Chapter 30
30
I’ve been quite enjoying eating three courses on an evening – in fact, on the couple of occasions where I’ve had four courses, I’ve really enjoyed that too.
But this wedding, though… oh, this wedding. Guess how many courses there are at this wedding? I’ll tell you – there are fourteen courses, and apparently that isn’t unusual.
We’re at the wedding venue and it is absolutely breathtaking, like something out of a movie. Lucia and Dario couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting – or a more perfect day, in terms of the weather, because it’s so hot and sunny, but not so much that it’s too hot, or uncomfortable to be in formal wear.
As Andrea and I strolled in earlier, the first place we were directed to was the most gorgeous private garden, one full of flowers in every colour imaginable, some I didn’t even recognise. This was our first stop, where we were served welcome drinks, but we didn’t stay long before we were moved on to the next space.
So, the first room we were in I thought was the room for the wedding but, no, no, that was just the room for cocktails and canapés. That room seems positively cosy, with its ornate bar and plush furniture.
Only after we ate and drank in there were we then showed to the actual room where the reception would be taking place and, honestly, wow.
The place is huge. I’m talking ceilings that are up there with the sun, light-coloured walls with large windows and sliding doors that seem to bring the outside inside, and a marble floor that shines like a mirror.
At an Italian wedding, the seating arrangement is a bit different from what I’m used to back home in England. There’s no top table for the bride and groom and their VIP guests – I am sitting at ‘ tavolo uno ’ with Andrea and his family, though. Lucia and Dario, the bride and groom, instead sit at a table for two. All of the guest tables are laid out the same, in a circle around the large dance floor. Each table has white tablecloths, with these huge orchid centrepieces in the middle, and the most beautiful silverware and glassware – such a nice touch. It is clear that someone put a lot of effort into making everything look nice, and it has definitely paid off.
Also on the tables, there is red wine, white wine and champagne on ice, on every table, and believe me when I say they are endless. There’s enough booze on these tables to keep us all happily hydrated – and delightfully drunk – for the rest of the night.
So, how many courses deep am I right now? Honestly, I’ve lost count at this point. It’s like a never-ending stream of food, and I’m not sure whether I love it or if it frightens me.
I’ve grazed on various canapés, calamari, prosciutto with figs (a combination I hadn’t tried before, but one that I will be taking back home with me to have again), I took down a whole ball of burrata cheese (far too easily, if you ask me), and had even more bruschetta (and no, it wasn’t as good as Andrea’s, but it was still really nice). And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s been more meat, more fish, more everything. I’m scared to even think about how much a wedding like this must cost – and we’ve not even had any dessert courses yet, so there is definitely more food to come.
You know what, though, I’m going with the flow, eating and drinking anything that is put in front of me, because how often do you get to attend a proper Italian wedding?
At this point in the day, the atmosphere has shifted from a formal dinner to full-on party mode. There is a band on stage, the music is louder, and the guests are getting more lively. The chat, the laughter, the singing – everything is louder now.
‘“C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”, “C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”,’ Antonia says as she approaches Andrea.
‘Mamma, no,’ Andrea starts, his tone playfully pleading, before he says something else to her that I don’t quite catch.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, genuinely curious.
‘“C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”,’ he replies with a smile. ‘We sing it at family parties. It’s sort of a funny song, about a woman asking her mamma what sort of man she should marry, but everything sort of has two meanings.’
Antonia chimes in with something else and then she smiles at me, as though perhaps she wants me to help her out.
‘Mamma says it’s tradition,’ Andrea translates. ‘And that I always start.’
‘You can sing?’ I reply, surprised. Actually, thinking about it, I’m not surprised at all. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’
‘Italian men, what else can you say?’ he replies with a shrug, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘But, really, just because I can sing, does not mean I sing well.’
‘Well, tradition is tradition,’ I remind him, a playful glint in my eye. ‘You can’t let your mamma down.’
‘Okay, but we also dance,’ Andrea tells me, his expression hopeful. ‘Will you come and dance? It’s an even more important tradition. It’s a folk dance – the Tarantella – it’s so easy, and a lot of fun.’
‘Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal,’ I reply, unable to resist his charm.
I’m full to the brim with food and drink, and I’m feeling a little giddy from the wine, but the thought of hearing Andrea sing is just too intriguing to pass up.
As he agrees to sing, his mum’s face lights up with joy.
As I make my way to the dance floor, the butterflies in my stomach get a head start on the dancing. Weaving through the maze of tables and guests, I finally find a good spot, while Andrea climbs onto the stage to join the band.
He’s so confident as he steps up to the microphone, and I have no idea what he’s saying because every word of it is in Italian, but he just looks right up there. He’s got everyone’s attention, totally commanding the room. In fact, as I look around, I don’t think there is a female in this room who isn’t gazing up at him with love hearts for eyes.
Then he takes the microphone in his hand as he waits for the music to start, a smile playing on his lips that makes my knees feel a little weak. I have to say, I have excellent taste in fake fiancés.
As the first notes fill the air, Andrea’s voice rings out, and again, I have no idea what he’s saying, but it’s such a fun song and he looks like he’s having a blast singing it. It must be a crowd favourite too, because everyone is having a good time.
I dance on the spot as the catchy tune gets into my head. I think I’ll be humming this one for weeks.
When Andrea finishes his part, he hands the microphone to his dad and then jumps down from the stage. Then he grabs my hands and pulls me into the centre of the dance floor. We dance together and, despite loving a bit of a boogie on a rare night out, I didn’t realise how much fun it is to dance with a man – or just Andrea, I guess. I love having his hands on me, having his full attention. It’s nothing short of thrilling; that’s the only word for it.
‘Okay, what’s happening now?’ I ask, watching as everyone on the dance floor moves out to the edges to form a circle.
‘This,’ Andrea tells me before darting towards the centre, where Lucia and Dario are already waiting.
As the upbeat instrumental tune fills the air, Andrea starts kicking his legs one at a time, clapping his hands underneath each kick to the beat of the music. Dario joins in, and even Lucia kicks her legs. She doesn’t clap her hands, though, seeing as she needs them to hitch up her wedding dress.
I vaguely recognise the tune – it’s the same one as a song I’ve heard – ‘Lucky Lucky Lucky Me’, I think it’s called.
Andrea returns to me, taking my hand, and then the person on the other side of me takes my other hand, and soon we’re all moving in a circle, following the beat of the music. The next move involves standing still and kicking our feet – thankfully clapping your hands underneath each leg is optional, because there is no way I could do it in this dress. Next we link arms with the person next to us – Andrea in my case – doing what is pretty much a do-si-do, linking opposite arms, going round in a circle.
I smile so widely, practically screaming with laughter as I join in, loving being involved in such a fun, fast-paced dance. Honestly, English weddings could never. This is so much more fun than doing the Cha Cha Slide.
Glancing across the dance floor, I can see that even Andrea’s nonna is joining in as best she can, sitting on a chair, whipping a white napkin around like a lasso. Honestly, she’s so beyond amazing for her age.
‘Shall we dance with Nonna?’ Andrea suggests, obviously following my gaze.
‘Let’s do it,’ I reply, eager to join in the fun, but not exactly sure how we’re going to do it.
We make our way over to Nonna, who greets us with a warm smile. She takes my hand, squeezing it tightly, and begins to move to the music with me.
‘Mamma!’ Andrea calls out, beckoning his mother over.
Antonia quickly joins us, taking Nonna’s other hand, and before I know it, Andrea is lifting his nonna ’s chair and stepping into the circle. We all move in and out, Hokey Cokey style, until the song finishes.
I can’t believe how amazing Andrea is, helping his gran to join in with the dancing like this. And I definitely can’t believe that Nonna will be one hundred tomorrow.
As the song comes to an end, everyone cheers, and Andrea puts his nonna back down safely on the ground. She shouts something to him.
‘Nonna says she really likes you,’ Andrea tells me with a grin. ‘She says you’re perfect for the family. She said she thought that I was going to be a playboy forever, but that you’re good for me.’
I smile, touched by his nonna ’s kind words. It’s moments like these that make me feel like I belong here, even if it’s just for a little while.
I know that none of this is real, not really, but it’s nice to pretend while I can.
Now, where are those dessert courses?