‘Yes, I heard. You were so young, still a teenager.’
‘Yes. Gaia was – is – a lovely woman and a wonderful mother but it was never going to last. I cannot deny there were good times: family holidays where we mountain biked and swam. She was sporty, do you remember? One year we even skied. The kids were naturals; I certainly wasn’t. I must have spent half the week falling on my bum.’ He laughed.
‘I could say it was a shock when she finally left me but I would be kidding myself. We’d argued a lot on and off. She always said she couldn’t get through to me, that there was a barrier between us she couldn’t break. And she was right, there was. The truth was, I married the wrong woman. We would probably have split up years earlier once our daughter, Isabella, was out of her teens, but when we were going through a good patch, Leo came along.’
She drank some more wine, not knowing what to say. Had he married in haste because of her? That was something she dare not ask.
A different waiter was approaching their table, a great wheel of pizza in each hand. He set down their plates. The scent of melted mozzarella and oregano made her realise she’d barely eaten all day.
‘Ciao,Gino! Your son, he is not here today? You bring this lovely lady instead.’ He chuckled. Then stopped. The grin on his already smiling face grew wider. ‘No, no! It cannot be… Stella! After all this time!’
‘Ciao,Mario,’ Stella said. ‘I see your family still owns this place.’
‘Ah, yes, but poor Nonno died.’ He jerked his head towards a portrait on the wall. ‘Papà isil caponow. I try to get him to change the colour of the walls and he does not listen. For me, red is better. But enough of that. Stella, I cannot believe you are here! It must be thirty years since you came here with your brother and sister.’
‘More like over forty, though now it seems like yesterday.’
‘Over forty. That means we must both be nearly sixty and that, I refuse to believe.’ Mario chortled again. ‘And now Gino brings you to our pizzeria, this is marvellous! Gino, why have you not told me you and Stella are together again?’
‘Again?’ Stella said.
Mario spread his hands. ‘We all knew, of course we did. You were teenagers in love. Do not deny it! You tried to hide it because his mamma, Fernanda, would not approve. A strict mamma like mine! But no matter, you are together again, in this romantic setting.’ His fingers brushed the top of the small flower vase by the chilli oil. A red petal floated onto the tablecloth.
‘We couldn’t think of a more romantic place,’ Gino said, straight-faced.
‘Enjoy your meal. I leave you in peace.’ He sauntered off, singing softly ‘Senza una donna’.
Stella spluttered out a laugh.‘Honestly! Now he’s going to tell the whole village the young lovers are reunited.’
Gino cut into his pizza but his eyes stayed on hers. ‘Would that be so bad?’
‘I suppose not.’ Stella smiled.
‘Don’t wait to start. This is too good to go cold.’
‘I was just savouring the romantic atmosphere,’ Stella quipped.
‘Anywhere is romantic with the right person.’ Gino’s words were as cheesy as the topping on hisquattro staggioni. But he was right. She wouldn’t swap the paper placemats and wipe-clean tablecloths for all the signature cocktails and sea-view terraces in Portofino.
* * *
They strolled back through the village, Gino holding her hand. He took the long way around Sant’ Agata, avoiding the passageway. Stella was glad. The memory of that dreadful moment when Fernanda found them canoodling, and all that followed, was still too raw. What would Papà think if he were looking down on the two of them? Part of her felt that she was still betraying him, even now.
Soon they reached Uncle Domenico’s house. They stopped at the top of the dark flight of stairs that led down to his front door.
‘Goodnight, Stella.’
‘Goodnight and thank you for the pizza.’
‘My pleasure.’ He moved a little closer, his eyes glowing in the light of the lantern from the house above. She met his gaze, tilting her head towards his. He brought his lips down to hers, brushing them gently, sending shivers of anticipation through her. She kissed him back, all those old feelings washing over her. She could unlock the door, lead Gino up the rickety stairs to the small dark bedroom where she’d taken residence. There was no Fernanda to stop them now.
But yet… She couldn’t. It didn’t seem right to bring her old love into her uncle’s home. Even though Domenico had assured her he didn’t lay the responsibility of his brother’s death at her door, he might not have forgiven Gino and Fernanda for the part they’d unwittingly played.
‘I wish I could invite you in but…’
‘I understand. I would not want to spend the night here behind Domenico’s back.’ He bit his lip. ‘Or am I jumping the gun? You may have been thinking only of opening one of your uncle’s digestifs.’
‘I was only thinking of coffee,’ Stella said in her sternest voice.
