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‘What will it entail?’ Frankie asked warily.
‘Me making a documentary about you and what you do daily. I’ll film you and splice bits together. Dog dating hits different, for sure! My other peeps are going basic.’
They walked back through where the family were putting their coats on and gathering their belongings together.
Frankie saw her grandfather gazing up above the door to the kitchen, a wistful look in his eyes. Still sitting above the Established 1968 plaque was a black-and-white photograph of her grandparents standing outside the trattoria with all the promise lying before them at their grand opening.
‘She was so beautiful,’ Frankie said, looking up at her grandmother, Anna.
‘Just like you, cuore mio,’ her grandfather said, smiling down at Frankie. ‘She would be so proud of you all.’
It had been five years since Anna had died and her absence was still felt keenly by all the family.
‘I miss her.’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘I even miss her nagging. Too much oregano in the ragu, not enough seasoning… But,’ he gave an expressive shrug, ‘the world still turns and we have to move on. Things change, and sometimes that is a good thing.’ He kissed the top of Frankie’s head and for a moment Frankie felt a little flicker of uncertainty. The fact all her family stayed the same and were reliable gave her a feeling of security. She took a deep breath. He’d probably just had one amaro too many after dinner and was feeling maudlin and nostalgic.
And right enough, a moment later he was talking about Christmas and the family spilt out into the cool, clear night, laden with the leftovers in numerous Tupperware boxes.
‘Ti voglio bene!’ Matteo shouted from the doorway, waving.
‘Love you too, Nonno!’ Frankie and Valentina called out.
The family stood on the pavement outside the trattoria, saying their goodbyes.
‘Anyone fancy a nightcap?’ Rocco suggested, nodding over toward the hotel.
The heart of the village was built around a large square village green, complete with band-stand, duck pond and numerous flower beds and park benches. This area was encircled by a one-way road that was flanked on all four sides by independent shops, eateries and other businesses. Directly opposite the trattoria, sitting in the middle of West Street, was the Drumkeldy Arms hotel. The moon was almost full, sitting low in the sky, just above the elaborate roofline tourelles of the Scots baronial-style hotel.
‘He wants to go and chat up Sienna!’ Lisa teased.
‘What’s this?’ Maria said, looking at her son with interest.
Lisa grinned, clearly delighted to be the one with the gossip. ‘Sienna works behind the bar and Rocco fancies her.’
‘What? It’s got nothing to do with her. My friend said he might be in tonight,’ Rocco protested.
‘Yeah, but you still fancy Sienna!’
Nick nodded, sagely. ‘She’s a snack.’
‘No one’s allowed any secrets in this family,’ Rocco grumbled.
‘Some of us are,’ Nick said matter-of-factly and an uncomfortable hush fell on the little group as eyes darted toward Valentina.
Despite Valentina being more than happy to talk for hours about many aspects of her pregnancy, the one area she had kept a firm lid on was the identity of the father.
After a moment, Rocco said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of notice if you need to buy a new hat, Mum, but for now, I’m merely window shopping. Why do I want to be tied to one person and deprive so many ladies of this!’ He gestured to his body which brought on a fresh round of teasing, all awkwardness over Valentina’s pregnancy forgotten; but it wasn’t lost on Frankie, the look of gratitude Valentina threw Rocco at him changing the subject back to him; and the ghost of a wink he’d replied with. Although they frequently squabbled, Frankie always knew the three of them always had each others’ backs.
CHAPTER 4
ROCCO
Rocco slipped out of bed, trying to be as quiet as possible as he pulled on his jeans. He was tucking in his T-shirt when he heard the bed springs creak as the body in the bed he’d just vacated, stirred. He turned as Sienna opened her eyes and stretched lazily.
Last night, after saying goodnight to his family, Rocco had headed over to the Drumkeldy Arms hotel. Crossing the village green, he passed a group of teenagers sprawled over the bandstand steps, talking and laughing over cans of kombucha whilst one of the group did some fancy moves on a skateboard. It felt both a lifetime ago, and just a blink of an eye since Rocco had been doing the same with his friends, although it had been guitars they’d been strumming whilst passing round a bottle of illicit cider and a pilfered Marlboro. Teenagers seemed so much healthier now than in his day, he thought as he’d stepped into the hotel bar.
Rocco’s friend wasn’t there – it had been a very loose arrangement – so Rocco thought he’d have a quick drink then phone for a taxi home.
It was when he’d nodded at Sienna, who was working behind the bar and who gave him a wink and a long, lingering look that Rocco knew how the evening would end.
