Page 18 of Livia in Rome
‘And this,’ Signora Pedretti says, gesturing towards me, ‘is Livia. She lives in Scotland, but she speaksItalian. She has the most adorable little accent. Go on, Livia, say something.’
My face ignites as all eyes turn to me.
Flaminia smiles sympathetically. ‘She says that about me too, Livia – just because I live on the other side of the city.’
I don’t believe her for a second, but I’m grateful when everyone laughs and the attention shifts away from me. I like this girl. She’s beautifulandnice.
‘So, what are you two ladies up to today?’ Giulio places the coffees on the counter, earning a pleased hum from Signora Pedretti. She raises her cup and inhales deeply before answering.
‘Flaminia is helping me shop for a new phone; I’m being bullied into getting one with the Google on it. Some bureaucratic nonsense with my pension means I need to be inline.’
‘Online. It’s online.’ Flaminia looks pained, as though she’s bracing for a long day of correcting her godmother.
Signora Pedretti winks at Giulio. ‘Perhaps you should come,caro? I’m sure Flaminia would love to have another young person around.’
Flaminia’s cheeks flush the perfect shade of pink, her blush more like carefully applied make-up than the blotchy mess I turn into.
Is Signora Pedretti playing matchmaker?
A strange knot forms in my stomach but, before I can examine the feeling, Signora Pedretti lays a hand on Ma’s forearm. ‘Can we have a word,cara?’
Ma’s eyes flick to me for a second. ‘Of course...but let’s go outside.’
What now? I sigh as they step out into the street, leaving me with yet another mystery to unravel – right alongside Giulio’s letter-thieving, secretive calls and snooping.
‘So, phone shopping with Signora Pedretti? You’re brave!’ Giulio presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh.
Flaminia groans. ‘Don’t! I’m already dreading the sales spiel. She just needs something basic and user-friendly, but they’ll probably try to sell her something ridiculous.’
He reaches for a pad next to the till, ripping off a page and scribbling something on it. He hands it to Flaminia. ‘Try this place – the guy who owns it is my friend’s dad. Tell him I sent you.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Hang on.’ He scribbles again. ‘That’s my number too, in case you need help.’
I feel like a third wheel. And I can’t help noticing how nice and friendly Giulio is when he’s talking to anyone but me. The knot in my stomach twiststighter, but I push it down. I should be glad. Maybe they’ll hit it off and Giulio will finally get out of my hair. Which is exactly what I want. Obviously.
Inner Isla facepalms so hard, I almost feel it myself.
Luckily, Ma and Signora Pedretti’s little tête-à-tête doesn’t last long, though it has an effect long after Signora Pedretti disappears. Ma’s distracted, looking surprised when Giulio calls out a coffee order, as if she’s forgotten where she is or what she’s doing. And stranger still, she tells Giulio and me that she’s going to do Nina’s lunch run today, even though it isn’t Sunday and she was there just a few days ago.
I watch her face as she sets the coffee grinder in motion, scanning for any insight into what’s going on, but it’s hard to think straight over the deafening whine of coffee beans being blitzed.
When the grinder finally stops, Ma turns to Giulio. ‘OK if I take your Vespa?’
His shoulders tense and his eyes drop to his hi-tops.
I’m lost for words too. Ma? On a Vespa?
‘Ehm, va bene,’ Giulio finally murmurs, though he looks like the words are being pulled from his mouth against his will.
‘It was your nonna’s, right?’ Ma says, surprising us both. ‘Your mamma and I used to ride it to the beach when we were teenagers.’ She tuts when I fail to holdback a snort. ‘Yes, we were your age too, once upon a time.’
‘. . . a long, long time ago,’ I mutter.
Ma continues talking to Giulio. ‘Francesca’s at the sea now, isn’t she? Will she be back soon?’
I pretend to be fascinated by a scratch on the counter but, if I had whiskers, they’d be twitching like mad as I listen for his response. I’ve been wondering if Giulio even has parents, given his intense need to worm his way into Nina’s life.
He kicks the toe of his trainer against the rubber seal of the fridge under the counter. ‘The parents she nannies for need her all summer. She said she’ll try to visit, though.’ His long cow-lashes are lowered.
Ma grimaces. ‘What about your papà? Is he still driving lorries?’
