From Rome with Love: Escape the winter blues with the perfect feel-good romance!

‘Authentic Italian. Want to come and work for me?’

‘No thanks …’ Although there was no point cutting her nose off; the extra money would come in handy – as a teaching assistant she was only paid for term-time. ‘Well, maybe in the holidays, but I’m only half Italian, so probably not authentic enough,’ she added.

‘I’m not that fussy.’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘A waitress is a waitress.’

‘Don’t we know it,’ snapped Lisa. With a sniff she flounced off into the pub. He could bloody well get on with it, then.

‘Hey, Lisa.’ Siena tossed down her tea towel and stepped out from behind the bar to give Lisa a swift hug. ‘You looked seriously pissed off.’

‘Flat tyre.’ Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘I got it on the way here.’ And a run-in with her least-favourite person on the planet.

‘Bummer. Do you need to call someone?’ Siena shrugged, with her usual Gallic charm. Although English, she’d spent most of her life in France and had been born with a silver spoon in her red-lipped little bouche. Lisa smiled. She couldn’t imagine Siena even attempting to change a tyre.

‘Will’s changing it for me.’ Lisa flashed her friend a wicked grin.

‘Is he now?’ Siena raised one of her elegantly arched eyebrows, managing to combine surprise and feline amusement with a mere shapely lift.

‘He might as well make himself useful for a change.’ Lisa put down her bag on one of the bar stools and hopped up on the other one. ‘We could be here for a while. I could murder a drink. You don’t mind staying here for a bit, do you?’

‘No, suits me.’ Siena wiped her hands on a tea towel. ‘Might even get a few on the house, if Will’s feeling in a good mood.’

Lisa doubted that even Pollyanna would be hard pressed to maintain a sunny disposition after having changed a tyre.

‘Give me five minutes to finish tidying up in the kitchen and I’ll join you out here. Marcus will get you a drink, won’t you?’ Siena called over to the shaggy bear of a barman, busy replenishing the glass racks from the under-counter dishwasher. ‘Be a sweetie and pour me my usual.’

‘Hey Lisa, babe. How you doing? What’s it to be?’ Marcus spoke with a lovely Edinburgh burr, which Lisa could never get enough of. His accent brought back a vague memory of her mother, who’d been brought up in Scotland. She had a singular recollection of being very young and visiting there and being very put out that she never saw a single man in a kilt. Wasn’t it supposed to be the national costume?

Half-Scottish and half-Italian, she’d barely left Bedfordshire in years. She ought to remedy that one of these days.

‘G&T, please.’

‘I see Siena’s been educating you. What sort of gin do you want? Dorothy Parker, Bombay Sapphire, Hendricks?’

‘Hendricks, with cucumber.’ Lisa grinned at him. ‘I’m getting a taste for it, see, although I’d better stick to one as there’ll be Prosecco at Siena’s and I’m driving in the morning. Can’t overdo it. I’ve got to take Nan for a hospital appointment.’

‘How is the wee battle-axe?’

‘Battling. She’s so rude to the consultant.’

‘At her age, she’s allowed to be.’

‘No, at her age she should know better. Dr Gupta speaks perfectly good English and Nan insists she can’t understand a word he’s saying.’

‘Is he English?’

‘No,’ Lisa giggled. ‘He’s got the strongest Northern Irish accent I’ve ever heard: born and bred in Belfast. She’s being contrary because he’s clearly British despite his name and the colour of his skin.’

‘She’s from a different generation, I guess.’

‘My mum married an Italian; you’d have thought she might have got used to it. There’s no excuse. She’s just being rude.’

Will walked into the pub, wiping his black hands, about half an hour later. ‘All done. I’ve put the spare on. You’ll need to take the other one to the garage, see if it can be repaired or buy a new one.’

‘Thank you. Very much.’ She grimaced. Yeah, she knew about the tyres, but buying a new spare was going to wipe out the pathetic little rainy-day fund she’d scrimped and saved for.

When Siena’s lips twitched, Lisa realised how it had looked. ‘I am … very grateful. Er … can I buy you a drink?’

Will looked at the bar, again with that amused smirk.

‘Okay, you own the place,’ she said. ‘It was a gesture.’

He grinned at her, unabashed, but then, when was he ever abashed – or whatever the opposite was?

As she turned to look away, he said, ‘Do you know what …?’ She frowned.

‘Changing tyres is thirsty work. I’ll have a pint.’ Typical, now he was being contrary.

With a wink at Siena, he added. ‘Married in May will do nicely.’

Siena smiled, leaning back in her chair with one of her cool, unperturbed Gallic shrugs. ‘Tease all you want, it’s Jason’s best-selling beer.’ Her look said it all. She was very proud of her boyfriend, Jason, who’d set up a successful micro-brewery in the barn complex at the back of the pub.

‘I can’t believe he went and named it that. It was meant to be a joke.’ Will nudged Siena. ‘That’s what falling in love does for you. Rots your brain cells. Head over heels! More like arse about tit.’

Siena sipped her gin. ‘Mock all you like. We’re very happy and you … I think, are just jealous.’

‘Jealous. Yeah, right.’ Will sneered, although when he did it to Siena, he did it with a smile. ‘You keep believing that, sweet cheeks.’

‘I will,’ quipped Siena, with her usual insouciance.

Lisa caught Marcus’s eye with a nod and ordered Will’s drink.

‘There you go.’

‘Thank you. And make sure you do get a spare sorted.’

‘Anyone would think you cared,’ said Lisa, raising a deliberately cheeky smile. It wouldn’t do to let Will know how much he needled her.

‘No, I don’t want some poor other sod to spend half an hour getting a wheel off, only to find there’s no spare.’

He always had an answer.

Luckily, he took a few sips of his pint and retreated to prop up the bar and chat to Marcus, far enough away that Lisa could talk to Siena without Will butting in, as he was prone to doing.

‘You’ve got that grumpy “I-hate-Will” face on again,’ said Siena, with her uncanny white-witch sense.

‘No I haven’t. See.’ Lisa plastered a happy smile on her face. She lifted her drink and took a sip. ‘I’m getting a taste for this gin malarkey.’

Siena ignored her attempt to change the subject. ‘Yes, you have. Honestly you two, you’re like a brother and sister, with all the bickering. You shouldn’t let him get to you.’ She gave Lisa a stern look. ‘He’s doing it on purpose, just because he gets a response. Ignore him. He’s like one of those silly schoolboys in the playground.’

Lisa massaged the tight muscle in her right shoulder. ‘I know. He’s an idiot.’

But ignoring him was easier said than done. He did everything he could to wind her up. Regret pinched at her. Once they’d had a bantering, fun friendship, where they’d take the piss out of each other constantly, but after one hideously misjudged night, they’d gone from nought to snide in twenty-four hours. If only it were possible to turn the clock back, she never would have kissed him.

‘Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.’ Giovanni’s sing-song Italian accent rang out across the pub as he loped across the room, a broad smile filling his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. ‘Bellissima. You look bellissima.’

An exaggeration, Lord love him, as she’d come straight from work. Knackered from a day on her feet dealing with a bunch of energy-sapping demons otherwise known as ‘early-years children’, everything drooped and her get up and go had got up and gone, but Giovanni’s blatant, eager charm did good things to her ego, especially with Will in sight.

‘Hey, Giovanni, how you doing?’ She greeted him with a grin.

He gave her an exuberant hug and kisses on each cheek.

‘Glad when your British summer arrives. I have a small little problem with all this rain.’

He lifted his feet to show sodden trouser hems, which had clearly had a bit of a dunking. ‘Piddles everywhere.’

‘Puddles,’ corrected Lisa, stifling a laugh at the disgruntled expression in his dark-brown eyes. ‘Hopefully, the summer will arrive soon. You have to remember all this rain is what makes this country a green and pleasant land.’ She nodded her head towards the view through the French doors. The hillside rose, coated in a blanket of brilliant green, the trees rounded and full like plump broccoli.

‘Hmm,’ said Giovanni, not looking the least bit convinced, but then he flashed his model-boy smile at her. ‘Can I buy you a drink? Are you staying?’ The hopeful look made her pause.

‘Sorry, not tonight.’

When his face fell, she added quickly, ‘I popped in to pick Siena up. Jason’s away. As soon as we finish these, we’re heading back to hers.’ Lisa winked. ‘She’s making me dinner.’

‘Ah,’ Giovanni gave her a mournful puppy-dog look. ‘I miss my mother’s cooking. Home cooking. And female company.’

Lisa laughed and punched him on the arm. ‘Sorry mate, girls’ night. And don’t give me that. You eat here all the time. Don’t let Al hear you say that. He’ll try out one of his concoctions on you.’ Giovanni lived in the flat above the pub and ate with the rest of the staff, including resident-chef Al, who had moments of gastronomic brilliance interspersed with extraordinary creative flashes of culinary lunacy.

Giovanni shuddered. ‘I’m still getting over the beetroot-jelly-and-horseradish-with-beef combination.’ He shot a quick look towards the kitchen before leaning down and whispering with a teasing laugh, ‘Thank goodness Will is opening a proper restaurant with real food.’

‘Yes, he’s got great plans,’ said Siena, arriving back from the ladies, pushing him out of the way and plonking herself down at the table. ‘Although Al is sulking that he doesn’t get to play too.’

Giovanni beamed at her, although Siena had that effect on most men. ‘And I am very thankful for that. He was suggesting pizza kedgeree.’

‘Please don’t tell me …’ Giovanni nodded gleefully. ‘Smoked mackerel and boiled egg.’

‘Yuk,’ chorused both Siena and Lisa.

‘Ah, ladies, I must go.’ Giovanni grinned as Will yelled. ‘Get your arse over here and stop flirting with the help.’

‘The boss is calling.’ With that he shot away, waving his hands in a placating manner that simply made Will scowl even more.

‘My feet are killing me. You might have to carry me out to the car, Lisa.’

‘No chance,’ she responded. ‘I’ve been with the tiddlers in reception class today. Have you seen the size of the chairs in there? My thighs are knackered, crouching down all day. Roll on the school hols.’

‘Yes, you lucky thing. Six whole weeks off.’

Lisa winced. ‘You’re kidding. I was hoping Will might give me a few shifts.’ With a pained sigh, she glanced quickly over Siena’s shoulder. ‘Needs must. God he’s a bad-tempered sod.’

‘Not to me he isn’t,’ said Siena with a sly, piercing look her way, which Lisa ignored.

‘I suppose I’ll have to grovel, but some extra cash would be handy. I might have been able afford to go on holiday, except now it looks as if I’ll have to go tyre-shopping instead.’

At Siena’s amused expression, Lisa poked her in the ribs. ‘Don’t look like that.’

‘You must be desperate,’ teased Siena.

‘I am, believe me.’ She picked at the beer mat on the table. ‘Clearly a case of better the job you know. Besides, I like it here.’ The pub drew people from miles around with its renowned gastro menu. ‘And most of the staff are lovely. No make that all of the staff, with one exception.’

Siena didn’t say a word, just smiled serenely and chinked her glass against Lisa’s. ‘Salut.’

‘Cheers.’

‘What do you think I should do?’

Lisa sat at Siena’s kitchen table, the open ring box in her hand.

‘Keep it,’ said Siena, taking it out of her hand and dancing across the kitchen, holding the ring up to the light so that the diamond sparkled.

‘Really?’ Lisa sat up straighter.

‘No, not really,’ Siena’s mouth turned down in sympathy. ‘It’s gorgeous. That’s a lot of carat.’

Of course, Siena would know.

‘It’s real?’

Siena nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure.’

Lisa had explained the whole story to Siena and although she didn’t voice the bewilderment that her mother hadn’t left the ring to her, Siena had picked up on it and given her hand a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe your mum felt because they’d split up it should go back to his family.’

A lump formed in Lisa’s throat. She was his family. His daughter. Although he’d clearly forgotten that. Anger flared and she lifted her chin. ‘I am family. I’d like to remind him of that.’

He might have forgotten but, she gritted her teeth, when Nan went he would be all the family she had. Goosebumps prickled her skin. Nan had plenty of years left in her. She didn’t need to worry about that just yet.

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.