Someone to Love
Authors: Lucy Scala
Lucy Scala
About
Someone to Love
Mia is thirty, has a history of unhappy love affairs and a mother who arranges blind dates for her. Every night Mia dreams of her ideal man, but in the morning the wakes up next to a brute with drooping ears and a bristly coat. By day she runs one of the best-known veterinary clinics in Turin and organizes pet therapy sessions at the local hospital. True love never seems to enter her life. Or so Mia thought, until she meets Alberto, an attractive doctor, and Diego, a policeman who has just moved to Turin from Puglia.
At last Cupid is going to shoot his arrow; will he manage to pierce the heart of the right man for Mia?
This book is dedicated to you
who gave me the chance
to reveal my emotions
Chapter one
The sun shone on the sandy beach, dotted with coconut palms that had been bent by the wind, tinting with gold that corner of paradise. Not a cloud streaked the turquoise sky and the breeze was drawing thin transparent strips on the surface of the water.
Lying on a sun bed near the shore, I swallowed a mouthful of my fruity cocktail. My palate tasted ripe strawberries and pineapple, along with a cinnamon aftertaste.
I banished my every worry to fully enjoy my well earned rest. A man emerged from the water several metres away and walked towards me slowly. Another moment longer and I could have seen his face.
But no, even that morning the notes of a
Beautiful Day
rang out suddenly. Unfortunately, I was in exactly the same world as always and the only heavenly thing that remained was the postcard stuck on the mirror above the dresser with tape.
I blinked, dazzled by the sunlight and muttered, turning to one side.
“It's not fair, why does it always end at the best bit?” I snapped, annoyed, tossing aside the duvet.
I curled up again intending to enjoy another five minutes in bed. Maybe by closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I'd be able to doze off and meet him again.
But nothing doing, a groan came from behind the door. Repetitive and discordant, as usual. I counted to ten, and then came the musical accompaniment, an unbearable scratch against the walnut wood. Every morning the same ritual.
“Yes, Bubu⦠I'm getting up⦔ I mumbled.
My words had the same effect on him as an adrenaline rush. It only took a few seconds for the pace of the thumps to increase, and the wail turned into a shrill cry.
I dragged myself out of bed, yawning. Barefoot, I walked over to the door and opened it. I held my breath, and an avalanche of fifteen kilos of happiness washed over me.
Bubu had long ears that fell to the sides of his nose and waved like flags when he ran. He wasn't a big dog, but his strength was surprising.
“Enough, enough!” I begged him, protecting myself as best I could from my furry friend's enthusiasm.
I tried to get up, putting a hand on the wall and massaging my sore backside.
“Come on, let's go down to the kitchen and make some breakfast. I'm very hungry⦔
Bubu looked at me with his languid eyes, and shot off in the direction of the stairs.
I had moved into that old house two years ago, it was located on a hill that was a perfect semi-circle if one looked at it from the street. Most of it still needed restoration, and the decor was rather shabby. In some places, the plaster was peeling off and still showed the signs of those who had preceded me. The old tiles had recently been replaced, but I still had to change the fixtures because the draughts tormented me.
The kitchen was small, but I adored it. It had a fresh and bright appearance. I had arranged a row of aromatic herbs on the window sill of the square window above the sink. They were the only plants that I could keep alive. Rough wooden shelves hung on the walls containing my beloved collection of cookery books.
Bubu was faster than me. He had rushed immediately to his empty bowl, and was waiting. He stared at it with expectant eyes and put a paw inside it, moving it to attract my attention.
I filled it up to the brim and, while Bubu was munching happily, I took my favourite mug from the cupboard and poured some coffee, evoking childhood memories of the house. My grandmother, busy churning out an apple pie, would call my grandfather, who was working in the vegetable garden, from the window. She always had to call him twice, because the first time he would pretend not to hear her.
I took a handmade shawl from the chair and wrapped it around my shoulders, peering out of the window to watch the first rays of sunlight illuminate the garden. It was a simple and well organized place, but it had lost the magic of the past.
The garden was one of the clearest memories I had of my childhood. I could still remember the perfume of flowers and the love with which my grandfather tended them. He would return home, his arms behind his back, and my grandmother would tell him off for not dedicating enough time to her. Then he would hand her a freshly picked rose. A broad smile would spread over her face and she could not but forgive him every time.
“Flowers have a secret, they can colour even the saddest moods,” my grandfather used to say, when I helped him to prune the roses, always careful to mimic his every move.
Bubu ran, brushing my legs, and sat at the door. He turned and stared at me. This was our daily routine. I pulled down the handle and opened it. Full of enthusiasm, he leapt out and rolled in the fresh grass. It was a grand sight to see him playing like this. As true as it was that I had saved Bubu, it was equally true that he had saved me.
While Bubu ran and dug in search of bones, I started to prepare myself for the day and checked my appointments.
At eight-thirty on the dot, I was at Fiamma's house. The journey lasted the space of three songs, I had timed it so many times I knew it by heart. Fortunately, there were no hold-ups along the way and my record remained unvaried. I beeped the horn and waited in the driveway.
I followed Fiamma's slim figure walking briskly towards my car. A mane of brown hair framed her delicately featured face. Her bright green eyes stood out in her pale complexion.
That morning she sported an unusual outfit and a waft of perfume overwhelmed me.
“Hello, Mia! We're very punctual this morning!” she exclaimed, as she placed her bag on the back seat.
Fiamma had been my best friend since our school days. We had known each other since the first day of elementary school. While I didn't want to be separated from my mother, she was already running around the classroom. She had pointed at the empty desk next to her, and in that toothless grin I had found a friend.
We grew up together, and I never doubted our friendship.
“I can't say the same about you, since you haven't had time to put on any makeup on⦔ I looked at her from head to toe. “⦠or to get dressed,” I concluded with a smile.
Before Fiamma could reply, her cell phone rang. She nodded several times and looked at me with a satisfied air. “I'll inform her immediately and tell her to pass by as soon as possible. Thank you, see you soon.”
I turned my head round suddenly and stared straight at her. “Tell me it's what I think. Pleaseâ” I said.
“It was the director of the hospital,” she said in a disappointed tone.
“Don't play tricks. Tell me right away what he said!” She surrendered immediately to my urgent demand.
“Congratulations, my friend! We'vegot permission to start our project. They said âyes' to the pet therapy,” she said triumphantly, as excited as I was about the news.
I breathed a sigh of relief and met Fiamma's eyes. We stared at each other for a moment, and my face relaxed into a smile. Yes, we had managed, and in succeeding, I had surprised even myself. We were still at the beginning, but satisfied, I enjoyed the moment.
“You have to go to his office to sign the documents. They have carefully considered our proposal and would like to try it on some patients. If you had remembered to turn on the vibration on your phone you could have talked to him yourself.”
Fiamma was right, it was time to put an end to this terrible habit.
“I'll try harder, especially after this fantastic news. At first they didn't seem very excited, maybe they thought it was a waste of time. But we finally convinced them! I can't wait to figure out what effect our puppies will have on the children in the hospital.”
“We were right to insist, see that never giving up pays off in the end?” Fiamma proclaimed proudly.
“Well, well, after this wonderful news, let's change the subject and spill the beans. How was your date last night?” I asked curiously.
“You never forget anything, do you? I believe I have removed every detail to preserve my sanity. What can I say? Another mistakeâ” replied Fiamma, while intent on drawing a perfect line of kohl on her eyelids. “They're all the same. A lot of promises, fine words, and then? As soon as they make it up with their wives, they go back to the fold.”
“You know how I feel, but you're inveterate. You should stop dating already committed men,” I said drily.
“You at least, manage to find normal guys around. Then it's your problem if you make them run away. Have you tried changing deodorant?”
“Now it's my fault? I don't think I'm demanding. It's just that I haven't found the right one yet.”
“And who are you waiting for, Prince Charming, Mia? Do you think the perfect man knocks on the door with a glass slipper in his hand, perhaps on a white horse, and then proudly shows you off to the whole kingdom?”
Exasperated, I looked up at the sky. “Don't be silly, I'm just waiting for the right one. I'm sure that sooner or later he'll come.” I said with a sigh. “Does the horse have to be white? Any colour will do, it's who the knight is that's important.”
Fiamma shook her head. “Mia, you've seen
Cinderella
too many times. No Prince Charming will turn up, they're too busy combing their hair or going to the beautician, or trying to save their marriage,” she concluded with a sarcastic smile.
“Stop. Are you telling me I'm wrong to wait for the right one? That I should throw myself into some adventure like yours?” I said, annoyed, and turned abruptly.
We had arrived. In front of us was the facade of the clinic, adjacent to a building dating back to the fifties, with its large windows and the rough stone that reflected the sunlight. No matter how often I saw it, my eyes were mesmerized every time. Opening a clinic had been my dream ever since I enrolled in the Faculty of Veterinary Medicine; later, with the help of my family and the money my grandparents had left me, I was able to make it happen. At the time, it was an old building and several renovations had been necessary to transform it. That place had stolen my heart. It had been on the market for so long that the colour of the âFor Sale' sign had faded. We had been managing it for a few years now, obtaining a satisfaction from it that had nothing to do with our earnings.
