If her mum had walked into the canteen right now and did a duet to ‘All the Single Ladies’ with Joanie behind the counter, Emmy wouldn’t have been more gobsmacked. She never thought her mum would ever step foot in that restaurant again – not after what had happened there.
‘What is it?’ Her dad’s voice cut through her thoughts and almost made her jump. She’d been so focused on her mum’s texts, she’d forgotten he was there.
‘Okay, Dad, bad news I’m afraid. Mum won’t be back home tonight. She’s going out with Rhonda and Gwen.’ That was all he needed to know.
‘Going out where?’ he shot back, clearly as surprised as she was. He was fully aware that her mum had lost her zest for life since the divorce.
‘I don’t know,’ she lied.
But he knew her too well to get away with that.
‘Darling… There’s only one place the three of them would go on New Year’s Eve and after what happened, I don’t think they’d go there.’ He was staring at her intently as he spoke. ‘They wouldn’t, would they?’
He hadn’t even asked a clear bloody question, but they both knew exactly what he was referring to. Jesus, he was using reverse psychology on her and it was working. She was rubbish at this. And she must have blinked or something because the next thing, his eyes widened.
‘They are. That’s where they’re going. Well, I’ll be damned, they’re going to Gino’s,’ he exclaimed.
How the hell did he do that? This was next level Paul McKenna mind-reading stuff. Urgh.
Annoyed with herself, although she didn’t quite understand how that had just happened, Emmy tried to pull back some girl-code credibility. ‘Dad, I’m not going to tell you where they’re going. But even if you find out where they are, I want you to promise me that you won’t go. Let Mum have her night out. She deserves it.’
‘Of course, yes. I promise.’
As she got up to leave, her break over, she decided that she didn’t believe him for a second.
15
DARIO
The lunch service in the restaurant had been busy, mostly with workers from nearby offices that had knocked off early because it was the last day of the year, and tourists that had travelled to the city to revel in the celebrations tonight. There were still a few stragglers sitting at tables, making the most of their afternoon off, but Dario knew from experience that they would drift away soon, taking advantage of the interlude before the parties started.
When he and Bruno were kids, his mamma, Alicia, had always insisted that they sleep in the afternoons on New Year’s Eve so that they would have the energy to stay up way past their bedtimes. Years later, when he and Bruno were teenagers and Carlo came along, she did the same with his youngest brother. His father used to say it was the only day of the year that the Scots adopted a Mediterranean schedule: a siesta in the afternoon, followed by dinner late in the evening, usually around 10p.m., which geared them up for their riotous celebrations at ‘the bells’ and the parties that would last long into the early hours of the new year. For those hours before dawn, they didn’t have a care in the world. His mother would spin around theroom, laughing and dancing with everyone she passed. His dad would climb on a chair and sing at the top of his voice. And everyone would vow that the days to come would be better than the ones that went before.
Over the years, timings had changed a little, but the restaurant’s dinner sitting was still later than usual on the 31st, starting at 8p.m. instead of six o’clock. That gave plenty of time for food, for drinks, and for Gino to get the music cranked up and get the guests on their feet to dance their way into the New Year. And it never got old. Not one minute of it. Somehow, Dario’s mind still refused to accept that tonight would be the last time he watched his dad in his element like that. The only way to get through this and hold back the waves of devastation that had been ebbing and flowing all day, was to stay busy, keep his mind occupied.
Dario had spent the busiest part of the lunch service out on the floor, but when the buzz died down, he’d sought refuge in the office, checking and rechecking the figures from every angle. The days to come definitely weren’t going to be better than the ones that went before, but he was going to do everything he could to ease the pain for those around him. He’d meant what he’d said to Sonya. He’d make sure she had a job and an income for as long as she needed it, even if he was paying it out of his own pocket. As for the rest of their employees, the waiting staff were mostly students who worked here part-time, so he knew they’d have no problems picking up other work, and he’d give them stellar references and a month’s wages to tide them over until they landed new jobs.
In the kitchen, Matty ran a pretty tight ship, with just two sous-chefs and a pot washer who kept the place gleaming. Again, there were always jobs out there for reliable, talented workers with good references, so he knew that closing down the business wouldn’t change their lives.
Matty was another story. Sonya had managed to get him back in the kitchen as promised, but Dario knew that the storm wasn’t over. There was a whole lot of banging and swearing coming through the wall that separated the kitchen from the office, so Dario was avoiding him for now, grateful that the main restaurant was too far away for the noise to be heard.
He put his pen down on the desk, and shoved the calculator away, then picked up the mug of coffee Sonya had brought in just a few minutes before, on her way out the back for a cigarette.
‘Here you go, big yin. If you want me to shove a couple of shots of something strong in it, I won’t judge you,’ she’d said, as she placed it down on the desk. As always, especially when she was worried about something, her perpetual ranting was on overdrive. ‘If you’re looking for me, I’ll be outside the back door, chain smoking and plotting ways to force my landlord not to sell my flat. In the old days, I’d have offered sexual favours, but I think that time has passed. He’s about 106 and it would kill him. Actually, maybe that’s worth a go.’ She’d flitted seamlessly from one train of thought to another. ‘Anyway, what time is your dad coming in?’
Dario had glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I’m not sure but probably about four o’clock.’ Gino didn’t keep him informed of his schedule – just came and went whenever he pleased.
‘Right, well I’ll go and have my breakdown over him being devastated now, and then I can put a brave face on when he needs me,’ Sonya had said, before going out as she came in, at Road Runner speed and trailing a cloud of nervous energy behind her.
Peace restored now, Dario took a sip of the warm liquid and then reached down to his bottom desk drawer and opened it. There was a picture there. His mum and dad, next to him on the day he left school.
He could remember it all like it was yesterday. He’d been about seventeen, and he’d already worked in the restaurant for years, first washing dishes in the kitchen, and then, when he hit his teens, he was allowed out on the floor to serve guests. Dario had soon realised he preferred the seclusion of the kitchen and the artistry of the food. When the time had come for him to make his life choices, there was never an option to do anything other than carry on the legacy that his parents had created from nothing but dreams and graft.
All his life, he’d heard Gino tell everyone who would listen that he was the luckiest man in the world. He had his restaurant, his family and the most gracious woman on earth. What more could he ever want in life?
Only one thing, Dario realised now. For his blessings to last until the day he died.
The door opened again, and Nicky popped her head in. ‘That’s the worst of the madness over out there, so I’m going to nip home for a couple of hours to restore my fabulousness. How’re you holding up? Anything to report?’ She spotted what he was holding in his hands and came all the way into the office, letting the door close behind her. ‘Bloody hell, it’s a long time since I saw that photograph.’
