaching as well,’ Catherine reminded her. ‘Everyone seems to be really enjoying the class. I know I am.’

Sophie smiled at her. ‘Thanks. Yeah, I’m enjoying teaching it too, but it’s only a temporary thing, a few hours a week. After that ends I don’t know what I’ll do.’ She fiddled with her teaspoon. ‘Originally I thought I’d save up and go travelling again, but . . .’

‘But . . .?’ Catherine prompted when she fell silent mid-sentence.

‘But I’m kind of enjoying being back in this country. Oh, I don’t know.’

‘What’s stopping you staying, then?’ Catherine asked curiously. ‘I mean, I know the weather’s not exactly glorious right now – I think we’re all tempted to jet off for some sunshine. But isn’t there a part of you that wants to . . . settle down?’

Sophie wrinkled her nose and tried to assemble her thoughts into coherent sentences. ‘The thing about settling down that freaks me out is that you’re being honest,’ she said haltingly. ‘You’re saying, this is me. This is what I can do. I am a teacher, or I am a doctor, or I am married with five kids. This is it.’

Catherine frowned, not following her.

‘Whereas while you’re travelling, nobody really knows. While you’re travelling you still have the potential to do anything, be anything. It’s only when you stop and actually try to do those things that you discover your own capabilities, I guess.’

God. This was turning out to be a very deep and meaningful coffee. She had never actually articulated that thought out loud – or even in her own head – before.

‘That’s all right, though, isn’t it?’ said Catherine. ‘Everyone has to make decisions about what they’re going to do eventually. Even me.’

‘But what if I can’t
do
any of those things? That’s what scares me. While I was away, it didn’t matter that I was only waitressing rather than anything more demanding, because it was like, oh, well, obviously I
could
have an amazing job in Britain if I wanted, I’m just choosing to travel around and see the world. And that was fine.’

Catherine nodded. ‘And you’re worried that being in Britain, people will start judging you if you’re not doing something amazing; they’ll assume that you’re working as a waitress because that’s all you can do.’ She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I’m kind of in the same boat. I’ve never had a proper job because my husband always . . . Well. Long story. But now I’m having to look for work, and it turns out there’s not a lot out there I can do. A job – or not having one – can be such a defining thing.’

‘Yes. That’s exactly it. And working here – ’ She waved an arm around the café – ‘defines me as a loser.’

‘Says who? Nobody in your class thinks that, Sophie. We all think you’re brilliant.’

Sophie gave her a grateful smile. ‘That’s so kind of you, but it’s not like I’m qualified or even very experienced. It’s yet another Sophie Frost blag.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I guess, if I’m really honest, I’m worried about what my parents think of me. They haven’t said it out loud, but I know they wish I was doing something a bit more impressive.’

‘Sophie. Listen to me. As a mum, all I want is for my children to be happy. That is my main wish for them. And I bet you anything your parents feel the same way.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ A familiar figure had emerged from the Hare and Hounds, staggering slightly on the pavement. ‘Oh, knickers, here comes my boss. I’d better go.’ She leaned across and gave Catherine a kiss on the cheek before hopping down from her stool. ‘Thank you. You’re the first person I’ve been able to talk about this with. I feel loads better for just getting that off my chest.’

‘Good,’ Catherine told her. ‘And for what it’s worth, you’re not a loser. You so aren’t. Your class is the highlight of my week. I mean it.’

Sophie was touched. ‘Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.’

‘Well, it’s true. You’ve got tons going for you.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better go now too, my bus will be here in a minute. Don’t worry about it though, eh? You’ll find the right thing soon, I’m sure you will. Thanks for the cake!’

‘Any time.’ Seeing Grant approaching, Sophie quickly cleared away the cups and tiffin plate, hoping with all her heart that Catherine was right.

Chapter Twenty-One

La cena
– Dinner

On Wednesday evening, Anna got ready for her dinner with Joe feeling rather strange about the whole thing. Going out to a restaurant with another man, even if it
was
for work purposes, made her feel as if she was betraying Pete. It wasn’t a date though, she reminded herself sternly, blow-drying her hair into big waves and blotting her lipstick. Joe was doing her a favour, helping her out, that was all. No big deal.

She checked herself in the mirror critically. She didn’t want to be too vampy and dolled up ( Joe would be scared to death), but then again it
was
an upmarket new restaurant so she couldn’t exactly rock up in her jeans and Converse either. She settled for an emerald-green tailored shift dress with cap sleeves that she’d picked up in the Reiss sale and black patent heels. Actually, maybe that
was
a bit much. She put on her high-heeled boots instead and nodded approvingly. Better. It didn’t look as if she was trying quite so hard now. With a cute black cape and a shiny black handbag, she was all set.

Just as she was about to leave the flat, she remembered that a notebook might come in handy for jotting down menu and dinner details. Ahh, yes. Seeing as this was actually a work thing, and all. She stuffed one into her bag and hurried out.

She was meeting Joe for a drink beforehand in the Porter Brook, and he was already waiting at the bar with a pint of bitter when she arrived. Was she mistaken, or did his eyes widen a fraction when he saw her all dressed up in her best togs?

‘Looking hot there, Morley,’ he joked as she went over, pretending to pull on the collar of his shirt. ‘I think the temperature just rose another notch in here.’

‘Oh shut up,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘A glass of red wine, please,’ she said to the barmaid, then perched on a stool next to him. ‘How did your interview go this afternoon, then? Have you persuaded the Tigers to let you be their team mascot yet?’

‘Not yet. The bastards. I would look so good in that tiger costume, and all.’ He grinned at her. ‘It went pretty well. I was meeting Sean Davies for a catch-up, remember him?’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘You have. Played for the Tigers as a teenager, signed up by Harlequins after a single awesome season. Marla’s got a big poster of him by her desk. Looks like he should be in a boy band.’

‘Oh,
him.
I know. The only rugby player who doesn’t have a broken nose or mashed-up ears.’

‘Give him time. Anyway, yeah, he’s all right. Can actually string a sentence together, which is always a bonus. Reckons he’s in with a shot of making the Welsh Squad for the Six Nations, too.’

‘Wooo,’ said Anna, paying for her drink. She wasn’t exactly a fan of rugby.

‘Big woo,’ Joe agreed, ignoring her sarcasm. ‘Because if he does, then I get to cover the matches with a legit Sheffield connection. Win!’

They took their drinks and sat down at a table. ‘So,’ Joe began conversationally, ‘what’s the latest with your dad, then? Found anything else out about him?’

Anna began telling him about the photo, and Rimini, and how Sophie might be able to help her. ‘Once I get a bit more information, I’m hopping on a plane and I’ll pound the streets until I’ve found him, you wait.’

‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘I hope you do.’

‘I’ve just got this feeling that I will,’ she replied. ‘I’ve dreamed about it, you know. Dreamed that I’m there in Italy and I see him across the street – just a glance – and then everything goes into slow motion. We look really alike in my dream, so I run towards him and he notices me and his eyes sort of light up because he can tell, he can just
see
that I’m his daughter – ’ She broke off, feeling vulnerable laying her secret dream out in public like that, but he was nodding.

‘That’s the wish, is it? That he’s just, like, there’s my girl, and you have an instant connection?’

She shrugged. ‘I know it’s all pie in the sky. But yeah, something like that.’ She sipped her wine – blood-warm and smoky. ‘After that, I don’t know. Maybe, if we get on amazingly, I might stay in Italy with him for a while.’

‘You’d leave the
Herald
?’

‘Well, you know. Maybe.’

‘You’d seriously turn down a hard-hitting local newspaper in
Sheffield
for a chance to live in
Italy
? You’d give up all of
this
?’

She smiled. ‘Imagine that, eh? But I might have a whole new family out there. I’d want to get to know them, wouldn’t you? And I’d love to do something a bit different anyway. I reckon I could totally cope with the Italian lifestyle – all that sunshine and amazing food.’ The latter reminded her of what they were meant to be doing and she glanced at her watch. ‘Shit, we’d better go, we’re going to be late.’

Winding their way through the chairs and tables towards the door, Anna suddenly noticed Freddie from her Italian class across the pub. Small world! She was just about to shout his name when he leaned forward in his seat and put his arms around the person opposite him at the table: a big guy in a paisley-patterned shirt. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. Freddie was gay?

‘What?’ asked Joe, almost cannoning into the back of her.

‘Nothing,’ she said, walking towards the exit. Nita was going to be gutted about that, she thought.

It was cold outside, with stars spangling the dark sky, and Anna found herself wishing she’d put on something more substantial than her cape. Luckily they didn’t have too far to go, dodging a few noisy groups of students and clusters of girls’ nights out tottering between wine bars.

Enrico’s had been Mulligan’s Bar until recently – an Irish pub famed for its rowdy nights and illegal lock-ins. Nowadays, it looked far more respectable with a smart new sign hanging from the front, freshly painted insides and tea-lights flickering on the tables. As soon as they walked through the front door, Anna smelled garlic and roasted vegetables and her tummy gave a happy growl of anticipation.

The
maître d’
showed them to their table and presented them with a leather-backed menu each, and the wine list. ‘Good choice,’ Joe said, glancing around at the soft lighting, the clean, pressed tablecloths and the open kitchen at the back of the restaurant where three chefs were in action. He picked up the wine list. ‘I take it we won’t be needing this? Got to keep a clear head for your review, right?’

Anna stared at him. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Give it here. We’re having the works, sunshine. Can’t do a proper review without sampling the booze, can I?’

‘Ever the professional.’

‘You know it.’ She ran her eyes down the list of vintages. White, red, rosé, fizz . . . She looked up and grinned at him. ‘What’s your poison? Only I was thinking I’d try the prosecco.’

‘I like your style. Let’s have a look.’