When we get back to San Georgio, I go straight upstairs for a nap and when I come down a couple of hours later, the restaurant and garden are full of people. It’s still a bit early for dinner service and I don’t think the restaurant was open for lunch – although knowing Stefano he might have opened if someone asked him nicely enough.
I head back inside to see if I can find someone from my actual family, pushing through the double doors into the kitchen. There’s no one around, but I hear a sound that I think is coming from the alcove where the dried food is kept. I take a few steps closer and hear a giggle and then sounds that can only be kissing.
I know it’s probably Luke and a girl. Maybe Carolina. Maybe the girl from the moped. Maybe a different girl entirely. So I know I should get out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. But I don’t. I keep walking towards the alcove. It’s dark – the bright overhead lights are off – and at first I can’t work out what I’m seeing. I see Gia’s bright blonde hair and I say, ‘Toby?’ But as soon as the name is out of my mouth, I know it’s the wrong one.
‘Oh shit,’ Leonie says, turning round and pulling her T-shirt down.
‘Fucking hell,’ I say.
‘I was going to tell you,’ my sister says, walking towards me, her hands held up in front of her.
I glance at Gia who is still leaning back against the shelves, her lipstick smudged and blurry, her eyes wide and worried.
Leonie grabs my wrists and positions her face directly in front of mine. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I need …’ I say, my mouth dry. ‘My head …’
‘Come on,’ Leonie says, tugging me out of the alcove and into the kitchen. ‘You need a drink.’
‘Ugh,’ I say. ‘No.’
‘Pasta,’ Leonie says. ‘You need a massive, fuck-off bowl of pasta. Let’s go and find Toby.’
I take my massive, fuck-off bowl of spaghetti carbonara back up to my room, while Leonie goes to find Elyse.
‘What’s this about?’ Elyse says a bit later, as Leonie pushes her into our room.
‘I need to tell you something,’ Leonie says. ‘Sit down.’
‘Do you know what this is about?’ Elyse asks me, sitting on the edge of my bed.
I nod, my mouth full of pasta.
‘Don’t sit there,’ Leonie tells Elyse. ‘Move up. Sit next to Milly.’
Rolling her eyes and huffing with impatience, Elyse shuffles up the bed and sits next to me, leaning back against the headboard.
‘What?’ she says.
Leonie sits down on the end of her bed and I see her take a breath and then put her hands on her hips before folding them in her lap and looking over at the two of us.
‘I’m gay,’ she says.
‘Oh!’ Elyse says. ‘I know.’
‘The fuck?’ Leonie says at the same time as I say, ‘You did?’
Elyse nods. ‘Only just. Last night. You and Gia were all over each other.’ She shrugs.
‘I just walked in on her and Gia in the kitchen,’ I say. ‘Which is why she’s telling us now.’
‘I’ve been wanting to tell you,’ Leonie says. ‘For so long, honestly. I just … I didn’t know how.’
‘Like that, I’d have said,’ Elyse says. ‘Just, you know, “I’m gay”.’
Leonie nods. ‘I know. And I nearly have. So many times. But I just … I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.’
She tugs at her bottom lip with her finger. ‘If I tell you something else, promise you won’t freak out.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Elyse says.
‘You have to promise!’ Leonie says.
‘Is it something illegal?’ I ask.
Leonie rolls her eyes. ‘No.’
‘Go on then,’ Elyse says.
‘Promise!’
‘I promise,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ Elyse says. ‘But if it does turn out to be something illegal, I’m absolutely going to freak out.’
‘It hasn’t just been this week,’ Leonie says, pushing her chin out, her cheeks flushing pink. ‘Me and Gia.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask her.
‘It started last year,’ Leonie says. ‘When we were here last summer.’
Elyse and I just stare at her.
‘What?’ she says.
‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘So you were together last summer?’
‘I mean …’ Leonie says, tipping her head to one side. ‘I don’t know if you could say we were together. We kissed and stuff.’
‘Last year,’ Elyse says.
‘Yes,’ Leonie says. Her eyes look bright.
‘And then again this year?’ Elyse says.
‘Yes,’ Leonie says. ‘But also in between.’
I open my mouth and then close it again. ‘But –’ I manage.
‘How?’ Elyse says.
‘Skype mostly,’ Leonie says. ‘And Gia came to London a few times. When she could get cheap flights.’
I look at Elyse and she looks as stunned as I feel.
‘And I came here once. When you thought I was in Brighton with Gemma and the girls.’
‘Oh my god,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
She looks sad for a second. ‘At first I just didn’t think it was going to go anywhere. We’d only had a couple of days at the end of the week and even though we said we’d keep in touch, I didn’t really think we would. And then after that … for a while … it was sort of exciting to have a secret. And then I thought I’d left it too late to tell you. I thought you’d be pissed off I hadn’t told you sooner. Are you?’
‘I mean … I sort of wish you had,’ I say. ‘I wish you’d felt like you could.’ My stomach feels hollowed-out again. I can’t believe my little sister’s had a girlfriend for a year, but didn’t tell me.
‘No!’ Leonie says. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not cos I didn’t trust you or anything! I do! I know I can tell you anything. This was just … it was nice to have something that was just mine.’
‘Oh, fuck off with your youngest-child-syndrome bollocks,’ Elyse says, laughing. ‘It’s not like you got our hand-me-downs – you’ve always been a right spoilt cow.’
Leonie laughs. ‘I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I just … it was mine. You know?’
And I do know.
When we go back downstairs, the garden is full of people and laughter and music. A bunch of Stefano’s relatives turned up to surprise him and then he and Alice phoned some friends to turn it into a bit of a pre-wedding party.
I spot Mum sitting on a bench by herself. She’s leaning back and looking up at the sky. The sun on her face makes her look golden and freckled and for a second I want to go and sit on her knee and snuggle my face into her neck like I did when I was little. Instead I sit down next to her.
‘Are you okay?’
She turns and smiles at me, but she looks sad. ‘He would’ve loved this so much.’
My throat tightens before I can speak and I have to concentrate on swallowing. Mum has already turned away from me, but I nod anyway. He would have. Family parties were Dad’s favourite thing. He loved meeting everyone, talking to them, hearing all their stories, and he loved singing for people too.
‘He’d probably be singing by now,’ Mum says. ‘“That’s Amore”.’
The old Dean Martin song was one of Dad’s favourites. He sang it all the time, so there’s no way he’d have been able to resist it at an Italian wedding. I nod again.
‘I’ve just had an idea,’ Mum says, bumping me with her shoulder.
I know what she’s going to say and my stomach clenches in anticipation.
‘I know you’d rather not,’ she says, ‘but I would love it if you’d sing at the wedding.’
I shake my head, but she continues.
‘It would mean a lot to Alice and Stefano too, I know it would.’
‘I know,’ I say and my voice sounds strained. ‘I just don’t think I can.’
I see Luke coming out into the garden. He’s holding a platter of food and looking around. He’s wearing long black shorts and a white T-shirt with bright lime-green trainers. He’s got sunglasses on top of his head. I want to lick his neck.
‘I know you’ve found it hard to sing since …’ She stops and takes a breath. ‘But I think it might be good for you. I think it might help you move on.’
‘Like you’ve moved on,’ I say and I feel, rather than see, her wince.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘You’re right. It’s funny … well, not funny, but … actually maybe it is a bit funny. I keep expecting him to come back. I’ve been letting myself think of him as “away” and I miss him, of course, but I haven’t let myself miss him that much because I just kept thinking he’s coming back. But he’s not.’
I shake my head, digging my fingernails into the wood of the bench.
‘I think maybe what happened at L’Angelo was sort of good for me. In a weird way. I need to accept it and get on with my life. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of it waiting for him to come back. That would be such a waste. And you not singing …’ She reaches up and strokes my hair back from my face. ‘That’s a waste too.’
‘I will sing,’ I say and it comes out almost like a whisper. ‘But I don’t think I can do it here.’
There are just too many people. And Luke. Of course, there’s Luke.
‘That’s fair enough,’ Mum says. ‘I don’t think you’ll ever have a friendlier audience, though.’
She gestures at the end of the garden and I see Stefano’s nonna, Vera, dancing with one of the customers who’s been coming here since Stefano’s father took over from his father. He’s as short as Vera and as brown as the bench we’re sitting on. They’re both beaming at each other.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say.
‘That’s all I’m asking,’ Mum says. ‘He would have been so proud of you.’ She reaches out and brushes her fingers through my fringe. ‘Going to Liverpool. He always regretted leaving music college.’
‘I know,’ I say.
I head inside to get a Coke, stopping to say hello to Stefano’s various relatives and his and Aunt Alice’s friends. Stefano’s uncle Paulo takes both of my hands in his, kisses my knuckles and says, ‘Look how beautiful you are! Your father would be so proud.’ My eyes fill with tears and he immediately hands me his drink. I laugh and he says, ‘Do you take alcoholic drink?’
I smile. ‘Yeah. But I had too much last night. I don’t think I want any today.’
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘That’s the best thing!’
I shake my head and go back through the garden, still holding my spaghetti bowl. Vera stops me and hugs me. She’s tiny with white hair and big round glasses that make her look a bit like a caterpillar and she’s always smiling. Well, almost always. She wasn’t smiling when she was saying lovely things about Dad, but only for a minute, then she started remembering stories about him and how much he’d made her laugh.
‘Bella Milly,’ she says, turning to look over her shoulder, her fingers tight around my wrist. ‘You know Carlo?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think so.’ It’s possible I actually have met him – Stefano has a lot of relatives – but I don’t recognise the name.
‘You like to know him,’ Vera says, reaching up and patting my cheek. ‘Molto handsome.’
The boy that walks up, presumably Carlo, is not actually very handsome. He’s a bit funny looking, his features too big for his face, but he’s got nice blue eyes and curly dark hair and he’s looking down at Vera as if he adores her.
‘This is my Carlo,’ Vera tells me, patting his cheek like she just patted mine. ‘He is …’ She frowns. ‘Not good with girls.’
I glance at Carlo, whose cheeks have gone pink.
‘You talk to him, okay?’ Vera asks – or rather tells – me. She pulls me down to her level, kisses me on both cheeks, enveloping me in a cloud of her powdery perfume, and scurries away.
Carlo’s eyes are wide and he looks like he wants to die.
‘I’m Milly,’ I tell him. ‘Have you got a drink?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I need … please.’ His accent is strong and I wonder if he speaks much English. If he doesn’t, he’d be better off with Elyse, not me.
As we make our way through the crowd, I’m aware of Luke on the other side of the garden. He’s talking and laughing and at one point he looks like he’s dancing with another older woman I don’t know. I watch him touching people as he talks to them. Leaning closer to listen. I want it to be me. I want him to talk to me and touch me like that.
I get drinks for Carlo and me, and Toby gets me to take a tray of pizza bianca back out to the garden. It smells incredible and I snag a piece for myself before everyone descends and grabs the rest.
‘We … sit?’ Carlo says and we walk over to the bench where I sat with mum. She’s not there and I can’t see her anywhere.
I can’t think of anything to say to Carlo, so I eat my pizza bianca and drink my Coke and watch everyone
‘You live … at London?’ Carlo says after a while.
I nod. ‘I do, yeah. But I might be moving. To Liverpool.’ Saying it out loud makes my stomach twist painfully.
‘Ahhh!’ he says, beaming. ‘The Beatles!’
I laugh. ‘Yeah. The Beatles. And football.’
His eyebrows flicker. ‘You like the football?’
I shake my head. ‘Not really, no. Sorry.’
He nods. His face thoughtful. ‘I would say – maybe we go together.’
‘To the football?’
‘Yes. When … commences the new stagione … season.’
‘Oh. Right. Um, no. I won’t be in Rome then. We’re all just here for the wedding. We go home next week.’
‘Yes,’ he says, his face still serious. ‘Okay.’
I eat some more pizza, but my mouth is dry and I have to gulp some Coke to wash it down. When I glance at Carlo, he’s half-turned on the bench and is still looking straight at me.
I have no idea what to say to him. I glance around for my sisters, or even Mum, but I can’t see them. And then I see Luke. He’s standing on the paved area near the door. He’s talking to a woman I don’t recognise. She’s very glamorous – long dark hair, short skirt, long legs – and I watch as she reaches her hand out and runs her knuckles up his arm before tugging at the end of his hair.
I want to jump up, cross the garden and slap her hand away. I want to grab his arm and tug him inside San Georgio, up the stairs, into my room, onto my bed. I want to –
‘Is your boyfriend?’ Carlo says.
I tear myself away from staring at Luke and look at Carlo. He’s looking over at Luke.
‘No,’ I say. ‘No. Not my boyfriend.’
I’m relieved when Carlo is dragged away by another Stefano relative. He seems nice enough, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to him and he seemed to have the same problem with me. So we were just sitting side by side in silence, drinking. I’m about to get up and find a proper drink when Leonie flops down next to me and hands me a glass of Prosecco.
‘Where’ve you been?’ I ask her, resting the cool glass against my hot cheek.
‘Oh, here and there,’ she says, kicking her shoes off and tucking her feet underneath her. ‘Didn’t want to interrupt you and lover boy. You looked like you were having a moment.’
I roll my eyes. ‘He doesn’t really speak much English. He asked if I wanted to go to the football with him – at least, I think that’s what he was asking – and that was about it.’
She grins. ‘Cute, though. And you know what they say about Italian men.’
‘Do I? What?’
She waves a hand. ‘Oh, I don’t know. But it’s probably good. You know, Latin passion and all that.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I say.
‘I love this,’ she says, gesturing at the party. ‘Everyone’s been talking to me about Dad.’
‘Yeah?’
She nods. ‘It’s like getting a bit of him back. It’s like … we have all our stories and we’re not going to get any more. I hate that. But these people have their own stories. So, like, that guy –’ she points at a tall skinny man with a pointy black beard – ‘looks a bit like the devil?’ she says.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Who is he?’
‘Friend of Stefano’s. And he said that he and Stefano and Dad went out one night and got talking to this guy in a bar. He was a tour guide, driving one of those little buggy things? You know, with the open sides?’
I nod. I can’t remember what they’re called, but I’ve seen them driving around Rome.
‘And Dad convinced him to take them on a tour – this was like 3 a.m. or something? And one of the guy’s friends had a buggy with a karaoke machine so they took that instead and they drove and sang round Rome for, like, hours. Till the sun came up. He said it was one of the best nights of his life.’
‘That’s a really good story,’ I say.
And I know what she means. Now I have a new mental picture of Dad. And I can totally see it. I wish I’d been there. I wish I could have been snuggled up against him as he pointed out the sights and sang ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ or ‘You Make Me Feel So Young’ or even ‘My Way’. And then we would’ve watched the sunrise and probably got something delicious for breakfast and it would have been my memory. Not the memory of a stranger with a pointy beard I’ll never see again.
‘And that woman,’ Leonie says, pointing at a woman wearing a blue sundress and with a lot of blonde hair piled up on her head. ‘She’s a musician – she plays guitar, I think she said – and he gave her someone’s email address. I can’t remember who.’
‘That’s not such a good story,’ I say.
Leonie laughs. ‘No, I know. I wasn’t really listening. But he was just really nice, you know?’
‘But we knew that,’ I say. He was just kind. Kind and gentle and properly nice.
‘Yeah,’ Leonie says. ‘But it’s nice to know that other people knew that too.’
I nod. ‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘It is.’
‘I need to tell Mum about me and Gia,’ Leonie says. ‘And, you know. The gay thing.’
‘I think telling her about you and Gia will flag that up, to be honest.’ I poke at the love bite on Leonie’s neck.
‘Is it really obvious it’s a love bite?’ Leonie says, tipping her head back. ‘Could I say I did it with hair straighteners?’
‘You could,’ I say. ‘But what’s the point if you’re telling her about Gia anyway?’
Leonie pulls a face. ‘I thought I’d break it to her a bit more gently than “this is where she was sucking on my neck”.’
I wrap my arm around my sister’s neck and squeeze. ‘I’m so proud of you. And Mum’ll be fine. However you tell her, she’ll be fine.’
Later, I go inside to the bathroom and when I come out, Carlo is walking towards me down the narrow corridor. He smiles when he sees me and I smile back, intending to keep walking out into the garden, but he stops me, his hand on my arm.
‘I am …’ he says, looking at me intently. ‘You are very beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, but it’s barely audible.
‘I kiss you now,’ he says.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t think so, I –’
But he presses his mouth to mine, his hand still holding my arm, his other hand sliding around the back of my neck, his fingers pressing gently.
He’s trapped my arm between our bodies and I use it to push him away, dipping my head out of the kiss as soon as I can.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t want –’
‘You don’t want kiss?’ he says.
I shake my head and look up at him. He looks confused, his blue eyes wide.
‘No, I don’t. Sorry,’ I say.
‘You have boyfriend?’
‘No.’ I push him a little further away and start edging around him, back towards the restaurant. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘So you can kiss?’
I keep edging around him. He’s turning his body towards me as I go. ‘I can kiss,’ I say. ‘But I don’t want to. Thank you.’
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Ah! I’m sorry. I think … I think you want to kiss.’
‘No,’ I say again. ‘Sorry.’
He nods then, his face serious. ‘No. I’m sorry. I have … misunderstanding.’
‘That’s okay,’ I say, taking a couple of steps backwards so I’m almost in the restaurant. ‘Sorry.’
I turn into the restaurant and walk straight into Luke.
‘Shit,’ I say, as he reaches out to my elbow to steady me. ‘Sorry.’
‘You okay?’ he says.
‘Yeah. Thanks. Did you … um.’ I grab hold of the back of the nearest chair. I need to get some water. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drink that Prosecco.
‘Did I …?’
‘Did you, um, see? Anything? Just now?’
He looks confused. ‘No? Should I have?’
‘No, it’s fine. Thanks. Sorry. I’ll just …’ I give him a sort of half wave and then head past him and out into the garden. But then I stop and turn back. He’s still standing where I left him, his hand on the back of the chair I was holding.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I’m really sorry about last night.’
Luke holds up his hands up in front of him. ‘Not a problem. Seriously. Like I said in the texts.’
‘You sounded pissed off in the texts,’ I say, before I can change my mind.
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Did I? Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to freak you out. I was trying to be, you know, casual.’
‘Ah, I didn’t get that. They sounded more “please never contact me again”.’
‘I should’ve used an emoji,’ Luke says, shaking his head. ‘The crying-laughing one? Or the medical mask cos of the vomiting.’
He smiles, the dimple in his cheek popping. I want to poke my little finger into it. I put my hands behind my back.
‘How …’ I feel like I’m going to regret asking this, but I ask anyway. ‘How do you know about the vomiting?’
‘Oh, you didn’t vom exactly,’ he says. ‘In the taxi. You thought you were going to and I think you did a bit, but you …’ He dips his head and scratches the back of his neck as if he’s reconsidering telling me.
‘What?’
‘You said you … swallowed it.’
‘Oh my god,’ I say, covering my face with both hands. ‘Oh my god!’
Luke grins at me. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh my god!’ I say again. ‘Why did you tell me that?’
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry. It didn’t happen. I made it up.’
I take a step closer and swat at his arm. He flexes and I roll my eyes.
‘Oh, come on,’ he says. ‘That was one of my best moves.’
‘I’m so impressed,’ I say. ‘I might swoon.’
He grins and I wonder … is this flirting? Are we flirting? And then I remember I’ve watched him flirt with almost everyone here. It doesn’t mean anything.
‘You’ve got lipstick on your cheek,’ I tell him, smiling.
He grins and wipes his cheek with his thumb. ‘I think that was Vera. Have I got pinch marks on the other cheek? Did I get it all?’ He turns his face to one side and pushes his tongue into his cheek to give me a clear view. He hasn’t and I want to say no and wipe it off myself, but I don’t think I can.
‘No,’ I say.
He doesn’t move, but his eyebrows flicker and I force my hand to move up to his face. I watch it move as if it’s out of my control. As if it’s decided to do something I would never do. My fingers touch his jaw and realise too late that I’ve lifted the wrong hand – the lipstick mark is on his left cheek and so as I wipe it with my thumb, his lips graze the palm of my hand. I feel a burst of almost-pain, like pins and needles, down my arms and out of my fingers. It’s so strong that I genuinely expect to see sparks fly out of my fingertips and I yank my hand back down to grab the back of the chair again. Luke and I are both holding onto it now.
‘I’m sorry!’ I manage to squeak.
He smiles at me, but he looks confused. I’m not surprised. ‘No need to be sorry,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’
I feel my face heating up. ‘I didn’t give you a shock? I got like a static shock.’
‘Oh!’ he says. He shakes his head. ‘No, I didn’t feel it.’
Of course he didn’t.