Chapter 19 – Luca #2
‘How about this: I leave Olive with you, and you’re forced to bring her back over unless you want her to mess up your squeaky-clean floor – or you join us now?’
With narrowed eyes, he stares out the window at the crowd of townsfolk mingling, snacking, sipping Aperol.
‘Fine, let’s go.’ He throws down the towel and heads for the door.
‘You’re not going to change?’ I ask.
‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’
‘I can identify about twelve meals you’ve served today just from looking at your shirt.’
Even Olive is craning her surprisingly long neck to get a better sniff. Dad grumbles but stomps upstairs and reappears five minutes later, still grumbling, but in a clean white tee and a fresh pair of denims. I think he even combed his hair, and –
‘Did you put on aftershave?’
He ignores me, so of course I repeat the question, twice, until we reach the restaurant.
‘I don’t want to smell of cheese, do I?’ he says, and disappears through the door before I can accuse him of trying to impress Daniel.
Olive wriggles in my arms, so I let her down and follow her inside, where I almost run straight into Dad’s back. Ready to throw a complaint at his head, I notice just in time what’s made him freeze in the middle of the restaurant.
‘What are you doing here?’ Dad’s question, which sounds a lot like an accusation, is directed at none other than my grandparents, both of whom look intentionally overdressed.
‘We live here,’ Graham says drily.
‘So?’ Dad bristles.
‘We’re active members of town now.’
‘And that means we take an interest in Lombard’s economic growth,’ Anna adds.
‘That’s funny, tell another one,’ Dad retorts.
Graham puffs out his chest. ‘Tell you what, I’d have run this guy out of town already if my business was at risk. Nothing a good smear campaign can’t settle.’
‘Not here, Graham,’ Anna warns.
‘My business isn’t at risk,’ Dad clarifies.
‘Let’s hope it stays that way,’ Graham says, and moves on to check out the snacks.
‘Stay away from the prosciutto, Graham,’ Anna says, trailing behind.
Dad’s eyes follow them, until he shakes himself like he’s awakening from a nasty dream. ‘Right, I’ve shown my face, and I can’t be arsed with—’
‘Maz, you made it!’ Daniel appears through a gap in the crowd. I admit, he has an amazing smile, the sort that’s blinding but you can’t look away. ‘I hope this means you’re not planning to run me out of town?’
Dad lets out a low groan that only I hear.
I decide to slink away and leave them to it.
On my tiptoes, I peer over the sea of heads to try to find Simo.
Panic sweeps over me when I catch a sliver of dark curls and golden skin peeking out from behind the backs of my grandparents.
They’ve cornered him by the charcuterie boards.
I’ve never seen Anna and Graham out in the wild and have no idea what they’re capable of when left unsupervised.
As quickly as I can, which is not quickly at all, I wind my way through the packed room.
Simo spots me and pulls me through the huddle of bodies like a drowning man grabbing a life ring.
In the other hand he holds a cream envelope.
‘What’s that?’ I prompt, latching on to the first thing I see.
‘We were telling your Simo about our Christmas Gala,’ Anna explains. ‘We wanted to make sure he got the invitation.’
My mind is stuck on the way she called him my Simo, so it takes a moment before I catch the meaning of her words.
‘Your Christmas Gala?’
‘You ought to inspect your mail more often. We sent your invitation days ago,’ Anna reprimands me.
The look she throws me could almost be described as doting, so I don’t think she’s annoyed.
‘We always throw a Christmas Gala. It’s a tradition from decades before you saw the light of day.
And of course we’d like this young man to come too. ’
‘Oh, I swear I read about those parties,’ I say, and immediately wish I hadn’t. It was in the days after my first falling-out with Dad, holed up in Simo’s room, both of us scouring the internet for information about the Brandenburgs. Even the documentary mentioned the event.
Anna, if anything, looks flattered. ‘They’re iconic,’ she says in that way of hers that shows a degree of self-belief I’ve never seen in anyone else.
‘If Luca is coming, I’ll be there,’ Simo says. I notice that he hasn’t let go of my arm.
‘I’d hope so,’ Graham says, ‘Anna’s been planning it since we moved here. You don’t want to miss it.’
‘Who else did you invite?’ I ask casually. While people are keeping a respectful distance, it’s obvious that we have an audience.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Dad says as he pops up beside me suddenly, ‘we’re not coming.’ His tone is cheery and very, very fake.
‘Matthew!’ Graham warns.
‘Dad!’ I exclaim.
‘I’ve not come to argue,’ Dad says with a placatory smile. ‘Just came for the olives.’ He pops one in his mouth and disappears, cutting off a discussion that is so not over.
‘Ignore him,’ Anna says.
‘Our son has always been a bit of a snob,’ Graham adds. ‘Used to lock himself in his room whenever we threw parties.’
I have no appropriate response, so I turn to Simo. He bites his lip, trying to hold in a laugh, which doesn’t help. I quickly look away again, only to catch Anna observing our exchange. Her eyes land on Simo’s hand, the one still wrapped around my arm.
‘I’ve been thinking. I could pull some strings, get in touch with friends in the fashion industry and see if they’d let you both borrow a look for the night. Maybe a matching theme.’
‘Um, I’m not sure . . . I don’t think . . .’ I stutter, failing to come up with a polite way of rebuffing the idea. I don’t mind fancy outfits, but matching looks is a bit on the nose.
Simo clears his throat. ‘Thank you, Mrs Brandenburg, but I don’t want to cause you more stress planning the party. Besides, I don’t need to give Luca more reason to outshine me. He constantly steals my clothes, and somehow they look better on him too.’
See? That’s what I mean.
Manners make a boy’s knees weak.