One Night in Italy (46 page)

‘Hi,’ she said, happily. Look at them both, so gorgeous and confident. What more could a mother wish for? ‘Find anything nice while you were shopping?’

‘I bought this sick carnival mask,’ Emily said, pulling it out of a carrier bag and holding it up against her face. The mask was ghostly white with gold and peacock blue swirls around the eyes and cheeks. ‘Awesome, isn’t it? I’m totally going to wear it to the uni masked ball in June.’

‘Lovely,’ said Catherine, smiling. Emily had a new boyfriend these days, who was a marked improvement on Macca, she was pleased to say.

‘And we both chipped in to buy you this, Mum,’ said Matthew, passing her a small bag. ‘To say thanks. It’s so cool being here.’

Catherine couldn’t help remembering the non-presents at Christmas, and felt as if her heart was expanding as she pulled out a small, pink tissue-wrapped parcel. ‘Oh, guys, thank you,’ she said, opening it to find a blue Murano glass heart on a delicate silver chain. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, fastening it around her neck. ‘Really beautiful. Thank you.’

‘Well, thank
you
for bringing us,’ Emily said affectionately, squeezing her arm. ‘I love Venice. It’s, like, the coolest place ever!’

‘I agree,’ Catherine said. ‘And it seems only right that you two should come here. After all, it’s where you both started off your lives.’

‘Where we both . . . ? Oh.’ Matthew looked grossed out. ‘Right.’

‘You mean, you and Dad . . . ? Here?’ asked Emily.

‘Just a few miles away,’ Catherine replied. ‘And we were only a bit older than you two are now. That’s a weird thought, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a bloody terrifying thought,’ Emily said with a shudder. ‘Contraception all the way for me, thank you very much.’

Matthew was still looking pained. ‘I think I need a drink,’ he mumbled, gazing around in vain for any waiting staff. ‘What do you want, Em?’

‘Diet Coke, please. Unless anyone’s starting on the booze yet, in which case I’ll have a Peroni.’

‘Good one,’ Matthew said. ‘We’re on holiday, aren’t we?’

Catherine pulled a twenty-euro note from her purse and handed it over. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Make that three Peronis.’

As Matthew loped away in search of sustenance, Emily flipped her sunglasses onto her head. ‘Are things all right with you and Dad these days?’ she asked. ‘I saw him last week and he said he was moving in with this woman, whatever her name is. I still haven’t met her but he wants me and Matthew to go round to their place. Is that okay with you?’

‘That’s fine,’ Catherine said, because it truthfully was. She and Mike were so different, she had realized; she couldn’t imagine them ever being a pair again. She had seen him a few weeks ago, on Penny’s hen night of all occasions, and he’d been in the same club, dad-dancing badly on the dancefloor. People were nudging each other and smirking, and Catherine had felt sorry for him at first . . . right up until the moment she saw him man-handling a girl who was definitely not Rebecca. No, she was well rid of him. He and Rebecca deserved each other in Catherine’s opinion.

‘Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again, Mum?’ Emily asked, looking concerned. ‘What happened to that guy, the one you were meant to be meeting for a drink that night?’

‘Beers are on their way,’ Matthew said just then, rejoining them at the table. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and grinned contentedly. ‘Please tell me you’ve stopped talking about our immaculate conception now.’

‘Yeah, Mum’s just about to tell us about this guy she likes,’ Emily told him, and his face fell.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure I want to hear this.’

‘Ignore him,’ Emily urged. ‘Go on, Mum. What happened? Is he still on the scene?’ She fiddled with her sunglasses, looking less sure of herself all of a sudden. ‘I’m sorry about that night, you know. I felt bad about it afterwards. Making you stay in with me instead of going out with him – especially when you’d been so cool and brave about Macca.’

Catherine gazed at her fondly across the table. Emily had grown up so much since she’d left home. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks, though.’

‘
Tre
Peroni?’ the waitress said just then, producing three bottled beers on a tray. She set them down with a glass each.

‘
Grazie
,’ Catherine said.

‘
Prego
.’

‘Mum?’ Emily prompted. ‘What happened?’

Catherine poured the beer into her glass, not wanting to reply immediately. ‘Well . . . nothing,’ she admitted. ‘He’s had a hard time lately. His wife just . . . Well, she died actually. Sounded awful.’

‘His
wife
?’ Emily sounded scandalized. ‘You didn’t say he was married!’

‘They split up a few years ago,’ Catherine replied. ‘She was with someone else. But still – you don’t stop caring about someone just because you’re not together any more.’

She sipped her beer, wondering for the millionth time how he was doing. They’d texted a few times when he was at a low ebb, and as far as she knew he was back in Sheffield now, but he seemed to have gone to ground. She missed his cheerful nature, she missed talking to him, and she missed the prickling nervous excitement that had coursed through her when he’d asked her for a drink. But she knew that such a shocking, sudden bereavement would have hit him hard. She hoped he was okay.

‘So . . . what? That’s it?’ Emily asked, sounding disappointed.

‘Well . . .’ Catherine took another mouthful of cold Peroni, which was slipping down very easily. ‘Actually I’m not sure. Ages ago I mentioned to him how much I love tulips. Months ago, this is. And I said how cross I’d been with myself because I was in such a flap all autumn with your dad going that I left it too late to plant up any tulip bulbs.’

‘Riiiight.’ Emily was frowning, as if she couldn’t see where this was going.

‘And then I came out of the house the other morning and two pots of tulips had appeared in the front garden. Gorgeous red and yellow ones, really beautiful.’

‘What, and you think he put them there?’

‘I don’t know. But then I got to work and there were more tulips in pots outside the front gate. Purple and white ones this time. My boss, Maggie, said she hadn’t a clue where they’d come from.’

‘Aww, that’s lovely!’ Emily cried.

‘Bit creepy if you ask me,’ Matthew muttered.

‘So I can only assume it’s a message to me. A friendly, thank you sort of message. From him.’

‘It’s
totally
a message,’ Emily said enthusiastically. ‘A lovely, beautiful, romantic message. God, I wish someone would do that for me.’

‘They will,’ Catherine assured her. Then she paused. ‘The question is, what do I do now?’

‘You phone him, you dingbat,’ Emily told her.

‘And you wouldn’t mind? If anything happened between us?’ The million-dollar question. The reason she’d hesitated to respond immediately to him.

‘Of course we wouldn’t! Would we, Matt?’

Matthew shrugged. ‘I suppose not. As long as he’s a decent bloke.’

‘He is. He’s really lovely.’ An excited, heady feeling rushed through her. ‘Are you sure this is okay? Because I want you to know, you two come first and always will. You know that, don’t you?’

‘For heaven’s sake! Of course we know it. You don’t have to say all this.’ Emily grabbed her hand and squeezed it. ‘Go for it, Mum. We’re happy for you. Aren’t we, Matt?’

‘Yeah. It’s cool, Mum. As long as he knows he’ll have me to deal with if he ever mucks you around.’

She laughed. ‘Penny said the same thing. She also told me she’s already put him in her seating plans for the wedding breakfast at the end of the month, and won’t take no for an answer.’

‘There you go then,’ Emily told her. ‘There’s no escape for the poor bloke. God help him.’ She grinned. ‘Seriously, though, I’m pleased for you. Really pleased. So do you think you’ll ring him when we get back?’

A bubbly feeling of anticipation spiralled up through Catherine. She was
happy
, she realized. Happy to be here with her children in such glorious surroundings; happy with life itself and how wonderfully everything had turned around. She was ready to try again, and her children’s blessing was the missing piece of the puzzle, the last bit of confidence she’d been seeking.

‘Yes,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘I think I will.’

There must be something about Venice and her lovelife, she decided, as the conversation moved on to Matthew’s forthcoming exams, and then Emily’s plans for summer.
Thank you, Venice
, she thought to herself with a smile. Grazie
. I don’t know what’s around the corner for me this time . . . but I’m very much looking forward to finding out.

Italian Words and Phrases

If reading
One Summer in Italy
has inspired you to take an Italian holiday yourself, you’re in for a treat! Here are a few essential words and phrases that you may find useful. Happy travels!

Anna’s Recipes

If you can’t make it to Italy this summer, then you can at least eat like an Italian with the following recipes, inspired by Anna’s cookery column.
Buon appetito!

Focaccia

This basic recipe can be adapted to taste – try brushing with garlic and rosemary-infused olive oil or adding cooked red onion and olives before baking.

Makes one loaf

250g strong white bread flour

1 tsp salt

one 7g sachet dried yeast

1 tbsp olive oil

200ml cold water

olive oil and sea salt for the finishing touches

1 Place the dried ingredients in a bowl, then add the olive oil and 150ml of the water. Stir to form a dough, then knead for ten minutes while you gradually add the remaining water. You can also do this in a food mixer using the dough hook if you prefer.