A Wedding in Italy: A feel good summer holiday romance (From Italy with Love Book 2)

by Tilly Tennant

  The sound of the front door slamming echoed down the hallway and into the room, and Kate almost leapt from her seat. Seconds later a furious-looking Maria marched back in. Without a word to anyone, she yanked the box of almonds away from Abelie and dug her hands in, tight-lipped as she counted out groups of five and shoved them at Kate. Abelie gave a hopeless shrug, glancing between Lucetta and Kate, and then looked at her mother. But Signora Conti didn’t say a word either and took herself back to the kitchen. Perhaps she was in mind of the old adage that if you didn’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all, or perhaps she just didn’t know how to react to the fracas. But Kate wished she’d say something because right now she didn’t have a clue where she stood with the Conti matriarch, and she really needed to if she was going to have any chance at all of winning her favour. As for Maria, it looked as if the best she could hope for was a ceasefire, at least for the next couple of days while they celebrated Lucetta’s wedding, because it was clear from her face that Maria was not in the mood to make friends any time soon.

  Kate had been so preoccupied by the altercation with Orazia that, for once, she’d barely noticed how the glorious winter sun bounced from gleaming terracotta rooftops, or the way it gently warmed the pavements dotted with planters of olives and herbs as it clung to the horizon, or the way the branches of gnarled vines on the trelliswork of pavement cafés cast scrolling shadows along the walls. Fairy lights like first stars in a rose sky popped into life over restaurant doorways as dusk drew in, pearly lanterns at the corners of streets flickering to join them. She’d spent many evenings exploring her neighbourhood with Alessandro, and every time it revealed some new wonder to her. She’d been driven home in this way many times by one of his sisters too since she’d arrived in Rome, but this was the first time the glory of her new home had failed to rouse her. She was tired, and for the first time wondered if perhaps Signora Conti had a point about Kate’s suitability for Alessandro. She was an alien to his world, and tonight she felt it might be a very long time before she began to understand how it worked.

  She’d bid Abelie a distracted goodnight at the door to her apartment, keys at the ready before she’d even left the car in her haste to get home and put the day behind her. But the day wasn’t finished with her yet.

  ‘Oh, hello, Salvatore. . .’ Kate squeaked as she rounded the corner from the stairs and emerged into the main corridor of her apartment building, almost slamming into her landlord, who was coming the opposite way. ‘I mean, buongiorno.’

  ‘Buonasera, Kate,’ he said amiably.

  Kate couldn’t help a fond smile. He was an odd little man, sprightly, very thin, in his early sixties, with thinning hair and a wispy moustache that clung to his top lip, as if someone had applied glue and then blown a handful of eyelashes at him in the hope some would stick.

  ‘There’s no problem, is there?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you weren’t looking for me for any reason?’

  ‘Scusi?’

  ‘Did you need me?’ Kate asked. The problem with her Italian was that, at the moment, she was getting listening and interpreting a lot faster than she was getting the actual speaking bit. So while she could often get the gist of what people were saying, she found it difficult to remember the words for a reply. Often, conversations with her landlord descended into this strange farce where he spoke in Italian, and she replied in English, and then he would reply in English that was as terrible as her Italian, so that she would be forced to try and switch to her own bad Italian, which would get them both precisely nowhere. In the end, a lot of nodding and smiling happened, but not a lot of actual communication. Which was why Kate chose to avoid the little matters of faulty boilers and leaking taps, deciding that it was easier just to live with them than trying to explain.

  ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed, the war medals that he wore pinned to his grey woollen jacket clanking together as he wagged a triumphant finger. Alessandro had told her that Salvatore had never actually won the medals and had never seen action in any war anywhere in the world, but since inheriting the medals from some distant uncle over twenty years ago, he had taken to wearing them himself at almost all times. At least, that was the version of events the local gossips held to be the truth – gossip that Alessandro had grown up hearing. The reasons for this were a complete mystery to those same local gossips, but something they had simply decided to stop worrying about. Nobody gave Salvatore’s war chest so much as a passing glance these days. ‘My wife. . . her dress. . . molto bella! She likes very much!’

  ‘Oh. . .’ Kate said, relaxing a little. ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘You make more?’ he asked, holding two fingers up in a V sign, presumably to indicate the amount of dresses his wife wanted, although in Manchester it would have had an altogether ruder meaning.

  Kate nodded, and briefly the conversation she’d had with Abelie about the pricing of her work popped into her mind. As she internally framed the words to bring the matter up, he interrupted her thoughts. ‘Molto bene! Same price, eh? Sì? Molto bene!’

  She shrugged slightly, and then nodded. What was the point in trying to argue when she wasn’t even equipped with the words to begin it? Alessandro and Lucetta could tell her off, but they weren’t the ones looking into Salvatore’s funny little face as he grinned hopefully up at her. She couldn’t help but like the man, whether he was ripping her off or not, and he and his wife had been very sweet to her since she first moved into the building.

  ‘Grazie!’ He beamed. ‘When?’

  ‘You mean when can I do them?’

  He nodded eagerly. ‘Nunzia, she has party. Big party!’

  ‘When is the party?’

  He scrunched up his face for a moment. ‘Dicembre. . .’

  ‘December? Beginning or end?’

  ‘Soon. . .’

  It was early November now, so that gave her four or five weeks at best. Quite why Nunzia needed two dresses for one party was a bit of a mystery too. Kate supposed she might get better information from Nunzia herself, who would no doubt come over shortly to peruse Kate’s pattern books, or else bring some ideas of what she wanted from her own magazines. Nunzia’s English wasn’t perfect either, but it was still a lot better than Kate’s Italian.

  ‘OK,’ Kate said. ‘I’m not home tomorrow. . . Lucetta Conti’s wedding. . .’

  He grinned and nodded. ‘Sì, sì. . .’

  ‘But I’ll be here next week all the time so Nunzia can come any time to see me.’

  ‘Va bene. . . Grazie.’

  Kate nodded. ‘Prego.’

  After bidding him goodbye, Kate was grateful to finally unlock the door to her flat and close the world out behind it. As tough days went, it had been one hell of a prime specimen. The place felt empty without Alessandro’s presence filling it, but she was glad of the quiet and the opportunity to take stock.

  With Signora Conti preparing such a huge lunch for Lucetta, there was little need for Kate to cook much for her evening meal. As she grazed on some bread and cheese, she couldn’t help but dwell on the events of the day. The atmosphere at what should have been Lucetta’s celebration of her last day as a single woman was subdued, and try as she might to feel otherwise, Kate couldn’t help but feel that it was all her fault and she had ruined a day Lucetta could never get back. It had only been Jolanda and Isabella, two of Alessandro’s older sisters, arriving with their youngest children, who had lifted the mood, being completely oblivious to what had gone before, and Kate was thankful for them. At least after lunch they had all pitched in to get the preparations for the wedding finished, and with the extra bodies the atmosphere had become a little more jovial again, though it was far from perfect. Goodbyes with Kate had been strained all round, and she had been glad to shut the door behind her and leave the household to discuss her freely, which they undoubtedly would. At that point, she was simply too tired and fed up to care.

  Kate’s mobile phone sat on the kitchen worktop next to where she was perched on a stool eating as the la
te evening sun warmed her back. The sound of an incoming call shook her from her musings and Alessandro’s warm tones greeted her as she answered.

  ‘Kate. . . Lucetta has called me. What has happened today with Orazia?’

  That hadn’t taken long. Kate had been hoping she wouldn’t have to go over it again tonight. But it was obvious that Lucetta or Abelie would call Alessandro about it. It wouldn’t be a huge surprise to learn that Maria or Orazia had too, but their version of events would have been very different.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it. Will I see you tonight?’

  ‘But Orazia insulted you?’

  ‘Not exactly. She wasn’t what you’d call friendly—’

  ‘Maria was rude too. . . I will speak to them!’

  ‘Always with the speaking to people!’ Kate snapped. She rubbed at her temples. ‘I’m sorry. . .’ she said, evening out her tone. He was looking out for her and she was just lashing out at him because there was nobody else there. Why did things have to be so complicated? What happened to boy meets girl and everyone is happy for them? Why did Signora Conti want her son married off to just about any woman under the age of forty apart from Kate, who wouldn’t actually mind the job so much?

  ‘I just don’t want you to speak to anyone about it,’ she continued. ‘I don’t want people thinking I have to hide behind you all the time. I need to deal with it and I will.’

  ‘Mamma likes you,’ he said, though Kate could hear the frustration in his voice. They both knew that Signora Conti did like Kate. She would love Kate as her personal seamstress, as a neighbour, as the quirky English woman who came to dinner every so often to entertain her with stories of a rainy Manchester, but as a daughter-in-law. . . that, not so much. And it was frustrating, for her and for Alessandro.

  ‘I know that. Maria, on the other hand, is not so keen, but I suppose no family is perfect.’

  ‘Maria is trying, but she is disappointed.’

  ‘That Orazia won’t be her sister-in-law after all? The funny thing is I can see why it bothers her, which doesn’t help. I suppose the idea of your best friend being part of your family is a nice one.’

  ‘Orazia is trying too.’

  ‘She’s that alright. . .’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked simply. Kate found herself giving the phone a tight smile, even though he couldn’t see it. The language barrier again, though sometimes it was lucky he didn’t quite get her immediate response to a comment, particularly when it made her look sulky and unreasonable.

  ‘I’m sure she thinks she’s being perfectly lovely to me – at least, as nice and courteous as she can be. But it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she hates me.’

  ‘She does not hate you.’

  Kate was silent for a moment, certain that he was wrong but not wanting to provoke a disagreement. She’d had quite enough of those for one day. ‘I just want a chance to be accepted by your family, that’s all. And by family I mean all of them, even Maria and your mother. Right now it feels as if nothing I do endears me in the slightest to them.’

  ‘Perhaps Lucetta’s wedding will be that chance. When the whole family meet you they must love you, and their good reports will persuade Mamma and Maria too.’

  ‘I’m not convinced, but maybe you’re right. I hope so.’ She let out a sigh. She suddenly realised how badly she wanted him with her, to hold her and kiss her and tell her everything would work out. Because when she was with him, she felt she could face anything. ‘So, will you be able to come over tonight?’

  ‘I am sorry, so much to do for the wedding. I am still at the wedding villa and it will not be ready for some time. I must speak with my cousins too. . . you will be OK?’

  ‘Yes. . . yes, of course I will be. I should have realised – this is a big family occasion and you need to be involved. I’m sorry I asked, it’s just. . .’

  ‘I would want to be with you, more than anything. But tonight is impossible. Tomorrow, early, I will come for you, and we will go to the wedding together.’

  Kate nodded. ‘It’ll be a nice day – I’m looking forward to it.’

  If he could hear the lie in her voice, he didn’t say so. ‘Va bene. Sleep well tonight and do not worry. Ti amo.’

  ‘Ti amo, Alessandro. See you tomorrow.’

  Ending the call, Kate pushed her plate of food away and leaned on the counter, gazing around the tiny kitchen. The flat was not luxurious, but it was good enough and she made the best of it, considering the trade-off a small price to pay for living her dream in Rome. At times like these, however, when the dream didn’t seem quite as sparkly as she’d once hoped, the faded décor that she told everyone was characterful, and the dated, worn furniture that she insisted cheerfully was vintage and quirky, didn’t seem quite so appealing. At times like these she missed the beautiful house she’d had in Manchester and the friends and family she’d left behind. As for a walk to remind her of why she was trying so hard to make a new life here, her apartment was so far from the city centre it would take her hours to walk it, and the magnificent architecture and breathtaking splendour of the city itself was a world away from the post-war blocks of the suburb she lived in.

  She shook herself. Tomorrow was another day, and Alessandro was right – she needed to use the occasion to get to know everyone and win them over while they were all in a party mood. There was a lot of family to meet, and it was going to be busy, but it might just be the answer to her prayers. It was a wedding, in a beautiful church, followed by a spectacular reception venue, in one of the most romantic cities in the world, and she had the man of her dreams by her side. Why wouldn’t it be amazing? It was a wonderful excuse to cut loose, let her hair down, remind herself why she loved Italy so much and why she had chosen to live there.

  Reaching for her phone, she dialled her sister Anna’s number. She had spoken to her younger sister, Lily, earlier that day, but her older one, Anna, had been busy and she had promised to call back. It was probably wise to do it now, get showered and get an early night ready for the long day tomorrow.

  Anna picked up on the first ring.

  ‘Bloody hell, did you have it glued to your hand?’ Kate asked.

  Anna’s laughter was the most wonderful sound, and it lifted Kate’s spirits immediately. It also made her yearn for her sister’s company.

  ‘Not quite, I just happened to be unplugging it from the charger. How are you?’

  ‘I’m good,’ she replied. There was a pause.

  ‘Is your nose OK?’ Anna asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not poking vases from sideboards or anything? Because it must be growing at a rate of knots. . .’

  ‘Ha ha, funny.’

  ‘I can always tell when you’re lying. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Kate said. She let out a sigh. ‘Nothing is wrong with day-to-day living. It’s just. . .’ How did she explain the arbitrary and irrational jealousy she was fast developing about Orazia? There was no reason in the world to fear her, even less to question Alessandro’s heart, so why did she feel so threatened? It was bad enough convincing Signora Conti that she was the right woman for Alessandro, but that just needed a little gentle coaxing, maybe a few more gifts and kindnesses. Orazia was something else, however – something Kate didn’t know how to deal with. She had never once felt threatened by the women that her ex-husband, Matt, came into contact with, and she had never been filled with such a forceful sense of distrust. The fact was she thought Orazia capable of anything, and for some reason, even though Kate had been in Rome for a month now, her old nemesis had suddenly decided to show her face, despite not having done so up until this point. It could have been a coincidence, Maria and Lucetta casually running into her at the hairdresser’s, but somehow Kate doubted it. It smacked of a set-up. Perhaps Maria had sat by, thinking that Kate and Alessandro would blow their relationship out themselves – a holiday romance that wouldn’t stand the test of becoming something more real – but then she had
seen Kate making headway, and their relationship getting stronger, and had decided to do something about it.

  ‘Alessandro’s family are still proving a bit tough?’ Anna asked gently. ‘You’ll get there. He won me over, and I’m sure you can do the same with his mum. After all, if he’s in love and happy that’s surely all any mother wants for her son?’

  ‘Yes. . . of course, you’re right. Like always.’ Kate rallied for Anna’s sake. There was no point in causing her anxiety when distance prevented her from doing the one thing she would be desperate to do if she thought Kate was in trouble, which was come to her aid. ‘At least the preparations for the wedding are going well.’

  ‘Lucetta’s? It’s tomorrow, isn’t it? God, what I wouldn’t give for an invite – I bet it’ll be fantastic.’

  ‘I think it will be. It certainly promises to be memorable. And big. And very rowdy.’

  ‘I’ll bet!’ Anna laughed. ‘I want photos, and lots of them. What are you wearing?’

  ‘I’ve got two dresses – a little tea dress in Wedgwood blue for the day and a dove-grey strapless one for the evening.’

  ‘They sound lovely. It’s such a shame I can’t nip round to yours and borrow them any more.’

  ‘Come over any time.’

  ‘Actually. . .’ Kate could hear the smile in Anna’s voice, ‘I was thinking I might.’