‘Yes. A sort of sad sigh.’ Alessio watched as her brow creased.
‘Oh. I didn’t realise I did that.’ She turned and pointed back inside at the poster by the checkout. ‘My favourite film is showing here in town tonight. They have advertised it for weeks, but there’s no way I can go. We have too much to do to prepare for tomorrow.’
‘There’s nothing to prepare, except for the restock. Which we are doing now. We have no idea what the challenge will be. Let’s go get some tickets. I’ll come with you.’
He tried to push past her to take a photo of the poster, but Francesca caught him around the middle and pulled him back onto the street. ‘No, Ale. I just can’t. I’ll be too distracted to enjoy it. We can stream it another time.’
He successfully jostled himself free. ‘Is the film Cinema Paradiso, or is that the name of the cinema?’
She closed her eyes. ‘The film.’
‘What’s it about?’ He captured the poster with a quick photo then they continued along the street.
‘Picture a tiny, poor town in Sicily, struggling in the wake of the Second World War.’ Her footsteps slowed and Alessio, weighed down by shopping, gladly matched her pace. ‘Many of the men are gone, lost to the war. A young boy, Totò, finds distraction and enjoyment in the town’s cinema where he makes friends with the man who works there, Alfredo. It’s a beautiful story of growing up in a rural town, finding relationships, and growing into love.’ Alessio watched as her gaze rose to the sky.
‘What’s your favourite part?’
‘If I tell you that, it will give away the ending.’
‘Then tell me in a roundabout kind of way.’
‘The censored kisses.’ Her lips pulled into a playful smile. ‘There’s a montage. Right at the end.’
Intrigued by this he said, ‘And you’re sure you don’t want to—’
She stopped short, pulling them to a halt. ‘Ascolta, I can’t. I would love to, but tonight is just very inconvenient. Too inconvenient to go to the cinema.’
Not wanting to press the point further he conceded, ‘No trouble. No cinema. I promise.’
‘Grazie. We have plenty of other things to keep us busy today. Lunch and dinner service. You’re not doing the dinner service, by the way. You need to rest for tomorrow. Now, off to get cheese from Simona.’
Alessio smiled politely. ‘As you wish.’ She didn’t need to know anything about the plan that was brewing in his mind.
trentuno
Just as Francesca was loading the last of the dishes into the dishwashers at ten o’clock that evening, her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. With service done and Maria on her way upstairs to bed, it was just her and Elena still pottering around.
She reached into her pocket and found a message from Alessio: Come to the terrazzo when you’re done, per favore. Need your opinion on something.
She could only imagine that he had lost himself upstairs in that ill-equipped little terrace kitchen of hers. Was he stress-cooking? Was he experimenting with pasta shapes in a last-ditch effort to prepare for tomorrow’s huge second round? Perhaps the pressure of tomorrow had finally hit him and he was panicking?
Remembering how triggering he had found the thought of setting foot back in the kitchen at all, she thought it best to hurry Elena along to bed, too.
‘Alessio is asking for help,’ she said, holding up her phone. ‘Will you be able to . . .?’
‘Go. I can’t use my arms, but I have my hands. I can lock up. But can you help me with these buttons first? The angle is awkward.’ She gestured to her black cropped-sleeve button-down cardi. ‘Just in case Mamma is asleep by the time I get up there.’
Francesca slipped her phone down her top and untied her apron, looping it over the hook on the wall by the saloon doors. ‘Sure.’ She turned and stepped forward, catching the first of Elena’s buttons between her fingers. Francesca undid it, then the next, and another two, revealing a soft pink cotton camisole underneath.
Colour. She’s wearing colour! Her mourning black . . .
A fizz of delight bubbled in Francesca’s chest and she bit down on her lower lip with a firm press of her teeth to mask the overwhelming sensation.
Should she say something? Should she acknowledge this enormous shift? Or would that simply draw attention to something Elena perhaps wasn’t ready to speak about?
Francesca swallowed. ‘Is this fine?’ She let the cardigan fan delicately open.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Something softened behind Elena’s eyes, and it teased the echo of a smile across her cheeks.
