Chapter 41
Phoebe hardly recognises her flat. The empty space is now filled with a dining table and a colourful mismatch of chairs and there’s a big jug of tulips in the middle that Sandra insisted on buying as a house warming present.
‘But I already told you, I’ve lived here for years.’
‘I know. But that doesn’t mean your home didn’t need warming.’
In the middle of the living room is the tangerine sofa which goes perfectly with the bright yellow back wall that they painted with the help of Rosie, who Jay dropped off in the afternoon when she needed a feed. She was mostly very content in the sling on Kate’s chest, holding a small paintbrush in one hand. When she grew grizzly, Phoebe could sense Kate starting to become anxious, but she was quickly passed around the group for cuddles and both of them soon calmed down.
Now, the early-evening sun slants in through the window, turning the yellow wall to a sun-kissed gold.
‘It really does look great,’ says Kate, cuddling Rosie, who is now fast asleep in her arms.
‘Thank you,’ Phoebe says with meaning. ‘All of you, thank you so much. This place looks like a home now, thanks to you.’
She still isn’t certain what her next chapter looks like and whether she will be able to stay living here, but for now, this place looks like home.
‘Oh, by the way, my boss approved the mental health wild swimming group. The first meet-up is tomorrow. I’m not sure if anyone will come, though …’
She still hasn’t received replies from any of her patients.
‘We can be there, if it would help?’ suggests Kate, rocking Rosie back and forth gently. The others nod in agreement.
‘Really? That would be great, if you don’t mind. It would be nice to feel that there’s a group there. So that even if just one patient turns up, they won’t be on their own.’
‘We’ll be there.’
Once they’re gone, Phoebe looks around the flat again, taking it all in appreciatively. As her eyes fall on her new orange sofa, an image flashes involuntarily into her mind of the muscles tautening across Luca’s shoulders as he carried the front end up the stairs and Phoebe followed behind, trying to concentrate on her footing and not the sight in front of her. He headed back to the deli once everything was in and Phoebe has tried very hard all afternoon to not think about the fact that, as they’ve been painting and chatting up here, he’s been working just below them.
Now that the place is looking so homely, she doesn’t like the thought of there being awkwardness between her and her downstairs neighbour. She doesn’t want anything to encroach on her happy little oasis. She needs to bloody well pull her polka-dot socks up and clear the air. She’ll explain that the mad moment the other week was down to a long day and too much wine and then they can move on.
She marches decisively down the stairs. As she does, the sound of Magic FM rises up from beneath her. When she pushes open the door to the deli, she stops in her tracks. A couple of the tables have been pushed to one side to create more space on the floor. In the middle of that space are Luca and the older gentleman who was there earlier. The pair of them are dancing, Van Morrison’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ playing loudly through the speakers.
Luca is a surprisingly good dancer, twisting his hips and stepping his feet in perfect time to the music, his apron swinging slightly as he moves. The customer, however, is terrible. But he dances with such enthusiasm that you almost don’t notice. Almost.
Phoebe pauses in the doorway for a moment, watching them as they dance, completely oblivious to her presence. But suddenly Luca looks up and spots her there. The older man looks up then too, stopping his dancing and letting out a loud puff of air.
‘Ciao!’ he says warmly.
‘Er, sorry,’ Luca mumbles. ‘I hope the music didn’t disturb you upstairs.’ He turns down the volume.
‘Ah, so you’re the neighbour,’ his dancing companion says, adjusting his trousers which have become rumpled from the dancing. ‘Scusa! I asked him to turn it up. That was my wife’s favourite song.’
‘Your wife?’
The man points to the sign at the back of the shop, where golden writing swirls across the wall. ‘My Giuglia.’
He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes.
Luca looks up from beneath his dark curls, his eyes meeting hers. He smiles nervously, but there’s a flicker of that expression she’s seen a couple of times before, a slight darkening of his eyes as a shadow passes across them. They continue to stare at each other, neither one of them saying anything, although Phoebe wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear her heart thumping.
‘Anyway,’ the old man says pointedly, ‘I should go.’ He picks up his paper from the counter and kisses Luca on both cheeks. ‘Ciao, mio caro.’
‘Bye, Dad.’
He raises his paper to Phoebe as he leaves, giving her a little nod. And then it’s just Phoebe and Luca alone in the deli, Luca standing still but shifting a few dishes and bowls of food about on the counter, not making eye contact with her.
‘You can really dance,’ Phoebe says, not knowing where else to start.
He looks up and she gets another jolt as their eyes meet.
‘Ah. Well, I don’t do it very often. My mum was the one who could really dance. I guess I inherited the gift from her. That and her hair.’ He gestures at his wild curls.
‘You got some of her best bits then,’ she says without thinking.
They don’t look away from one another and there’s something about the way he looks at her that reminds her of that night. It’s the same look that made her step towards him, tilting her face towards his. Surely she can’t be imagining the energy that passes between them? But then she reminds herself of how he reacted then, the way he stepped back so suddenly, creating distance between them.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Her best bit was her smile.’
Your smile is pretty great too, she wants to say but stops herself just in time.
‘When did she pass away?’
He leans back against the counter where his mother’s name runs along the wall behind him.
‘A few months ago. Although she was ill for quite a while; it’s why I moved back to this area, to be closer to my dad.’
‘Where were you living before?’
‘I was in Canary Wharf with my then-girlfriend. We both worked in the City. But when Mum got sick … Well, it didn’t really align with her vision of our future.’
Phoebe thinks back to when she mentioned her bad break-up to Luca earlier when they moved the furniture. I know about those, he’d said.
‘I’m sorry, that’s awful.’
He shrugs lightly. ‘It was tough. All of it – the break-up, Mum’s illness, eventually losing her …’ He drifts off, the pain so visible now in his face that Phoebe can’t believe she hadn’t spotted it before. She’d mistaken it for surliness or perhaps tiredness. And she calls herself a professional … ‘This place and the river have helped me through. I might not make it out to row as much as I’d like, but when I do, it’s like everything else disappears for a bit.’
No wonder he didn’t see or hear them in the water that first time they met. Phoebe had thought he was selfish, focused on recording his time on his fancy watch.
‘And then, when I’m in here, I feel like I’m closer to her. Mum always dreamt of opening a place like this,’ he continues, gesturing around him at the shelves stocked with Italian produce. ‘We used to cook together all the time when I was little. After she died … Well, I thought that if she never got the chance to make her dream a reality …’
‘Then you could,’ she finishes for him.
He nods, silently blinking and biting his bottom lip, as though surprised by all the words that have just come tumbling out.
‘You’ve done a great job. I’m sure she’d love it here.’
‘Thank you.’
She takes the silence that follows as her chance.
‘About the other night,’ she begins, deciding that after everything he’s just shared she has no excuses for not finding the courage to apologise about her drunken misstep, but before she can finish, he interrupts.
‘Have you ever been rowing?’
The question throws her so much that she has no idea how to reply at first.
‘Um … I … No.’
‘Do you want to? With me?’
He looks directly at her now. Everything that she was going to say to him is still right there on her tongue, but his question has completely thrown her. Is he asking her on a date? And if he is, how does she feel about it? She told herself after Max that she wouldn’t date. She’s clearly terrible at it. And it’s Luca, the man who nearly rowed her off the river when they first met. But after hearing him open up about his mum, the noisy neighbour and the man who nearly rowed into them on the river are gone. In their place is a man who uses cooking to remember his mum and rowing to forget.
So, even though things still feel uncertain between them, it doesn’t take long for her to reply. ‘Yes. I’ve always liked the idea of giving rowing a go.’
Which is about as true as her making out to her patient Ben that she has even the slightest interest in Match of the Day.