28
For want of knowing where else to be, Tad was back in Casa del Cibo’s kitchen. He had no cooking to do – the final night of the week was free for the guests to spend time in Riva, to relax and eat in a restaurant of their choice. He had nothing to do. Matteo had already tidied, put in the order for the following week, cleaned the fridges. If he kept up this pace, Tad would soon be redundant.
He stifled a laugh. Chances were, he’d be redundant before too long anyway. He wondered if he should try to speak to Billie. Maybe he should apologise – not because he wanted to or felt any regret at what he’d said to her, but he had potentially landed Casa del Cibo right in the shit. Maybe he should swallow his pride and grovel. Maybe that would go some way towards placating her.
Before he could do anything about locating Billie Forsythe-Rogers, a familiar voice caught his attention. Clare was back from her picnic with James. She was laughing, the sound enough to inch Tad’s spirits out of the gutter as it grew louder and she appeared in the kitchen doorway, James in tow.
‘Youarehere – that’s perfect,’ Clare said, beaming from ear to ear. ‘I so wanted you to be the first person we told.’
James wrapped his arms around Clare, tall enough to stand head and shoulders above Clare’s diminutive frame as she leant into him and held out her left hand, wiggling her fingers around.
It took Tad a few moments to work out what she was doing, a few seconds for him to take in the glittering diamond in an elegant gold setting. An engagement ring. Tad swallowed, forced himself to smile.
‘That’s wonderful,’ he heard himself say. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’
And he was – that was the truth. James was smiling in a way Tad hadn’t seen before, openly and with a twinkle of happiness matched only by Clare’s own expression.
‘And the news about the baby is simply the icing on the cake,’ James said, glancing down at her. ‘I have no idea why you didn’t tell me straight away, Beetle. There’s nothing I want more than to make a family with you.’
‘I was worried about your work, the hours you need to put in, all that stuff?—’
‘Which is irrelevant in the face of this news.’ James smiled at Tad. ‘And the picnic was a huge success, too. Thank you.’
‘Pleasure.’ It was hard work keeping his smile in place, and Clare noticed. Of course Clare noticed – they knew one another well enough for him to know she would.
‘What’s wrong, Tad?’ she said.
‘The lesson today was a disaster. Billie Forsythe-Rogers was being a nightmare, and I might have said a couple of things I shouldn’t. And now I think she’s going to try to ruin Casa del Cibo’s reputation in her newspaper article.’
James shook his head. ‘Defamation. If it’s groundless we’d have a case to counter her claims, if you and the owner of this place wanted to. I’ve had a fantastic time here; I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to gather a portfolio of positive reviews. And it’s not like I don’t know my way around a civil courtroom.’
‘Let slip the dogs of war,’ Clare said, grinning.
James laughed. ‘Sorry. Habit is hard to break. Happy to help if necessary; that’s what I’m saying.’
‘Aye. And it’s much appreciated. Thank you.’
‘That’s not all of it, though, is it?’ Clare said.
‘No. Not really,’ Tad said. ‘It’s ridiculous, but I can’t seem to stop the way I’m feeling for…’ He didn’t complete the sentence, but he didn’t need to.
‘Fight for her, Tad.’
‘She doesn’t want me.’
‘Are you sure? Tell her how you feel. What’s the worst that could happen?’
‘She could laugh in my face. Or worse.’
‘And if that’s the case? She leaves and we’ll help you pick up the pieces and move forward. God knows I can help you with that – like you helped me. But if you don’t try, you’ll never know for sure. It’s scary, but it’s worth it.’ She threaded her hand into James’s, smiling again. ‘The prize is worth the possible pain. You know it is.’
‘Ciao! Hello?C’è qualcuno– anyone there?’
Noises in the hallway took everyone’s attention and Tad smiled his gratitude to Clare as he headed past her to see who had arrived. In the reception area stood a man with a bright orange suitcase.
‘Hi, can I help?’ Tad said. Nobody was due to arrive today, and the guy looked business-like, his car keys dangling from a hand holding a clipboard, and his expression one of impatience.
‘For Amy Bartlett. Her suitcase arrive atAeroporto di Verona. I deliver for her.’
