‘You’re always good company, Bellissima. Your smile makes up a room.’
Lisa’s lips twitched. Only the fractured Italian accent allowed him to get away with the outrageous compliments.
‘I wanted some help with something, but I’m worried about Nan.’ Despite the doctor’s advice, Lisa had left her tucking into her battered cod and chips, along with her bosom buddy, Laura. The two of them had been cackling like a pair of old witches, planning a marathon soap-opera session. Since discovering Netflix, the two of them had become Friday-night binge-watchers and Lisa had yet to fathom their obsession with Season Two of Breaking Bad. When Nan had wondered aloud about the feasibility of planting marijuana in among her dahlias, Lisa prayed that it had been her warped sense of humour rather than a serious pension-booster.
Giovanni gave a wary nod. Nan hadn’t hesitated to show her disapproval where he was concerned. Luckily he had a healthy Italian respect for all things ‘family’ and didn’t let it bother him, unlike Will who seemed to hold Nan in mutual dislike. Nan disliked most men on principle, Giovanni double lucked out because he was Italian.
‘Is she ill?’
‘No, but she will be if she doesn’t take doctor’s orders.’
Giovanni smiled. ‘My Nonna is the same. That generation … they lived through the war. They think they’re indestructible. They’re made of strong stone. Marble.’
Lisa hoped so.
She straightened up, the menu in her hand. ‘What are you going to have?’
Giovanni sighed and looked mournful. ‘I don’t know. It’s too hard to choose.’
Who knew that an Italian could have such a passion for Chinese food? It amused Lisa no end.
‘Duck? You like that with the pancakes and the hoisin sauce.’
His face brightened and then his mouth drooped, ‘Yes, but they never bring enough pancakes.’
Lisa let out a peal of laughter. ‘You can always ask for more.’
‘Yes, I can, can’t I?’ He smiled back, happy again now.
She took a sip of wine and decided the way to do this was to dive right in, otherwise she’d been fending off Giovanni’s flirtatious overtures all evening.
‘I wanted to ask you to help me.’
‘Yes. I will help you.’
Lisa shook her head, amused by his enthusiasm. ‘But you don’t even know what it is yet?’
‘For a beautiful lady, anything.’
‘I … need to find my father.’
‘Ah, yes, Signore Vettese.’ Giovanni had claimed kinship as soon as he’d heard her Italian surname.
‘I think he’s in Rome.’
‘You don’t know?’
She shook her head, trying to pretend nonchalance. She never talked about this stuff. ‘He was a jockey. When I was two, he left my mum – I don’t know why – and went to work at a racing stables in the north of England. After my mother died, my Nan contacted him. He came to the funeral.’ She swallowed hard. That was the bit that hurt. He didn’t stay or take her with him. ‘After the funeral he went back to Italy and Nan never heard from him again.’
Giovanni pulled a sympathetic face but didn’t say anything.
‘I need to … to try and track him down.’ For the second time in as many days, she relayed the story of the sketchy clue of the old photograph as to his whereabouts, but for some reason she omitted mention of the ring.
‘I’ve done some research on Google, but I can only find out so much. I think it’s because I’m not in Italy. I think the searches would bring up more if I were in the country and I don’t speak Italian.’
‘You would like to go to Italy?’ He straightened, his eyes gleaming with sudden interest.
‘No,’ she laughed at the boyish enthusiasm. ‘Can’t afford it. But you’re going back soon and I wondered if you might help me. Do some research on the internet for me, while you’re there.’
Giovanni looked disappointed, then with a shrug he replied. ‘For me this would be no problem. But I think it would be better for you to come to Italy yourself.’
His face stilled and then he beamed. ‘You will be on the school holidays soon. You could come then, to Rome, with me.’
‘That’s very kind of you but …’
‘No.’ He sat up straighter, as if blindsided by a thunderbolt. ‘But you must come!’ With sudden fervour, he said, ‘I have friends there who work in the local government in Rome. They will know someone at the Commissione Elettorale Comunale. That is the Municipal Electoral Commission.’
‘I …’ Lisa forced herself to appear positive. Quite frankly, she’d give her right arm to go to Rome. Anywhere. But, seriously, daydreams apart, she couldn’t afford to go to Rome.
‘Yes.’ Giovanni looked as if he’d made a monumental discovery. ‘You must come to Rome. We can find your papa and I can show you the Eternal City.’
‘I can’t.’ Lisa wished she could.
‘Why not? You must come. This is the very good reason.’
‘It might be, but I don’t have a very good bank balance.’
Giovanni looked blank.
‘I can’t afford it.’
But she had a credit card. She could book the flights on that and blow the car fund on a budget hotel. If worst came to worst, she could always buy a bicycle.
He frowned and then broke into a broad grin. ‘Bellissima. My parents have a big apartment in Rome. With lots of room.’ He grabbed her hand across the table. ‘I can show you all the sites, the Colosseo, Fontana di Trevi, San Pietro, Piazza Di Spagna.’
Lisa flinched. ‘Stop!’ The temptation rose in her mind. She’d love to see all those places.
‘Lisa, Lisa.’ Giovanni smiled broadly, drawing himself up straight. Lisa could almost imagine him clasping the hilt of a sword. ‘I would do this thing for you. Family is important. Together we will find your papa. Besides, I will be in Italy for the month anyway.’
‘That’s kind of you, but …’ She didn’t dare tell him she had no intention of reconnecting with her father. All she wanted was to give him the ring back. And tell him that he was welcome to it. She’d really like that. Make it clear that she’d done just fine without him.
And see Rome for a week. That would be wonderful.
‘Tell me when you want to come. I can meet you at the airport.’
Lisa hesitated. ‘What about your parents? Would they be okay having a complete stranger staying with them in their apartment?’
Giovanni let out a bark of amused laughter. ‘No proper Roman stays in the capital for the summer. My parents leave to visit my Nonna. She has a house a long way north of the city. Rome is too hot and too full of tourists.’ Giovanni’s face darkened as he said the latter part.
‘But I would be a tourist,’ she teased.
‘A beautiful one.’
It was very tempting. ‘I could look into flights.’ They’d probably be far too expensive.