‘Well, when we were loading up at the buffet yesterday, at the zoo party, Radia was telling me about the hot dog carts in Central Park and how one time you let her have two chilli dogsanda Big Gulp.’
‘I did.’ Joy laughed. ‘She remembers that?’
‘And she told me about a pizza slice you bought her from a hatch in a wall in Venice and you ate it on the Rialto Bridge. Shetoldme that. At five years old! And her face was all lit up too. It must have been one tasty slice!’
‘Hah, it was.’ Joy inhaled through her teeth and her eyes shone at the memory. ‘And it was sunset,’ she said, exhaling. She could see the scene now: Venice, all golden and sparkling, and the gondolas gliding by.
Monty hadn’t finished. ‘And she was trying to tell me about eating the biggest nectarine she’d ever held, but she couldn’t remember where that was.’
‘Barcelona. She was practically a baby then. How does she know all this stuff!’ said Joy in wonder.
‘You did that.’
‘Hmm?’ She wasn’t following.
‘Yougave her a lifetime of amazing experiences, and she’s not even six years old yet. You’ve given her an education she’d never get normally. How many kids even know what the Rialto is? Huh? She’s seen the whole world. Eaten it, swam in it, flew around it. What a gift!’
‘Oh.’ Joy slumped, a little happier, in the chair. ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that.’ She vowed to try to remember it the next time the guilt was gnawing at her. It was certainly working now. ‘You know she’ll be telling people about the fish you barbequed for us for years to come, right?’
‘So will I,’ he said with a laugh. ‘I haven’t enjoyed cooking for people like I did that night in…oh, a long time.’ Monty spoke sighingly. ‘It felt likerealcooking, just fire and fresh air and simple ingredients. I’d do it every night if I could.’
‘You should then,’ said Joy, shrugging like it was obvious.
Monty absorbed the words before letting his gaze settle somewhere on the ground by the shop’s steps.
Joy didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts so she sat quietly and looked at the stars beyond the glowing lights. It really was lovely to sit here, wine-warmed on a summer night, and Monty so easy to sit with, nothing on edge, nothing difficult.
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ said Joy at last. She inhaled the late-August night air once more, filling her up: the sea and night pollen, wine and whatever that good stuff Monty was wearing that smelled of summer holidays. ‘I wanted to do this,’ she said.
Monty tipped his head again, letting her go on.
‘When we arrived. I took one look at this little square and I distinctly remember thinking, I want to sit there with a glass of cold wine on a night like this.’
‘And now you are.’
‘And now I am.’ Her eyes danced between the gently swaying lights, the deep navy of the sky, and the palm fronds arching over Monty’s head. ‘This is my third drink tonight.’ She said this like it was a confessional.
‘And it’s my first,’ Monty replied.
‘I definitely liked this weekend.’
‘So did Radia, I reckon.’ Monty glanced into the stillness of the shop.
‘She loves a party. And people. Not like me.’
‘You didn’t do so badly.’
‘It’s exhausting. Peopling.’
‘I hear you. Uh, listen… I should probably go, let you have some alone time.’
Joy jumped in her seat. ‘That’s not what I meant.Youdon’t exhaust me. You’re… easy to be around, actually.’
‘OK, good,’ he said, resting back into his chair, smiling, and one hand lazily propping up his head.
Joy, totally unaware she was doing it, mirrored him, her fingertips resting against her cheekbone. His eyes followed their movement as she let her nails graze gently over her skin. His pupils dilated a little more, making his brown eyes browner.Thatshe noticed.
‘I feel like we’ve met someplace before, actually,’ he said suddenly, his thoughts drawing him inside himself. ‘You and me.’
