Lucy smiled weakly. ‘Thanks for the compliment, but you won’t be saying that when you have to scrape me up off the red carpet.’
Elena shrugged. ‘You practise. Every day you wear the shoes. Soon you feel like you are walking on clouds.’
Lucy fired her a doubtful look and firmly shut the door.
Emerging a few minutes later, she aimed for the dress rail.
‘Allora,Signora Moretti, now it’s your turn,’ she said, picking out a sizzling red, floor-length, off-the-shoulder gown and propelling Elena into the changing room. ‘This will go perfectly with your silky black hair and olive skin.’
Lucy sank into the antique, gilt carved chaise longue, kicked off her pumps and wiggled her throbbing toes.
‘A glass of prosecco,signorina?’
Lucy looked up to see a perfectly-manicured hand proffering a crystal flute of bubbly. How could she refuse?
‘Grazie,Signorina… Ferrari,’ she murmured, noting the assistant’s gold name badge, engraved with the Versace logo, no less.
Lucy leaned back and took a sip of prosecco, taking in her opulent surroundings. She felt like Sophia Loren in some classic Italian movie.
She had never set foot in a designer shop before – and for good reason.
‘Budget? There is no budget. Only the best will do,’ Alfonso had said.
But that didn’t make Lucy’s guilt any less.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Pavarotti belting out ‘Volare’ from Elena’s bag.
‘Your phone!’ Lucy called.
‘Please answer for me.Grazie.’
Lucy scrabbled around in Elena’s cavernous bag, several of its contents spewing onto the floor, prosecco sloshing over the fancy ivory chaise longue.
‘Pronto,’she uttered, propping the phone between her ear and her shoulder.
This word unleashed a barrage of Italian, most of which she couldn’t understand.
She tried to interrupt, but like machine-gun fire the words kept coming faster and louder, until eventually she screamed, ‘Un momento, per favore!’
Turning to Signorina Ferrari, she pointed to the phone, made a talking gesture with her hand and shrugged.
As she placed it to her ear, horror of horrors, Signorina Ferrari spotted the spillage.
Lucy blushed radish red, hoping she would realise it was prosecco and not jump to the wrong conclusion.
‘A sales call,’ said Signorina Ferrari, returning the phone to Lucy with a thin smile, along with Elena’s set of keys and an embossed card, which had found their way under the chaise longue.
‘Grazie,’ Lucy mumbled sheepishly.
As she slipped the items back into the bag, she couldn’t help but notice the Sarastro & Salieri logo on the card.
You are cordially invited
to the launch party of
La Cucina di Nonna cookbook
at our Glasgow store
