You Had Me at Merlot: Part 2 (4 page)

‘Did you
write
the note?’ I butted in and glared at George.

‘Guilty of a lotta things, but not this, baby. Though I’d like to shake the hand of the man who did.’

And the penny dropped. I’d like to shake the neck of the man who did.

‘I don’t even use Viagra, I don’t need to. Now, I think we both know that’s a lie, but if role-playing is what you’re into
I can play the virile younger man. You wait and see, baby.’

And people wondered why I didn’t want a boyfriend. ‘I just reeeeeeeally don’t want to sleep with you.’

‘You say that now, but we’ll see.’

‘No we won’t.’

‘How’s your pasta?’

‘Delicious. Yours?’

‘It would be better if I were eating it off your body.’

‘George, I am
this close
to getting up and leaving you sitting here all on your own.’ Except I wasn’t, because the pasta was amazing and no one else
was going to get their hands on it.

‘How are the love birds?’ cooed Jamie the puppet-master, appearing out of the darkness with his guitar and a tealight in a
heart-shaped stand, which he placed in the middle of the table.

‘Close to flying away.’ I glared at him through slit eyes.

‘Flying away together to the Bahamas on our honeymoon!’ George roared with laughter. ‘Can you picture this one in a bikini,
holy hell …’

‘Save me,’ I begged Jamie.

‘Elle, you just need to feel a bit more romantic. Give George a chance. He’s a remarkable, macho man—’

‘With a huuuuge—’

‘George, leave it to me. Close your eyes, Bella Ella, and let the mood take you.’

I closed my eyes, but not to let the romance in. It was purely to shut George’s face out. Jamie strummed and started softly
singing
Bella Notte
from
Lady and the Tramp
. His voice, though not perfect, was gentle and husky, and it lulled me like a soft wine into a blissful state. I almost forgot
who I was sitting opposite as I revelled in the pure, unadulterated cheesiness that being serenaded under the moonlight brought.
If the ladies back home could see me now …

‘Well now that’s a nice smile,’ said Jamie when he finished and I opened my eyes to see him crouched next to my chair, peering
at me. A big dopey grin had indeed crept over my face, and for a moment my eyes just twinkled with his and I wasn’t sure what
to say.

And then George broke the mood. ‘Hot diggidy damn, Jamie, you’ve done it. I think she’s just fallen in love with me.’

The boiling sun was in the very centre of the sky and tendrils of my hair were sticking to my face and neck, but I couldn’t
move them.

I was knee-deep in an enormous vat of grapes, the hem of my dress soaking, my hands stained mauve. I moved a few inches to
the left and my feet squashed and squelched another dozen bunches. It was messy, but the most satisfying experience you can
have outside rolling down a hill in a bubble-wrap dress.

Laurie, Marco, Pierre and Vicky were also in the vat, with George and everyone else on the side-lines. We’d been divided into
small groups to try the grape-crushing, and just this once I’d refused to let go of Laurie when she was called up.

‘Now everybody hold hands and run on the spot as fast as you can,’ called Sofia, to the whoops of the other guests. The last
thing I felt like in this heat was a burst of cardio, but I wasn’t going to be Donna, sitting at the side away from the others,
not joining in, so I grabbed the hands of Pierre and Vicky and ran like mad.

With a sudden
whoosh
Laurie’s foot slipped and she tumbled backwards into the mushy grapes, causing bursts of laughter from everyone, including
her. Pierre and Marco fell over each other trying to help her, splatting face down into the grapes themselves. In the end
Jamie reached in and hauled her upright, catching my eye and chuckling. It was nice to see him having fun.

I waded over to Laurie, who threw sticky arms around my shoulders and we both slipped and fell back down with screams.

‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ yelped George. ‘This is better than jello wrestling!’

I gripped the sides of the vat and yanked myself up, darting a look at Donna. That was not the kind of thing you want your
potential future boss to remember you for. I expected a raised eyebrow, a contemptuous look, but she was staring off into
the distance, quite oblivious to the whole farce. And I found myself wondering, for the eightieth time so far this holiday,
why she was here.

Jamie took our hands and helped us out. Once my feet were back on the solid, if rough, terrain I flicked chunks of grape from
my dress. ‘How do I look?’

‘Like my favourite wine,’ he said.

‘Like your favourite wine, or your favourite wino?’

‘Wino?’

‘Drunkard.’

‘Ah, both: my favourite everything.’ He removed a crushed grape from my hair, sending a cold shiver down over the sweat on
my skin. ‘George,’ he called. ‘Have you ever seen such a beautiful creature?’

‘Hey Bella, how are ya?’ said Sebastian, squinting into the evening sunshine as I walked back to my room to clean off.

‘Good, thanks, though I look like an extra from
Carrie
.’ I motioned to the blood-like splatters of juice that covered my feet, legs, hands and forearms.

‘Fun, though, isn’t it?’

‘It was so much fun. It’s satisfying just to squash the hell out of something – not to sound like a psychopath – and watch
it splatter all over the place, knowing you don’t need to clean it up.’

‘Did Jamie work you hard in there?’

‘No harder than anyone else,’ I countered.

Sebastian hauled a large wooden bucket onto his shoulder and we walked up towards the house. ‘So he hasn’t asked you to be
my daughter-in-law yet? What’s wrong with him?’

‘I think you should give up.’

‘Never.’

‘He clearly isn’t interested.’

‘Now why would you say that?’

‘Because never has a guy devoted this much attention to setting me up with another man.’

‘But you’re interested, right? I can see you like him. You look at him the way most women look at me.’

I laughed. ‘But it’s kind of beside the point if the guy would rather marry me off to some old American dude rather than be
alone with me.’

‘He’s just testing you, Bella. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s a little broken, and he’s seen many women – and men – come and
go on these holidays. They get seduced by the wine, and the food, and the sun, and more wine, and their attention can swing
back and forth like a bloody great pendulum.’

‘Are you saying he’s trying to push me away to see if I’ll stay?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t have put it in such a self-help book way, but yeah, that’s the gist of it.’

I watched Jamie as he skirted around the edge of the lounge that evening, pausing to examine nicks in woodwork or to brush
dust off wine bottles.

‘I’m gagging for a coffee, do you want one?’ Donna asked. She hadn’t left my side since dinner.

‘Sounds perfect.’ Off she went and I continued to watch Jamie with interest. Eventually he reached me.

‘
Ciao
again.’

‘
Ciao
.’

‘You told my dad on me.’

I laughed. ‘I what?’

‘Yeah. He just told me off, said I had to stop being mean to you.’

‘Did he now?’

‘I said I wasn’t being mean, I just really believed in you and George. But he was all,
you’ll regret it if you don’t treat her well
, blah blah blah. So I have a question for you.’

Little teenage butterflies awoke inside me. ‘Yes?’

‘Would you like to escape for the day tomorrow? Go to Florence with me?’

‘Just me and you?’

He kicked at the ground. ‘If you want.’

‘To Florence? We can do that in a day? Or did you mean … um … an overnight stay?’

‘No, it’s, like, an hour away; we don’t have to spend the night together. There. Spend the night together there.’

‘Good. I mean, cool. I mean, that sounds brilliant. How will we get there?’ As if details like that really matter when Jamie
has just asked me on a full-day date and I have to be entertaining and fabulous for hours on end. Holy crap, I just agreed
to a date. Maybe I should just have said no.

‘We could go on my Vespa. If you’d be happy with that?’

‘Yeah, that sounds … really not like a hardship. Thank you, I’ve always wanted to go to Florence. I can’t believe I’m going
tomorrow!’

‘I like seeing you smile like that.’

‘We’re going to Florence tomorrow? How lovely!’ Donna reappeared and handed me a coffee, which for a moment I wanted to throw
in her face.

‘Florence?’ said Jane. ‘That’s where they filmed
Jersey Shore
season four.’

‘That was the best season,’ chimed in Vicky. ‘Do you reckon they do a
Jersey Shore
locations tour?’

‘I’ll go to Florence! Pierre, Jon, Marco – you’ll come, won’t you?’ said Laurie, appearing with her band of suitors.

‘We’re going to Florence?’ asked George, coming over and standing – as usual – right next to me. ‘There’s a lotta statues
there in just their birthday suits, Elle, it’s gonna be harder than ever to keep your eyes on me.’

Jamie held his hands up. ‘Actually, I was just asking—’

‘Did I hear we’re going to Florence tomorrow?’ interjected Bridget, her eyes wide. ‘I haven’t been there since my honeymoon.
I’d love to go again, it’s a beautiful place.’

I met Jamie’s eyes and he nodded, lowering his hands and brushing one down my arm as he did so. ‘Fine. I will have a minibus
or two ready to leave at eight tomorrow morning for anyone that would like a day trip. But it will be a free day, a self-guided
trip around the major sites at your own leisure and pace.’

The group broke up into excited chatter and Jamie bent down to my ear. ‘I will have a little alone time with you,’ he promised
with a grin that made me melt that little bit more under the Tuscan sun.

I woke up early as usual, my shutters wide open and the dawn light streaming in. If my bedroom view in London wasn’t of the
windows of the townhouse directly across the street, I would do this more often; it was a thousand times nicer than waking
up by alarm clock.

Florence was a popular decision – nearly everyone had said they would come on the day trip – but although I wouldn’t be flying
down dirt roads with my face pressed against Jamie’s warm back on the back of his Vespa, I was still breaking out into sporadic
happy dances at what the day might bring.

It was as I was whipping my scruffy, slept-in ponytail back and forth with joy that I spotted a note slipped under the door.

And I thought I was up early. I opened the door a tiny crack and there, in a little wooden bowl, was a bunch of perfectly
round, tightly packed violet grapes. I tried one and it burst in my mouth, as sweet and soft as a blueberry, so I scuttled
inside with the rest – there was no way I was going to share these.

I decided to be a Decadent Daphne and took the whole bunch into the bath with me for my morning soak with vineyard-view porn.
As I lay them against my bare chest and munched away I felt very like I was in a Renaissance painting. How lovely of Jamie
to think of me and bring these to my room. I’ve quite literally never been brought room service before – I could definitely
get used to this.

We all gathered in the morning sunshine, some still chewing on breakfast, some already getting their tan on, some hiding hungover
eyes behind sunglasses. Laurie was chattering to me about how her own dinner date went the night before.

‘I just get concerned whenever I talk to Marco that anything I say will go straight into his magazine article. But the problem
is that after a glass of wine I say a lot of things. And here, there’s a lot of wine.’

‘But he did say he wouldn’t write about any of us, and he seems genuine. Don’t let yourself worry like this.’

‘You can tell I’m worried? Even through this Botox? What a rip – I want my money back when we get home.’

We began piling into the minibus, then Sofia waved us off, clutching a large mug of coffee in her other hand. ‘Remember, everyone,
that Firenze is a very romantic city. Take this opportunity to spend some quality time with your potential love.’

Without thinking I turned to beam at Jamie, only realising what I was doing at the last minute and trying to turn it into
a communal grin, which meant I was smiling like a lovesick fool at Bridget.

I sat by the window with Laurie, but as Jamie boarded she leapt up and ran to the back of the bus, leaving the seat free for
him. He relaxed down next to me, only us knowing we were on a sort-of date. And with that the bus set off for Florence, full
of singletons ready to up their game in a medieval city famed for its sensual sculptures and fleshy paintings.

There was a school-trip feel to the journey as we sped down the hill and through the countryside towards Florence. Even Donna
seemed to be lightening up a bit. ‘Jamie, do you have any horror stories about past guests? Any as bad as George?’

‘As bad, or as sinfully good?’ George wisecracked.

Jamie shook his head. ‘No, no, I will not speak badly of past guests.’ A shadow passed over his face, then left as quickly
as it had come. ‘They’ve all been
magnifico
.’ There was a groan and he laughed, turning back to me and ducking down in his seat. ‘I will tell you one story, though,
because you’re my favourite.’

A warm wave flooded my insides. I couldn’t help but feel elated when he confided in me – it felt like I was the only one in
his world. I snuggled further down in my seat, our heads so close I could feel his grape-scented breath tickle my eyelids
as he talked.

‘Last year there was this woman, and she was head-over-heels for this very shy guy. She was a – do you know what I mean if
I say a “Stifler’s Mom” type?’

I guffawed. ‘Yes, and I love that you do.’

‘She tried every trick in the book to get this poor guy to fall in love with her, and on one of the last nights she went out
to the vineyard in the middle of the night, took off all her clothes and lay among the vines, her body decorated with carefully
placed bunches of grapes. I think she was trying to recreate a Renaissance painting or something.’