by Jules Wake
Siena’s face softened. ‘Who knows? Maybe your mother thought that if he got the ring after she died, he might come for you? Does he know she died?’
‘You’re too nice, Siena.’ Lisa sighed. ‘He wasn’t interested in having me. He came to the funeral. Nan didn’t like him much but she did let him know. He came. And left straight after the ceremony.’ She took in a breath, keeping her voice steady and fighting to contain the hurt. Left without her.
‘But,’ said Siena, handing the ring back with a rueful smile on her face, ‘I think you’ve already answered your own question, n’est ce pas?’
Lisa’s mouth tightened. It was the right thing to do. She could do the right thing even if her father hadn’t been able to. A brief, unhappy smile lit her face at the thought of being able to take the moral high ground. Yes, she should return the ring and tell him exactly what she thought of him. She didn’t need him, or anything from him.
She tapped the photograph. ‘He can have the ring back. I don’t want it. But I need to find him first. This photo is years old. The house might not even be there any more.’
‘You could go to Rome and find out.’
Lisa whipped her head around and glared at Siena.
‘Yes, why didn’t I think of that?’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘I’ll hop on a plane and go to Rome. Silly me.’ Lisa rolled her eyes and shook her head, softening her next words. ‘I forgot you were an international jetsetter once upon a time. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple for us mere mortals, unless you have a handy jet standing by that I could borrow. And I don’t particularly want to meet my father. Just give him the ring back.’
‘Okay, not the best idea,’ said Siena with her usual understanding shrug. ‘But you could check the electoral roll. See if the Vettese family still lives there. That’s what I would do.’
Lisa hadn’t thought that far ahead. If she were honest with herself, she’d been hoping it would prove impossible to track him down. She had a lot to say to him, if she ever got that far. The chicken side of her hoped she’d never find him.
‘That’s a great idea.’ She lifted her glass of Prosecco and chinked it against Siena’s.
‘You could ask Giovanni for some help. He can translate for you and explain how to find things like that out.’
‘Brilliant.’ Siena didn’t notice her half-hearted response.
‘I know,’ said Siena a touch smugly, with a ridiculously happy grin.
‘When is Jason back?
‘Tomorrow night.’ Siena giggled. ‘I spoke to him earlier. He’s very grumpy.’
‘I can imagine. He doesn’t strike me as a suit person at the best of times.’ Siena’s boyfriend, Jason, wore jeans all the time, although, she had to admit, he wore them well. He’d gone north to visit Siena’s sister, Laurie, and her boyfriend to have the suit fitting that he’d been ducking out of for several months.
‘He has to wear a cravat too.’ Siena tried to keep a serious face. ‘I don’t think any of that occurred to him when Cam asked him to be best man.’
‘What about you? All sorted on the bridesmaid front?’
Siena snorted. ‘Done and dusted. Although I’m going up to see Laurie next week for a final fitting.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Or that’s my excuse. Laurie’s organising everything by herself. I want to give her some moral support. I’m the only family around,’ she paused, a tinge of sadness in her voice.
Lisa had always thought that Siena’s mother must have been a bit of a cold fish, separating the two sisters when she split up from Laurie’s dad and taking Siena to live with her in France. They’d been reunited after some beyond-the-grave manipulation from their Uncle Miles, who’d engineered things so that Laurie ended up driving across Europe in a vintage Ferrari in the company of, according to Siena, the ‘utterly delicious Cam’, who’d subsequently proposed to Laurie. The wedding was due to take place at the end of the summer.
Siena leaned over and laid a hand on Lisa’s forearm. ‘You should try to find your father, for your own sake. Maybe there’s another side to the story.’
Lisa scowled. ‘I’m sure there is, but it won’t make any difference to me. He left me and my mum. I don’t owe him anything but the ring.’
Chapter 3
Lisa eyed the posters in the waiting room. She could probably recite the text on them word for word after the length of time they’d been waiting. Her head ached slightly, which was annoying after she’d turned down the rest of the bottle of Prosecco as she and Siena sat and watched Bridesmaids.
Nan fidgeted beside her and sighed loudly, making sure the administrator at the front desk could hear her.
‘I could have died by the time I get to see this chappie,’ she tutted. ‘Waste of time. My dahlias need looking after. I’m dying for a cuppa.’
‘Do you want me to go and get one for you? It shouldn’t be too much longer.’
‘Hmph, you said that an hour ago. If it says the appointment is at half past nine, it should be at half past nine, not half past whenever the flamin’ doctor feels like it.’ She waved the appointment letter, which hadn’t left her hand since they’d arrived, like a matador’s cape. All eyes in the packed waiting room turned their way.
Lisa gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to shrink back in her seat.
‘The doctor’s very busy. I’m sure he’ll call you soon.’
‘Hmph. He might have all day, but I don’t. I’ll give him another five minutes and then we’re off.’
Lisa counted very slowly to ten in her head before saying, as placidly as she could, ‘Do you want me to ask how much longer it will be?’
The secretary at the window opposite had her head down, busy sorting papers, avoiding catching anyone’s eye, even though she had to have heard every word of Nan’s carrying voice. Sensible woman. Cantankerous patients were probably the norm.
‘What’s the point? They never tell you the truth,’ she grumbled, looking pointedly at the watch on her scrawny wrist.
‘Mrs Whitaker.’ The Irish accent rang out as Dr Gupta, Nan’s favourite nemesis, appeared. Tall and patrician, with a narrow aquiline nose and dark skin, he reminded Lisa of some ancient king, and next to him, Nan, an irritating terrier nipping around his ankles who he always forbore with regal grace.
‘About bloody time.’ Nan’s voice, sharp and shrewish, made the whole waiting room look up.
Dr Gupta smiled, his expression completely bland. Poor sod, no doubt, was used to it.
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ offered Lisa. She ought to. She felt increasingly responsible for her gran, even though she knew what the response would be.
‘What the flamin’ hell would I want that for? I’m old enough to be your grandmother.’
Lisa smiled as serenely as she could manage. ‘You are my grandmother.’
‘Exactly.’ Nan glared at Lisa, picked up her capricious handbag and, like a stately ostrich, head held high, stalked towards the doctor, who, bless him, exchanged a subtle, understanding look with Lisa.
She wilted back into her seat. Another round to Nan. It was all very well for her to be gung ho and have that I’m made of granite attitude, but she was getting on a bit and didn’t look after herself properly; her blood pressure was sky high, she didn’t take her tablets, refused to cut down on her salt and persisted in having regular fry-ups as well as Friday-night fish and chips every week. And the doctor didn’t even know about the sneaky pack of Benson and Hedges she kept in the sideboard for high days and holidays.
Lisa had tried, but she’d lost count of the times she’d been accused of being the healthy-living police. Nan’s attitude was when I go, I go, which was all well and good, but she was putting herself at risk.
Lisa frowned down at the institutional greyed carpet. And when Nan went, what then? She didn’t do feeling sorry for herself. Most of the time she refused to think about it, but when Nan went … she would be on her own. There were some second cousins in Glasgow, a generation older, with their own
families now and hundreds of miles away. Family by blood, but not much else.
Lisa’s chest tightened thinking about it. But Nan had years left … if she followed the doctor’s advice.
Dr Gupta’s face was stern when he came out and Nan’s a pallid white.
Lisa jumped up. ‘Is everything alright?’
Dr Gupta started to shake his head, but Nan glared up at him with a basilisk stare. ‘I’m fine. Old age and fussing. Just a lot of nonsense.’
‘Make sure you get the prescription from the pharmacy and,’ his voice hardened, ‘take the tablets.’ He looked at Lisa, his face softening fractionally, ‘She needs to make sure she takes her medication regularly. Not,’ he sighed, ‘a tablet or two, here and there.’
‘She is the cat’s mother,’ Nan sniffed, her prune mouth wrinkling, ‘and I’m not in La La Land yet, y’know.’
‘Just take the medication, Mrs Whitaker.’ Dr Gupta’s thin lips sealed in a terse line.
Lisa could understand his frustration. He could have an armful of medical degrees and boy-scout badges but Nan would still know best.
‘Can we go home, Lisa? I don’t like the smell. It smells of hospitals. Old people and cat pee.’
Nan marched towards the door and, as Lisa turned to follow, the doctor laid a hand on her arm. ‘You need to make sure she takes the tablets. She’s at very high risk of a stroke, which might not be fatal but could seriously impair her life. Do you know the signs of a stroke? What to do, if she should have one?’
Lisa shook her head, mute, fear clutching at her heart.
He nodded towards the receptionist. ‘Take some leaflets with you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Remember, with a stroke, the faster you act the better the outcome.’
Chapter 4
‘Lisa, Bellissima,’ Giovanni slid his hand across the table and took hers. ‘You’re very quiet. Is everything okay?’
Resisting the urge to snatch it back, she said, ‘Sorry,’ dredged up a smile and gave his hand a more business-like squeeze back before pulling away. She should have postponed this evening. ‘I’m a bit worried about my nan.’
Not to mention rather worried that Giovanni had got the wrong end of the stick. When she’d arranged to meet him at the pub, she’d hoped to disabuse him of the wrong idea and that being surrounded by people they both knew would rob the occasion of any sense of romance. Unfortunately, he’d insisted on coming to eat at a restaurant instead.
Coming here after Nan’s hospital visit this morning probably hadn’t been the best idea. Bloody Google had provided her with more information than she wanted to know, which now buzzed around her head, along with a threatening dark-grey halo of depression and indecision.
She gave him a wan smile. ‘Sorry, I’m not the best company tonight.’
Leaning over the table, he took her chin and lifted it, his solemn, dark eyes staring down with great tenderness. In another mood, Lisa might have giggled. Giovanni was lovely but he did tend to take himself rather seriously. He saw himself as arch protector and had a great sense of chivalry, which was damn nice in this day and age and she should give him a break. It made a pleasant change.
‘You’re always good company, Bellissima. Your smile makes up a room.’
Lisa’s lips twitched. Only the fractured Italian accent allowed him to get away with the outrageous compliments.
‘I wanted some help with something, but I’m worried about Nan.’ Despite the doctor’s advice, Lisa had left her tucking into her battered cod and chips, along with her bosom buddy, Laura. The two of them had been cackling like a pair of old witches, planning a marathon soap-opera session. Since discovering Netflix, the two of them had become Friday-night binge-watchers and Lisa had yet to fathom their obsession with Season Two of Breaking Bad. When Nan had wondered aloud about the feasibility of planting marijuana in among her dahlias, Lisa prayed that it had been her warped sense of humour rather than a serious pension-booster.
Giovanni gave a wary nod. Nan hadn’t hesitated to show her disapproval where he was concerned. Luckily he had a healthy Italian respect for all things ‘family’ and didn’t let it bother him, unlike Will who seemed to hold Nan in mutual dislike. Nan disliked most men on principle, Giovanni double lucked out because he was Italian.
‘Is she ill?’
‘No, but she will be if she doesn’t take doctor’s orders.’
Giovanni smiled. ‘My Nonna is the same. That generation … they lived through the war. They think they’re indestructible. They’re made of strong stone. Marble.’
Lisa hoped so.
She straightened up, the menu in her hand. ‘What are you going to have?’
Giovanni sighed and looked mournful. ‘I don’t know. It’s too hard to choose.’
Who knew that an Italian could have such a passion for Chinese food? It amused Lisa no end.
‘Duck? You like that with the pancakes and the hoisin sauce.’
His face brightened and then his mouth drooped, ‘Yes, but they never bring enough pancakes.’
Lisa let out a peal of laughter. ‘You can always ask for more.’
‘Yes, I can, can’t I?’ He smiled back, happy again now.
She took a sip of wine and decided the way to do this was to dive right in, otherwise she’d been fending off Giovanni’s flirtatious overtures all evening.
‘I wanted to ask you to help me.’
‘Yes. I will help you.’
Lisa shook her head, amused by his enthusiasm. ‘But you don’t even know what it is yet?’
‘For a beautiful lady, anything.’
‘I … need to find my father.’
‘Ah, yes, Signore Vettese.’ Giovanni had claimed kinship as soon as he’d heard her Italian surname.
‘I think he’s in Rome.’
‘You don’t know?’
She shook her head, trying to pretend nonchalance. She never talked about this stuff. ‘He was a jockey. When I was two, he left my mum – I don’t know why – and went to work at a racing stables in the north of England. After my mother died, my Nan contacted him. He came to the funeral.’ She swallowed hard. That was the bit that hurt. He didn’t stay or take her with him. ‘After the funeral he went back to Italy and Nan never heard from him again.’
Giovanni pulled a sympathetic face but didn’t say anything.
‘I need to … to try and track him down.’ For the second time in as many days, she relayed the story of the sketchy clue of the old photograph as to his whereabouts, but for some reason she omitted mention of the ring.
‘I’ve done some research on Google, but I can only find out so much. I think it’s because I’m not in Italy. I think the searches would bring up more if I were in the country and I don’t speak Italian.’
‘You would like to go to Italy?’ He straightened, his eyes gleaming with sudden interest.
‘No,’ she laughed at the boyish enthusiasm. ‘Can’t afford it. But you’re going back soon and I wondered if you might help me. Do some research on the internet for me, while you’re there.’
Giovanni looked disappointed, then with a shrug he replied. ‘For me this would be no problem. But I think it would be better for you to come to Italy yourself.’
His face stilled and then he beamed. ‘You will be on the school holidays soon. You could come then, to Rome, with me.’
‘That’s very kind of you but …’
‘No.’ He sat up straighter, as if blindsided by a thunderbolt. ‘But you must come!’ With sudden fervour, he said, ‘I have friends there who work in the local government in Rome. They will know someone at the Commissione Elettorale Comunale. That is the Municipal Electoral Commission.’
‘I …’ Lisa forced herself to appear positive. Quite frankly, she’d give her right arm to go to Rome. Anywhere. But, seriously, daydreams apart, she couldn’t afford to go to Rome.
‘Yes.’ Giovanni looked as if he’d made a monumental discovery. ‘You must come to Rome. We can find your papa
and I can show you the Eternal City.’
‘I can’t.’ Lisa wished she could.
‘Why not? You must come. This is the very good reason.’
‘It might be, but I don’t have a very good bank balance.’
Giovanni looked blank.
‘I can’t afford it.’
But she had a credit card. She could book the flights on that and blow the car fund on a budget hotel. If worst came to worst, she could always buy a bicycle.
He frowned and then broke into a broad grin. ‘Bellissima. My parents have a big apartment in Rome. With lots of room.’ He grabbed her hand across the table. ‘I can show you all the sites, the Colosseo, Fontana di Trevi, San Pietro, Piazza Di Spagna.’
Lisa flinched. ‘Stop!’ The temptation rose in her mind. She’d love to see all those places.
‘Lisa, Lisa.’ Giovanni smiled broadly, drawing himself up straight. Lisa could almost imagine him clasping the hilt of a sword. ‘I would do this thing for you. Family is important. Together we will find your papa. Besides, I will be in Italy for the month anyway.’
‘That’s kind of you, but …’ She didn’t dare tell him she had no intention of reconnecting with her father. All she wanted was to give him the ring back. And tell him that he was welcome to it. She’d really like that. Make it clear that she’d done just fine without him.
And see Rome for a week. That would be wonderful.
‘Tell me when you want to come. I can meet you at the airport.’
Lisa hesitated. ‘What about your parents? Would they be okay having a complete stranger staying with them in their apartment?’
Giovanni let out a bark of amused laughter. ‘No proper Roman stays in the capital for the summer. My parents leave to visit my Nonna. She has a house a long way north of the city. Rome is too hot and too full of tourists.’ Giovanni’s face darkened as he said the latter part.
‘But I would be a tourist,’ she teased.
‘A beautiful one.’
