One Summer in Rome

by Samantha Tonge

  Mary looked at her watch, whilst humming Enzo’s latest favourite jazz tune.

  ‘Eight o’clock. Cheyenne is really pushing you hard, now. How do you feel after three hours’ dancing?’

  ‘Cheyenne’s not the problem – it’s Paola. She is so full of energy and a real taskmaster. At least Cheyenne gave us a break halfway through. She’d even baked healthy muesli cupcakes.’

  ‘You should have brought one home for Alfonso.’

  They both chuckled.

  She gazed at his face. Since the picnic his expression had gained something … or lost something – she wasn’t sure which. But it suited him. And was she imagining that this was also true of his sister and dad? She’d heard Alfonso whistle for the first time ever a few days ago. Plus yesterday overheard him and Natale chatting about finally taking some of Viola’s clothes to the charity shop.

  ‘I can sense you looking at me,’ he said. ‘What is the matter? Am I still covered in perspiration thanks to the dance class?’

  Mary grinned. ‘No. Don’t flatter yourself. I have better things to look at – like this quaint place.’

  ‘Good evening,’ said someone with a strong Italian accent, which Mary now knew meant the speaker came from Milan.

  Mary turned to face Margherita. She stared at them both.

  ‘I didn’t know it was you, on the phone,’ she said to Dante.

  ‘And you didn’t reveal it was you I was chatting to the other night, at Pizzeria Dolce Vita,’ he replied.

  She studied his face for a moment. ‘Per favore, follow me.’ She led the way inside to a table at the back, lit up with a special candle and real, not plastic, large daisies in a vase.

  ‘This looks very pretty,’ said Mary as they sat down.

  ‘I shall return in two seconds with your cocktails,’ she said.

  They sat down. ‘What is all this about?’ said Mary. ‘I didn’t know you’d booked a table.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Well, I didn’t want to miss getting a place. There is not long to the Lombardi List being announced. I wanted a real taste of the opposition before that.’

  So he’d clearly set Margherita a task – to see what she’d come up with if a customer asked her to organise a romantic evening. Good idea, but … Mary gave an involuntary sigh. How would she get through an evening of pretend sentimentality with Dante? It might have been a business excursion for him but she couldn’t just turn off her feelings.

  Margherita arrived with two champagne cocktails and left them to choose their meals, saying that if they wanted the chef had created a special oyster pasta dish.

  ‘So far, so good,’ said Dante. ‘I would have done exactly the same.’

  ‘Oysters?’ Mary said and grimaced.

  ‘Don’t tell me – you are missing fish and chips.’

  ‘No – I just don’t like eating food that has the texture of raw egg.’

  ‘So, funghi pizza it is then – your favourite.’

  ‘I am a girl of simple means. That’s why I like you. As a friend,’ she added hastily.

  He tilted his head. Opened his mouth. Then closed it again. They both sipped champagne and talked about nothing and everything. The state of international politics. How the price of milk had gone up again.

  ‘Seriously, though,’ he said eventually. ‘Do you miss home?’

  ‘You mean England? No. Not at all. Apart from my friend, Jill.’

  ‘So, you might stay in Italy?’

  ‘I’m nodding.’

  As the evening progressed and they devoured the tasty food, Mary forgot it was a business night out, to analyse the opposition. Dante made her laugh when he mimicked Lucia telling Alfonso off for eating her chocolate. And almost cried when he opened up about his mum. Apparently she’d been so proud of him as a policeman but always worried that, one day, he’d be injured or killed. And Mary shared about her life too. Her dream of one day having her own family, made up of kids – other people – that actually looked like her.

  ‘And now for a very special dessert,’ said Margherita and she placed a large ice cream between them, with two spoons. ‘A vanilla ice cream sundae with chocolate sponge love hearts and raspberry coulis.’

  ‘Dio Mio. This is delicious,’ said Dante, after several mouthfuls. The red sauce trickled down his chin. Mary leant forward and, with her napkin, wiped it off.

  ‘Please,’ said Dante, as Margherita delivered their coffees. ‘Sit with us. Have a drink.’

  ‘I don’t really think—’

  ‘Why not?’ he interrupted. ‘Just because we are competitors doesn’t mean we can’t have a civil conversation. We had a pleasant chat the other day.’

  They spoke in English. Margherita’s was as good as his. She shrugged and headed off to the coffee machine. Then drew up a chair, in between them, and sipped her espresso.

  ‘Thank you for an enjoyable evening,’ said Dante. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘You don’t stand a chance, you know,’ she said. ‘Three days from now I’ll be on the Lombardi List – you won’t.’

  ‘Yes, you could be right. And … that’s okay. You deserve it.’

  ‘You give up?’ she stuttered.

  ‘No but … I was talking to my father yesterday. Last weekend, we visited my mother’s grave. It made us realise just how much we have been through the last two years. The business has suffered. Mary told us about the things you’d pointed out that were wrong, and to be honest, they belong to a much longer list. But we have managed the best we could. And now …’ He shrugged. ‘If we lose our place, perhaps it will herald a new beginning. Alfonso was talking of a refresh.’

  ‘Like a makeover?’ said Mary.

  ‘Si. Nothing grandiose. Perhaps rethink the menu. Give the place a lick of paint. Order a new canopy – that one is so weather-beaten. And, Mary, you’ve had some great food ideas; we could brainstorm those again.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You have set a great example, Margherita. Clearly you have worked hard and thought through your brand. A place like this deserves to do well. We won’t be following suit with the stuffed crusts and gimmicky plastic flowers, but you’ve tapped into a dynamic who like that. We need to build on our reputation for tradition. I think our two restaurants complement each other.’

  ‘Is this some trick?’ she said and pushed away her coffee.

  ‘No. What you see with me is what you get,’ he said.

  ‘A coward.’

  ‘Now, wait a minute!’ said Mary. ‘Not that again.’

  ‘Mary? You and Margherita have spoken about me?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, Dante, but it was in your defence. Margherita is a strong supporter of the armed services and feels you …’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, in a tired voice. ‘It’s taken a long time but I’ve made my peace with the fact that some people will always think the worst. And why shouldn’t they? I can never forgive myself. But if I’d saved Hugo, the other man’s death would have been on my conscience. Either way I lost.’ He shrugged. ‘And I accept that.’

  Margherita shook her head. ‘You let down your loyal, hardworking partner – instead of him you saved a rough sleeper.’

  Mary frowned. And there it was again – that something about Margherita that didn’t add up. She’d been kind to that homeless man, that night when they’d walked to the taxi rank together, yet when it came to the terrorist attack she implied that a policeman’s life was worth more than any other.

  Dante put down his teaspoon. ‘I’ve spent hours … days … thinking back over the incident and my relationship with Hugo, the officer who died – my friend. He was always stepping in to defend the underdog. And at the weekends did charity work. He risked his life, once, to save a dog from the river Tiber. Back at the station he got a formal warning. Our bosses were furious that he hadn’t followed protocol. Another time he stood in front of a drug addict who was just about to get knifed by his dealer. Hugo only got surface wounds – on his chest – but could have easily been stabbed in the heart
.’

  Dante drained his cup. ‘Hugo said that his parents had brought him up to think of others. And, like me, Hugo valued his life no more than any other. I wish I could have saved him. Hugo was like family. But instead, I did the best that I could, in that split second, and I have to live every single day with the consequences.’

  ‘You mean your blindness? It hasn’t stopped you enjoying life,’ she sneered.

  ‘You think Dante’s had it easy?’ said Mary, full of indignation.

  ‘Easier than someone who’s dead.’

  ‘No,’ said Dante. ‘Not my blindness – I meant the consequences of knowing Hugo isn’t enjoying the things I’m lucky enough to experience. Like watching my niece grow up. Taking a pleasant stroll. Enjoying a family outing. Falling in love.’

  Margherita’s eyes glistened. ‘This doesn’t impress me, you know.’

  ‘It’s not meant to. I have no agenda. I’m just speaking from the heart.’

  She scraped back her chair, stood up, and left. Dante paid the bill and he and Mary headed outside.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘I can’t make her out,’ said Mary.

  ‘Well, a few days from now it’ll all be over,’ said Dante, ‘and we’ll know whether her efforts have paid off.’

  ‘The Lombardi List is announced as part of the Assumption Day festival, in the piazza?’

  ‘Yes. At five o’clock. Over the years it has become part of the celebrations. The mayor announces the list.’

  ‘It must be really important to the capital, then.’

  ‘We will set up a barbecue, at the front of the pizzeria, and offer takeaway food for passers-by. You must make some special biscuits. There are street entertainers galore. Traditional Italian folk music. Painting. Dancing. Craft stalls. The tourists love it – and all the locals who have the day off work. There is a small food market where locals sell breads, cheeses, and olives and pasta … plus a chocolatier and panettone specialist and one company selling nothing but pizza sauces. Natale will set up her table selling jewellery.’

  ‘She’s worked so hard over recent weeks – I hope her hobby takes off.’ Mary raised an eyebrow. ‘And then there is your dance competition …’

  Dante grimaced. ‘We have lots of rehearsals next week.’

  They walked silently, arm in arm, until eventually they left the touristy areas and reached a little avenue lined with small hotels and bars.

  ‘All the things you told Margherita you enjoyed now, like watching Lucia grow up – when were you going to tell me you’d fallen in love?’ she asked, hating herself for mentioning it. Just the thought of him, with another woman, made a sense of nausea back up her throat.

  He turned to face her. His chest heaved in and out.

  ‘The meal tonight. I hope you liked it. It … wasn’t just for work. I wanted to be with you, Mary. I can’t fight it any longer. It’s you. You’ve irrevocably stolen my heart.’

  Numbly she stared. ‘But … but wait … no … I mean … that romantic evening was just a business task, wasn’t it, to see how the competition would cope with a special request?’

  He shook his head. ‘It was mostly to show you that I’ve been wrong. That really—’

  She stepped back. ‘Don’t do this, Dante. You are simply feeling emotional tonight. You aren’t thinking straight. Twice we’ve got close but then you’ve pushed me away.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I can’t go through that again. Don’t play with my feelings. This isn’t a game.’

  ‘But since we talked last weekend – about Mamma – it’s given me perspective. Oh, Mary—’

  ‘Don’t ruin things. We can just be friends. That’s what you really want.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Just hear me out.’

  ‘No! Because, do you hear that? It’s my heart breaking, Dante. Actually breaking because no one’s ever going to love me unconditionally and it’s cruel of you to tease me like this.’ She hurried away, Dante following her footsteps with his stick.

  ‘You just need a good night’s sleep,’ she called back and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m not destined for a Happy Ever After. No point pretending otherwise.’

  With that, Mary turned the corner and saw the underground in her sight. She stopped to blow her nose and was just about to stride ahead when a strong hand held her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t be cross.’ Dante turned her around.

  ‘I’m not,’ she said firmly. ‘But you’ve got to understand – I can’t cope with the ups and downs. The push and pull. I’ve had that all my life – got attached to people and then been emotionally moved on. I’ve decided to move out of the restaurant as soon as possible, Dante. It’s the best thing. You and I, we are just colleagues.’

  ‘Moving out? No!’

  ‘Why not? Only last week you were planning to do the same.’

  ‘But you belong at Pizzeria Dolce Vita.’

  ‘You warned me off that. And you were right. I need to carve out a life here for myself.’

  ‘Can you not see how you have become part of our lives? Lucia adores you. Natale loves the female company. And you have opened up Rocco as if he were a brand-new butterfly just waiting to learn how to fly.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  He dropped his head for a second. ‘I have struggled, Mary. Truly struggled with my feelings for you.’

  ‘But why? Because of your mum’s death?’

  A crowd of youngsters passed them, laughing and joking. Dante jerked his head backwards. ‘Let’s find a bar. Talk this through properly.’

  ‘There’s no point …’

  He took her arm. ‘No arguments. Mochaccinos on me.’

  ‘No.’ She hurried away, shoes tip-tapping, right to the end of the road. Mary heard the sound of Dante’s stick behind her and, distracted for a moment, managed to trip over her own feet.

  Mary pulled herself up. ‘Great. Grimy patches on my skirt.’

  ‘A lack of caffeine is a terrible thing,’ said Dante, having caught up. ‘It means the brain doesn’t focus properly. Therefore, it is my duty to buy you another dose.’

  ‘Idiot,’ she said and sighed.

  Minutes later Mary found herself sitting in a private corner in a piano bar. Slow-paced jazz sounded in the background. The lights were dim. There were hardly any other customers and the barman started to tidy up for the day.

  ‘You were so indifferent to me for such a long time …’

  ‘You seemed indifferent too, Mary, talking about Italy being a fresh start for you, on your own. I honestly didn’t think you wanted a relationship.’

  ‘You were unfriendly. Resentful – you said it yourself – believing your family had hired me as some sort of nurse. All this push and pull, it’s left me exhausted and … and scared emotionally.’

  He took her hand. ‘Oh, Mary – above everything else I was protecting myself. As I’ve told you, I sensed an attraction straight away from the Skype interview. Then you arrived with your clumsiness and adorable mistakes in Italian – with your kind nature and warm, easy-going way with the customers and Lucia … it all touched my heart but I was afraid to fall in love after everything that’s happened during the last couple of years. Yet I looked forward to getting up each morning just to hear your voice – to hear you tease me and treat me like a capable equal, not someone who is handicapped. However, despite all of that, I also had the problem that I felt I needed to protect you from me.’

  ‘From you? One of the most brave, loyal, sensitive people I know? Although it took me a while to look past that frosty exterior …’

  They both smiled.

  ‘But I don’t understand …’ she said. ‘What’s changed?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking everything over, since we visited Mamma’s grave. Since you told us about your mum. I’ve gone over those last months of her life. She used anything as an excuse to drink. A birthday party. Good business. Bad weather. An argument with the tax man. Good and bad. There was always a reason –
until she reached the stage where she just drank all the time.

  ‘I’m beginning to think you are right. If I hadn’t suffered that accident, she would have probably found something else to drink on. So …’ his voice broke ‘… for the first time in twelve months I am considering that maybe … just maybe women don’t need protecting from me. That I don’t damage them after all. That I didn’t kill my mum.’

  So, what Mary had suspected was true.

  ‘It’s such a relief. I’m still devastated at losing Mamma but … all the guilt. It’s been a heavy burden, on top of Hugo dying and Alessia leaving me … I guess I’ve been wallowing in those feelings.’ He gave a small smile. ‘The king of the pity party.’

  ‘We all party like that sometimes,’ she said softly. ‘The key is to know when to stop.’

  ‘Sorry, for being a jerk the other day. What I said. About you trying to replace the family you never had with ours. It was unkind. My head wasn’t straight.’ He smiled. ‘You are one hard woman to resist and I’ve never been good at fighting my feelings.’

  ‘To be honest, at the beginning, you were probably right. Finally I did get a sense of belonging and I wanted to hold on tight. But something inside me has grown, since living in Italy. A real sense of identity. It’s come on without me really realising.’ Mary thought about her crystals and realised she didn’t rely on them so much any more. She relied on herself. ‘And I don’t feel I need anyone else – or any other group of people – to make me happy, now. I can find a flat. I love my job. It would be greedy to ask for anything more. And living with you all has made me realise that … that the fantasy of a perfect family, with no problems or sadness … really only exists in films and books.’

  ‘You mean the Rossi family isn’t perfect?’ He grinned.

  ‘No. It is just like every other family. Fabulous and flawed.’

  ‘So where does that leave us?’