One Night in Italy

by Lucy Diamond

  ‘How is she?’ asked Nita. ‘What have the doctors said?’

  ‘And how’s Roy doing?’ George put in. ‘My dad fell apart when my mum was in hospital.’

  ‘Geraldine’s going to be in hospital for a while, I think,’ Sophie said, ‘so Roy is …’ She paused diplomatically. ‘Well, he’s worried and upset, obviously. I thought I’d tell you guys in case there’s anything we can do to help.’

  ‘I’m happy to pop round with some dinners for him,’ Anna said at once. ‘I mean, with my column I’m cooking far more than I can possibly eat single-handedly.’

  ‘I can help too,’ Catherine blurted out. ‘I can do some shopping for him, or drive him to the hospital if he needs it.’ Still to find a job, she might as well make herself useful, she thought.

  ‘I’m based near the hospital,’ Nita added. ‘If Geraldine’s up for visitors, I could nip in and see her.’

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely of you all,’ Sophie said. ‘If anyone wants to pass on their phone numbers, I’ll give them to Roy. I’m sure he’ll appreciate every bit of help we can offer.’ She took a pile of photocopies and began handing them out. ‘Well, the class will certainly be quieter without those two, but let’s get on with today’s lesson anyway. I think you’re going to like this one. We’re going to learn how to order food and drinks, the vocabulary for different shops and also telling the time. Let’s get started.’

  ‘I’m starting to give up on Freddie ever coming out for a drink with us,’ grumbled Nita, as they commandeered their usual tables in The Bitter End later that evening. ‘I just don’t understand it. I’m, like, totally getting these good vibes off him, but then he never wants to come out and have a drink with us.’

  ‘Ahh,’ said Catherine. ‘I think I know why.’

  Anna shot her a look that said, You too? ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Nita, I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Nita sighed. ‘Go on. He’s taken, isn’t he? Typical!’

  ‘Freddie?’ Sophie asked, tuning in all of a sudden. ‘Yes, he’s seeing someone, didn’t you know?’

  ‘I saw him out the other night,’ Anna said. ‘I was a bit surprised, actually.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Catherine, remembering the chic woman she’d seen Freddie with in the street the other week. ‘She’s so much older than him for starters.’

  ‘Is she?’ Sophie asked, frowning. ‘I didn’t think so.’

  ‘She?’ Anna was frowning too. ‘I saw him with a bloke. I thought he was gay?’

  Phoebe laughed, nudging her sister. ‘Out of luck, Neet,’ she said.

  ‘A bloke?’ Catherine repeated. ‘He was with this older woman when I saw him on Fargate. She was a right glamour-puss, too.’

  ‘God, he doesn’t half get around,’ Sophie chipped in. ‘I saw him snogging the face off this foxy young thing—’

  ‘Man or woman?’ Nita interjected glumly.

  ‘Woman,’ Sophie told her. ‘About your age,’ she added.

  ‘Flipping heck, how many has he got on the go?’ Phoebe exclaimed. ‘Hey! Maybe he’s one of those male escorts!’

  ‘You might still be in with a chance,’ George teased Nita, winking at her.

  ‘Yeah, if you’re willing to cough up his fees,’ Phoebe sniggered.

  Nita looked fed up. ‘I’m never usually wrong about these things,’ she said. ‘I so thought I was in there. And now I find out he’s the Sheffield Casanova!’ She drained her shot glass and got to her feet. ‘Sod it, I’m going to get drunk. Who wants another?’

  Catherine was sitting next to George, who was wearing a T-shirt which said ACE OF SPADES, with a picture of a garden spade. She was getting to like down-to-earth, friendly George, now that she’d got over the embarrassment of that first lesson. He was mid-thirties, she guessed, with shaggy, sandy-coloured hair and steady brown eyes that held your gaze.

  ‘Are you able to do much gardening work, when it’s been so cold?’ she asked, making conversation.

  ‘Not a huge amount,’ he said. ‘I’m a carpenter too, so I’ve been making a lot of bespoke kitchen units lately.’ He grinned. ‘I can do you a lovely table or bookcase though, if that’s more your thing.’

  ‘Nice,’ she said approvingly, ‘being able to work with your hands for a living.’

  ‘Absolutely. I love it,’ he said. ‘Although nothing beats working outside, if you ask me. Planting stuff. Growing stuff. Eating stuff you’ve grown … That’s what it’s all about. Actually, I’ve been meaning to say …’ He leaned forward and addressed the table. ‘If any of you lot ever fancy it, I’m part of a community allotment, out past Hillsborough. We grow fruit and veg for a veg-box scheme, and we’re always looking for volunteers on Sundays or Thursday mornings.’

  Phoebe looked unimpressed. ‘What, digging and stuff? Look at these nails, George. It’s not going to happen, love, sorry.’ She waggled her beautifully manicured hands, the nails gleaming with dark purple polish.

  ‘I could lend you some gardening gloves …’ George offered.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t like nature. Sozballs.’

  ‘I’ll come along,’ Catherine offered. ‘I help at a care home on Sundays but—’

  ‘It was you!’ Anna said suddenly. ‘At Clemency House? I saw you leaving last week, just as I was coming to see my nan. Nora Morley, she’s called. Says you make a cracking cup of tea.’

  ‘I love Nora!’ Catherine cried. ‘She’s so …’ She stopped herself just before she said ‘naughty’. Nobody wanted to hear that about their grandmother, did they? ‘She’s so much fun. I do the garden there through the summer,’ she added to George.

  ‘Wow, you’re busy,’ Sophie commented. ‘And there you were the other week in class, telling us you didn’t work! When you’re helping at a care home and working in the charity shop, and you’ve got kids.’

  ‘She walks rescue dogs too, she told me when I was doing her hair. Didn’t you, Cath?’ Phoebe put in.

  They were all looking at her with … Well, she could only describe it as admiration. ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling her cheeks turn pink. She wasn’t used to being admired. It felt absolutely bloody wonderful.

  ‘God, that’s awesome,’ George said. ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Anna agreed. ‘Now I feel really lazy in comparison.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have an actual job,’ she pointed out, ‘so I have to do something all day.’

  ‘Yeah, but even so. I feel bad for asking you now, when you’re so busy,’ George said. His eyes sparkled. ‘Hey, if you’re into gardening, you could always join us on a guerrilla run sometime. Fancy a spot of pavement-pimping?’

  ‘Pavement what?’ Nita asked.

  ‘Pavement-pimping. A group of us do it now and then. Planting stuff around town to make the place look better. There’s not that much you can do at this time of the year, but we’ve got a load of fruit bushes we want to plant in the city centre if anyone wants to give us a hand.’

  ‘Ahh – guerrilla as in balaclava, SAS-styley,’ Anna realized. ‘Not gorilla as in King Kong.’

  ‘That’s the one,’ George said.

  ‘Is it legal?’ Catherine could have kicked herself. She sounded so prim and proper. ‘I mean, have any of you got into trouble doing it before?’

  George’s eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘It’s not strictly legal,’ he replied. ‘It’s not our land so by rights we shouldn’t be digging it up or planting stuff. But most council officials I’ve come across have turned a blind eye. It’s not like we’re doing any harm. We sneaked a whole bed of sunflowers into the Peace Gardens last year when the council had their budget cut and couldn’t afford new plants. I don’t know if you saw them? It looked amazing.’

  ‘I did! I remember those,’ Catherine said. ‘It was like a corner of Provence, right here in Sheffield.’

  He looked pleased. ‘Yeah, that was us. And we put in a load of tulips and lavender in Fitzwilliam Street, and a whole mini vegetable plot at the university. Some of the s
tudents mucked in and kept it weeded through the summer – and then they got to help themselves to all the fruit and veg that grew.’

  ‘That is so cool,’ Sophie said.

  ‘That’s what guerrilla gardening’s all about, really – turning boring, neglected land into something beautiful and useful.’ He paused. ‘So if anyone wants to come out with us, let me know. The more the merrier.’

  ‘I …’ Catherine hesitated. Years of obedience and toeing the line ran deep in her. She had a sudden image of Mike being called out to where she’d been arrested and locked in a cell. What would he say?

  ‘I’ll come,’ said Nita. ‘Sounds a laugh.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Sophie. ‘I reckon we’d rock the balaclava look, ladies.’

  ‘I might come along as well,’ Anna said thoughtfully. ‘I reckon there’s a magazine feature here just waiting to be written.’

  George’s brown eyes were still patiently on Catherine, waiting for her answer. ‘Go on then,’ she said, a thrill of trepidation running through her. ‘Yeah, why not? Could be fun. Count me in!’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  All’ospedale – At the hospital

  ‘Here’s the ward.’ Sophie pressed the button beside the doors and addressed the small speaker. ‘Hello, we’re here to see Geraldine Brennan.’

  ‘Come on in.’

  The door buzzed and she pushed it open, Catherine and Anna behind her. It was Wednesday evening and the three of them had come to visit Geraldine in hospital, bringing an armful of magazines and some posh chocolates.

  ‘My goodness!’ Geraldine exclaimed, her hands flying up like birds when she saw them at the end of her bed. She was propped up against a mountain of pillows, resplendent in blue satin pyjamas and definitely looking more like her old self, Sophie thought, noticing the blusher and lipstick she had on. This was progress.

  ‘What’s this, the three good fairies come to visit?’ Geraldine asked before they even had a chance to say hello. She wagged a finger. ‘Taking it in turns, are you? I’ve already had Phoebe pop in with her curling tongs to “do me over” as she put it. Very sweet of you, girls.’

  ‘We were all so sorry to hear the news,’ Anna said, putting the chocolates on her bedside table. ‘Brought down by your glam heels, no less – that’s so unfair. How are you feeling?’

  ‘All the better for seeing you lot,’ Geraldine replied. ‘What a smashing surprise. Do sit down. They’ve only given me two chairs but one of you can perch on the bed. I did say to them, I hope you realize, I’m going to get a lot of visitors, you really should give me at least four chairs, but they didn’t listen. Mind you, I’m not complaining. I’m grateful for what I can get. Anyway, listen to me going on. You can tell I’ve been bored out my mind lately, can’t you?’

  ‘Has Roy been in today?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Roy’s been in every day, bless his heart. I keep saying, Roy, don’t put yourself out, especially when the roads are icy. We don’t want two of us in here, crocked, like a matching pair. He insists though. Can’t keep away.’ She gave a naughty wink. ‘What can I say? I’ve still got it, even in a hospital bed. He can’t resist.’

  They all laughed. ‘You’ve definitely still got it,’ Anna agreed.

  ‘Anyway, it’s very kind of you to come out here to visit an old fogey like me,’ she went on. ‘Six weeks’ rest, the doctors have told me. Six weeks? I said, you’re joking, aren’t you? I can’t rest for six minutes, let alone six weeks.’

  ‘You’re like my dad,’ Sophie said with a grin. ‘He was in here before Christmas and the most impatient invalid ever. Couldn’t wait to get out of bed and back home.’

  ‘He sounds a very sensible man to me,’ Geraldine said. Her gnarled hands shook slightly on the covers and her mouth drooped. ‘I could kick myself for winding up here, honestly, I could. Well, if I hadn’t broken my ruddy pelvis, I would anyway. I won’t be kicking much for a while now.’

  ‘I bet the weeks will fly by,’ Catherine said kindly.

  ‘I bet they blooming won’t,’ Geraldine grumbled. ‘I’m going to miss the Valentine’s tea dance – me and Roy have been looking forward to it for weeks. And I’m going to miss your class, dear. Not to mention the play!’

  ‘Oh no,’ Sophie said. ‘I’d forgotten the play. Do you have an understudy?’

  Geraldine wrinkled her nose. ‘They’ll probably ask Brenda Dodds to step in. Got the acting skills of a stuffed fox, that one.’ Then her face cleared. ‘Unless … Well, why don’t you do it, Sophie, love? I remember you saying you were a bit of an actor yourself, and I could put a word in with the director. You could wipe the floor with Brenda Dodds, believe me. She couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag.’

  Sophie assumed she was joking and laughed. But Geraldine had taken her hand and was gripping it with a new enthusiasm. Apparently she wasn’t joking. ‘Me? Well … I’m not in the drama group, am I?’ she said uncertainly. ‘I can’t just parachute in and take your part.’

  ‘Why ever not? Leave it with me. I’ll talk to Max – that’s the director. Ever so nice he is. Quite dishy too, I have to admit, although settled down with a lovely fella – Josh – so there’s no chance for us girls, unfortunately. Still, you can’t complain about a bit of eye candy, isn’t that right?’

  Sophie was starting to get a glimpse of why Roy had once confessed that he just agreed with everything his wife said. Geraldine was like an unstoppable force that swept you along, leaving you powerless to strike out in another direction. ‘I … Well …’ she stuttered. ‘I mean, I haven’t done any acting for years. Certainly nothing professional.’

  Geraldine snorted. ‘Professional? Give over. None of ’em are that, love, don’t you worry. So I’ll pass Max your number, shall I? He’ll be so pleased. He popped in yesterday and, honestly, he looked stricken. Geraldine, he said, what am I going to do without you?’

  ‘The show must go on,’ Anna said demurely. ‘I think you should give it a try, Sophie.’

  ‘There you go! She’s on my side.’ Geraldine couldn’t hide her triumph. ‘And you are too, Catherine, aren’t you? There, Sophie. You see? We all agree. You have to do it now!’

  ‘Geraldine is absolutely gorgeous and I love her to bits, but it’s kind of like trying to argue with a bulldozer,’ Sophie said afterwards, when the three of them had escaped to a nearby pub. ‘I almost feel sorry for that poor guy who’s trying to direct the play. I bet she’s always butting in with suggestions of how she thinks it should be done.’

  ‘It was probably him icing up her drive that caused the accident in the first place,’ Catherine joked. ‘Poor Geraldine. Italian class is going to be a lot quieter without her, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Are you going to call this Max bloke, then?’ Anna asked, sipping her beer. ‘I couldn’t tell from your face whether or not you actually wanted to, or if you were secretly thinking, Noooooo! ’ She made her fingers into a cross as if warding off a vampire, then nudged Sophie. ‘I don’t know about the rest of your acting skills, but your poker face is a bloody triumph.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘I did always love drama, as I must have told Geraldine one night down the pub,’ she said. ‘But I haven’t been on stage for … what, must be eight years, when I was doing my A-levels.’ She had a sudden vision of herself in a long velvet dress and bare feet. ‘Lady Macbeth. Take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers, and all that.’ God, she’d loved it. She’d known that play backwards by the time they came to perform it. Only a handful of performances for the school and parents, but still, she had thrown herself into the part, living and dreaming her character’s deranged ambition and scheming.

  ‘Looks like a happy memory,’ Catherine said gently.

  ‘Yeah. It was what I really wanted to do with my life, before I dropped out and went travelling.’ She had tingles just remembering the electrifying moment at the end of the play before the audience broke into applause. And how, when she’d come on to take her bow, she was sure the clapping rose in
volume. This is for me, she’d thought, swelling with joyful glory. They’re clapping for ME.

  ‘I think Geraldine might have made a good call here,’ Anna said teasingly. ‘She’s weakening, Cath. Look how misty-eyed she’s gone.’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Well, I’ll give him a ring,’ she said. ‘He’ll probably tell me to bog off and curse Geraldine for interfering, but you never know …’ Mustn’t get too carried away, she reminded herself. Two lines, Geraldine had said. All the same, the camaraderie of being part of a drama group and the adrenalin charge of performing on a stage was pulling her in like a tide. ‘Anyway …’ she said, trying to think of some other topic of conversation. Then she remembered. ‘Oh God! Anna! I’ve got news for you. I meant to tell you earlier.’ She rifled through the contents of her slouchy red bag, sending pens and lip salve flying. ‘Where did I put it?’

  Anna sat up immediately. ‘Is this your friend in Italy? What did he say?’

  Sophie pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, the printed copy of the email she’d received the night before. ‘He says he reckons the picture was taken in Lungomare Augusto,’ she read aloud, then handed the print-out to Anna. ‘That’s the real touristy bit, apparently, lots of hotels and bars. So if you’re going off on a papa-search, that’s the place to start looking.’ She paused. ‘Are you still going, do you think?’

  ‘Lungomare Augusto,’ Anna said to herself, and grinned. ‘Oh my goodness. This is so exciting. Thank you! And yes, I’d go tomorrow if I could.’

  ‘Ahh,’ Sophie said, remembering their conversation in Marmadukes. ‘No improvements with the boyfriend?’

  ‘Technically an ex-boyfriend now,’ Anna replied.

  ‘I saw your Enrico’s review at the weekend,’ Catherine said sympathetically. ‘But I like the sound of this Handsome Colleague. What’s happening there, then?’

  Anna groaned. ‘Me and my big mouth, that’s what’s happening,’ she said. ‘I wrote that as a dig at Pete, my ex, without thinking about how Joe – that’s Handsome Colleague – would feel when he read it. Or how his girlfriend would feel, come to that. Honestly, he’s just a mate, I never meant for it to sound anything more.’