He held up his hands with a protesting ‘Eh, eh,’ and shook his head. But the smirk broadened to a satisfied grin.
‘Nessuno ama uno sneak,’ she hissed, unable to think of a more authentically Italian way of telling him that nobody likes a sneak.
Davide shrugged, evidently unmoved by this information. ‘You have section one. And a person is waiting for you. Table twelve.’ He pointed with the sanitising spray.
Sofia followed with her gaze and saw a man she almost felt as if she recognised, even though she knew she’d never seen him before. A man who made her aware of what Aldo could have looked like if his heart hadn’t begun to spring leaks so many years ago.
Her stomach plunged. Of course she knew it wasn’t Aldo, could clearly see that a resemblance was all there was, especially as the man wasn’t smiling, as her father so often had. But she couldn’t look away.
The man stared straight back.
Licking suddenly dry lips, she approached table twelve. She wasn’t sure of the proper greeting. ‘Buon giorno’ seemed too formal but ‘Ciao’ not formal enough. As she drew near the man, he pushed out a chair as if suggesting she sit down.
‘I’m working.’ She wasn’t sure why her voice shook. It wasn’t because she was frightened, but it felt wrong that there was no softening of the half-familiar features.
‘I am your uncle, Gianni Bianchi,’ the man said, as if that fact trumped any obligation to her employer.
She found that it did, but only because her knees suddenly lost the power to support her in the presence of the person who was her closest living relative, and she had to drop into the chair opposite his. A tremulous smile took charge of her lips. ‘You look a lot like my father,’ she said huskily.
He nodded.
Now she saw that his eyes, so dark they were almost black, were moist. It encouraged her to add, ‘Thank you so much for coming here. I’ve been longing to meet you.’
Gianni nodded again. His throat worked. ‘You remind me of your mother.’
The world took a giant swoop, as if Sofia had had too much sun. ‘You knew my mum? I barely remember her. I have photos but I’ve never noticed that I’m like her. I have Dad’s colouring so I thought I took after him.’
‘The smile. The shape of your head.’
Sofia’s heart began to speed. Any lingering compulsion to begin her day’s duties vanished. ‘You may know that my mother died a long time ago—’
Pain flashed across Gianni’s face.
Sofia halted, confused. Then, when Gianni made no comment, continued hesitantly, ‘Dad died last year.’
Gianni drew in a long, slow breath. ‘I am sorry. When I heard you were asking for me and appeared to be alone, I wondered.’
‘He asked me to give you a message,’ Sofia went on, when Gianni asked no questions.
Impassive once again, he nodded. ‘Ernesto said this.’
This meeting wasn’t going the way Sofia had hoped. The air between her and her uncle prickled with tension and he wasn’t interacting with her in any of the ways she’d imagined, greeting the news of his brother’s death almost without expression. Confused, she fell silent.
His voice had hardened when he spoke again. ‘You’re certain your mother is dead?’
Shock made Sofia shrink back. ‘Certain? Of course! What the hell do you mean?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe she left and Aldo did not want to admit it.’
Sofia simply stared, dumbfounded. ‘She got meningitis and developed septicaemia. It was over in a few hours. My father had a marble headstone erected at her grave in our local cemetery in Bedford. I can’t imagine the authorities allowing that if she wasn’t there. Can you?’
He flushed at her sarcasm. ‘And the message?’ he asked stonily.
She stared at him, completely at sea. Were her uncle’s emotions badly wired? Had she unwittingly offended him? ‘Aldo asked me to tell you he was sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m not completely sure about what. It might be that he never saw your parents again before they died. I know he felt a lot of guilt and sorrow over that—’
‘Phhtt!’
The scornful noise made Sofia pause, gazing at the greying man, her temper beginning to simmer at his air of scorn.
Gianni rose.
Silently, Sofia followed suit.
Her uncle drew himself up. ‘You think you get Aldo’s share of the money from our parents? I tell you something. He had it already.’
‘I know that! It helped us for a long time, when he was ill, but it gradually dwindled away,’ she said slowly, before adding, ‘Surely you don’t mind that he accepted his share? That wasn’t what his apology was about, was it?’
Gianni glowered darkly. ‘I did not expect a single thing from him! And if his money has gone, it has gone. I hope you don’t think I have money to give you.’ He began to turn away.
Sofia’s temper boiled over. ‘Non voglio i tuoi cazzo di soldi.’
Dimly she heard Davide protesting, ‘Eh, eh, Sofia!’ but she tuned him out. She’d apologise later for yelling at Gianni that she didn’t want his fucking money.
Gianni swung back, looking stunned. ‘Tu parli italiano.’
Sofia knew the satisfaction of wrong-footing him. ‘Yes. My father and I spoke Italian often. He was wonderful and I loved and admired him. I don’t know why he asked me to convey an apology to you, but it was not so I could beg money from you! He couldn’t have known you’d become the kind of man who’d speak to your niece this way. Now I know why he never contacted his family for help and let me care for him alone for all those years. I’m ashamed to be related to you and you can safely forget I exist.’ She flung herself away, intent on putting space between herself and her inexplicably insulting and hostile uncle, not realising until it was too late that Davide was now close behind her.
His tray of crocks did a graceful half-turn in mid-air and emptied slops of drinks and smears of cream down the front of her uniform. ‘Shit!’ Sophia exclaimed.
Then she saw Benedetta step out from behind her son, quivering with fury. ‘Oh, shit,’ she groaned.
Benedetta snorted like an angry bull. ‘My office, Sofia,’ before apologising fulsomely to the faces that had turned at the commotion.
The blood singing in her ears, Sofia stalked out of Il Giardino and across reception, aware of beer and milkshake seeping into her clothes as she slammed through the door marked Solo staff. She could hear the furious tap of Benedetta’s heels as she followed but it wasn’t until she reached the office that she realised someone else was padding along behind, too. Levi.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, his casual hands-in-pockets slouch at odds with the set of his jaw.
Benedetta obviously shared Sofia’s confusion as she held the office door wide to give Levi plenty of room to pass back the way he’d come. ‘Please. This is private.’
Levi simply let himself down into a chair. ‘As you arrived only at the end of the scene and I was at a nearby table throughout, I thought you might welcome my insight into events.’
Sofia didn’t know whether to be grateful that he was evidently preparing to go in to bat for her or irritated that he might think she couldn’t handle this herself.
Judging by the sour look on her face, Benedetta certainly felt no gratitude. She instantly found another way to exclude him from events by addressing Sofia in Italian. ‘Who is this man?’ She flapped her hand in Levi’s direction. ‘He’s always conveniently around to stick up for the English. Is he a hired witness? Or do you have a relationship with him, despite your protests at our meeting of less than half an hour ago? And do I understand that you’re Gianni Bianci’s niece? Are you here to spy?’ Her voice rose along with her colour.
‘Spy? Why should I spy for an uncle who has just been offensive and unpleasant to me? And why should I spy on your pisspot operation anyway?’ Sofia switched to English. ‘There’s probably no point talking to her, Levi. Signora Morbidelli’s a
lready made up her mind.’
Benedetta stuck to Italian. ‘You’re rude to a customer, you use bad language and you’re rude to me. I can no longer employ you. Go! Clear your room.’
‘What kind of employer are you not to even ask for my side of the story?’ Sofia ripped off her soiled apron and hurled it onto the desk, finding a savage satisfaction in Benedetta drawing back from the milkshake smears on the polished wood. Then she whirled and marched through the door.
Levi followed her, protesting: ‘Has she sacked you? She can’t do that. You have a right to be heard and your uncle was obnoxious.’
‘Who cares? She says I have to clear my room so that’s me gone.’ Trembling with rage at Benedetta and disappointment in her uncle, Sofia stormed out into reception, down the stairs and, strictly against Benedetta’s rules, across the terrace where residents were enjoying late elevenses or early lunch. She marched down the next set of steps from the side of the terrace and slammed in through the gate to the staff quarters.
Amy, curled up in the dappled sunlight on the bench outside her room with her phone, jumped visibly at Sofia’s tempestuous entrance. ‘What’s up?’
‘Benedetta’s sacked me,’ Sofia snapped. Then she slammed on her brakes, wishing she’d conveyed the news more gently, especially when she heard an indrawn breath from Levi, who she realised belatedly, had stuck with her in her headlong flight.
Amy uncurled herself and climbed to her feet, face pale, eyes wide and panicked as she gazed at the state of Sofia’s black uniform. Her voice trembled. ‘Does this mean you’re leaving, Sofia? Please don’t!’
Remorse pounced on Sofia. Horrified at the way she’d let her anger take over, she tried to manufacture a smile as she slid her arm around Amy’s slight shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, hun. I’m so upset and angry that I don’t know what I’m doing or saying. If I hadn’t got away from Benedetta I might have yanked her across the desk! So I threw in the towel. Or rather the apron.’ Nobody laughed.
In the silence, Amy’s phone began to ring in her hand. She frowned down at its screen. ‘It’s Aurora.’
‘Maybe she wants you to do my shift. At least you’ll get a few more euros because they’d have to pay you more for working on what’s supposed to be your day off.’ Feeling suddenly miserable at how badly she was letting her young friend down, Sofia tailed off.
Levi stepped into the breach, giving Amy a reassuring pat on the arm. ‘There’s no point you being in trouble too. Answer the call. Sofia needs a bit of time before she decides on her next step but I promise I won’t let her leave Montelibertà just yet. OK?’
Blinking, two perfect tears trembling on her eyelashes, Amy nodded. Then she answered the phone with a discouraging ‘Yeah?’
As she began to nod dolefully along to the conversation Levi muttered to Sofia, ‘Sorry to jump in.’
‘No, I’m grateful you did. I didn’t give any thought to how she’d take it.’ She was suddenly realising that Levi had found himself watching Sofia make his daughter cry.
By the time a woeful-looking Amy had finished her call, Sofia had summoned up a smile and some semblance of her usual calm. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t go before we’ve talked again. At least,’ she added, realising that she’d just made a promise she had no idea whether she could keep, as Benedetta might have her marched from the premises, ‘if I have to leave the hotel I’ll—’ she floundered to a halt as it dawned on her that she had nowhere to sleep tonight ‘—text you,’ she ended feebly.
More tears eased from Amy’s eyes but she managed a tremulous smile. ‘Can we go on together to Spain, like we said?’
Sofia’s own eyes began to boil as she realised with a jolt how much Amy had grown to depend upon her support, and that this must feel to the youngster like another disaster. She pinned on a smile but couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat to offer actual words.
With a last disappointed glance from heart-wrenchingly mournful eyes, Amy slipped through the door into her room. ‘I have to get changed.’
Sofia plumped down onto the bench and Levi settled himself beside her. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Why are families so weird? My uncle’s decided not to like me without getting to know me.’
Levi slipped a comforting arm around her. ‘I don’t think he dislikes you. He was too emotional for that.’
‘Dislike’s an emotion.’
‘I think there’s more to it.’ He hesitated. ‘He was in reception when you charged out of Benedetta’s office and looked as if he was going to set off after you. Then Benedetta came out and he began snapping at her. As I don’t speak Italian I can’t guess what he said but he was just as stiff and surly with her.’
‘He was probably making certain I got the boot.’
Before Levi could respond Amy emerged from her room in her black dress, tying on her white apron. Sofia jumped up and gave her a big hug. ‘I’m sorry.’
Amy’s arms closed hotly around Sofia. ‘Promise you’ll still be around at six when I come off shift?’ Her voice was so small and sad that it wrung Sofia’s heart.
‘Totally, absolutely promise,’ she vowed.
‘OK then.’ Amy gave a watery smile and disengaged herself. Then she looked at Levi, who’d risen to his feet along with Sofia and now stood watching. Tentatively, Amy opened her arms in his direction.
Looking stunned, Levi stepped slowly into her hug. Sofia’s eyes swam when she saw, over Amy’s shoulder, his expression of wonderment.
Sofia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything more moving than a father hugging his child for the first time.
He was the one to break the embrace. ‘Go earn some extra dosh from Benedetta,’ he suggested bracingly, if a little hoarsely. ‘It might make Sofia feel better.’
Amy managed a wan smile before she hurried out of the gate and turned right, taking the staff route to Il Giardino.
Flopping down onto the bench Sofia tipped back her head and clenched her eyes with a groan. ‘I feel awful for not breaking it to her gently. Thanks for helping smooth over my crappiness.’
He dropped down beside her. ‘Holy shit. That was intense.’
She turned her face towards him and opened an eye. He looked shell-shocked. As she had nothing to useful to say, she shut the eye again and gave herself up to the sound of the vine leaves rustling all around them while she tried to process the emotions having a wrestling match inside her.
It was he who eventually broke the silence. ‘Do you plan to just sit here till Amy comes back?’
‘Thinking about it.’
‘The thing is …’ He hesitated delicately.
When the pause had drawn out for what seemed like ages, Sofia sighed and opened her eyes. ‘The thing is … you want whatever I do next not to hurt or upset Amy but you don’t know how to say it. And you absolutely don’t think now’s the time to explain to Amy about who you are.’
‘Yes. Sorry, but yes. It’s not just that she seems—’ again a hesitation, as if what he was trying to say was so vitally important that he couldn’t risk even one wrong word ‘—young and vulnerable. It’s that the slenderest of threads connects us right now and if I let that thread break I might never know where she falls or how badly she’s hurt. And … it seems as if that thread passes through your hands. You’re the person she trusts here.’
Sofia felt her heart stretch. ‘As if I didn’t have enough shit of my own to deal with,’ she muttered.
‘Sorry.’ He sat up. ‘I can help with your immediate problem by moving your stuff into my room temporarily. It will give you a few hours to take stock.’
Slowly she opened both eyes to look at him, grateful he’d identified the most pressing issue and found a way to deal with it. ‘That would really help because I don’t know if I can find a room for tonight in Montelibertà. I need to stay local because I promised Amy but I don’t want Benedetta to have another reason to shriek at me if she finds I’m still occupying my staff quarters.’
Unexpectedly he planted a kiss in the cent
re of her forehead. ‘It’s all a plan to get you into my room,’ he said, a teasing note filtering into his voice.
Sofia tried to match his attempt at levity. ‘Ha! As I’ve been canned, I suppose I might as well.’ Then everything seemed to pause as they stopped and gazed at each other as if each examining the thought that now none of Benedetta’s rules applied to Sofia. And, even if it had come about as an emergency measure, they would be sharing a room.
Heart stepping up its pace, she turned towards her accommodation. ‘I’d better get started.’
Chapter Eleven
Sofia opened every drawer in the room and tipped the contents into her cases, muttering beneath her breath about ‘that bastard thinking I’m after money!’, then grabbed the clothes hanging on the clothes rail and folded them roughly on top. Levi went round disengaging chargers and adaptors from sockets and winding up the leads, then swept her personal effects into the cheery green lightweight backpack she’d brought over as hand baggage.
‘That it?’ He zipped the backpack with a brisk zzzzzzp.
Sofia checked the bathroom and grabbed her robe from behind the door to shove in the top of one of her cases before slapping it shut. ‘That’s it.’
He halted her when she would have grabbed the suitcase’s handle. ‘If Benedetta sees you carting your stuff up to the guest rooms she’ll want to know what’s going on and might throw both of us out. I suggest you let me go first with this lot, then you follow. It’s room 202. I’ve only got one key card so you’ll have to knock when you arrive.’
‘Good plan,’ she agreed, suppressing a sigh of exasperation at the situation she found herself in. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes then go through the yard and the staff entrance to use the service lift.’
Levi opened the door and took a case in each hand, then Sofia saw his head bobbing past the window and he was gone.
One Summer in Italy Page 11
