Page 65 of The Start of Something Wonderful

I let out a sigh and gaze out of the window, cheered up by the sight of a yelpingJack Russell springing up and down on the spot, trying to catch late autumn leaves as they float down towards the pavement.

A phone vibrates. I dive under the table for my bag, then realise it’s Francesco’s and it’s inching its way to the edge, about to fall on the floor. As I make a grab for it, my eyes flicker across the illuminated screen. A name flashes before me: ISABELLA ISABELLA ISABELLA.

My heart does a nose dive. Who’s Isabella? Maybe he does have a wife and fivebambiniback in old Napoli after all. What business is it of mine anyway? He’s not my boyfriend. One almost kiss and a bit of flirtatious banter do not equal “a relationship”.

I realise in that instant that I know so very little about him. Do I tell him he had a missed call and watch closely for his reaction ashe checks his phone? Alternatively, do I jump straight in with ‘Who’s Isabella?’ or ‘By the way, I think your wife rang?’

‘Allora, cara,’ he says setting down the coffees. ‘Here is my idea.Teatro a cena!’

‘Theatre? Dinner?’

‘Sì.’

‘I don’t understand.’

He tells me about this wonderful little restaurant in Florence where a play or recital is performed while the audience is serveddinner.

‘Do you think Luigi will agree?’

‘Why no? Maybe is good for the restaurant.’

‘You, Francesco, are a genius!’ I say, high-fiving him. We lock fingers for a moment then pull away.

‘I know,’ he says, shrugging his shoulders in his typically Latin way.

‘Eh, maybe one day I show you Florence, sì?’

‘I’d like that,’ I say, taking a restorative gulp of coffee.

* * *

‘Luigi,’ I venture that evening when I arrive for my shift.

‘Sì, cara?’

‘You once said if I needed anything to just ask.’

‘Sì.’

‘Well, there is something. It’s just a crazy idea and you don’t have to agree, but I thought it was worth asking …’

‘Al punto, per favore! Get to the point, please!’ he says, chalk in hand as he writes the specials of the day on the blackboard.

I put the idea ofTeatro a Cenato him, he checks the bookings diary, and that night – after the last customers have left – we toast Il Mulino’s first Dinner Theatre Experience to welcome in the New Year on January 5th. Heelp!

* * *

I eventually climb into bed at 2 a.m., having made numerous lists of things to do in the next two months.

I’ve come up with a cunning plan of how tolure agents and casting directors to my play: the invitation will include a welcome drink, set menu, and a bottle of wine. Call it bribery – I don’t care. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

8 tables x 2 covers per table @ £50.00 = £800.00 Yikes.

There’s an obvious solution to this financial conundrum: find a daytime job for a few weeks …

* * *

I scrutinise the giant custardblob staring back at me in the full-length mirror and give a little start. I am wearing green tights with matching pixie boots, a yellow, hooped tunic with latticework design, complemented by a green tuft strapped to my head.

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