ventuno
Once the school had closed for the day, Mariella had a stern word with Lucia about the impromptu Verdi concerto. ‘Let’s not make enemies of our neighbours,’ she begged.
‘Alex needed to be put in his place,’ Lucia pressed. ‘I won’t let him intimidate me. I was doingnothingwrong. And in the middle of the day! It’s not as if we were out there at midnight!’
With her hands raised in warning, ‘Attenzione,’ was all Mariella could offer by way of rebuttal.
Behind Mariella’s shoulder, Francesco rolled his eyes sarcastically, and Lucia had to stifle a giggle. Sensing this, Mariella turned and was swift to give Francesco a playful shove in his middle. ‘E tu!’ she snipped. ‘Sometimes it’s like working with teenagers in here!’
Throwing his arms around her full frame, Francesco tossed his head back and laughed. ‘We keep you young! You can’t deny it!’
‘Some days it feels like premature ageing!’
‘Dai, Mariella.’ Lucia reached across and took her hands. ‘We love you.’
Mariella gave in to the smile she’d been trying to contain. ‘The children I never had.’
A silence tinged with melancholy fell across the room and, locking eyes with Francesco, Lucia knew Mariella was thinking about Giancarlo, her beloved, free-spirited late husband, stolen from her in their second year of marriage following complications from what they had been assured was ‘routine surgery’.
Mariella cleared her throat. ‘Do you need anything done before I head home, Lucia?’
Lucia was about to reply, but Francesco beat her to it, ushering her playfully from the doorway. ‘I’ll take over from here.’
They exchanged cheek kisses and Mariella wrapped herself in both a scarf and long coat.
‘Buonasera,’ Lucia added, blowing a kiss after her as she started up thecalle.
Francesco seemed to relax once Mariella had disappeared from view. ‘Ok,tesoro. You and I have work to do tonight.’
‘Yes, for theVenezia, Ovunque!project. I’ve got some ide—’
He tutted. ‘No. Tonightyouhave a date.’
Lucia, who had been bolting the front door shut, lost her grip on the handle and slipped. ‘What?!’
‘Yes.Vieni.’ He was already waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. ‘Love waits for no one.’
Green eyes wide, she asked, ‘With whom?’
‘Claudio. Your potential masked kisser. Pasta and tennis ball man, from the Instagram DMs. Now, tell me,’ he began to ascend the stairs, ‘when did you lasttend tothe hair north of your ankles?’
‘Uhm . . .’
‘That’s not a good start.’ He tossed something into the air which she instinctively caught. A brand-new razor. The woman on the pack beamed vibrantly, her hair wrapped in a purple terry cloth turban and a slender leg perched on the edge of something out of shot. Her half-shaven shin was clearly the source of her joy.
‘I’m really not date-ready, Checco,’ Lucia said, looking down at her sling.
‘Everythingnorth!’ he cried, disappearing onto the second floor.
‘Black jeans are more than appropriate,’ Lucia called from the bathroom. ‘Can you please pass me the green sweater on the chair?’
She could hear Francesco padding across the floorboards, which creaked underfoot. ‘No. This is better.’ He passed her a slinky black dress through the gap in the door.
‘Checco! There’s no way. It’s five degrees outside.’
‘Claudio might just warm you up.’
‘You leave me no other choice,’ she retorted, stepping from the bathroom wearing the acceptable black jeans and a black lace bra.
