Читать книгу One Summer in Italy: The most uplifting summer romance you need to read in 2018 - Sue Moorcroft - Страница 13

On Friday, Levi enjoyed a leisurely lunch in Il Giardino. Amy took his order for cold beer and a small portion of pasta, giving him a friendly grin. ‘Having a good day?’

‘Great,’ Levi answered. ‘I plan to paint in the garden this afternoon.’

‘Enjoy!’ And she whisked off, ripping his order from her pad, looking much more confident about her job than when Levi had first met her. Davide was on duty too but Amy seemed to have taken to ignoring him as much as working together allowed, which seemed an excellent tactic.

Levi enjoyed a second beer then vacated his table to allow a young Italian couple to sit down. He went into the hotel to collect his painting kit and then down the many flights of stairs necessary to reach the garden. The sun was blazing when he settled down, the valley spread out before him. Soon he was absorbed in trying to capture the delicate arc of lavender stems in the foreground of the painting he was working on.

A couple of hours drifted by, until his phone rang. ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Wes said as soon as Levi had laid his brush down to answer the call.

‘Oh?’ Holding his phone to his ear with his left hand he picked up his thinnest brush, mixed up the palest grey he could imagine and touched it down one side of a stem, instantly creating light and depth. He cocked his head to one side to admire the effect. ‘What?’

‘It’s something about Octavia.’ Wes sounded as if he was trying to be casual.

Levi’s brush froze in midair. ‘Oh, shit. What?’ He hadn’t even checked the website today. Had she screwed it up?

‘It’s nothing bad,’ said Wes stiffly, obviously not appreciating the ‘Oh, shit!’ part of Levi’s response. ‘It’s nothing I’m obliged to tell you, but I thought I ought to in the interests of transparency and because we’re friends.’

‘Right.’ Levi breathed slightly more easily. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to leap to the conclusion that it was negative. What is it you want to share?’

Silence.

‘Wes?’

Wes sounded defensive. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to tell you that Octavia and I are a thing.’

‘Oh!’ All attention now on his conversation, Levi spun the simple sentence around in his mind in an effort to make sense of it. He wanted to snort, ‘What? In a couple of days?’ But Wes was being weird. Octavia was odd and maybe Wes was catching it. ‘Thanks for telling me. How long’s this been brewing up?’

‘Not long,’ Wes answered. After a pause he added, ‘I’m sorry if I’m stepping on your toes.’

Levi almost dropped the phone. ‘Stepping on my toes?’

Wes cleared his throat. ‘Octavia explained you’d been on a date and had been texting.’

‘But I told you it wasn’t a date. Or only in her mind—’

‘I phoned to congratulate her about taking on Dick’s pages. She said could we meet to talk about it and suggested dinner. We really hit it off but, as I say, I’m sorry if I’ve trodden on your toes.’ Wes hummed and hawed before adding in a rush, ‘It sort of turned into dinner and breakfast. And I know what you’re going to say,’ he hurried on before an astounded Levi could react. ‘I know it’s not like me. I’m more of your cautious type so far as women are concerned. It just sort of happened. And, it was the night of my life, to be honest. The only fly in the ointment was that this morning Octavia did this big sighing thing and said she hoped you wouldn’t be hurt. Her version of what happened between you isn’t quite the same as yours.’

He paused as if to let Levi speak, but he was so astonished at this development that he couldn’t find the words.

‘Anyway,’ Wes went on. ‘I’m saying sorry if I need to say sorry, because Octavia insisted that I should clear the air with you. But, as the saying goes, “we just couldn’t help ourselves.”’

‘Right,’ said Levi blankly, watching a fat bee hover indecisively between two lavender heads then sink down to land on the largest. If he could have chosen someone for Wes to take on as a freelance and then jump into bed with, Octavia would have been at the far end of a very long queue. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ he admitted, because he felt he had to say something and What are you THINKING?, however heartfelt, seemed inappropriate. ‘But my feelings aren’t hurt. Are you sure—’

‘Phew!’ Wes laughed. ‘I’ll be sure to tell Octavia. How’s everything going out there? Have you achieved your goal yet?’

Levi gave up. Wes and Octavia were adults and if Wes was as happy as he sounded he probably wouldn’t appreciate Levi pointing out that Octavia was lying to him. ‘Getting that way. If things go on as they are I’ll be able to telephone Freya and tell her Amy’s doing OK. But I haven’t decided—’

‘Gotcha. Speak soon then.’ And Wes ended the call.

Levi put away his phone and gazed at his painting, his appetite for it now absent. Was Octavia simply bizarre enough to angle for dinner with every man she met? And then pretend there was more to it?

As he sat uneasily, turning things over in his mind, he became aware of a sound reaching him over the lavender-scented air. It sounded like a woman singing, punctuating her song with loud clicks.

Curiosity aroused, he washed his brush and closed the lid on his palette, then stood to stroll up the slope, past a couple of olive trees, tracking down the sound to one side of the terrace and a shabby wooden gate he hadn’t noticed before. On the other side of it he found Sofia, looking very much off-duty in black shorts that clung as if in joy at finding themselves touching such a good part of her. In her ears were earbuds and in her hand a big pair of scissors. A flourishing vine dominated almost every available support in the vicinity and she was making an attempt at taming it, judging from the carpet of clippings beneath her feet and the neatness of the growth where it had been tied to two uprights. As she worked, she sang softly in Italian, insects buzzing companionably around her as if they thought they were her backing group. The slow, gentle song made her voice sound especially sweet. She blinked hard, pausing to wipe a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her T-shirt.

Though she always seemed inexplicably tetchy where he was concerned – which was a shame – Levi recognised a private moment when he saw one. He was about to creep away when she shifted position and caught sight of him. Visibly startled, she dropped her scissors, which narrowly missed her toes. ‘Fu— for crying out loud!’ she squeaked, dragging her earbuds from her ears. ‘Why are you lurking there?’

Levi lifted his hands to signal he came in peace. ‘Sorry! I heard you singing.’ And then, because the opportunity to leave unobserved had passed and the evidence of her tears still glistened on her face he felt compelled to put aside her occasional snarkiness. ‘Are you OK?’

She lifted the hem of her T-shirt to blot her eyes, affording him a glimpse of a taut abdomen before she let the fabric fall. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she sniffed, managing a tremulous smile. ‘Amy and I began cutting back this monster vine last night and I’ve worked my shift today so I thought I’d finish off and tidy up. I was listening to an Italian radio station and a song came on that Dad used to sing – Solo Tu. Apparently my parents considered it “theirs” and used to smooch to it.’

‘Then I’m sorry I interrupted.’

She gave him another watery smile, stooping to pick up the fallen scissors. ‘It’s OK. I promised not to be sad after he’d gone.’

Because she didn’t appear to be doing a great job of keeping that promise, Levi found himself saying, ‘I’m on my way to Il Giardino for coffee. Fancy joining me? Maybe a shot of caffeine will help.’

She studied him for a moment before she nodded. ‘That’s kind of you. Thank you. But off-duty staff aren’t meant to hang out with guests so I’ll meet you there and conveniently find a vacant seat at your table. I need to wash the green stuff off my hands anyway.’

Waiting for Sofia to join him at a table in Amy’s section of Il Giardino he had time to order a bottle of cold water and a couple of glasses. He was just beginning to wonder if Sofia had had one of her lightning changes of mood and wasn’t going to turn up when she appeared, cleaned up and changed into a cotton skirt. He rather missed the short-shorts. However changeable she’d been towards him she always looked amazing.

Amy sailed up the aisle between tables, beaming. ‘Finished the breakfast shift, Sofia? What can I get you both?’

Sofia ordered cappuccino and Levi Americano and, perhaps to counteract the hot drinks, they also selected an ice-cream each from the cabinet behind the bar. Sofia chose a chocolate-hazelnut combination called bacio, which she said meant ‘kiss’. Levi chose limone, the translation of which he could work out for himself.

‘Amy seems a bit happier now,’ he observed, when she’d served them with tall glasses of ice-cream and moved on to another table.

Sofia sent him one of her searching looks before glancing at Amy and nodding. Then she turned the conversation. ‘So what’s going on with you today? More painting? I was impressed with what I saw yesterday.’

He took up his spoon, ready to broach the three scoops of ice-cream with a tube-shaped wafer stuck jauntily in the top. ‘I was. Then I was distracted by an awkward phone call.’

She was already digging into her bacio. ‘Nothing too awful, I hope.’

He watched the way she ate the first taste of ice-cream, half-closing her eyes as she savoured it. Today she seemed back to the friendly, approachable woman she’d been on Monday evening when she’d asked to share his table – before greeting his suggestion they go on somewhere together like a deadly insult. Curious to see if he could complete a conversation with her without prompting the same result, he decided to try to engage her. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe you can give me an objective view? I’m not sure if I’m imagining something that isn’t there.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Go on.’ She took another spoon of ice-cream and did the savouring thing again. It was damned distracting.

Between spoonfuls of his own delicious tart-but-sweet lemon ice-cream Levi recounted the story of Octavia hitting on him so hard then moving on to Wes without, apparently, missing a beat.

Sofia listened, dark brown eyes thoughtful. She finished her bacio, wiped her fingers on her paper napkin and sat back. ‘Did you know her before she found your phone?’

‘Not that I remember. But Bettsbrough’s a small town so it’s possible. Dad owns a garage and I worked there during the holidays when I was younger. I must have met a lot of his customers over time.’

‘But that’s not where you work now?’

‘Yes and no. My office is above my dad’s garage, but it’s just rented from Gunn’s Motors. My brother Tyrone works for the business itself.’

‘You didn’t go to the same school?’

‘I don’t think so. She’s several years older than I am, probably early to mid-forties.’

Sofia raised an eyebrow as she reached for the water to top up their glasses. ‘So she’s a polyamorous techie who doesn’t see anything wrong in making her desires known, fancied both of you and so went for it. If everyone concerned is single then she hasn’t actually done anything wrong.’

Levi heaved a sigh of relief at her no-nonsense summation. ‘Thank you.’

Her eyes began to dance. ‘Or she’s a right old bunny-boiler who took one look at you, became violently infatuated and is infiltrating every aspect of your life, even to the extent of granting sexual access to your best friend in an effort to stay close to you and/or make you jealous.’

‘Shit.’ He contemplated her. ‘Do you think it’s that?’

She shrugged. ‘Not really. If you’re positive you’ve never met until she found your phone I’d say the most likely explanation is that Octavia’s simply an oddball who falls suddenly for men and equally suddenly gets over them. Or she’s been single too long and is getting a bit desperate to couple up.’

Levi made no reply, mainly because he couldn’t think of a polite way of saying ‘Yeuch.’

As she cleared tables, the sun hot on her neck, Amy watched Sofia and Levi together. She liked them both. They’d stuck up for her right at the beginning when she hadn’t known how to handle creepy Davide. Sofia had even taken charge when Amy had been a wuss last night about the climbing plant tapping at her window in the breeze.