Page 73 of Sunrise By the Sea

‘You don’t know men! You married Nonno at nineteen!’

‘If I know men, and a beautiful girl who perhaps needs to lose three kilos and cut her hair and put some lipstick on her beautiful mouth from time to time because she is definitely not getting any younger, if a girl like this arrives and says, “Oh, I have made something delicious for you I live all by myself next door and you live all by yourself next door, Isee”, what is the poor man to think? Men, they are not clever. And heathen men are even worse!’

‘No, I think,’ said Marisa heavily, ‘I’m just going to concentrate on the saltimbocca for now.’

‘You told your mother about the wedding?’

Marisa swallowed. ‘Not yet.’

‘Marisa. You should. I love you. I love Lucia. I love Ann Angela.’

Ann Angela was Marisa’s aunt. She and Lucia fought like cat and dog, and Marisa hadn’t seen her in a year either.

‘I love my girls, and I am not getting any younger,’ said Nonna, threateningly. ‘You must stop fighting.’

‘You walk for miles and you swim in the sea every day,’ said Marisa. ‘You’re going to live to be a thousand.’

‘Even if I do,’ said Nonna, ‘call your mother.’

Marisa still remembered the awful, recriminatory texts from Christmas. Her mother telling Gino she was doing it for attention, competitively grieving. It still hurt.

‘One thing at a time, Nonna.’

She heard him next door after the twins’ lesson, still humming a very happy Stevie Wonder song. The evening was pinkening, the sunset on its way. It looked to be a doozy. The food was in the oven; it smelled wonderful. She thought of a million reasons why she shouldn’t go next door – she didn’t really look brazen, like Nonna thought, did she? Anyway, it was ridiculous, he was mostly yeti. And he didn’t like her. But he was keeping his side of the bargain and she owed him.

She was nervous, she found. Very nervous. She hopped in the shower, even though she didn’t really need one. Blow-dried her hair, carefully, all the while listening to hear in case he went out again. She added lipstick, half-smiling to herself at how much hernonnawould approve and give her a cynical nod. But she stopped short of a dress. She wasn’t –wasn’t– a wanton hussy. Absolutely not. It was human company she needed, not the ridiculous complication of anything more than that, particularly with someone who you could hear every single time they turned the tap on. It would be like getting off with the person in the next room in student halls. Which she had done, once upon a free life many, many moons ago, and had been incredibly embarrassed at the time but, looking back, she thought it was rather sweet. It had gone terribly wrong and she’d been mortified for the next eight months, but wasn’t that what being young was for?

Anyway. He didn’t like her. But he should stop hating her. She could call that the aim of the evening.

Chapter Forty-six

Marisa was incredibly nervous grasping the big heavy earthenware pot and going down one set of steps and up another. The road was still muddy, even after two days of sunny weather had dried out most things. But she knew she was so, so lucky to live up high. She’d been texting Polly about possibly getting together to discuss her idea, but the bakery didn’t even have a door yet. Still, thought Marisa, Polly would obviously be fine. She was one of the most capable people Marisa had ever met. Polly would have been amazed at how many people who met her came to that conclusion.

Out of the sun the air was still chilly, and Marisa was glad Polly had let her keep the scarlet hoody. The wind blew a little colour into her cheeks – already pink with nerves – and she took a deep breath, abruptly instructed herself to get out of her own way – and rapped at the door.

The door was flung open in consternation by Alexei who looked worried, as if he’d forgotten a lesson – then incredibly surprised to see her there. He didn’t move, just stared at her, his brown eyes blinking slowly in confusion.

‘Um, hi?’ said Marisa. She offered up the dish. ‘I . . . I have . . . I mean. Did you have plans?’

Alexei shook his head.

‘I haff no plans,’ he said. He still looked puzzled. ‘Balcony is shut?’

‘Oh,’ said Marisa. ‘No. I thought . . . I thought if you like . . .’

She swallowed painfully. The stupid part of her brain, the stupid blushing part, still wanted her to turn around and run away, just toss the heavy dish in the air and get back to safety.

‘I wanted to say thank you for what you did at the hospital. And perhaps you would like to eat . . . together?’

‘Oh!’ His face still looked puzzled. ‘Of . . . of course . . . come in . . .’

And he stood back from where he was blocking the doorway.

His house, despite being identical to her own, except blue instead of yellow, could not have been more different.

Whereas she had added very little, keeping everything pristine and exactly more or less as she’d moved in to it, here something very different was happening.

The neat little table and chairs had been moved to accommodate the piano, which she noticed was actually against the far wall; as far away from her house as it could possibly be. The table itself was piled high with sheet music, and with empty sheets of music paper, the five staves drawn. Marisa wanted to look at it; as a stationery nerd it appealed to her, and she could have written beautifully on it.

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