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

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СКАЧАТЬ in my own way, I can see how they actually look.’

      ‘Map out?’

      ‘With my hands. I feel their features and build a mental map, in the same way I figure out journeys in my head. That is how I get around the house – the city. I memorise routes. Fortunately, I’ve always been good at navigation.’ He shrugged. ‘People believe guide dogs lead the way, but that’s not true. I must know the roads to take. Oro just keeps me safe when it comes to obstacles and crossings. She knows to wait at kerbs. And can take me to friends, like Gabriel just now. But only if they are close.’

      ‘And how exactly do you map out a face?’

      ‘The nose, mouth, hair. Before my … what happened, I never realised just how much information you could pick up from the tips of your fingers. It helps me imagine how someone appears when, for example, they are angry or sad.’

      She stared at him and then impulsively took his hands and placed them on her cheeks.

      His neck reddened. ‘Are you sure, Mary? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.’

      ‘Positive,’ she said. They were only colleagues. Why should she feel unease? ‘I wouldn’t want you falling for Gabriel’s illusion that I look like an iconic film star. I’m all for keeping it real.’

      Softly Dante ran his fingers across her features. She closed her eyes so that he could brush over her eyelids. His fingers ran down her nose and across her lips. The top one, then the bottom, tracing their outlines. Then they glided over her cheeks and down her neck. His fingers then gently traced lines through her short hair. A spurt of desire took her by surprise. Her body must be desperate for physical attention if she reacted to someone as disagreeable as him. What if he’d noticed? She would actually die, right there, on the spot, if Dante sensed her albeit involuntary attraction.

      ‘See, I’m just a plain Jane, as we say in English,’ she mumbled and got to her feet. ‘And I’m sure now you understand why I need my beauty sleep. Goodnight.’ Mary bumped into the coffee table as she quickly stood up and hurried upstairs.

Chapter Six

      ‘That place was amazing,’ said Mary as she and Natale stood outside Margherita Margherita. They’d just visited the crystal shop that stocked everything from small tumble stones to large jagged chunks of gemstone.

      Natale smiled. ‘Maria – we have seen the Coliseum. Yet you seem more impressed with the little stones there, instead of the large ones that built our city’s impressive amphitheatre.’

      They’d just walked past the awe-inspiring monument. Brave and bold, it stood against the bluebell horizon, sunlight illuminating it like an Instagram filter, Mary thought. The areas eroded and damaged by weather, over the centuries, gave it an even greater sense of strength. Despite the mid-July crowds it stood still and calm, like a mountain emanating serenity.

      For some reason, an image of Dante came into her mind, along with thoughts of the harsh weather he’d faced in his life. Daily she witnessed his fearlessness as he ventured out with Oro among the crowds. A strong, unwavering, steadfast will, qualities you’d name if you personalised the Coliseum. He also had cracks: glimpses, now again, of broken parts.

      Having broken parts … she could relate to that. Perhaps, in another life, she and Dante could have been good friends. However, yesterday Rocco had delighted in expanding on what she’d found out from Natale. He’d told her that Dante thought an English waitress was a waste of resources – and an inconvenience, what with her having to live-in. Yet as far as Mary knew, Dante and Sarah had got on well. So what didn’t he like about Mary? Only this morning he’d once again been snappy with her, as if the night when he’d mapped out her face hadn’t taken place.

      ‘The shop was so much bigger than the crystal stall on Hackney market.’

      ‘I picked up lots of pretty crystals for my jewellery-making.’

      ‘Prettiness isn’t important.’ Mary grinned. ‘I’ll say it again – it’s their healing properties that count.’

      ‘Let us not continue that argument,’ Natale said and grinned back. She gazed at the restaurant in front of them. ‘It certainly looks popular, here.’

      They waited to be seated. Dante hadn’t stopped talking about this competitor, so the two women had decided to investigate their rival for themselves. Window boxes brimmed with violet and yellow flowers. Illustrated on either side of the door were large daisies, against brickwork, just like in Gabriel’s painting. Mary picked up a menu from a nearby table, and fanned her face. With schools starting to break up, the number of tourists had begun to swell.

      Finally they came to the front of the queue.

      ‘Tavolo per due?’ said a young waiter.

      ‘Si. Grazie,’ said Natale and he led them over to a table that sat outside, just in front of a glass window.

      They ordered drinks. ‘Love the vases with daisies, on each table,’ Mary said and tapped her foot to the Italian folk accordion music playing in the background. Three small children sat at a neighbouring table and coloured in drawings of pizza. Mary turned to look through the glass window. ‘Look through there, at that wall, next to the bar. They’ve pinned up children’s drawings. It looks like they held some sort of competition.’

      ‘Clever thinking.’ Natale gazed at the scribbling kids. ‘Keep the little ones happy, which means their mamma and papà will stay longer – and spend more money.’

      ‘And look!’ Mary stared at two parties leaving. The waiter pulled out one of the plastic daisies, from each vase, and gave them to one member of each group, to take home.

      ‘Molto clever,’ said Natale. ‘The customer puts the daisy in their house or hotel and it reminds them to come back here.’ She gazed at a group of middle-aged men. ‘They are business associates who used to come to Pizzeria Dolce Vita.’ She scanned the menu. ‘As Dante said, just look at the choice of crusts and toppings – and the prices are lower than ours.’

      ‘Yet the atmosphere is that of an authentic Italian restaurant. It’s as if here you get the best of both worlds.’

      ‘This is not good. Now I understand why my brother has been so worried. This restaurant is hitting the mark.’

      ‘I wonder if the owner is here. I want to know if she’s rude to everyone or just Dante.’ Mary could see how it might happen. Dante wasn’t the easiest person to get on with. Or so it seemed. Many a time, now, she’d watched him chat and laugh with strangers. Mary felt an uncomfortable twinge in her chest. Perhaps he’d just taken a dislike to her.

      The waiter came over and Natale ordered a plain margherita with a green salad. Mary decided on a folded-over calzone with four cheeses and caramelised onions.

      ‘I thought I was unadventurous!’ teased Mary, once the waiter had left. ‘You didn’t fancy one of their specials?’

      ‘No. If their margherita tastes good then that is cause for concern. Intricate toppings can hide a poorly made dough or bland sauce.’ She shook back her brunette locks. ‘But talking about being adventurous, you are the one who has moved abroad. Two weeks in and how are you going?’

      ‘Did СКАЧАТЬ