Escape to the Tuscan Vineyard

Chapter Nine

It was a fifteen-minute walk in the heat, or a six-minute cycle to Holly and Xavier’s restaurant, so I decided to borrow one of the knackered old vineyard bikes and give my thighs a workout. The roads were dusty and full of potholes, flanked either side by olive trees, and it was tough going with no gears to help me out up the hill, but I got there eventually. I’d worn a pale denim halter-neck dress, and my hair was washed and poker straight. The breeze billowed through both as I rode the last few metres up the drive and propped the bike against a tree.

Lavedrine Xwas impossible to miss, with its illuminated sign, like a beacon on the road, welcoming people in. The entire front of the restaurant was open, with huge bifold doors pushed back against the walls. The tables were all set for dinner, each one beautifully decorated in a white tablecloth, with a yellow vase full of olive leaves. Holly’s influence was clear to see. The restaurant felt rustic and relaxed, and I knew the food would be exceptional. People came for miles to sample Xavier’s Michelin-starred menu and he ran his culinary school as part of the restaurant, with ten trainee chefs working alongside him to learn his style in both French and Italian cooking. Holly ran the show front of house, all top-class service, and smiles – each of them playing to their strengths to offer an amazing foodie experience. Hash tag serious couple goals.

I walked past a table of happy diners and went inside. The kitchen was right at the back, with a copper hatch that stretched the full width of the restaurant and a counter heated by food lamps, where Xavier took the orders in, and the chefs got the food out. It was a meticulous operation and from a distance seemed calm and quiet. I was used to big kitchens being stressful and angry from my teenage waitressing days, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. Xavier’s approach had a relaxed, easy feel about it. I spotted Holly briefing the team and waved. She was wearing an aubergine dress, with zigzagging gold threads, so she wasn’t working. Not officially anyway.

‘Good evening, Madam, welcome to Lavedrine X,’ she sang, grabbing two menus and making her way over. ‘I’ve saved us the best table… this one here.’ We were at the front of the restaurant, next to the garden, without having to be in the garden, batting off mozzies.

‘This is gorgeous,’ I said, looking up at the pergola, wrapped in honeysuckle. ‘I’m so proud of you, Hols. The restaurant looks amazing.’

‘Do you think?’ she replied, happily. ‘Wait until you taste the food – you’re in for a treat.’

It was mostly couples and families, apart from one preppy-looking guy eating on his own. He was taking photos of his food from different angles, then did a 360 of the restaurant before diving in.

‘Don’t see many of those around, do you,’ I said, nodding over discreetly.

‘Oh, I knowww – I thought that myself. He’s just flown in from LA apparently. Visiting family and said we’d been recommended.’

‘Noted,’ I said, looking at the menu. ‘Every single dish sounds beyond delicious, so I’ll have whatever you recommend and a large glass of red. No sneaky courgettes though, thanks. They remain my most hated food.’

‘In your red wine?’ Holly asked.

‘Is that a thing out here?’

‘Not yet, but nothing would surprise me with Xavier’s imagination. OK, well let’s have the tasting menu, that way you can try a bit of everything.’

‘PerfettoGrazie mille.’ I bowed.

‘I might put the order in myself, actually. It’ll be quicker.’ Holly jumped up and went over to the serving station, while I eyed up Mr America. Short back and sides, dark hair, blue eyes, only here for a few days. Potentially more fun than playing Man Roulette on Italian Tinder. He glanced up and caught me staring, and I quickly looked away. Shit. Not cool, Abs. Especially as it might look like I was on my own as well. It was a relief when Holly reappeared with a bottle of Chianti and a plate of focaccia.

‘Here we go,’ she said, glugging out the wine as I covered my plate in olive oil. I took a second sneaky peek at the handsome one, and he was still looking over. He raised his glass in a cheeky cheers to show he’d caught me looking twice. I laughed. It was a fair cop. And he was hot, whoever he was. Nothing wrong with being friendly.

‘I think we need a toast, don’t we?’ Holly said.

‘We do. I’ll start. Here’s to your beautiful restaurant, beautiful man, and your beautiful new life,’ I said, holding up my glass.

‘Thank you, Abs, I’m glad you approve. And here’s to you having a beautiful, well-deserved rest and anything else your beautiful heart desires while you’re out here.’

‘Hmm, mine doesn’t sound as exciting as yours,’ I said, trying the wine. ‘Yesterday was a total disaster – I waited nearly an hour for the bus to turn up and by the time I got into San Gimignano, all the shops were shut for lunch.’

‘I did warn you that they were unreliable.’

‘I couldn’t even Uber home! You don’t have Uber out here?’

Holly winced. ‘I know, I meant to say…’

‘I ended up walking around all day doing nothing! It was a complete waste of time.’ I dunked a chunk of focaccia in olive oil and shoved it in my mouth. It was soft and olive-y and salty and bloody delicious. Oh my God. Well, that shut me up.

‘Doing nothing is not a waste of time, Abi, trust me. If you want to “do Italy right”, then that’s the way to go about it. Lose that list of yours and ask Paolo and Mia for some suggestions on what to see. Local knowledge is the way to go around here.’

‘Aren’t you a local?’ I said, confused.

‘Yes, but those two will know all the good stuff. They are authentic local locals. My recommendation would be to sit in the square, eat chocolate gelato and people-watch all day, which I know you won’t want to do.’

‘I can’t spend two weeks sitting around in the square!’ I said, horrified. ‘There’s so much to see. It’s going to be hard enough to get it all done as it is.’

‘Exactly.’ Holly nodded slowly. ‘In fact, spoiler alert, you’ll never get it all done so there’s no point in trying. You have to relax into the ebb and flow of everyday life if you want to see the real Italy. You’ll never visit all the churches or see all the buildings. I promise.’

I looked around the restaurant at the locals sitting and talking. Eating their small plates of black and white squid with celeriac, and caviar-roasted potatoes. They were taking their time. No phones. No rush. Just the pursuit of pleasure. Enjoying life for enjoyment’s sake.

‘The old dolce vita, eh?’

‘If it ain’t broke...’ Holly smiled. ‘That’s one of the reasons Xavier loves it here so much. The Italians are so like the French when it comes to prioritising their food. Family, Food, Work – I think that’s the order. Or maybe Sleep comes before Work.’

‘Work clearly comes last, whatever else is on the list,’ I said, thinking back to all the closed signs in the shop windows. ‘I hear what you’re saying, but it’s hard for me to sit still after all these years of keeping busy. You know I hate the quiet – it gives me too much time to think.’

‘It’s been a long time now, Abs. How many years? Why not give it a try for a week or so and see how you feel? Nothing to lose, is there? You could start with a few minutes of people-watching each day and build yourself up to a full day stare-a-thon. Like the opposite of “Couch to 5k”.’

‘Until I’m completely on the couch?’ I stuffed another piece of focaccia in as the waiter arrived with a selection of miniature risottos, pointing each one out and talking us through the ingredients: crispy pancetta, veal tenderloin and liquorice butter, served in tiny green bowls with mint, cinnamon, and pecan sauce. A puzzling combination for the taste buds.

‘Did Mia mention the activities they’re trialling at the vineyard?’ Holly asked.

‘Only the yoga and the bikes. Yoga starts tomorrow morning, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, the yoga and some other things. Mia is an brilliant artist, so she’s going to run a couple of painting classes as well this week.’

‘Is she? I’d love that. You know me, any excuse to get my crayons out.’ I laughed.

‘And you’re amazing at it,’ Holly said, fondly. ‘You probably don’t get to paint for fun anymore. Too busy slapping on the slap for all the theatre luvvies.’

Xavier appeared at the table, with yet more food.

‘Buonasera,’ he said, with a big smile. ‘How are you settling in?’

‘Very well so far! There could be something in this holiday idea, after all,’ I said. ‘And this place is magical, Xavier. I feel like a celebrity to have an in with the chef.’

‘Holly has made it like this,’ he said, bending down to kiss her.

‘What? Not at all!’ Holly said, gazing dreamily into his eyes. ‘It was all you.’

Xavier shook his head. ‘Mostly you, my love,’ he said, and kissed her again.

‘Alright, alright, break it up,’ I said, both happy and jealous that they were so cute and gooey with one another.

Xavier put his professional face on and cleared his throat. ‘I have a little angel hair here for you both. I hope you like it. Red shrimp, chickpeas, pecorino, chestnut. Very simple. Capelli d’Angelo.’

‘Merci, Xavier,’ I said, twiddling up the pasta as he stroked Holly’s nose then rushed off back to the kitchen. It was superb. How could something with so few ingredients taste so good? My calorie situation was going to be in severe crisis with these kinds of dishes on my doorstep.

‘He seems keen,’ I said, with an eyebrow.

‘He’s a bloody dream,’ she squealed. ‘Life out here has been so easy and happy compared to living in London with George.’

‘What a difference a few years can make.’ I closed my eyes to fully appreciate the food. ‘Mmm-mm-mm.’

‘Pretty special, huh?’ Holly said, smiling.

‘I mean, I thought Margot had it going on… but this is something else,’ I replied, spinning together another mouthful, then checking myself in alarm. ‘This is it, isn’t it? He’s not going to bring us out any more food?’

Holly laughed. ‘Of course it’s not it. We haven’t had our main course yet. Starter, pasta, main course, pasta, dessert, then pasta and then maybe a liqueur to finish off, with another side of pasta.’

That would do more than finish me off. Christ. My stomach popped just thinking about it and I regretted the focaccia. No. I’d never regret that focaccia. Ah. The Italian way of life was starting to make sense. Sleep must definitely be the third point on that list.

‘So. Any excitement on the man front to tell me?’ Holly asked, lightly.

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I haven’t heard any more from that Blake creep on Moonmen, thank God.’

Holly shook her head. ‘To think there are married men out there being so blatantly disloyal and disrespectful. It’s disgusting!’

‘I know. He said he couldn’t believe his luck when I didn’t recognise him. I should have told his wife straight away. And the Moonmen director.’

‘You could also see it as a lesson in stranger danger?’ Holly said. ‘Maybe it’s time to rein in the first dates and one-night stands and get to know someone properly again – on a level where you actually know their last name?’

‘God, no! Why?’ I said, pretending to be horrified, but also… horrified. No chance I was getting mixed up in all that again.

‘Abs,’ Holly said, gently. ‘Men are humans too, remember. They have feelings.’

I thought back to ‘nice guy’ Stu’s messages this week. It was kinder to ghost him than reject him, but I’d had the trauma of three increasingly sorrowful texts and felt a teeny bit guilty for leading him on. He didn’t really care though, surely. He didn’t even know me.

‘It’s alright for you with your hot, French chef – the rest of us are doing our best with what’s available.’

‘There are plenty of lovely men available, as you well know.’

‘Hmm, I’ve heard this rumour too, but I’m yet to see too much evidence of it. Hold that thought, I just need to nip to the loo. Where are the ladies?’ I asked, keen to change the subject. Holly rolled her eyes at me abandoning her mid deep-and-meaningful and pointed to the back of the restaurant.

‘You can’t avoid these questions forever,’ she called, as I walked off. The loos were behind a double curtain, which I managed to get tangled up in. I eventually found one of the edges and launched myself through, flying straight into the arms of Mr America himself.

‘Oh! Sorry,’ I said, letting go and trying to inch past him. He was tall and broad, and filled the space, and I was completely disorientated bumping into him like this. I didn’t know whether to stop and chat or breeze past and play it cool. I smiled, uncertainly – it had been much easier exchanging flirty glances across the restaurant.

‘My fault,’ he replied. He was overconfident in the way important businessmen always were, with a big smile and kind eyes. He felt familiar somehow. ‘I saw you earlier…’ he said, then trailed off. I nodded. I’d seen him too.

‘Tony,’ he said holding out his hand.

‘Abi,’ I replied, feeling myself blush as we shook hands and stared at each other. I didn’t want to let go. ‘I’m here on holiday,’ I said, lost for anything better to say.

‘Same. Well, sort of.’ He shook his head, as if to pull himself together. ‘I’m staying with family. A flying visit.’

‘You’re Italian, then?’

‘Si, signorina.’ He kissed my hand, then let it drop, as an old man flung himself through the curtain, in the same way I had, interrupting our moment together. ‘Good to meet you, Abi,’ Tony said, passing me by to let the man through. He backed into the curtain, then disappeared, and I exhaled slowly. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath. He was something else.

‘I just bumped into Captain America.’ I said, when I got back to the table, still all of a fluster.

‘Did you indeed,’ Holly said, with a knowing look. ‘What a coincidence!’

‘It was! I didn’t know he was in there.’

‘Mm-hmm… a likely story. Well, don’t let me get in your way. My little pep talk obviously hasn’t worked. I know you like them in transit, and he certainly ticks that box.’

‘He might be a nice distraction for later,’ I mused, checking he was still there. He was and he caught me looking over again, but this time I held his gaze long enough to make it clear I knew he was looking too. I’d played this game a million times. Good old-fashioned cat and mouse. There was a flicker of an eyebrow as he flirted without speaking, daring me to react. I smiled and turned back to Holly. ‘But no, Holly, I’m here to see you!’

‘Two things can be true at the same time,’ she said, cradling her wine. ‘What’s the craic with work then, if we’re not talking about men?’

I groaned. ‘I’ve put the feelers out to try and line up my next job, but no bites so far. I’ve hardly heard from anyone since I got out here actually.’

‘It’s only been a couple of days! Take it as a sign from the universe to put your feet up,’ Holly said. ‘You’ve been working non-stop for far too long. Theatreland won’t close down if you take a break, you know, they won’t stop making films. The make-up merry-go-round will still be spinning when you decide to get back on.’

‘Hmm, but I like being on it. I’m addicted to the dizzy feeling.’

Xavier waved over from the counter and Holly jumped up. ‘Sorry, Abs, the guys need a hand. I won’t be a minute.’

‘Can I help?’ I offered, looking around.

‘Absolutely not,’ she said, clearing our plates. ‘I’ll get us some dessert and be back in a tick.’ It was always going to be difficult to relax while the rest of the team worked around her. Ten minutes of phone time later and Tony caught my eye across the restaurant; he pointed at Holly’s empty chair. I shrugged brightly in reply and he wandered over, bringing his red wine with him.

‘Have you been abandoned?’ he asked.

‘It’s a busman’s holiday, trying to eat in your own restaurant, I think.’

‘Mind if I join you?’

‘Why not?’ I said, pulling out a chair. Why not, indeed. Rather a real-life man than doom-scrolling, waiting for Holly to come back.

‘Are you travelling on your own?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’ve just arrived from London for a couple of weeks to see my friend. She runs this place with her other half – he’s the chef. How about you?’

‘My family live out here, so I’m staying with them. I haven’t had a holiday for a while to be honest, so I’m trying to remember how to do it.’ His accent was a heady mix of Californian pep with an Italian edge, the best of both cultures.

‘I know what you mean – you have to slow down quite a lot out here from what I’ve seen so far. How was your food?’

‘Unbelievable!’ he said. ‘I had the scallops with beetroot and marzipan, and the chocolate-roasted duck. Both were phenomenal. I’m difficult to surprise, but the sauces were SO good. A taste sensation. Five stars. Would come again.’

‘A taste sensation?’ I repeated, teasing. ‘That’s quite the review. Xavier will be delighted.’

‘Good. He deserves to be – the feeling is entirely mutual.’

This guy radiated joy as he smiled, tapping the table to an unheard beat. His cufflinks glinted in the light, drawing my attention to a very nice watch.

‘Some more red wine?’ Tony asked, holding up the bottle.

‘Thank you.’ I’d already had my two-drink limit, but it seemed churlish to say no. I’d have one more with him, then make my excuses if I wasn’t interested.

‘Saluti,’ he said, raising his glass; his eye contact was intense.

‘Cheers,’ I replied, watching him as I drank, his white shirt bright against his tan, a couple of poppers open at the neck. ‘So, your family are here but you live in America?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve been in LA for nearly ten years. I went travelling after I graduated.’

‘Same. All across Europe,’ I said, thinking back to those carefree, summer days with Josh.

‘I was in Canada, then drove down through America to California, and I liked it so much that I’ve been there ever since.’

‘I suppose it’s called the Golden State for a reason. What do you do out there?’ I asked, twiddling my wine glass.

‘Well, obviously, I work in the movies,’ he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

‘Of course you do,’ I said, brightly. ‘Doesn’t everyone in America? Are you a Hollywood star?’ I didn’t want another Pete/Blake situation on my hands.

Tony laughed. ‘Sadly, not, I’m very much behind the camera – not literally – but hidden away in the background. I’m just a frustrated film buff at heart. What do you do?’

‘I’m a make-up artist,’ I said, pointing to my face. My shop window. ‘I’ve been trying to get into the world of film myself, recently. Someone has to make the movie stars glamorous and beautiful.’

‘They sure do. Might as well be you, right?’

‘Exactly. But it hasn’t gone very well, so far,’ I said, slightly glum.

‘Can you make me glamorous and beautiful?’ Tony asked. I looked at his glowing skin and piercing blue eyes. I’d struggle to make him any more beautiful, but I could get him into a tight-fitting moon head in a heartbeat.

‘Easily.’ I laughed, looking at him closely. ‘I can make you an entirely new face if you like?’

‘That seems extreme,’ he said, alarmed. ‘Do I need one?’

‘I wouldn’t say so, no.’ I found myself staring at him again. He had a warmth and magnetism that felt comforting, but there was also something exciting about him. Something hypnotising in those eyes that was drawing me in.

‘Is that your specialism then? Prosthetics?’

‘No – I’m make-up, but I occasionally dabble in silicon. Make-up is so much easier – you can wash it off if you don’t like it – no harm done. It’s more of a rigmarole to chip off a freshly cemented nose.’

Tony laughed. ‘Too true. Those false noses are the worst.’

‘I was working on Moonmen in London earlier this month. Have you heard of it?’

Tony tilted his head in thought, then nodded slowly.

‘There was a mix-up with my booking, so I was only there for a couple of days in the end. Gem Adams had already been booked in on it. Do you know her?’

‘As in Alien Attack?’ he asked.

‘The very one.’

‘No one puts an alien together quite like her.’

‘I know. Just my luck. And she brought her own people with her, so I had to go. Hence being out here – I’m taking a month of paid leave instead.’

‘Sounds awful,’ Tony said, with a smile. He had such an easy way about him.

‘It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened, but I am disappointed. I’ve been trying to get into film for ages. Theatre was always my thing, and then I finally got a taste of the movies, and before I could get my feet under the table, I was out on my ear.’

‘It’s a tightly controlled industry, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘It can feel impossible to break in when you’re starting out.’ I finished my drink and Tony looked at me. ‘One more for the road?’ he asked, stopping a passing waiter in his tracks.

I shook my head. ‘That’s enough wine for me,’ I said. Although I wasn’t quite ready to go home.

‘Something else? Grappa?’

‘Is it good? I’ve never tried it,’ I replied.

‘Ah, well in that case allow me to introduce you to an essential part of Italian culture.’ Tony turned to the waiter. ‘Due grappa, grazie.’ The words rolled easily off his tongue, and I was impressed he could switch to Italian so deftly.

‘That’s a nice accent you’ve got there.’

‘Comes back so fast, it’s frightening. Italian is more natural to me than English though, so it’s easy – especially when I’m here.’

His neatly trimmed hair and eyebrows had that American polish about them, good skincare, a rugged jawline. Nice moons on his manicured nails. An American smooth with Italian intensity. The waiter delivered our drinks in shot glasses, served ice cold.

‘Is it down in one?’ I asked, picking mine up.

Tony laughed. ‘If you like, but it’s quite strong. The locals call it firewater, so I’d recommend taking it slow if it’s your first one.’

‘Got it.’ I took a sip of the clear, harsh liquid and held it in my mouth. It was sharp and strong, a completely different kind of taste. Something akin to turps.

Tony watched me with a bemused smile. ‘Do you like it?’

I shook my head and he laughed. Nonetheless. Sample local Italian produce. Tick.

‘Is this your first time in Italy?’ Tony asked, leaning back in his chair.

‘I’m ashamed to say it is, considering it’s so close. I’d always planned to come here someday, but those future “somedays” kept getting away from me.’

‘And now the stars have aligned.’

‘Exactly. I’ve got this unexpected month off and Holly is out here, so why not spend some time with my bestie, you know?’

Tony nodded. ‘I sure do. Time moves fast – you have to take your chances when they present themselves.’

‘Do you come over often from LA?’

‘Not often enough,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Maybe seven times in the last ten years, but I want to start coming back a lot more. I need to. It’s like plugging myself back in to charge when I’m here. My brother and his wife are here and a lot of my childhood friends live in the town. Even after all these years, it still feels like home.’

‘Me and Holly went to nursery together, so I know exactly what you mean. It’s important to stay connected to the people who know you best. It can be lonely going from job to job, working in new teams with new people all the time. Deep connection is rare these days.’

Holly came rushing over, in a flap.

‘I’m so sorry, Abs, that took way longer than expected. Are you OK?’ She turned to Tony. ‘Hi, again. I’m Holly. Would you like another drink? A coffee? What can I get you both?’

‘No, I’m done,’ I said, giving Tony a heated look. ‘Don’t worry, Hols, you’ve got a restaurant to run. I’m going to head back. Thank you – and Xavier – for an amazing dinner.’

‘Just the check for me too,’ Tony said. ‘And please pass on my compliments to the chef.’

‘Thank you – he’ll appreciate that. He works so hard.’ Holly looked lovingly back at Xavier, plating up yet another intricately artistic dish and drizzling it with something delicious. She flicked through her notepad and ripped out Tony’s bill, presenting it to him with a flourish, as she looked at me with a questioning eyebrow. He gave it a cursory glance and handed over a wad of euros. I nodded.

‘Tony, this is a bit of a strange one, but you seem like a nice guy,’ Holly started. ‘Would you mind seeing Abi home? She’s only staying down the road and Xavier would normally go, but he’s up to his neck in the kitchen.’

‘What?! No! I’m fine on my own,’ I said, faux-mortified.

‘I’d feel better knowing someone was with you,’ Holly insisted. It had been a while since we’d played this game, but it always worked. A way to gauge interest in a potential suitor. We’d started doing it in sixth form and had polished up the acting over the years. There was no better wingman than Holly on a night out, but she always gave me a sign to check I was interested first.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ Tony replied, as I smiled over his head at Holly.

‘Honestly, I’m only a few minutes away,’ I protested.

‘Then it’ll only take a few minutes to see you safely home,’ he said, firmly.

I shrugged. ‘Fine. As long as you’re happy with a backie on my bike.’

‘A… what?’

‘It’s where you hang off the back of my bike, and I try not to kill us both.’

‘Sounds like fun – I’m in,’ he said, eyes shining.

I gave Holly a hug.

‘Three rings when you’re back, yeah?’ she said, and I rolled my eyes.

The warm night air hit us as we left the restaurant, the chatter of diners quietening down as we walked towards the bike I’d borrowed from the vineyard. It didn’t look strong enough for the two of us. It wasn’t really strong enough for one of us, but it would have to do its best.

‘OK, you sit on the saddle,’ I said, holding on to the handlebars. After three red wines, the bike felt like a tricky piece of machinery to manoeuvre, but it’d all come back to me once we were on the move.

‘Seems safe so far,’ he said, sitting comfortably.

‘Right, I’ve got this,’ I said hooking my feet into the pedals, while Tony stuck out his big, man legs.

‘Be gentle with me,’ he said, sounding worried, as I wobbled us down the road, slowly at first, then speeding up as we flew down the hill. The brakes screeched as we skidded in through the entrance, nearly hitting the Vigneto Almagno sign and I pedalled hard to get us to the front door – a nice bit of cardio to finish the night off.

‘You’re staying here?’ Tony sounded surprised. ‘Isn’t this a vineyard?’

‘Good local knowledge! They’ve just started doing bed and breakfast – literally this week. I’m one of their first guests.’

‘Really?’ he said, brushing himself down as he got off the bike. ‘I didn’t know. How is it?’

‘Gorgeous! A cool young couple own it and they have puppies!’

‘BBP,’ Tony said. ‘Nice idea. Unless you’re a cat, I suppose. Well, I’ve seen you home safely – although it didn’t feel very safe, to be honest.’

‘I don’t think I’d have made it back here without you,’ I said, with a coy smile.

Tony leant towards me, and there was a moment of quiet as the grasshoppers purred and the moon shone down. His eyes were magnetising, and I met him halfway, kissing him while holding on to my bike. It was like being back at school, without the backpack. I pulled away gently. ‘How can I ever thank you for ensuring my safe passage?’

‘How about a nightcap?’ he said, quick as a whip.

‘Oh, there isn’t a bar here, or anything,’ I said, regretting running past all the booze in duty-free. ‘Saying that, there is half a bottle of limoncello in my welcome basket.’

‘Limoncello is my favourite nightcap,’ he said slowly.

‘Now, that is a coincidence. In that case, you’re in luck.’ I took his hand, which was warm and soft, and led him through the front door, and upstairs to my room. The moon shone in through the windows as we walked past the bed and out onto the balcony.

‘This view…’ I said, staring out in wonder across the vineyard.

Tony stood tall and proud, like Caesar, about to address his kingdom. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten.’

I poured out two limoncellos and handed one to Tony. We both took a sip, without taking our eyes off each other. I wasn’t sure who was the cat and who was the mouse anymore, as he took my glass and placed it on the table next to his. He slowly pulled me towards him, kissing me softly at first, then harder and faster, as we melted into each other, breathless and hungry. I took a step back and stared into his eyes: dark and teasing, my body quivering in anticipation as he lowered his gaze to kiss my neck. I tried to be patient, enjoying the scrape of his stubble and his lips on my skin, but only lasted a few seconds before ripping open his shirt; the poppers easily giving way, as we moved as one into the bedroom.

This was the way to do Italy right. Sample local Italian man. Tickety-tick.