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Frankie loved how the laughter had released her nerves a little.

‘I was worried I’d do something monumentally embarrassing! I’ve been so nervous about tonight,’ Jay said, his blue eyes wide open with sincerity. ‘I didn’t think you’d come. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. I am so sorry for everything; the way I left, the way I went about it. It was unforgivable and… I honestly thought I was doing the right thing, but I hadn’t a clue. I was so wrong.’

Frankie took a beat before she answered.

‘I’ll not lie, I was hurt at the time. But I get it now; you needed to follow your dream. No distractions.’ Frankie hadn’t felt like that at the time. At eighteen she’d not understood why Jay felt he had to cut everyone out of his life completely, but his single-mindedness had meant he’d become one of the biggest musicians in the world.

Jay stared at his plate of food as Frankie continued.

‘I guess I didn’t understand because I’ve never had that burning desire of ambition that you have.’

‘When I left you were looking at taking a year abroad. Great things beckoned.’

Frankie gave a little shrug of her shoulders. ‘It didn’t work out. I’m content being a dog walker in Drumkeldy. And working here. It’s not glamorous but I love it.’

Jay picked up his wine glass, the muscle in his jaw clenching until he took a sip of wine, then cleared his throat, before saying, ‘Do you think you could ever forgive me, or can you see a way that we could be friends again? I know it’s a lot to ask because I was an arsehole and I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.’

To her embarrassment, Frankie could feel tears forming. She focused on skewering a shiny green olive with her fork, aware Jay was watching her every move.

Friends. Yes, they’d been friends. Seeing him, Frankie realised how much she’d missed him. There was still a chasm between them a mile wide and Frankie wasn’t sure they’d ever be able to fill it, but she wanted to at least try.

It was at the point their friendship blurred that it went wrong. Frankie thought she’d been in love with him. But that was in the past when she’d been an impressionable teenager with raging hormones and her head full of classic romantic literature. What Frankie had felt had been nothing more than a case of puppy love.

She and Jay had grown up and were very different people now.

So why the nerves and the fluttery tummy at the thought of meeting him tonight? a little troublemaker voice whispered in her ear.

Could she still be holding a torch for him? Well, Jay Costello was a big-news rock star and anyone was bound to feel a little starstruck in his presence, she reasoned.

Frankie sternly reminded herself she’d known Jay since she was five years old. How could there be any glamour when she’d seen him slip in a paddling pool and land on his bottom when he was eight. Or that time he’d burst into tears when a bee settled on his arm when he was ten and he was terrified it would sting him and Frankie had had to bat it away because he was too traumatised. There was the rainy summer holidays when their group of friends had been so bored they’d resorted to playing Monopoly and making chocolate brownies every day. And the time they’d tried to build a den in the bottom of Jay’s garden but his mum went ballistic when she discovered they’d cut down her gladioli to make a floral roof. There was their competitive collecting of football stickers even though none of them were really football fans. And of course, there was the Christmas when Frankie, Rocco and Jay snuck out in the hope they’d catch sight of Santa Claus because they believed Frankie’s nonno when he’d told them he was friends with Santa and they used to enjoy sharing hot milk with a sprinkling of nutmeg when they were younger. Even now, if Frankie couldn’t sleep, she’d heat up some milk and as soon as she grated the spice, the smell reminded her of that freezing cold Christmas Eve when they’d clustered around the big window of Matteo’s Trattoria after hours. But through the condensation-blurred glass, framed with magical twinkling lights, instead of Santa, they glimpsed Matteo and Anna slow dancing to a crackly recording of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’.

Frankie pushed away the surprise swell of nostalgia and blinked back the tears.

It was as if the last twelve years had been merely a pause, a held breath… until this moment they’d come back together, sitting in Matteo’s Trattoria surrounded by those same magical twinkling lights her grandparents had danced by. Frankie had missed Jay. She’d missed her friend.

‘I think it was when the friendship shifted with our… when we… you know, that’s what caused the problem. We shouldn’t have done that.’ She felt as if she was betraying her younger self with her words.

Jay looked at her for a long while. It used to be Frankie could read Jay’s face and instantly know what he was thinking, but there was something more guarded about him now and she couldn’t decipher his thoughts.

‘I didn’t tell Rocco I was coming here, to meet you,’ Frankie blurted out. She wasn’t sure why she needed Jay to know this, but it was important to be completely upfront. ‘Valentina knows,’ she added.

Jay nodded slowly. ‘Rocco and I are going to talk. But that’s a separate thing. It’s you I want to focus on tonight and to see if there’s any way we can mend our friendship.’

Was she leaving herself wide open and vulnerable again? Regardless, it was with a giddy, almost helium-inhalation of exaltation that she said, ‘I’d like that too, to be friends.’ And nothing more, she added silently.

‘Thank you.’ Jay reached out and squeezed her hand.

And she squeezed his right back.

CHAPTER 18

ROCCO

Rocco walked along the shoreline, hands jammed into the pocket of his hoodie as he kicked up pebbles underfoot. He’d been in a foul mood all day and couldn’t shake himself out of it. Pausing his new healthy lifestyle for one evening, he’d got his favourite takeaway on the journey home, picked up some beers and then also bought a pack of doughnuts in case his sudden plummet in mood was caused by sugar deprivation. But nothing seemed to help. Letting Willow eat the end bits of his chicken pakora off his plate, Rocco had flicked through channel after channel on every streaming platform he subscribed to, but nothing caught his interest.

In the end, around eight o’clock, he’d gone for a walk, but even that didn’t have the usual effect of soothing his soul.

He was heading home, crunching stones under his feet when he realised he’d been joined on his walk. Looking down he saw Bruno padding softly beside him.