One Summer in Italy

by Sue Moorcroft

  She eased her phone out of the pocket of her jeans to check it. Still no new messages.

  Amy slurped again. ‘Yes, they were kind. But when I realised who Levi was I got really upset and angry and ran out.’ Her blue eyes were gloomy. ‘I suppose it was a bit crap for them, me turning up then running away.’

  Sofia sipped her coffee. After the Italian stuff it tasted very … English. ‘If he hadn’t told them about you then it would have been a bombshell, I expect. But Levi—’ She hesitated.

  ‘What?’ Amy demanded.

  Sofia flushed. She’d been about to say he’d acted out of the best of motives, lurching over the boundary of what she was supposed to know and what she was not supposed to know.

  ‘Sorry,’ she prevaricated, rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m zoning out because I haven’t had much sleep. I think I was going to say that the Gunns will probably want to get to know you now they know you exist.’

  ‘Oh.’ Amy’s fair eyebrows almost disappeared into her hair. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘And Levi.’

  ‘Levi!’ Amy jerked upright. ‘He can fuck off!’

  Sofia held up a hand, using the other to rub her temples. ‘Don’t shout. I know you’re upset he didn’t tell you who he was, but if I were you I’d be gagging to know his reason.’

  The entire situation was a mess. Sofia was no longer even trying to form an opinion on whether Levi should have explained, but at least she could try and steer Amy into thinking more deeply than her knee-jerk reaction had so far suggested.

  ‘Why?’ Amy punctuated her question with a truculent slurp of her drink.

  ‘Because it’s intriguing. Why did he visit your home in Germany? And why didn’t he explain who he was? Why did he stick up for you when you were going to be sacked the day he arrived? Why did he hang out in the garden in the early hours of the morning to frighten Davide off?’

  ‘No idea. He sucks, anyway.’ Moodily, Amy twirled her straw.

  ‘I thought he was nice.’ And she thought about him pretty often.

  Amy’s eyes slid around to peep at Sofia. ‘I think you liked him quite a bit, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sofia answered honestly. ‘Partly because of the ways he helped you. Maybe I have a hero complex.’

  Amy turned her gaze to the window, evidently nowhere near ready to dismount from her high horse.

  Sofia blinked eyes gritty with fatigue. Through the window she could see the Friday comings and going of the small market town around a few national chain shops, building societies, banks and a bingo hall. She knew there was a shopping mall nearby because she’d passed its entrance further up the street. Bettsbrough looked an OK sort of place. Smallish. Ordinary. Average. Smaller than Bedford, but not that different.

  It wasn’t that far from Bedford, come to that, near enough for the accent to fall comfortably on Sofia’s ear. The journey would take an hour by car but she didn’t have one … and though she’d definitely make time to visit her parents’ graves before leaving the UK again she shrank from seeing her old home in the hands of someone else with no Aldo watching through the window from his bed for her to walk up the path.

  She shook herself. What she needed to think about was Amy, not about the place she couldn’t wait to leave a couple of months ago. But when she turned back to Amy she discovered only an empty seat.

  Then she caught sight of her. She blinked. Amy was going through the McDonald’s recycling bin.

  Bemused, Sofia crossed to join her. ‘Sudden urge to count the cups?’ she asked mildly.

  Amy glanced up. ‘I’m collecting the beans for Matt.’

  ‘Beans?’

  Amy tapped the side of a coffee cup. ‘See? Every hot drink cup has a coffee bean sticker. When you stick six on one of these little cards you can exchange it for a free cuppa. Lots of people throw theirs away so I’m collecting them. I can give the full cards to Matt and he can use them to get hot drinks.’

  ‘Enterprising.’ Sofia watched her work for a few seconds, remembering the defeated slump to Matt’s shoulders as he’d hurried away from them. ‘Are you sure you’ll see him again?’

  Shrugging, Amy shook her head. ‘Not completely.’

  Retiring to the table and the last of her coffee, Sofia watched her young friend. Amy was an interesting case. Much of the time she was quiet and even timid, but she obviously felt things deeply and took little prompting to fly into action.

  Amy being preoccupied with her task, Sofia took the opportunity to text Levi once more. She had no way of knowing when he’d surface but she was feeling at sea over how to deal with Amy, not to mention increasingly dubious about the corner she was being backed into by the situation.

  By the time Amy eventually returned to the table, flushed with success that she’d filled three and a half cards, Sofia was torn between returning to the Travelodge to sleep or just putting her head down and sleeping where she sat. Her yawns felt as if they were stretching her mouth past its natural size. ‘Are you staying at the Airbnb tonight?’ She yawned.

  Amy muttered, ‘Crap,’ and quickly made a phone call, apprehension in the defensive curve of her shoulders. She sighed when she ended the call, blue eyes doleful. ‘I didn’t text by twelve as I was supposed to and Jean’s let the room to someone else. I’ve got to go and clear out my stuff.’

  Sofia tried to force her sluggish brain to work. ‘There’s a sofa-bed thingy in my room at the Travelodge. Want that?’

  Relief rolled off Amy in waves. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not as long as you let me get some sleep when we get there. I’ll even see the desk clerk and book you in legitimately so you have sheets and a quilt.’

  ‘Thank you-oo!’ Amy gave Sofia a big hug, clinging to her as if scared she’d disappear if she let go.

  Sofia’s eyes grew moist as she returned the hug. Poor Amy. Nothing was going easily for her at the moment. ‘If,’ she amended belatedly, hoping fervently that she wasn’t overplaying her hand, ‘you’ll agree to stay in Bettsbrough long enough for Levi to get here and talk to you himself.’

  Amy tensed. Then her narrow shoulders heaved on the biggest sigh yet. ‘Suppose so.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Levi arrived at his home in Bettsbrough on Saturday evening exhausted and sodden.

  The heat of Italy had gradually given way to intermittent thunderstorms as he’d ridden north into in the Grand Est region of France and the band of wet weather had followed him right into England. He’d had to cope with spray soaking his boots, car drivers impatient with his desire not to ride through the road-edge puddles, and decreased grip and visibility. His pace had dropped and he was half a day later than he’d hoped.

  And he was really, totally, royally pissed off.

  Right from his first overnight stay at Aosta, north of Turin, he’d been aware of the absence of his phone charger, though he’d spent half an hour in the car park grimly going through his panniers.

  His phone was already dead and though he consoled himself that at least he hadn’t lost the phone itself this time the annoyance had set the tone for the whole journey. During the night the motel fire alarm had gone off twice, leaving him outside in the dark instead of snug in bed. The next day, continuing his journey, he crossed the border into France and the police at the toll booths had pulled him over and checked through his panniers before letting him repack and waving him on. Accidents on the autoroute had led to the A5 coming to a standstill and by the time he reached the hotel in Reims the last thing he’d felt like doing was riding into town to locate a phone charger and cable. It wasn’t as if he felt chatty. In fact, he decided not to power up his laptop either. If there was all hell breaking loose on The Moron Forum or amongst its contributors then trying to sort things out via email would frustrate him and delay his return to his office where all he’d need would be at his fingertips.

  On Saturday he pressed on when the bad weather hit, only to be caught up in chaos at Calais-Est as a host of Brits with cara
vans, roof racks or trailers decided to go home because it was raining. When he finally got across to Dover he headed north before anything else could go wrong.

  At last!

  It was still raining but at least he was here.

  He wheeled the bike into his triple garage beside his Aston Martin – which had taken up more of the money The Moron Forum had accumulated for him than he cared to think about – and his quad bike, pressed the remote to lower the garage door, and let himself into the house via the kitchen to avoid not just more rain but the mountain of mail he expected to be awaiting him inside the porch.

  The air inside the house smelled musty and he opened a couple of windows even before he began to strip off his protective gear. His plan was to take a shower and get into dry clothes before phoning out for takeaway and opening a beer. Then, and not before, he’d think about firing up his laptop and phone and connecting with the world once more. He was tired to the bone and weighed down by doubts. His time in Italy had proved so … inconclusive. Not a failure but certainly not a success. He’d assured himself that Amy was capable of surviving outside the family home in Munich but ridden away without revealing himself as her father. Now he was so far from her the decision was beginning to feel sickeningly wrong. He sighed as he hung up his gear.

  It felt strange to be back in this detached house he’d had built on the edge of town, a very comfortable five bedrooms with en-suites, the master taking up most of the very top floor, up in the roof. It was overlarge for just one person but it had seemed like a good investment. After the constant noise of living in a hotel, then three days of the bike’s roar, his house seemed incredibly quiet. It was restful but it was also … empty.

  He’d got as far as his bedroom, and drawn the curtains on a view of a copse and farmland rather than the glorious mountains and beautiful valley he’d become used to, when his landline rang. He closed his eyes for an instant in protest at the fates conspiring to stop him getting warm and comfortable, then grudgingly picked up the cordless handset from beside his bed.

  And wow, that bed looked inviting. Maybe he should forgo the takeaway and just fall into bed after his shower …

  ‘Levi?’ said his brother’s voice, from the phone.

  Levi moved the handset closer to his mouth. ‘Hey, Ty. How are you doing?’

  ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get you since yesterday.’

  ‘Sorry. I must have left my phone charger in Italy so the phone died on me.’ Belatedly, he became aware of the tension in Ty’s voice. ‘Anything the matter?’

  Tyrone drew in a long audible breath and blew it out again. ‘Where to start? We had a visitor at the garage yesterday. A girl called Amy Webber.’

  Levi froze. ‘Amy? At the garage? She was in Italy when I left. Why’s she in England?’

  ‘Looking for her father – who she at first thought was me.’

  ‘Why?’ Levi demanded blankly.

  The snort of exasperation that came at him down the line almost perforated his eardrum. ‘The only information she had was that her father was Bullet Gunn’s son. Someone pointed me out and it didn’t seem to occur to her that there would be more than one of us. But don’t you think we ought to start with the basics? It seems as if she has reason to believe she’s your daughter. Care to comment?’

  Slowly, Levi sank down onto the carpet, his back against the bed. ‘I was going to tell you all when I got back.’

  ‘She is your daughter?’ Ty’s voice almost shot off the scale.

  ‘I haven’t had a DNA test but yes.’ Economically Levi related the story, ending with, ‘I didn’t want to explain to Mum and Dad until I’d seen Freya and checked out whether what she said was true. Then I thought I’d just be in Italy a week or so and would come straight back. But things kept cropping up.’

  Tyrone turned flinty. ‘Ever heard of the phone?’

  ‘Don’t pull that big-brother crap.’ Levi scowled, though Tyrone couldn’t see it. ‘Do you seriously think it’s the kind of news best broken by phone? It was going to be a difficult conversation and I wanted to face my family while we had it.’

  ‘OK,’ Tyrone allowed grudgingly. ‘But she beat you home, man. When we explained it wasn’t possible I was her dad Mum chirped up that she had another son, one who’d been away in Europe. When Amy heard your name she totally flipped. Jumped up and made a break for it. I tried to go after her but she’s quick and I couldn’t really go chasing a young woman through the town centre unless I wanted to be arrested.’

  Groaning, Levi sank his head in his hand. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘Indeed. I think you’d better go and see Mum and Dad.’ Tyrone began to sound more sympathetic. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Mum and Dad, much as I love them, will have to get in the queue. It’s more important I find Amy and make sure she’s OK. There’s someone I can contact who might be in the know.’ As he spoke, Levi rolled to his feet, grabbed his mobile phone and a charger from the drawer beside his bed and plugged his phone in. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Ty. I can’t just leave Amy running around town or even heading off somewhere else. What if she hasn’t got enough money? What if some creep hits on her? I have to make her safety my first priority.’ In the bathroom he switched on the shower and yanked a towel from the stack.

  ‘OK. I’ll tell Mum and Dad you’re safe and well, at least.’ Tyrone sounded as if he might be trying not to laugh.

  ‘What?’ Levi demanded impatiently. ‘What’s funny?’

  Tyrone did laugh then. ‘You sounded just like a dad.’

  ‘Oh. Well. I’m trying.’ Levi said his goodbyes and stepped into the deluge of hot water. As he washed his hair and rapidly soaped his body he could hear his mobile phone message tone repeating so frenetically he thought it must be malfunctioning. He grabbed the towel and dried himself as he made his way back to where he’d left the handset. As if in defiance, as he picked it up it gave one final beep and fell silent.

  ‘No wonder my freakin’ battery died so quickly,’ he muttered to himself. There were more than twenty texts and almost as many voicemails. He tapped on the text message icon first. A whole slew of them were from Sofia. Deciding to cut to the chase, he went for the most recent text first.

  Sofia: I met up with her OK. She’s introduced herself to your family – I’m sure you’ll hear all about that! She’s calmed down a bit, but I’m afraid she’s angry with you for not explaining who you were. SHE STILL DOESN’T KNOW I KNOW. I feel bad about it but what Amy needs most is a friend so I’m trying to be that. We’re in the Travelodge on a big roundabout near a pub called The Chequers. When you finally get this message DON’T RING ME, in case she hears your voice, because we’re sharing a room. Text me ASAP.

  Wincing at the part about Amy being angry, Levi scrolled back to the beginning of the messages from Amy’s going to England! through Damn, your charger’s been found in your room. Might explain why you’re not answering and then brief step-by-step updates as Sofia made the decision to follow on, landed in the UK and headed towards his home town. Though Amy was at the forefront of his mind it gave him a hot flood of pleasure to realise Sofia had not been left behind in Montelibertà but was within a ten-minute drive of where he stood.

  He replied:

  Levi: I’m back in Bettsbrough and just got my phone working again. You don’t know how relieved I am to know you’re with Amy. My brother rang to tell me about her visit to the garage but had no idea where she’d run off to. Phew! THANK YOU for coming over to be with her. You are amazing.

  That was the easy bit. He sat on the bed, pushing his pillows up against the headboard to sink into. After several minutes of watching through the window as dusk stole across the sky, he continued:

  Levi: My primary aim is to see Amy and explain/apologise in such a way that she doesn’t react by vanishing, and which leads to me having some kind of dad/daughter relationship with her. I realise it would b
e subject to where she’s living but I can’t bear the thought of her hating me. As you’ve done so much already I suppose I should hesitate to ask you but … What do YOU think’s the best way of getting her and me together?

  And then, because it was true and he was hyper-aware that he might see Sofia again soon he sent another text – well, hell, she’d sent him about two dozen!

  Levi: I’ve missed you. x

  Then he began on his voicemail, smiling as he listened to Sofia sounding urgent, then fed up, then quite irritated, actually saying ‘Argh!’ at one point. Next came several messages from Tyrone asking him to get in touch ASAP. He sounded irritated too, but he wasn’t so cute.

  And finally … a quite unexpected voice.

  Levi was so nonplussed he more or less missed what was said first time around and had to listen to the message again. ‘Hiya, Levi, it’s Octavia! Welcome home. You’ve been away so long. You’ll call me as soon as you get this, yes? I’ll be waiiiiiting.’ The message ended with multiple kissing sounds.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he asked his phone, stupefied. ‘What’s wrong with that woman?’ She sounded for all the world as if they were in a relationship and that he’d simply ring her back the instant he heard her voice. Instead, he grimaced and deleted her message.

  Back at the Travelodge, Sofia had slept for a few hours. Now, refreshed, she was sitting on the bed with her phone conveniently nearby while Amy engrossed herself in Saturday early evening TV on the BBC.

  Finally, Sofia’s patience was rewarded when her phone buzzed and her heart hopped as she saw that finally, finally Levi had sent a text. She read it twice before replying, all too aware that the relationship between Levi and Amy hung in the balance and anything Sofia felt about Levi was presently secondary to that.