One Night in Italy (42 page)

The men shook hands solemnly and Trish looked all fluttery and excited. ‘Hello! How exciting! So – you’re Australian, are you?’

‘Am I heck. I’m from Manchester,’ he said, and everyone laughed.

‘And these are some of the people I’ve been teaching Italian to,’ Sophie went on. ‘Catherine, Anna, Roy, Phoebe and Nita – this is my mum and dad, Trish and Jim. And Dan.’

Roy was looking Dan up and down, sizing him up. ‘Is this the one who . . . ?’ he asked.

Sophie coloured. ‘Um. Yes. Yes, Roy. That’s him.’

Roy leaned forward and shook hands with Dan. A tight handshake by the looks of things. ‘I’ve heard about you,’ he said, with a warning edge to his voice. ‘And I don’t want there to be any messing about, not with our Sophie.’

‘Roy, you don’t need to—’

‘Understand?’ Roy asked Dan.

‘Absolutely,’ Dan said, with a sideways glance at her.

Sophie’s head was starting to swim. She still didn’t quite know what Dan was even doing here. It was definitely time to go to the pub. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I think the whole cast are going to the Queen’s Head if you all fancy it?’

‘I hope this is okay, me just turning up,’ Dan said to Sophie as they left the school hall and went out into the night. ‘I was going to reply to you on Facebook but then I thought, well, actually, it might be better face to face. I kind of forgot that you might have other people here as well though.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I thought that bloke was about to deck me one back there.’

Sophie laughed. ‘Roy? He’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Although he did tell me he’d been good at boxing, back when he was in the army. Probably not one to get on the wrong side of.’ She kept having to look at Dan to make sure she hadn’t just conjured him up from the depths of her imagination. Tall, lean body, rumpled hair, sexy deep voice: yes, it was definitely him. ‘It’s so weird doing this, walking down the street in England together, I mean,’ she said. ‘How long are you back for?’

He was like her, she knew: a traveller with a passport full of stamps. So she nearly stumbled on the pavement when he replied, ‘I think I’m back for good now.’

‘Oh. Seriously?’ She hadn’t been expecting that.

‘Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had an amazing time. Great people, great memories, great times – nuclear dysentery in India aside. But it was all so temporary, you know? I just want to unpack now – not just my rucksack, but mentally too. Have a front door and a key again, have an address where people can find me. Make a new go of life here.’ He laughed rather self-consciously. ‘God, that was a bit pompous. Did any of it make sense?’

‘Yeah. It did actually.’ They walked for a moment in silence. ‘What do you think you’ll do now you’re back?’ she asked. ‘Because that’s my problem: finding the thing I want to do here.’

‘I’ve got a place at uni for September,’ he said as they reached the pub and waited for the others to catch up. ‘A PGCE – I’m going to be a music teacher.’ He grinned. ‘How grown up does that sound?’

‘Scarily grown up,’ she replied, pushing open the pub door and feeling a tinge of envy. Even Dan knew what he wanted to do with his life. When would she?

Max insisted on buying the whole cast a drink, while Jim, the tightest man in Yorkshire, insisted on getting a round in for Sophie’s friends. ‘Not every day you have a windfall, is it?’ he said, patting his wallet.

‘Take a photo, someone, quick,’ Sophie joked. ‘This is the first and last time you’ll ever see my dad buying drinks without a gun to his head.’

Trish, meanwhile, made sure she had a seat next to Dan when they commandeered two big tables. ‘So,’ she began, fixing him with a very direct, curious gaze. ‘What do you do then, Dan?’

Sophie groaned inwardly.
Are you good enough for our daughter?
was the subtext, loud and clear. But this was Dan, she reminded herself: charming, easy-going, friendly Dan, who had trekked across India with only two pairs of pants and a penknife. If anyone could handle her mother, it was him.

‘I’m going to be a music teacher eventually,’ he replied. ‘My course starts in the autumn. So, in the meantime, I’m working in a music shop in Manchester and teaching a bit of guitar on the side.’ He grinned his wide, affable grin, the one that nobody with a pulse could resist. ‘So basically I’m going from lazy traveller to penniless student,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I think my parents will be hanging the flags out the day I actually get a proper job with a pension and all that.’

‘Does that sound familiar?’ Sophie asked Jim and Trish.

‘Of course not,’ said Trish loyally, but Jim guffawed. ‘Bloody right it does,’ he said. ‘Although me and your mum have been thinking.’

‘Oh God, here we go,’ said Sophie, pulling a face.

‘Well, it’s just, with that money coming out of the blue the other day,’ Jim said (and Catherine, overhearing, turned pink), ‘we thought we’d like to spend some of it on you. College, or whatever you want to do. We know we mucked up your chances first time around, you see. So if Drama School still appeals . . .’

‘Oh, Dad!’ She felt choked with emotion. She almost couldn’t speak. ‘Do you mean it? Seriously?’

‘Course we mean it! Your mum doesn’t mind downgrading her five-star holiday to camping in the Lake District . . . I’m joking. We’re still going to have a bloody great holiday. But we want you to have the freedom to make choices too.’

‘And we won’t interfere this time,’ Trish said. ‘That’s a promise.’

Dan squeezed her hand. ‘There’s a good Drama School in Manchester, you know,’ he said.

Sophie caught her mum’s eye. ‘We know,’ they said together.

Her new friends were beaming at her. ‘Do it!’ Anna urged.

‘Sounds perfect,’ Catherine added.

‘We’ll all come and see you when you’re in the West End,’ Jim teased. ‘I can see it now, your name up in lights – SOPHIE FROST. Our girl.’

‘Stop it, Dad,’ said Sophie, but she couldn’t help smiling. She’d long since put her acting dreams aside, filed them away under ‘Never Going To Happen’. And now she was being offered a second chance – a dazzling, golden ticket of a second chance.
At last
, she thought,
this is what I really, really want to do. What I’ve always wanted deep down
. ‘Cheers everyone,’ she said, a lump in her throat as she raised a glass. ‘Here’s to whatever happens next.’

‘Cheers!’ they chorused.

Dan had to leave at about ten-thirty in order to get the last train back to Manchester and Sophie was seized by a sudden anxiety that she wouldn’t see him again as he made his goodbyes. ‘Do you have to go now?’ she asked, as she went with him to the door. She deliberately kept her hands by her sides so that she wouldn’t clutch at his coat sleeves in desperation. ‘I mean . . . can we meet up some other time?’

‘God, I hope so,’ he replied, and hugged her in that lovely crushing grip again. Then they stood apart, smiling at each other, suddenly shy. ‘So . . . can I ring you?’ he asked. ‘Is this okay? Can we . . . start again?’

A mad rush of happiness began starbursting inside her.
Yes. Yes! Are you kidding me? Yes!
‘I’d like that,’ she replied.

He kissed her, gently at first, then more passionately, and she swayed against him, giddy with longing. She just wanted to drink him in, to stay like this forever. ‘Why don’t you come over to mine this weekend?’ he said eventually, his voice soft against her ear.

‘This weekend?’ Her heart leaped.

‘I’m renting this flat in the city centre; it’s a bit of a shoebox but it’s dead handy for everything. We could spend some proper time together.’

Goosebumps broke over her skin even though the pub was toasty warm. Proper time together. Drama School. His face in the audience, his hand in hers. The evening already felt like a greatest hits compilation; there were so many moments which she was going to run and rerun in her head later on.

‘I’ve always loved shoeboxes,’ she told him, then kissed him again.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Due notti a Roma
– Two nights in Rome

On Friday morning, Anna sat crosslegged with her laptop on her bed, preparing to write what was probably her last ever restaurant review for the
Herald
.

She was working from home as she had to pack and be at the airport for her afternoon flight to Rome, but had promised she’d email her review to Imogen first thing. Signing off her final column would be a relief in some ways: Marla would be off her back, Imogen would have to stop all her heavy-handed stirring, and of course she and Joe would no longer be flung together in such a ridiculous, embarrassing situation. To say it had been a strain was the understatement of the year.

So why didn’t she feel happier to be washing her hands of the whole shebang?

For the last review dinner out together, two nights earlier, she and Joe had gone to Maxwell’s, a new steak house in town, and had laughed themselves stupid, discussing how she could go out in spectacular style for this final column. Joe had suggested an unfortunate choking incident involving ‘Handsome Colleague’, a fishbone and a trip to A&E – ‘Well, it’ll be good copy, won’t it?’ – but Anna had demurred, fearing a possible lawsuit from Maxwell’s, as well as the immediate removal of further freebies. Marla would not thank her for
that.

‘Maybe Handsome
Rival
turns up, proclaiming his undying love for me,’ Anna said. ‘He and Handsome Colleague come to fisticuffs over the starters, wine is thrown, tears are shed—’

‘I’m not sure Handsome Colleague is much of a fighter,’ Joe interrupted. ‘He’s legged it out the back, whimpering and fearful for his life.’

‘All right, let’s big up the romance then,’ Anna said. ‘A proposal over the dessert course.
Our eyes locked across the tiramisu
. . .’

‘Steady on,’ Joe said. ‘Handsome Colleague isn’t the kind of maniac who rushes into something like that. He hasn’t even got his leg over yet, remember.’ His eyes glinted wickedly. ‘Now there’s an idea . . .’

‘What, Handsome Colleague gets his leg over with me? Right here in Maxwell’s?’ She could feel herself blush just at the suggestion. Okay, so he was obviously only joking, but all the same . . .

Joe waved a hand dismissively. ‘God, no, he’s far too classy for that,’ he replied. ‘He waits until you’re walking home together then finds a convenient bus shelter.’

‘Oh, that’s just lovely,’ Anna said, rolling her eyes. ‘I think he’d find himself getting pushed under the next convenient bus then, for being such an unromantic jerk.’ She made a squishing noise as she pressed her hands together. ‘Flat Handsome Colleague, end of.’

‘Only trying to help.’

Yeah, right. She wished he wouldn’t. Trying to work out whether or not he was actually flirting was killing her. ‘Maybe, rather than passion, we need the opposite,’ she said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. ‘Huge drama: Handsome Colleague tells her he’s in love with someone else.’

‘As long as it’s not their boss. And definitely not Colin. I’m not sure the readers are ready for a gay love triangle.’

‘No, I’ve got it: he’s in love with the former restaurant reviewer,’ Anna giggled. ‘It’ll make Marla’s day, can you imagine? A columnist showdown.’ Oops, she probably shouldn’t have said that, she thought in the next moment, remembering how Marla had boasted about Joe making a pass at her.
You know he’s tried it on with me before, don’t you? Put his hand up my skirt, asked if I’d be his little Christmas cracker.

‘Absolutely not,’ Joe said, putting his menu down in horror. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’

The devil was in Anna now. ‘Ahh, too near the knuckle, eh? I heard you two had had a little moment together.’ Shit. She must be drinking too quickly. She wished she hadn’t said
that
, either. Not only did it make her sound jealous, but now he looked appalled.

‘What, she told you, did she?’

He does it to everyone. Didn’t you know? He’s one of those blokes who’s just out for what he can get.

‘She said something about you making a move on her . . . Sorry. None of my business. These things happen, right?’ She looked down at her menu hastily as he glowered. ‘What are you going to order?’

‘The lying cow,’ he said, annoyed. ‘For fuck’s sake. It was
her
, trying it on with me, pouncing on me when I came out of the gents’ at the Christmas party. I can’t believe she told you otherwise. You believe me, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’ She did as well. It was all perfectly clear. Why had Anna wasted a single second taking Marla seriously?

‘I’d never . . . Ugh. Did she really say that? I’d
never
make a move on her. I so wouldn’t.’

He looked so uncomfortable that Anna began to feel bad. ‘Sorry I mentioned her. Really. Consider her banned from the rest of the evening. Now, let’s order, shall we? That waiter’s going to get a rejection complex if we send him away again.’

When she began writing her review, Anna had chosen to ignore all their daft ideas and played it straight, barely mentioning Joe at all. Description of décor – check. Description of food – check. Description of wine list – check. Very informative but deliberately bland.