Tony laughed. ‘Of course. It’s not a prison.’
‘I should have brought us a towel or something to sit on,’ I said, looking at the small bonnet, boiling hot from an hour’s drive and dirty enough to write my name in.
‘Fear not, fair maiden, I have come prepared,’ Tony said, opening the tiny boot and producing a picnic basket. ‘I’ve been here before, so I knew what to expect.’
He put the basket on the grass and went back for a blanket and wine glasses.
‘Oh!’ I said, taken aback. This was supposed to be my treat, but Tony was pulling out all the stops once again. Driving us here and then thinking ahead to provide all the finishing touches. He laid the blanket over the car bonnet and opened the picnic basket to reveal a charcuterie board, cake, fruit, and popcorn. A bottle of Vernaccia chilling nicely in its own cooler, and both still and sparkling water. A veritable feast.
‘I just grabbed a couple of things from the kitchen,’ Tony said, casually, opening the wine with a flourish and filling our glasses.
‘This is amazing,’ I said, caught off guard again by how thoughtful he was. I wasn’t used to someone thinking about me, and what I might want. It was… nice. ‘I feel awful that I didn’t organise any of these things. Thank you.’
‘Not at all. Thankyoufor asking me along when you got two no-big-deal free tickets.’ It was too late to admit the truth. I’d massively underplayed my hand and now he’d never know I’d nearly had to exchange one of my kidneys for the tickets. They were as rare as hen’s teeth.
‘Cheers,’ I said, clinking my glass with his and taking a slurp of wine. ‘Wow, this is delicious.’ I picked up the bottle and eyed the label.
‘From our vineyard,’ Tony said, proudly. ‘Hits the spot, doesn’t it? I’ve told Paolo, we need to start exporting to the U.S. There’s been such a small amount produced up to now, that it wasn’t worth going too big with it. We’ve always just kept it for ourselves and the local restaurants, but I really feel like now is the time to expand the business.’
‘Well, if you need a taste tester, I’m available,’ I said, taking a second mouthful. ‘You should get Holly’s nose in it too, actually, for a professional opinion. I can only offer a social drinker’s perspective.’
‘I’ll keep you both in mind, should a position come up,’ Tony said, with a smile.
‘Excellent. So, you said this is your favourite Sophia Loren film?’
‘Yes, it’s the most fun, and I think it’s her best. Even though she won the Oscar forTwo Women,’ he said, looking around. ‘It was Mom’s favourite, too.’
He unzipped his rucksack and pulled out an old camcorder, slipping his hand through the tattered Velcro handle and switching it on.
‘Er… the eighties just called, and they want their technology back,’ I quipped.
‘Pretty cool, isn’t it?’ he said, putting his eye to the viewer as a red light blinked on.
‘It must be ancient! Does it still work? Dad had one when we were kids and used to follow us around, filming our every move. Me and Chris eating breakfast. Mum hanging out the washing. Next door’s cat wandering around the garden. Fascinating stuff.’
‘Paolo found it a few weeks ago. It was my dad’s, but I used to make short films with it as a boy and force everyone to watch them on a Friday night.’ He pointed the camera out across the cars and pressed record, the mechanics whirring loudly as he slowly took in the scene. He turned it towards me and waved. ‘Say hi, Abi!’
I shrank back, suddenly shy. ‘Hi, Abi!’ I said, plastering on a smile and holding up my wine.
The cars were filing in one by one and filling up the field. Couples unpacking bags, with platters of cheese and meat, and bottles of wine. Camping chairs, battery-run fans, and citronella candles to ward off the mosquitos. I’d literally brought my handbag and some cash and that was it. I thought there’d be a bar. The floodlights dimmed and the sound from the big screen suddenly boomed out loud, drawing attention to itself. The film was about to begin.
‘I made you a present,’ I whispered. The first few mouthfuls of wine had already gone to my head, but I may as well give it him now as later. I pulled Sophia Loren out of my bag, smoothed down her hair and adjusted her swimming costume. I couldn’t decide if it was sweet, trite, or ridiculous now that I was about to hand her over.
‘A present for what?’ Tony asked, surprised.
‘To say thank you for Florence. It’s just a silly thing, really…’ I walked her woody legs along the car bonnet towards him. ‘Crafted with my own fair hands of course, putting my degree to good use.’
Tony’s eyes lit up when he realised what it was – who she was – taking her from me, gently. He held her up and studied her closely. I’d made her hair out of Twiglets and painted her face with a red-lipped pout. She was more a creative interpretation than a miniature replica, but she had a certainje ne sais quoiabout her. He smiled and propped her up next to his drink.
‘Everything you see, she owes to spaghetti,’ I said.
‘Again, that’s not a “silly thing”, Abi. It’s incredibly thoughtful,’ Tony said, earnestly, clearly touched.
‘Well, you love art and film and Sophia Loren so I thought it would be the ideal combination gift. And it was easy to make, it only took a couple of hours so…’ I was rambling and suddenly very conscious of how close we were to each other.
‘Only a couple of hours, eh?’
Tony was watching me intently. The atmosphere had hushed as the film was about to start and the air between us felt suddenly different. I took a nervous gulp of my wine, and he took my hand and kissed it, tickling my skin with his stubble. I giggled and somehow nudged myself towards him as he leant in and kissed me. I was almost expecting it, but still somehow surprised as we slowly lingered, kissing gently and then harder, eventually pulling away as we both remembered where we were.
