‘But I won’t know anyone and it won’t be much fun for Stefano. Here, try some of this,’ said Elena, piercing a piece of plump ricotta with her fork and waving it temptingly in front of Lucy.
‘Don’t change the subject,’ said Lucy, popping the cheese into her mouth. ‘Opportunities like this don’t come along every day.’
‘It’s good, eh? Papà delivered it this morning. He thought we could make cheesecake the Italian way. You only need ricotta, eggs and sugar. Oh, and maybe a little fruit to put on—’
‘I promise I’ll give the recipe a try. Elena, please. You must go to the launch. Do it for Giancarlo and Mamma Moretti. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.’
Elena didn’t doubt that Lucy could manage, so what was stopping her from booking that flight to Glasgow and finishing what Giancarlo had started? Maybe it was all too much too soon. But then if there was one thing to be learned from the last few months, it was that life can be gone in a split second.
‘Okay, okay,’ Elena said, raising her hands in submission, eyes dancing. ‘You win – again, Signorina Anderson.’
Lucy raised her glass. ‘Fantastico! Here’s to Caledonia!’
‘Caledonia!’
‘My brother lives not far from Glasgow,’ Lucy enthused. ‘I’m sure he’d be happy to show you both around.’
Elena smiled, an unexpected rush of nervous excitement flooding through her veins at the prospect of visiting Giancarlo’s beloved Scotland for the first time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tea with the Buffalo
Gala Night
‘Hello. Who are you?’ Lucy said to her reflection in the full-length mirror, resisting the urge to unpin her stiff, overly coiffed hair.
She had been packing away her textbooks earlier that afternoon, when a whiff of spicy perfume had made her nose crinkle.
‘Signorina Anderson?’
Lucy jumped, sending her precariously perched reading glasses flying through the air.
‘Sì?’
‘My name is Gabriella,’ said a tall, impossibly thin young woman who looked like she’d just stepped off the set ofThe Devil Wears Prada.
‘I am here to do your make-up and hair for tonight.’
‘Scusi?’
As if footing the bill for their dresses wasn’t enough, Alfonso had secretly arranged for Lucy, Elena and Valentina to have their hair and make-up done professionally for the première that night.
To be honest, Lucy preferred the au naturel look to the glittery prom queen and, annoyingly, her eyes kept winking involuntarilywith the unaccustomed weight of the false eyelashes, but she told herself to embrace her inner Sophia Loren and sashay down the red carpet like a pro – or should that be stumble?
‘Andiamo!’ boomed Alfonso’s voice from the hallway. ‘The car is here!’
Bedroom and bathroom doors banged and loud, excited voices swirled around each other; footsteps pounded the tiles as Harry ran around in circles, a bra he’d snaffled from the washing line earlier between his teeth.
Lucy glanced over her shoulder, giving the red-carpet-ready stranger the final once-over. She then teetered along the corridor, one hand on the wall, clutching the hem of her dress with the other.
‘You all look like movie stars,’ beamed Alfonso. ‘Venire! Gather round, everyone! We must capture this moment.’
Taking his cue from Alfonso, Matteo crouched down, holding his phone aloft. ‘Stefano, come to the front,per favore. Ready?Pronti!’
Stefano held up his hand. ‘Un momento!’
Matteo straightened up, slapping his forehead. ‘Scusa!How could I forget?’
