One Summer in Rome: a deliciously uplifting summer romance!. Samantha Tonge

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СКАЧАТЬ it because she likes you, Mary. Take it as a compliment. She wants you to stay. And apparently Lucia thinks you are practically related to the queen since you gave her that coin.’

      Mary smiled.

      ‘And you’ve been crying. Just now.’

      ‘No, I just—’

      ‘You blew your nose. So unless you have suddenly developed a cold or hay fever, there is no other explanation.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped on Sunday. Apologies. But can I give you a word of advice?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘You need to toughen up. The restaurant business is rough and tumble. Words get said in the heat of the moment when we have busy tourists to serve.’

      She smarted. ‘I assure you, I’m used to the rough and tumble, as you put it. And I was having a private moment by the fountain. You don’t need to worry in public.’ She paused. ‘I’m used to putting on a brave face.’

      Well, so far so good for her resolution about work and standing up for herself. Not that it was difficult. Dante had touched a raw nerve. She prided herself on getting through difficult circumstances. Her childhood was proof of that.

      ‘Perhaps you should take your own advice,’ she shot back, before thinking. ‘Natale said the visit to that competing pizzeria … Margherita Margherita isn’t it called – upset you?’

      His face flushed. ‘Touché.’

      ‘Is their food really so good that Pizzeria Dolce Vita might lose its ranking?’

      ‘The concept is good. But it wasn’t just that …’

      ‘What then?’

      ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he muttered.

      She shrugged. ‘Not having fluent Italian doesn’t mean I can’t understand business problems.’

      His face flushed darker. ‘If you must know it wasn’t business – the owner treated me like an idiot. People’s pity. Them patronising me. It is the worst thing about being blind. I cannot stomach it.’

      ‘Oh, Dante … I’m sorry, I …’

      ‘She insisted on reading the menu to me in a really loud, slow voice, even though I just wanted a plain pizza, to see how they coped with the basics. And she “forgot” to give me a knife and fork. It took me a while to feel around and realise they weren’t on the table. It was as if she was determined to make me feel uncomfortable.’

      ‘That’s awful.’

      ‘Maybe you are right and I do need to be less sensitive,’ he said, in a tight voice. ‘But I was a policeman. It used to be my job to look after others.’ He took another mouthful of drink. ‘I’ve never been used to accepting help and am not prepared to start now.’

      ‘Of course, I mean, I’m sure you’re just as capable as before and—’

      ‘Don’t you patronise me either.’

      Mary pursed her lips and scraped back her chair.

      ‘Leaving already?’ he said and a smirk crossed his face. ‘Not always the best of company, am I?’

      Not with her, no. With everyone else he seemed warm and friendly.

      ‘I just need to stretch my legs before bed,’ she muttered. ‘And take a proper look around the piazza whilst it is empty.’

      ‘Are you crazy? It may look picture-postcard pretty but at this time of night there might still be dangers lurking.’ He stood up too. ‘I’ll come with you.’

      Mary snorted. ‘Dante – I’m not a child.’

      He folded his arms. ‘What’s the point, anyway, at night-time? You won’t see as much.’

      She shrugged. ‘I’ll see as much as you. Okay. Come along. You can fill me in on what you “see” with those other senses. We’ll experience it together.’

      He didn’t say anything for a moment, just tilted his head ‘Okay. Let’s finish these drinks and then Oro and I will give you a personal tour – although I expect Giovanni gave you a full history of Piazza Navona. That man is an oracle of information. It gets him a lot of tips.’

      ‘He told me all about the gladiator fights they used to hold here. And about those beautiful buildings, up the other end.’

      ‘St Agnes church and Pamphili Palace?’

      Mary nodded.

      ‘Mary? I can’t see you just nod. Remember that.’

      ‘Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think.’

      ‘No worries. I carry off my blindness so well,’ he said. ‘My handsome charm usually distracts people from the obvious.’

      Mary studied his face. Already it was clear that one of his coping mechanisms was to make jokes about his sight. It would take a little getting used to, but she understood. Sometimes that was how she’d got through school. Unconfident as she was of trying to make others laugh, it felt a lot better than seeing serious faces sympathise when they found out about her past.

      ‘Which of the three fountains do you like best?’ said Dante as they eventually stood in the middle of the piazza. For half-an-hour they had strolled around. Through the moonlight, Mary had admired the impressive baroque architecture and terracotta colour of certain buildings. She’d marvelled at the picture-perfect avenues leading off the piazza, which were home to small shops and inviting bistros. Dante had pointed out the varied sounds from each fountain. He’d made her aware of the range of smells, as they passed different restaurants. One favoured garlic. Another clearly baked its own bread.

      ‘Definitely the Moor Fountain, opposite your family’s restaurant. The rose marble is gorgeous and the figure fighting the dolphin oozes authority.’

      Dante nodded and then said to Oro, ‘Gabriel.’ Oro led them towards an artist who was sitting in front of his easel, by the far edge of the piazza, just in front of a bench. The man had greying curls down to his shoulders and even though the night chill had set in, just wore a vest T-shirt and chinos.

      ‘Dante! I thought you were ignoring me, because of your beautiful companion.’ He threw his cigarette to the ground. The men hugged and clapped each other on the back. ‘Come va?’ He looked at Mary, smiled, and gabbled something fast, in Italian.

      Dante bowed. ‘Of course I’ll introduce you. This is our new waitress from England—’

      ‘Ah yes, I have heard of Maria,’ Gabriel said, before continuing to say something in Italian.

      Dante remained expressionless.

      The artist held out his hand. ‘Sorry, for my rudeness.’ He bowed. ‘I was just telling Dante about your eyes. Even in this poor light I see the most radiant shade of green. Magnifico. You must let me paint you, one day.’

      Mary’s СКАЧАТЬ