Elena began hurriedly stacking the dirty dishes.
‘Go!’ cried Stefano, pushing them both towards the hall.
Lucy put on her rubber gloves and turned on the hot-water tap. The wind chime jangled. ‘Ciao!Have fun!’ The door banged shut. She started to clear the table. Buried underneath the pile of napkins were the concert tickets. ‘Stefano! Quick!’
Both Elena and Dario had visited Herculaneum many times, both as children and adults. But never before had they stepped inside these ancient walls at twilight.
The rain had cleared, leaving a jewel-encrusted sky. Their footsteps echoed along the illuminated, glistening stone path. Eerie shadows from the leaning walls, porticos, pillars and colonnades, tall as trees, flickered over the frozen-in-time city. Ethereal statues looked down on the procession of modern-day invaders as they filed past, cameras flashing.If only statues could talk,thought Elena.
‘Elena!’ Dario was pointing his iPhone at her. She spun around and stuck her tongue out at him.
Dario grinned. ‘Fantastico!Everyone will love this picture.’
‘Don’t you dare post that,’ she groaned, reaching for his phone. ‘I’m warning you!’
‘You’ll have to catch me first!’ Dario cried, running and skipping backwards, holding his phone aloft.
Elena shook her head and smiled, reminded of what a wonderful father he would make.
Dare she hope that he and Lucy might fall in love some day?
‘Elena? Elena!’
She was woken from her romcom fantasy by Dario waving at her. ‘Elena. The tickets.’
She rootled in her bag and handed them to the usher with an apologetic smile. ‘Scusi.I was lost in another world.’
Lucy had been right; Dario was growing to appreciate classical music. Who would have thought it? Giancarlo was probably looking down on him now with a wry smile.
Dario closed his eyes, the soaring notes of the three tenors singing ‘Nessun Dorma’ filling him with pure joy and longing; longing for the woman he couldn’t have.
Whenever he saw her leaping around like a loon with Stefano, it struck him that she would make a great mother. Did she want children? he wondered. He imagined her with him, right here, right now, in this most romantic of settings. What was happening to him? He’d always been a man’s man, not given to thoughts of love or moved to tears by soul-stirring music, but this woman had cast a spell on him and changed all that. Damn her!
He knew she’d been badly hurt in the past. Was it fear of having her heart broken again that prevented her from letting him in, or did she consider him a stereotypical Italian Romeo, gawping at the opposite sex all day long? Whatever her reasons, he had to accept the fact that he had been… what was the expression he’d overheard one of the young officers use the other day in the canteen? ‘Sono entrata nella friendzone’. Yes, that was it – he’d been ‘friendzoned’.
Meanwhile, twelve kilometres along the coast… Lucy peeked around Stefano’s bedroom door. Her heart swelled at the sight of him fast asleep, his arm wrapped around his four-legged, one-eyed saviour. The bond between them was growing stronger by the day. She’d often secretly witnessed him quietly chatting to Harry, who’d sit perfectly still, cocking his ear as if paying attention to every word.
Elena had told her sometimes, when she’d go to tuck Stefano in at night, she’d overhear him confiding in Harry about his thoughts and feelings on what had happened to his daddy; thoughts and feelings he’d shielded from the world until now.
Lucy’s mind rewound to the boathouse at Herculaneum, and the skeleton of the boy clutching his dog. She blinked back tears, drew a deep sigh and headed to the kitchen.
She poured herself the last of the wine and put on some Renato Zero (her new favourite artist), and her apron. She cracked four eggs into a bowl, added sugar, flour and butter, but soon found herself staring into the cake mixture, thoughts drifting to Dario. She couldn’t quite work him out. There was no denying he was attractive, charming, if a little confident and flirtatious, but did that make him a womaniser?
Chapter Sixteen
‘No! Please, no!’
Everyone in the crowded fish market turned around to look.
‘Capitone!’ cried Elena, chasing after Lucy. ‘Eel! Christmas Eve tradition. Is delicious.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘I don’t care. How would you like to be chopped up alive, then fried?’
All at once Lucy’s love affair with Italian cuisine had taken a nosedive; a bit like discovering the man you thought was perfect in every way had secret criminal tendencies.
Back at the house, there was a buzz of excitement. Stefano was adding some new figures to thepresepio– Nativity scene – while his Aunt Valentina, Nonno Alfonso and Matteo were preparing the antipasti and the Ritelle di Baccalà – cod fritters – for thecena alla viglia– Christmas Eve dinner – which traditionally consists of several fish dishes.
‘Did you get it?’ Alfonso asked the moment Elena and Lucy stepped through the door.
