Mary looked up at the arctic blue sky. Its icy translucence contrasted with the dusty, humid atmosphere beneath. She fanned herself with a menu, having recovered from the lunchtime rush, which had gone on until three. Mary looked around Pizzeria Dolce Vita. It was Sunday, one week on from the picnic.
Last week Rocco and Paola had agreed it was better for Dante to replace him in the dance competition. He was at the class now. A regular customer, who knew Mary, waved and twiddled two fingers. She smiled. That was his code for coffee please, plus two of today’s biscuits, whatever they may be.
She headed over to the silver machine and made him a cappuccino, coupled with two chewy oat and raisin cookies.
‘They look good,’ said Rocco as she walked past.
‘Hands off!’ It was great to see him smile.
Alfonso went up to the hatch with an empty plate, having enjoyed his favourite salami pizza.
‘Don’t tell Natale,’ he whispered when Mary came back. A couple of days ago his daughter had put him on a diet. Said it was time to make changes. ‘A man cannot survive on vegetables alone. Now, what are tomorrow’s biscuits going to be, Maria?’ He beamed.
‘I’m going to make you a special batch of chocolate ones,’ she said, eyes twinkling, ‘with beetroot instead of sugar.’
He pulled a face.
‘Are you sure you can spare Dante and me tonight?’ she said. ‘We’ve had a lot of time off these last few weeks, what with the dancing, and it is Sunday and the day shift has been so busy.’
‘Natale is working and Rocco has only just started. Then there is the new kitchen hand and our temporary summer staff members are proving reliable this year. And to be honest after … after everything it gives me great pleasure to see Dante out and about and happy. He enjoys your company. We’ll be fine. You and Dante should visit Margherita Margherita. He is keen to speak to her again, with her true identity out in the open.’ He sighed. ‘Wish I was eating more pizza tonight. Natale mumbled something about vegetarian lasagne.’ With a loud tut, he went out front.
‘Sneaky, no, that Margherita?’ said Rocco. ‘What did Dante say when he discovered who she really was?’
‘I thought he’d be annoyed that she had tried to take advantage of his blindness, but he just said he’d like to talk to her again, competitor to competitor.’ She squeezed Rocco’s arm. ‘Will you be all right without him here? Are you worried Angelo might turn up again?’
Rocco’s face flushed. ‘No. I think Dante got the message across – and I feel okay in the flat although it is easier to sleep at night with Fortuna there.’
Angelo had turned up last night, during the busy Saturday dinner shift. Dante had been out front as a customer wanted to compliment him on his perfect dough. Immediately he’d smelt Angelo’s overpowering aftershave and gone over. Angelo threatened him but Dante stood firm and ignored his demands to see Rocco. Mary had watched from a couple of tables away and had seen Angelo become more animated. Dante invited him to throw a punch. Said nothing Angelo could do would compare to losing his sight.
The police had arrested Angelo after Rocco’s visit to the station, last Sunday. Fear was etched in his face. Sulkily he’d left after Dante took out his phone and made it clear how harassing Rocco wouldn’t help his case. Between gritted teeth he ended by saying Angelo shouldn’t underestimate how much Dante saw Rocco as a brother – and that as a brother he’d do anything and everything to keep him safe; that Rocco wasn’t on his own. The Rossis stood together to protect their own.
Mary led Rocco to one of the small mahogany tables inside. They sat down. ‘How did it go last weekend, when you told Paola everything? We haven’t had much time to chat, since.’
Rocco took off his glasses and gave a wide smile. ‘It came as no surprise. Apparently she always knew. It’s been such a relief. She wished I’d come out earlier but decided to let me do it, in my own time. And Paola told me some stuff about herself. I had no idea that you could be so close to someone, yet in some ways, not know them at all. She’s come around twice over the last week and rang me every day.’
Mary digested this and like so much else that had happened in Italy, it chipped away at the Disney dream she’d always had of family. The idea that every member knew everything about each other, swapped secrets, and spoke openly.
‘And Dante’s idea, about her living at the flat?’
Rocco beamed. ‘She jumped at the chance and moves in next weekend. It will work so well with Fortuna. I have apologised to my new neighbours – she barks a little during the day, as she is lonely. I’ve explained it won’t be for much longer.’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘I was wondering if you could bake a batch of biscuits and I will take them around as an apology.’
‘My pleasure. And … what about your parents?’
He sighed. ‘You know Paola a little – how spontaneous she is. Sunday evening she headed straight around to see them. Told them what had happened, with Angelo, even though I said not to …’
‘And?’
‘She said Mamma was upset. Papà didn’t want to hear. But they both seemed pleased that their children would be living together.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Early days. What will be will be. I have enough to think about at the moment without worrying about my parents. Despite everything, I still miss them but there is no point getting upset about things I cannot change.’ He sat more upright. ‘It’s going to be great, living with my sister. Looking after her. She’s feisty on the outside but now I know she’s just as vulnerable as the rest of us.’
‘Good on you for changing your situation with Angelo,’ she said, gently.
‘Finally, I did – with your help, Maria. You are a true friend.’
Those words still rang in her ears as she met Dante after the dance class and made the journey to Margherita’s pizza place. Dante had taken a taxi there, and just his cane, as Oro had picked up an eye infection. They approached the cute-looking building, with those cheerful daisies painted on the walls, and Dante linked his arm in hers. They waited at the front of the canopy.
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.