Married Under the Italian Sun

‘Why not? I never liked him.’

‘You said you didn’t remember meeting him before.’

‘I don’t. Aha! But you say I did,’ Sam replied.

‘Oh, you’re so sharp! Yes, you did. I was dating him before I met Joe.’

‘Well, there you are, then. I told you I never liked him.’

She waylaid Vittorio to say, ‘I hope you’re planning to stay.’

‘Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

‘You realise you started the problem with that “Ghastly Gavin” crack.’

‘It’s no crime to tell the truth. And I’m fascinated to discover what your taste used to be.’

‘I was very young then,’ Angel said defensively. ‘And he was a lot slimmer.’

Vittorio grinned.

‘Just help keep Sam in order, please. There’s no knowing what he’ll say tonight.’

‘Really? I’d have thought we could guess exactly what he’ll say. And no power on earth will stop him.’

In the event the evening was so dire as to be almost entertaining. Sam expressed himself loudly and often, ignoring all attempts to shush him. Vittorio, Angel noted with exasperation, was actually encouraging him.

Only Gavin seemed oblivious to the darts headed his way. He had set himself to play the part of a much-loved old friend whose visit was a matter for rejoicing, and nothing was going to divert him. It didn’t matter that the audience was unresponsive and the performance fell flat. It was the role he’d prepared, and he stuck with it.

But he wasn’t the only one playing a part. As the meal ended Sam grinned at Vittorio and said knowingly, ‘You’re drinking well tonight, my boy. I’ve never seen you putting it away like that.’

Since Vittorio had been notably abstemious that evening, everyone stared at this, except Vittorio himself, who said, ‘Sorry, Sam. Do you think I’ve had too much?’

‘Too much to be driving home along a cliff road. You’d better stay here tonight. No problem about that, is there?’ This was to Angel.

‘No problem at all,’ she said, appreciating these tactics, and thinking that Sam could sometimes be more shrewd than anyone guessed.

All Gavin’s cleverness wasn’t enough to have Angel to himself. After supper Vittorio pinned him down to talk about motor cars, which Angel interrupted just long enough to say goodnight, before vanishing.

Then Roy and Frank emerged from putting Sam to bed, and suggested a nightcap. One brandy became three, then four. Gavin was finally assisted to his room by Vittorio, who dumped him on the bed before retiring to spend the rest of the night on a window seat from which he could see Gavin’s door.

Gavin finally secured a private moment with Angel after breakfast the next morning, but this was less because of his own efforts than because Angel, exasperated, had decided to get it over with so that she could be rid of him. So she led him out onto the terrace.

‘I thought we’d never be alone,’ he said, in what he fondly hoped was a winning voice.

‘Well, we’re all rather busy.’

‘I can see that, but I don’t have to go immediately. If we could only spend a few days getting to know each other again…’

‘Sam would never agree to that.’

‘Sam’s very protective of you, and I don’t blame him.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Angel replied, suppressing a desire to laugh.

‘He remembers how close we once were.’

She was about to remind him that Sam didn’t remember him at all, but decided not to bother. There was no diverting him from his self-deception, and the sooner he got to the end of his prepared script the better.

‘You know, Angel, you really hurt me with those things you said in the magazine.’

‘I hurt you? What about all that stuff you spouted about me dumping you for Joe? You know we’d finished before then.’

‘Had we? That’s not how I remember it. We were in love.’

‘I thought we were. Then you wanted me to abandon Sam in a home, and that was that. I dumped you instead.’

‘Scusi, signora. I have come for the coffee cups.’

With an oath, Gavin turned to see Vittorio standing just behind them.

‘There are no coffee cups,’ Angel said.

‘Are you sure? Berta said-’

‘There are no coffee cups!’ Gavin bawled. ‘Clear off.’

‘Scusi, scusi.’ Vittorio withdrew, apparently despondent.

Gavin took a deep breath and did his best to get back on track.

‘I think you do me an injustice,’ he said.

‘Well, you got your revenge in that “heartbroken Gavin” piece. I hope they paid you well for it.’

‘Probably less than they paid you to disparage me in GlamChick.’

‘I didn’t exactly disparage you. I just said your conversation was limited.’

‘That’s not all you said was limited,’ he said, aggrieved.

‘They made most of it up. Look, Gavin, the past is the past.’

‘Sure it is. What matters is the future. When I saw those pics of you, looking so beautiful, I realised that I’d never stopped caring about you. You and I were good together-’

‘And this is a lovely house.’

‘What?’

‘You saw the pictures of this house and thought you’d move in on me.’

‘You do me an injustice.’

‘You said that before. Well, I did say your conversation was limited.’

‘Look, I understand you’re playing hard to get. We’ve been a long time apart, but now we’ve found each other again-’

‘Gavin, listen, we haven’t found each other. It was over long ago, and it’s still over-’

‘You don’t mean that-’

‘Scusi, signora-Berta says-’

‘Will you get out of here?’ Gavin roared, confronting Vittorio, who had appeared like a genie from a trapdoor. ‘Clear off! Do you hear me? Clear off, clear off.’

‘Scusi? Me no spikka da English.’

Angel hastily placed a hand over her quivering mouth.

‘What are you talking about?’ Gavin raged. ‘Last night you-why am I arguing with you? Buzz off!’

‘Scusi? Buzz…?’

‘Clear out! Buzz off! Get lost!’

‘Happy to,’ Vittorio said affably. ‘But you’re coming with me.’

Before Gavin could retreat, Vittorio reached up and took his ear between finger and thumb.

‘Leggo of me! Whaddaya think you’re doing?’

‘Helping you on your way,’ Vittorio said with deadly affability as he moved to the door, forcing the wriggling Gavin to follow.

‘Get off me!’

‘Our friend has decided to leave us,’ Vittorio said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Could somebody bring his luggage down?’

It was only then that Angel realised there was an interested audience that consisted of just about everyone in the household, led by Sam, who was acting as though Christmas had come. His eyes were bright with pleasure, and as he followed Vittorio and his squirming captive outside he was actually applauding.

‘Vittorio, what are you going to do?’ Angel said, half laughing, half anxious.

‘Nothing sinister. Like a good taxi driver I’ll take him into town and drop him at the bus station.’

Gavin opened his mouth to protest but a look from his captor silenced him. Vittorio’s mouth might be smiling but his eyes were not.

‘You can drop him at the station but you can’t make him get on a bus,’ she pointed out.

‘Don’t worry about him coming back. Along the way I’m going to explain to him how unwise that would