Page 13 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

Even without Andreas’s presence, lingering embarrassment rose up Sophie’s throat at the thought of spending time with Toni and Kira. She would have to prove that she was older and wiser, now, and then get over herself.

By the time Sophie dragged her feet through the doors behind Tita, Ginny was well on her way to charming Toni, all warm smiles and genuine interest. The Great Heart receptionist looked worn out, with shadows under her eyes and Sophie was struck with a sudden stab of sympathy for the woman who was raising the son of a dead mountaineer with only occasional help from another guilt-ridden mountaineer.

Toni’s smile for Sophie appeared authentic. ‘It is lovely to see you again,’ she said, a wry edge to her expression that acknowledged their awkward history – including the day six weeks ago when Reshma had suggested she might make this single mother redundant.

‘You too,’ Sophie managed. ‘I’m so sorry about…’

‘Thank you,’ Toni responded, but her tight smile didn’t encourage that topic of conversation. She gestured towards the climbing hall. ‘Why don’t you look around while you wait? For old time’s sake.’

As Sophie glanced at the wall of multicoloured grips set into textured grey panelling, it was difficult to believe there had been a time in her life when she’d trained here – when she’d made it to the top of the forty-foot wall, chalk on her fingertips.

Taking up Toni’s suggestion – mainly so she could talk down her embarrassment before she had to converse with anyone – she toed off her pumps and stepped onto the springy gym floor, turning the corner to take in the full jungle of verticals and overhangs, studded with hard plastic grips. Then she froze, her mouth falling open.

Andreaswashere. But she had no time to process her feelings about that, because the sight of him was unexpected for an entirely different reason.

‘To your right – find the grip!’ he called up, his voice gentle. Ten feet above him, a kid scrabbled and clung and flailed his pale legs. Clustered around Andreas were more children, staring up at their friend in horror and awe – and occasionally sparing Andreas a similar look. ‘Reach. Push with your foot.’

He held the belay rope with both hands, crooning encouragement to the child until the boy slipped and swung away from the wall with a cry of disappointment. Andreas let him down gently, then swiped a careless hand over his hair.

‘Great job, kid!’

The group of children gathered around him, all talking at once.

‘Andreeeaaas!’ shrieked one, making him grimace. He held up his hands in defence, but there was a smile on his lips – a smile Sophie would never have expected.

Andreas hated kids. She believed his exact words had been, ‘Too much snot and not enough sense.’ And Sophie had been such a wet blanket that she’d just laughed at him, while her stomach had clenched in disappointment.

Now her stomach was clenching with hurt and regret and that secret grief that never went away. She was sick of her emotional reactions when she should have left him – and her doomed rebound marriage – in the past.

‘Andreas, can I go again?’ asked a smaller boy in a T-shirt a few sizes too big, his expression pinched. ‘Please!’

‘What if your friends want another turn too?’ he asked, propping his arms on his knees to bring his face down to the boy’s level. ‘We have to finish up soon.’

‘It’s my birthday!’

As Sophie watched, stunned, Andreas snatched the boy to him and gave him an enormous hug, following up with a thorough hair ruffle. That must be Toni’s son. ‘All right. Up you go.’

The smaller boy was obviously more proficient on the wall and scrambled up quickly enough that Andreas had to keep tugging the slack through the belay rope. He called up a few pointers, but his godson reached the top without too much help and let out a whoop.

The smile on Andreas’s face was one Sophie had never seen before – tinged with pride and fear and utter bewilderment.

Just after the boy’s rubber climbing shoes touched down on the gym floor, Andreas caught sight of her and the smile vanished. Without offering a greeting to her, he shooed the children back to their waiting parents and grasped the carabiner connecting his harness to the belay rope. But he paused before disconnecting it.

‘You want to go up?’ he called over to her.

She shook her head vehemently.

‘Out of practice?’

‘You could say that,’ she called back, irritated by the weakness in her voice – in her knees – from the sight of him in gym clothes, wrangling a bunch of kids. She would never admit she hadn’t touched a climbing wall since the last time he’d coached her on one. ‘But I’m surprised,’ she said, approaching slowly.

‘Hmm?’

‘You didn’t use to like kids.’

‘I still don’t,’ he claimed with an infuriating air of innocence.

‘What was that, then?’

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