The front door closes behind us, and that is really it.
The end.
19
FLAVIA
A fortnight later, I go home for the weekend for Vinny’s birthday.
It’s a very long time since I’ve been in England on his birthday, so when I was busy being simultaneously miserable and relieved about not seeing Dominic again before Judith and Mike’s summer wedding, I didn’t take this into account. It’s quite possible that the two of us will see each other this weekend, and I don’t feel ready.
Vinny loves a big pub night, so that’s what he’s getting, following a dinner at home cooked by Mum. It’s his thirty-seventh birthday but Mum has still insisted on making a roast chicken with all the trimmings followed by cake, because that was his birthday meal of choice when he was a kid.
‘It’s like I’m seven, notthirty-seven,’ he grumbles good-humouredly when Mum nips from the dining room out to the kitchen to get candles and matches.
‘Are you mad?’ says Antonio through a full mouth. ‘This is the best meal ever, however old you are.’
‘He’s right.’ I look at my brothers, and their families, and feel a huge wave of love for them all. Which will hopefully carry me through the evening ahead at the pub. I haven’t asked Vinny whether Dominic’s going, because I don’t want to talk about him at all, but I think it’s very likely that he’ll be there. They’ve been part of the same village football team for a good twenty years, and I think they all do their best to make each other’s drinks.
Delicious birthday cake – my mum’s specialitytorta di rose– entirely demolished, we head out to the pub at seven forty-five. Vinny’s asked all his friends to arrive at eight.
I sit at a table with Mum and Vinny’s wife Amelie, and agree enthusiastically when Mum says what we could all do with is a bottle of Prosecco to share. A little bit of Dutch courage plus my mum and sister-in-law as shields will hopefully see me through being in the same pub as Dominic this evening, should he turn up.
When eight o’clock comes and goes, my hopes rise and fall. They fall because – I realise – I was in fact kind of pathetically keen to see Dominic. And they rise because he’s always on time for things, so it’s looking like he won’t be here after all, and if he doesn’t come I can have a lovely, relaxed, fun evening with family and friends without any Dominic-related stress.
I’m halfway through my first glass of Prosecco, deep in conversation with Amelie about our all-time favourite cakes (she’s a recent convert to an M&S Colin the Caterpillar due to her kids and will not be swayed in her belief that Colin eclipses all other cakes including – whisper – Mum’s to-die-for Italian cakes, not to mention her very British lemon drizzle and classic Black Forest gateau), when I glance up and see Dominic standing a couple of tables away, still in his coat, apparently having just arrived, at twenty past eight.
My hand jerks and I narrowly avoid upending my drink.
Dominic does a global hello, which includes our group, so I murmur a hello in his direction, and then he sits down on the far side of the next table.
For the next hour or two, he does not glance in my direction once. I know this because there’s a handily placed mirror behind the bar that allows me to check what he’s doing while not turning my head or my eyes towards him. Just on the off chance that hedoeshappen to look my way, I make extremely sure that I’m appearingveryvivacious and happy and laughing very regularly. The whole thing is very hard work and I amnothaving fun.
And then, just as I’ve realised that my mum’s set in for the evening and I really can’t go home before she does, Vinny stands on a table – he’s already had a fair few beers – and hollers, ‘Everyone, it’s birthday karaoke time. With a twist. We’re doing a competition. I’m going to put you into teams and then you’re going to take it in turns singing the same song and each round the worst team gets eliminated until we have our karaoke winners.’ He’s roaring so loudly by the end that I’ll be surprised if he personally has any voice left to sing.
My mum raises her hand and, in a holler to rival her son’s, says, ‘Let me organise the teams.’
‘Never say no to your Italian mother,’ Vinny says. ‘Go ahead, Mum.’
Mum stands up and goes full military. No-one’s going to be disobeying her.
She divides us up into teams of six, and I find myself in a team with Dominic, Vinny, Amelie, and another couple, Bertie and Rose, uni friends of Vinny’s. Clearly, my mum isstilltrying to get me and Dominic together. Clearly, she is not going to succeed. And clearly, for my own sanity I should think about trying to find a way of telling her before I next visit home that Dominic and I will never date.
Right now, though, I just need to get through this evening. I glug some more Prosecco while I think about how I’m going to manage, because apparently I find being around Dominic really quite hard.
Okay. It’s going to be totally, completely, absolutely fine. I’m going to chat to Amelie and Rose, and I’m going to pretend that Dominic is someone I have no feelings whatsoever for. Like Jed, for example, who I have not been in touch with at all since our phone call, and who I am not missing in the slightest. I’m going to pretend that Dominic is Jed. I have no feelings for Jed and I could easily be in a karaoke team with him without caring.
I take another big glug from my glass and then practise smiling nonchalantly in Dominic’s direction, imagining that he’s Jed. Or the postman. Or the man in the café down my road who makes amazing hot chocolates.
Easy. Easy-peasy.
Mum claps her hands and we all immediately go quiet because she’s actually quite scary when she’s like this.
‘We’re going to start now,’ she informs us. ‘Vinny’s made his song list. You will each perform in order and then we will score you.’
Everyone nods and says yes a lot.
‘Flavia and Dominic,’ continues my mum, addressing us as though we are the couple that we will in fact never be, and ignoring the fact that the birthday boy Vinny and his wife are in our team, and it should be described astheirteam. ‘Your team’s going first.’
