One Night in Italy (28 page)

Anna had found a table round the back and waved as Sophie came in. Her long, dark hair was pinned up with a green pencil and she wore black-rimmed glasses and a spotty purple scarf around her neck, as well as the more conventional outfit of a black V-neck jumper and jeans. ‘Hi!’ she called.

‘Hi,’ said Sophie. ‘Let me just grab a tea and I’ll be right with you. Do you want anything else?’

‘Those
pain au chocolats
looked pretty tasty to me,’ Anna said. ‘I will if you will . . .’

Sophie grinned. ‘Two
pains au chocolat
coming up.’ She dumped her coat on the back of a chair and went to the counter.

The tea arrived in Yorkshire Tea mugs (of course) with dinky old-fashioned bottles of milk, and they both set to work on the pastries. ‘Thanks so much for doing this,’ Anna said, dabbing a stray flake with her finger and popping it in her mouth. ‘It’s really kind of you.’

‘No problem,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t know how much he’ll be able to tell you, but I thought it was worth a go.’

‘Any kind of information would be a bonus,’ Anna admitted. ‘According to the internet, Rimini itself is really long and stretched out – fourteen kilometres of beaches apparently, so there are just tons and tons of hotels and resorts. Mum could have been anywhere.’ She slid the photo across the table in a plastic wallet. ‘But if your friend has any idea about where this was taken then that would be a start.’

‘Sure,’ Sophie said. She looked at the photo of the dark-haired man in the centre, his arm around a beaming young woman. ‘Wow. So this is your dad.’

‘That’s him. Gino.’

‘I can see the resemblance,’ Sophie said, peering closer. The photo didn’t have the sharpest definition ever, but there was no mistaking the olive complexion and dark features that both Gino and his daughter shared. She tucked the plastic wallet carefully in her bag. ‘How exciting. Leave it with me. Hopefully Marco will come up with something helpful.’

‘Thanks. I can’t wait to meet him – my dad, I mean. I don’t even know if he knows I exist.’

‘Are you still planning to go out to Rimini yourself, see if you can track him down?’ Sophie asked.

‘That’s the plan.’ Anna stirred her tea, looking more pensive. ‘Although a lot of things are up in the air right now, unfortunately.’

‘Oh. Good things or bad?’

‘Bad.’ Anna sighed. ‘I found out last night that my boyfriend has been seeing someone else. Which was lovely.’

Her fingers trembled on the teaspoon and Sophie noticed the dark circles under her eyes. ‘Oh shit. Are you sure?’

‘Totally sure. Sure beyond doubt.’ She pulled a face. ‘For one thing, I saw them kissing in Nando’s. And for another, I discovered he’s charted the whole torrid thing on a spreadsheet.’

Sophie’s mouth fell open. ‘No! A
spreadsheet
?’

‘Yeah. A sodding spreadsheet. Every bloody detail.’

‘That’s horrible. And at the same time, totally lame.’ Sophie sipped her tea, then snorted. ‘On a spreadsheet indeed.’

‘I know, right? What kind of twat does that?’

‘A twat who doesn’t deserve you, that’s who,’ Sophie told her. ‘Honestly. Does he catalogue all his books in alphabetical order as well?’

‘Yep. And he’s kept a detailed log of every financial transaction he’s ever made,’ Anna replied. ‘Including – and I kid you not – the one time he actually gave a homeless guy a quid.’

‘God. Last of the big philanthropists.’

‘Yeah. Last of the flaming dickheads, and all.’

There was a pause. The two women on the next table were having a gossipy ‘He didn’t’, ‘He did!’, ‘Tell me he didn’t!’, ‘I’m telling you he did!’ conversation, which was rising in volume.

‘So, what happens now?’ Sophie asked Anna. ‘Does he know that you know?’

‘No. We’ve got that delightful conversation yet to come. I emailed him to say he’s got to get all the stuff out of my flat by nine o’clock tonight or I’m chucking it out on the street, so he’s probably got the hint that I’m a tad cheesed off.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Although knowing what a plank he is, he might even have missed that clue, to be honest. Anyway. Sorry to bang on about it. Not your problem.’

‘That’s all right. I hope you sort things out.’ Sophie eyed Anna over her mug. ‘You know, in my experience, hopping on a plane for an adventure – like, to Rimini – is pretty much the best thing you can do after a broken heart. Maybe you should take off for a bit? Get away from it all.’

Anna raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah? That’s what you did, is it?’

‘Yeah.’ Then Sophie stopped, feeling like a hypocrite. It had taken her three years and lots of plane journeys to even
start
getting over Dan – and look at her the other night, reduced to jelly at the news that he was back in the same country as her. ‘Well, it helps in the short term, anyway,’ she added after a moment. ‘But I’m not exactly an expert. Whatever it takes, that’s what I say.’

‘What it took last night was dodgy liqueurs and cake. Today, it’s review-writing and phone-ignoring. Tonight, it’ll be flat-clearing and probably having a stand-up row with him on the pavement.’ Anna screwed up her face. ‘Anyway. It’s probably for the best.’

‘Yeah. Well, good luck.’

They were silent for a moment, both rather awkward at all these confidences when they barely knew each other. ‘I don’t believe it’, ‘Well, it’s true!’ screeched the women behind them. ‘I knew he was up to something when he came home with those bungee cables. I thought either he’s sorting out that roofrack at last, or he’s going all fifty-shades on me.’

Anna giggled. ‘The mind boggles,’ she whispered, then drained the last of her tea. ‘I’d better go. Thanks again for helping with the photo – and for the chat.’

‘Any time,’ Sophie replied. ‘Here’s my number,’ she said, scribbling it down on a paper napkin. ‘Ring me if you need a drink or a moan. Hey, and remember what I said about hopping on a plane if things get too complicated. It might be just what you need, a bit of Italian sunshine.’

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Anna said. She put the napkin in her bag and smiled. ‘Look forward to hearing what your friend says in the meantime. See you soon.’

That afternoon, Jim had an appointment at the hospital and, as she wasn’t working, Sophie decided to go along too. If she was at home she’d only be trying to think of something witty and love-me-ish to post under Dan’s recent Facebook update, or checking out train times to Manchester. She mustn’t stalk the poor man. For all she knew, he was married with seven children by now. (He wasn’t married with seven children though, as she knew damn well. Or, if he was, he hadn’t thought to put it on his Facebook page anyway. She’d checked.)

They all hoped that this would be Jim’s final appointment at the hospital. He was on new medication since the second heart attack and he no longer got so breathless or tired. Trish had even stopped raising a warning finger whenever Jim broached the subject of returning to work. Maybe, just maybe, life was about to take a welcome turn back to normal for him at last.

It was still bitter outside, with a raw, slicing wind, but as soon as you walked into the reception area of the hospital, the temperature soared and it was like stumbling into the tropics. As Sophie and her parents stopped to take off their hats and scarves, she glimpsed an unexpected face. ‘Roy!’ she exclaimed in surprise as he walked in. ‘What are you doing here? Is everything all right?’

Roy’s usual smile wasn’t anywhere to be seen. In fact he looked downright terrible – pale and stressed, twisting his hands together as he replied. ‘Geraldine’s had a fall,’ he said, his eyes great pools of anxiety. ‘Yesterday. She’s been in all night.’

‘Oh, Roy,’ Sophie said. ‘Is she okay? What happened?’

‘Black ice on the front path,’ he said. His mouth trembled. ‘She was wearing high heels, the daft thing. High heels with black ice, I ask you! I did tell her she should put on some wellies but she wasn’t having any of it. Not Geraldine. “You’d have to chloroform me before you catch me wearing wellies in public,” she said.’

Jim caught his eye. ‘Women,’ he said knowingly, earning himself a nudge from Trish.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sophie said, putting a hand on Roy’s arm. ‘Is she hurt? What did the doctors say? Oh – this is my mum and dad, by the way. Mum, Dad, this is Roy, he’s one of my students.’

Roy gave them a small, tense smile. You could tell his heart wasn’t really in it, though. ‘She’s fractured her pelvis,’ he said. ‘They kept her in overnight. I’ve just been back to pick up some clothes for her. She’s in a lot of pain.’

‘The poor thing,’ Trish said sympathetically. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’

‘Yes, let me take your number, Roy,’ Sophie said, pulling out her phone. He looked as if his world had been tipped upside down and shaken out of all recognition. She remembered Geraldine saying they had no children (‘Not for want of trying, eh, Roy? But it wasn’t to be for us’) and wondered how they were going to manage. ‘Have you got any family around, or neighbours who’ll be able to help out?’

He was blinking as if the questions were all too much for him. He seemed so lost without garrulous, charming Geraldine beside him – older and more feeble, standing there in his coat and scarf. ‘Tell you what,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll walk round with you now, okay? Is that all right, Dad? Then I’ll meet you two in Cardio.’ She took Roy’s arm. ‘Come on. Tell me where we’re going and I’ll keep you company.’

Back home that evening, Sophie went straight to her laptop, determined to swallow her pride and respond to Dan’s Facebook update. Seeing Geraldine and Roy holding hands in the hospital ward and smiling into one another’s eyes, still besotted after all these years, had reminded her that true love did exist. It happened for some people – her parents were another shining example. Who was to say it couldn’t happen for her, too? If anyone was worth fighting for, it was Dan Collins.

It had been a good day overall, she thought, as she waited for the home page to load. She’d enjoyed her chat with Anna. Then at the hospital her dad had been discharged and told that he could go back to work on Monday. He hadn’t stopped smiling since. As for Geraldine – well, things weren’t so bright for her, unfortunately, with several weeks of bed-rest ahead and definitely no high heels for a while. And bless her, she was hardly recognizable with no make-up and a pair of flannel pyjamas on. But Sophie was glad that she’d bumped into Roy and could offer some practical support and comfort. She was already planning how she and the other members of the Italian class might be able to rally round.

On the way home from the hospital, her mind had teemed with possible replies to her ex-boyfriend’s
I’m back in Manchester. Did you miss me?
update. If she was going to reply (and she definitely was – faint heart never won fair bloke, and all that), then she had to come up with the perfect response: cool, funny, and just a tiny bit flirty, to let him know that
hello
, he was still in with half a chance. So what to write?

She discounted a blunt
HELL, YES
(too obvious), played around with a few witticisms punning on ‘Down Under’ (too crude), pondered on some in-jokes that nobody else would understand (up yours, Dan’s other friends) before deciding to keep things simple.

A straightforward, grown-up
Dan! Welcome back. Hello from sunny Sheffield
– that kind of thing. That would do the trick, wouldn’t it? Not a hint of bunny-boiler, yet subtly letting him know she was also in the UK.

Feeling quivery, she opened the browser and clicked through to Facebook. Back, back, back she scrolled through the timeline to find his message . . . there it was.

She frowned, the quivery feeling replaced by disappointment as she saw that twenty-three comments had already been left beneath his initial posting. Too slow off the mark, Sophie.

Gemma Blaine: Dude! Totally missed you. When can I get my hands on you again?
xxxxx

Alice Harris: Dannyboy! Get your arse down the Tib pronto!

Eloise Winters: Course we did! RING ME!

Jade Nicholls: OMG DAN! Cannot WAIT to see you. Deffo missed you, babe. Big kisses.

Sophie couldn’t read any more. Kisses. Capital letters. Babe. Dude. Who were these women and what claims did they have over him?

She shut down the web page, her hand shaking on the mouse. Gemma and Alice and Eloise and Jade . . . she bet they were just the tip of the iceberg. Easy-going, handsome Dan must have been fighting them off for the last few years. And why had she ever thought otherwise? She should have known.

Well, she was damned if she was going to add her name to the slavering harem. Dan had made it perfectly clear back in Sydney that all good things came to an end. He’d got it right first time.