Tension raked across her shoulders as she dished up, fingers trembling. At least there was Franco’s pizza on standby, should the haggis not be to everyone’s taste.
She reminded herself that, to the Italians, food isn’t just about appetite, but conviviality, about being together. So what, if pizza proved more popular than haggis? It wasn’t a competition.
‘Grazie, bella.’
Each guest smiled as they filed past, cautiously eyeing up the haggis, tentatively sipping whisky, laughing and chatting over their shoulders. Lucy quietly chuckled to herself at the variety of reactions to the crumbly, greyish, brownish, Scottish delicacy.
Some warily scooped up a fingernail-size of haggis, washed it down with whisky then choked slightly, mid-conversation, whereas the majority dived in, forks waving, some even awarding it a chef’s kiss.
Her heart warmed to see Alfonso, Elena, Stefano and Valentina mingling among the guests, chatting and laughing. Stefano, offering left-over pizza, was enjoying the impact his show-stopping kilt was having on the guests.
Lucy ran her hand across her damp forehead, heaving a sigh of relief that there had been enough haggis to go round and no mass exodus to the loo – yet. Franco shimmied over to her in time to the music, his pink-cheeked, rumpled face looking triumphantly at his plate of pizza – topped with haggis.
‘This,’ he said, eyes dancing with excitement, ‘this will be the new Lorenzo Special.Pizza Scozia.I add some fresh mozzarella, tomato and rosemary.’ He kissed the tips of his fingers.‘Molto buono!’
‘Really?’ Lucy’s eyes grew wide in disbelief, recalling the look of disgust on an Italian waiter’s face when she’d once tried to order pizza topped with ham and pineapple.
‘You try,’ Franco said, tearing off a corner for her to taste.
She nodded. ‘Buonissimo.’
Pizza Scozia?Rabbie Burns would be chuffed.
When the supper was over, Franco and Valentina helped Lucy clear the tables and Clanadonia resumed playing, accompanied by Matteo on fiddle.
Despite her protests, Lucy was dragged onto the floor in a giddy ‘Eightsome Reel’.
She found herself in the centre of the circle, hands on hips, dancing on the spot, then linking arms with Dario on one side and his colleague on the other. Their dancing was energetic, despite not knowing the steps. Lucy couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the ungainly sight of these two tall men, legs as long as a giraffe’s, being flung hither and thither, dancing themselves dizzy.
Her unsteady gaze was then caught by several of her students, like traffic wardens, directing the uninitiated around the dance floor.
‘Turn, give your right hand to your neighbour, turn, left hand, turn, right hand…’
A warm glow whooshed through her. What a different scenario to that grey day, not so long ago, when their initial lack of enthusiasm had almost led her to cancel the ceilidh altogether.
‘Attenzione,Lucy!’ She turned to see Dario, his wrists crossed, ready to take her hands and whirl her around. The force and speed of the spin almost lifted her off the ground. But she felt safe in his strong grip.
The clock chimed midnight, just as the dance ended.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ boomed Jamie’s voice from the screen. ‘Please form a big circle, cross your arms and join hands, ready for “Auld Lang Syne”. The words are in Scottish dialect, so just hum along. It’s a traditional song about old friends. That’s all you need to know.’
‘Come on, Elena,’ Lucy said, propelling her to Dario’s side.
Stefano took Dario’s other hand, Lucy held out her hand toStefano, Alfonso took Lucy’s free hand, Valentina joined hands with Alfonso on one side and Padre Paulo on the other, Padre Paulo took Franco’s hand and so on, until the circle was complete. As the music started and everyone moved forward then back, stamping their feet and la-la-la-la-ing to the tune, Lucy’s mouth spread into a big, daft grin.
Elena looked from Stefano to Dario, then Alfonso to Valentina, savouring the moment, for she knew beautiful moments like these slipped away as quickly as sand through your fingers.
As the music speeded up, the crowd galloped to and fro, their feet pounding the floor, their squeals and laughter bouncing off the walls.
Leaning into Dario’s left ear Elena yelled, ‘You know, she’s perfect for you.’
‘Elena!’ Dario belted out with mock scorn. ‘No matchmaking.’ Elena shrugged, her mouth twitching. ‘I can’t hear you, Dario.’
Chapter Twenty
Lucy burst into the kitchen, face hidden behind the most enormous bouquet of yellow roses.
‘The card has your name on it,’ she said, eyes alight with curiosity.
