‘Yes, perfect.’ Anything would do.
‘You go through, make yourself comfortable.’
She did as he said, picked up the remote and surfed through the channels. There was nothing she wanted to see but she put on a re-run of a comedy series from the 1990s. It wasn’t long before Gino squeezed up next to her. Soon, they were laughing along. It was good to have something to distract him from asking about her day. The news that Domenico was employing an assistant and the revelations about her papà’s childhood trauma weren’t things she could cope with sharing right now. Gino slipped back into the kitchen to put the pasta in the pot, re-entering a few minutes later as the credits rolled.
‘Perfect timing,’ he said. ‘Come and eat.’
She sat in the kitchen. Gino swapped her Campari for a glass of wine. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw he’d created the exact first course she’d been practising:pansoti con salsa di noci, the little pasta pillows piled in a pale, creamy sauce, topped with a shower of hazelnut crumbs. She took a bite, savouring the contrast of the rich sauce with the healthy chard filling. But it was hard to enjoy her food knowing she’d left Domenico eating alone. Was he brooding on the past whilst she and Gino flirted over the kitchen table? She swallowed some more wine.
Gino attended to the next course ofverdure ripiene, peppers and zucchini stuffed with the zucchini pulp, ricotta, mortadella and marjoram. It didn’t take them long to clear their plates.
He stood up. ‘If this was my place, I’d leave all this washing up until tomorrow and carry you upstairs. But I’d better clear up.’
‘I’ll wash if you dry,’ Stella said, pushing up the sleeves of her pink linen blouse.
They worked in an easy rhythm, making short work of the task.
Gino glanced at his watch. ‘Leo won’t be back for at least another hour. He said he and Amy were going to go and see that rock band in the piazza. Rather them than me, but their earache is our opportunity.’
He took hold of one of her hands. Gently, he eased off her rubber gloves, a cheeky smile on his face as though he were peeling off a pair of stockings. He leant back against the kitchen sink. He pulled her close.
‘My beautiful Stella.’ He ran a finger across her lips. His mouth brushed hers, light and teasing. He undid her top button, dropping a kiss on her collarbone. She felt as stiff and unyielding as one of his son’s memorials.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Is it him – Joe? It was stupid of me to think you’d be over him so quickly.’
‘It’s not. Honestly. I don’t know how I ever imagined myself with someone like him.’
‘Then what? Is it me, something I’ve said or done?’ His brow was creased in bewilderment.
‘No. Really, it’s nothing.’
It was obvious she was lying. His face clouded. But how could she tell him that when she looked into his eyes, all she could see was the face of an innocent little boy, standing in a pool of blood?
39
The church bells of Sant’ Agata chimed eight o’clock. Leo was now ten minutes late, which wouldn’t have been so bad if Amy hadn’t been ten minutes early.
People were streaming into the piazza from all directions, eager to attend the evening’s entertainment. Three young women passed by, a gaggle of long legs and laughter. An elderly man in a pressed shirt, hands clasped behind his back, moved slowly in the direction of the stage. He looked an unlikely fan of the heavy rock mixed with a dose of seventies punk they were promised. But judging by some of the elegant outfits being worn by the women of the village, this was an evening for seeing and being seen as much as for listening to the music.
The girl on the pink bicycle was circling the church again despite the crowds. A man snatched a toddler out of her way and popped him on his shoulders. Amy recognised him as Mario from the pizzeria, here with his grandchild, and gave him an awkward smile. Did it look as though she’d been stood up, hovering here?
‘Amy!’ The sound of Leo’s voice made her jump. He’d changed out of his overalls into a light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up, revealing those muscular arms again. His hair was half mussed up, his breath coming fast, as though he’d been running.
‘Leo!’ Relief surged through her. She melted into his hug, inhaling his fresh-from-the shower scent.
‘So sorry I’m late. I went to meet you and got caught up with Nonna.’
‘I thought we said to meet here.’
‘I was early so I thought I would catch you before you left the house.’
‘I was early too.’ They stood smiling at each other.
‘You look great, by the way, I love that top,’ he added.
