‘The media?’
‘Yes, RAI television, Italian state TV. They’re very keen to do an interview with somebody who can explain the ethos of this conference. For obvious reasons this has to be done in Italian. I could do it through an interpreter, but it would be so much better if it was in their own language.’
Jo’s heart, which had been falling as she listened, now crashed to the floor. She stared stupidly at the professor and had to struggle to prevent her jaw from dropping.
‘You want me to go on TV, in Italian?’
‘Yes, if you don’t mind.’
‘But my Italian’s really not that great, Professor Dietrich. Besides, I’ve never needed to explain the intricacies of conservation and climate change in anything but English.’ She could hear she was gabbling, but she was unable to stop herself. ‘I’m awfully afraid I’ll make a complete hash of it. And as for explaining the ethos of the conference, I’d be hard pressed to do that in English.’ She felt a rising sense of panic.
The great lady laid a calming hand on Jo’s arm as she sought to reassure her.
‘Please don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be fine. What I would propose is that you and I get together later this morning once things have started. We can map out what you need to say, and then you and Flavia can sit down and make sure you’ve got the vocabulary to render it into Italian.’ To reinforce her point, she gave Jo’s arm a little squeeze before releasing it. ‘Besides, I’m sure the Italian public will be as impressed as I am to see that scientists aren’t all stuffy old men and women like me. Trust me, Doctor Green, they’ll love you.’
‘Oh, God…’ Jo dropped her eyes to the floor, desperately hoping it would open and swallow her up, but to no avail. ‘And you’re sure there’s nobody else?’
This time she spotted a distinct twinkle in the old lady’s eye. ‘To be totally honest, the only other candidate we have is a microbiologist from the University of Pisa, but Flavia tells me he mumbles so badly, she can’t understand a word he says. No, much better to make the interview with a lovely young British scientist who speaks reasonable Italian. Nobody will mind a few mistakes.’
‘Oh, God…’ Jo didn’t know what else to say. Although she had been bracing herself to stand up in front of twenty or thirty delegates to deliver Ronald’s paper, the idea of appearing on television was truly terrifying. ‘And when would this interview take place?’
‘Straight after lunch today. I understand that it’s accepted practice to invite the television people to lunch first so they can meet the interviewee informally.’
‘So I would be expected to eat with them?’
‘Yes, we have a private dining room reserved for VIPs like me’ – Professor Dietrich smiled – ‘and you. I can guarantee you a good meal.’
The lunch may well have been excellent, but Jo didn’t taste a thing. When asked by Victoria later what it had consisted of, she was unable to recall anything except for the overwhelming sensation of fear gnawing at her innards. Around mid-morning she and the professor had met as planned and then, together with Flavia, Jo had rehearsed the main thrust of what she was supposed to say in Italian, but she was still terrified. By the time she was escorted into the VIP dining room, she had already been to the toilet three times that morning.
The presenter was unlike any TV presenter Jo had ever seen before. He was described as the TV channel’s Science Correspondent and he bore more than a passing resemblance to the stereotypical image of the absent-minded Professor. In spite of the heatwave outside, he arrived wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches at the elbows and a bow tie, and he boasted the sort of handlebar moustache you could hang hats on. In fact, in a funny way, his bizarre appearance had a calming effect upon Jo’s overstretched nerves. She gradually found that by concentrating on his eccentricities – and there were many of these – she was able to deflect at least some of the terror she felt.
She was relieved to find that the interview was not going to be broadcast live. Tweed Jacket informed her that it was being recorded now for transmission later on as part of the evening news. This further served to hearten Jo. She was able to take comfort from the thought that if she clammed up – or, the way she was feeling, passed out – there would be the chance for another take.
In fact, when the interview started, she lost count of the number of takes. The producer insisted upon making them repeat whole sections until she had almost lost track of what she had already said. At least this allowed her to practise her lines and by the end she felt reasonably happy that she hadn’t disgraced herself. All in all, she was tied up with the TV crew for three quarters of an hour and she was flabbergasted at the end to hear from the producer that this would be edited down to probably no more than a two- or three-minute piece.
One positive effect of getting this interview out of the way was that when she rushed from there into the lecture theatre to deliver Ronald’s paper, she was so relieved to have survived the TV interview that she was totally unphased to find the place completely packed, with some delegates even having to stand at the back, even when she spotted Professor Dietrich and Ricky in the front row. She was able to deliver what seemed to her a pretty seamless performance, including the update on alternative materials she had gleaned from Corrado, and it appeared to go down well.
Unexpectedly, at the end of the session, after some tricky Q&As, there was even a ripple of applause. As the delegates filed out, she received no fewer than three invitations to dinner that night, but she felt sure these had less to do with the oceans than with what Corrado would have identified as the delegates’ overactive limbic systems. Jo refused them all cordially and was heading for the Ladies toilet to freshen up when she heard a familiar American accent behind her.
‘That was a great paper, Joanne. And you’re a natural. You knew the subject inside and out and you had the whole hall in the palm of your hand.’
She turned and smiled at him. ‘Hello, Ricky. Thanks. I was scared stiff.’
‘It didn’t show. And I’m willing to bet quite a lot that you actually wrote that paper yourself. Am I wrong?’
‘I suppose I did have a hand in it.’ She grinned. ‘Well, more like a hand, an arm and a shoulder.’
He smiled back at her. ‘So, the Pirate’s still up to his old tricks. Anyway, can I buy you a coffee? Or something stronger, maybe? You look like you could use it.’
‘You know what I’d like? A cup of tea.’
He checked his watch. ‘Of course, I forgot you’re English. It is almost five o’clock after all.’
He led her to the coffee bar where she was delighted to find that the waiter produced a convincing-looking pot of tea, with some cold milk in a little jug alongside it. It turned out to be UHT milk with a funny taste, but it was still recognisably a cup of tea all the same. She and Ricky chatted and she learnt more about him. He lived in Santa Monica and was a keen surfer as well as a renowned environmental scientist. They got on really well together and she found she was looking forward to seeing him again the following day.
She got back to the hotel just before six feeling weary but content, and found Victoria with a broad smile on her face.
‘Hi, Jo, hurry up and get changed. We’ve been invited out for dinner tonight.’
In spite of her fatigue, Jo felt a sudden spark of interest. She hadn’t heard anything from Corrado today and in her quieter moments had found herself thinking of him far more than was normal for a future brother-in-law. There was no doubt about it: she could feel herself drawn to him like one of her beloved moths to a flame. She glanced across at Victoria.
‘Dinner?’
‘Yes.’ Victoria was looking very smug. ‘But I’m not telling you who with. Go and have a shower and get changed. Tonight, we’ve been invited to try the best pizza in Rome and you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?’
Food hadn’t been high on Jo’s agenda today, but now that she thought about it, she realised she was starving. Presumably she had eaten very little
of whatever it was she had been served at lunchtime.
‘Sounds good, Vic. So, who’s invited us?’ She felt pretty sure it had to be Corrado and she felt her spirits begin to rise.
‘Not telling. It’s a surprise. Now hurry up and get ready while I tell you about my day.’
As Victoria recounted what she had seen and done in the course of the day, Jo hurried into the bathroom, showered and changed from head to toe after the stress of the day. She emerged wearing a light summer dress and feeling much more buoyant. This didn’t go unnoticed.
‘You’re looking more cheerful now. You looked knackered when you came in. Do I presume you’ve had a tough day?’
‘I’ll tell you about my day as we walk, Vic. I’ll relive it in my nightmares for years to come.’
Jo was still recounting the trials of this eventful day to a sympathetic Victoria as they neared the pizzeria where they were to meet their mystery host. This was called l’Aragosta, the Lobster, and it was close to the river Tiber. It was little more than a few blocks from Corrado’s flat and Piazza Navona so, as they walked up the narrow street towards the flashing pink and orange sign, Jo felt pretty sure she knew who would be waiting for them.
She was wrong.
To her surprise, as they passed through the gaudy plastic fly curtain at the door, the man who jumped to his feet to greet them was none other than George from Italian class. He pecked Jo on the cheeks and then kissed Victoria a lot more enthusiastically while Jo recovered from her surprise. Along with that was the unmistakable sense of disappointment that she wasn’t going to see Corrado after all. She took a seat and waited until George and Victoria emerged from their grapple. In spite of an air-conditioning unit working overtime high up on the far wall, it was hot in there and she was glad she had opted for her lightest dress. The place was packed and she was pleased to see that many, if not most, of their fellow customers were Italians. This boded well.
‘Jo, what can I get you to drink?’
There was a broad smile on George’s face and an even broader smile on a slightly breathless Victoria’s.
Jo knew what she needed. ‘Fizzy water please. Lots of it. I’ve sweated more today than I have done for months.’
‘It has been hot, hasn’t it?’
Jo decided not to bother him with her saga for now. Instead, she changed the subject from her to him.
‘So, how come you’re here, George?’
‘It’s a work thing. All very last minute. I only found out myself that I was coming here at nine o’clock this morning. Shall I get some wine as well? We can’t have pizza without wine.’
As Jo agreed, a cheerful but busy waitress appeared, placed plastic-covered menus in front of them, took the order for drinks, and disappeared again in the blink of an eye.
‘And how long are you staying, George?’
‘I’m not sure. A day or two, I imagine. It’s all a bit uncertain.’
‘And this is on behalf of Her Majesty’s government? Are you sure you aren’t James Bond?’ From the blissful expression on Victoria’s face it looked as though she thought he was.
‘No, no “licence to kill”. Just boring old stuff, but if it gives me a chance to come back to Rome and to see a certain person, that’s fine with me.’
After ordering a Quattro Stagioni pizza, Jo let George and Victoria whisper sweet nothings to each other while she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Corrado. This, she told herself, was not so much because she was desperate to see him again but rather because the idea of going riding in the Roman countryside really appealed.
She almost believed it herself.
Hi Corrado. Gave my paper today. Just one evening commitment on Thursday. Otherwise any evening after 5 for a ride would be great. x Jo.
She agonised for a full minute about that little ‘x’, but finally justified it to herself as common courtesy to a friend and future relative. Her subconscious might have been about to protest as she pressed Send, but her thoughts were interrupted by Victoria grabbing her arm.
‘Jo, look up there. It’s you.’
Jo’s eyes followed her pointing finger to the television screen positioned high on the end wall of the room. Sure enough, it was her own face up there. She felt herself blush all over again as the stress of the moment came back to her. She watched in silence as Tweed Jacket asked her questions and she answered. It was impossible to hear more than a few snippets of the interview over the noisy hubbub of the crowded restaurant, but she took heart from the fact that the producer hadn’t felt it necessary to put up subtitles. Presumably it must have been comprehensible. The interview only lasted a couple of minutes as he had anticipated, but to Jo it felt like an age. She found herself studying an untidy strand of hair hanging across her left eye, the undone button on her blouse that afforded a glimpse of a black bra beneath and an unmistakable drop of perspiration on her brow. When the screen returned to the studio, she felt as if she had just done ten rounds in the ring with the world heavyweight champion.
‘Look at you, Jo! Fame at last, eh?’ Victoria sounded impressed.
‘I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but you come across really well on TV.’ George was clearly doing his bit as well.
‘I’ve never seen myself on TV before. It’s creepy.’ Jo turned anxiously towards Victoria. ‘Vic, you could see my bra. I wasn’t obscene, was I?’
‘For crying out loud, Jo, of course you weren’t. I didn’t even notice. No, you were great. I know you told me you were bricking it, but you looked cool, calm and collected. And a damn sight more attractive than old hairy whiskers opposite you.’
At that moment Jo’s phone rang. It was Angie, saying pretty much the same as Victoria. After gushing about Jo’s on-screen presence, Angie finished by talking horses.
‘Mario was speaking to Corrado today. Are you up for an evening ride tomorrow? Corrado says he can pick you up from your hotel and bring you out here. It’s pizza night at the restaurant here, so the four of us can go for a ride and then we can drop in there for a pizza afterwards. That way you won’t need to worry that I’m spending all my time cooking.’
Jo didn’t tell her she was having pizza this evening as well. Instead she agreed readily and then had a thought.
‘Hang on a sec, Angie.’ She looked across the table at Victoria and George. ‘What about you guys? It’s Angie and she’s asking if I’d like to go riding tomorrow night. Do you want to come too?’
Victoria grimaced. ‘You’re joking. No, you go off and enjoy your smelly horsy evening. I’m sure George and I will be able to find something to do to occupy our time.’ She and George exchanged meaningful glances. ‘Say thanks but no thanks to Angie.’
A minute or two later, the pizzas arrived and Jo could see immediately why George reckoned this might be the best place for it in Rome. Her pizza was served on a massive plate, but even so, it was overflowing onto the chequered table cloth. It was heaped with ham, cheese, tomato, olives and artichoke hearts and had obviously come straight out of the oven. Best of all, it had a wonderful thin crust and so, in spite of its daunting initial appearance, Jo found she was able to eat almost all of it without feeling totally stuffed. She washed it down with cold white wine and sparkling mineral water and by the end she had got over the stress of the day and the shock of seeing herself on TV. She sat back and stretched, glad to have got the interview and the lecture out of the way and definitely looking forward to going for a ride tomorrow. This, she told herself, was irrespective of whether or not she was going to see Corrado again, but her subconscious treated that with the disdain it merited.
Just as she was finishing her single scoop of white chocolate ice cream, her phone vibrated on the table top. It was a reply from Corrado.
Dear TV celebrity. If you’re up for it, I’ll pick you up from your hotel at 6.00 tomorrow. Corrado. PS You looked and sounded great.
She texted straight back.
Terrific. See you then. J
She didn’t put the little
‘x’ back in this time. He hadn’t used one, after all.
Chapter 8
Tuesday at the conference was a lot less stressful than Monday, and Jo was relieved. She had slept well, but the strain of the previous day had taken its toll and she was delighted just to be able to blend into the crowd today and sit back. She spent a relaxing morning listening to experts talking about white rhinos, deforestation, melting ice caps and the appalling reduction in the numbers of hedgehogs in developed countries. She was delighted to meet up with Ricky again and they had coffee and a chat together during the mid-morning interval. He was a really nice man and Jo definitely warmed to him, although it was interesting that she felt no romantic attraction to him. Whether the reason for this was that her affections were elsewhere was a debate she and her subconscious were not prepared to undertake.
Professor Dietrich went out of her way to look for Jo among the crowds during the lunch break and congratulated her most warmly on her performance, both on television and in the lecture theatre. Apparently, the feedback on both had been very positive.
‘I particularly enjoyed your paper on the plastic scourge. You were very knowledgeable. Some of the questions were pretty complicated and you had an answer for everything.’ She gave Jo a little smile. ‘You certainly did a lot more than read Ronald’s notes. Very impressive.’
After lunch, Jo slipped back to her room for a short break before the afternoon sessions began. There was no sign of Victoria and Jo imagined she must be out sightseeing or with her boyfriend. She felt another little twinge of envy at their evident happiness together, but was very pleased for Victoria’s sake that she had finally managed to find herself a good one.
Reluctantly, she pulled out her phone and called Ronald in his hospital bed in London with the news that his paper had been very well received. He sounded a bit sniffy at first, so she apologised for not calling him the previous evening, explaining how stressed she had been. He revealed to her that he had already received word from some of his colleagues at the conference of the success of her performances both on TV and in the lecture theatre and, to her surprise, he sounded remarkably complimentary. She felt almost sorry for him lying in hospital, but there was no doubt in her mind that the fact that he would be there for some time would make her daily life easier. She passed on Professor Dietrich’s good wishes and promised she would drop in to see him upon her return from Rome.
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