‘Oops. Excuse me,’ said Matteo, popping his head round the door, eyebrow raised in amusement.
Lucy flicked a strand of hair out of her flushed face and turned off the music. ‘Ahem. Just practising my moves for your gig next week.’
Matteo placed his saxophone case on the floor, the corners of his mouth twitching. ‘I’ve got a few minutes. Let me help you finish up. I don’t like leaving you on your own.’
‘Please don’t worry. There isn’t much to do.’
‘It’s not that. It’s—’
‘I’ll make sure the doors are all locked. Dario has promised to give me a lift back home on his way from work. He’ll be here soon.’
‘I see,’ Matteo said with a knowing wink.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He shrugged mischievously. ‘Niente.Nothing.’
Lucy pushed him playfully out of the door. ‘Enjoy rehearsal.’
‘What time will Elena and Stefano be back tomorrow?’
‘Franco’s picking them up around three o’clock. Now, go. I don’t want you to keep the band waiting.’
‘See you in the morning.Ciao!’
Thetingggof her phone pierced her thoughts.
Dario:On my way
With the press of a button, Dean was back, accompanied by Lucy and her dancing mop.
As soon as Dario left the station that evening he knew something wasn’t right. He pulled up to the kerb and jumped out. His left rear tyre looked suspiciously flabby.
‘Cazzo!’he growled, bashing his fist into his palm.
The deep slashes were proof that the tyre had been deliberately punctured with a sharp instrument. This was all he needed after a twelve-hour shift.
It took a good twenty minutes to change the tyre, which meant he was now running late.
He washed his hands under the water fountain then dialled Lucy’s number. No answer.
As he turned onto theautostrada,he was met with a stream of sluggish traffic and a cacophony of high-pitched car horns. His heart sank. He turned on the car radio.
‘There are currently delays of thirty minutes on the A3 Napoli to Salerno stretch due to an overturned lorry.’
Dario punched the steering wheel, his dark mood worsening.
Lucy gave the floor one last swipe and let her gaze roam around the teashop. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for a job well done; supported by her team of enthusiastic volunteers, she’d not only managed to keep the teashop and the factory tours running, but she’d also proved to Elena that it was possible to let go of the reins occasionally and have some fun.
Mop in one hand and bucket in the other, she trod gingerly down the cellar steps.
She turned on the tap, added a splash of detergent, her mind wandering to last night. Her skin tingled at the memory of Dario’s touch. Was she reading too much into a simple kiss? Did he feel the same, or had he woken up this morning and not given it a second thought? One thing was certain;iftheir romance were to go any further, then she needed to know who the mysteriousFrancesca was. She had been on the verge of asking a few times, but had told herself it wasn’t her business. Butifshe were to risk giving her heart again, she’d promised herself that there would be no secrets.
Just listen to yourself, Lucy!cried her inner voice.One little kiss and already you’re thinking long-term. Where is strong, independent Lucy? Hmm?
Her musings were interrupted by the slamming of the door. Plunged into darkness, she couldn’t see anything; not even her two hands.
Feeling her way up the cold stone steps, she looked blindly into the void, her breath emptying from her lungs.Don’t panic. The door’s just up there.
