English Rose for the Sicilian Doc

‘Kiss him. You know.’ William pressed his lips together tight, and then touched his hand to his mouth.

‘No. Not like that.’ It wasn’t entirely a lie. That wasn’t anything like the way that Matteo had kissed her.

William heaved a sigh. ‘If you didn’t kiss him, then we’re not going back.’

Perhaps it was better to let it go at that. If William’s logic made sense of it all, then that was more than she could do.

She knew that Matteo had meant what he’d said, and that was what made it all so impossible. They would have to change both their lives irrevocably in order to stay together, and if she messed up this time, where would that leave them? It would hurt both Matteo and William, and that wasn’t something that she was prepared to do.

‘Tell you what, let’s go somewhere tomorrow?’

William brightened immediately. ‘Where?’

‘Where would you like to go? There’s the park, or we could go to the petting zoo. Or we could go to the cinema and then go for burgers.’ Rose tried to think of all of William’s favourite places.

‘The...zoo.’ William let go of her hand and ran ahead of her, climbing on the front gate and letting it swing.

If only it were that simple to stop herself from thinking about Matteo. The way he touched her, the way he made her laugh, or let her shout whatever she happened to be feeling out loud if she wanted to, and let the breeze catch it and blow it away. The way he’d started out as a lover, turned into the best friend that she’d ever had, and now into the deepest heartbreak that she could ever have imagined.

* * *

Matteo’s plane touched down at London Heathrow just after noon. Although it was June and therefore summer, the sky was a mass of dark grey cloud.

This was one of the things he liked about London. You never really knew what was going to happen next. In Sicily, you could lie in bed in the morning, your eyes firmly closed, and know that it was probably sunny outside. There was a certain advantage to that, particularly since Matteo happened to like the sun, but there was also a predictability about it all. A June day in London could bring anything from freezing winds and hailstones to blue skies and sunshine.

That fitted his purpose entirely. Not knowing what to expect meant that he had to be ready for anything. And he had a week for that anything to happen. He could make his way straight over to his sister’s house, settle in and call some old friends to see whether they were free. Or he could address the real object of his visit.

He took his phone from his pocket, switching it out of flight mode and waiting impatiently while it found a signal. Then he dialled Rose’s number, wondering whether she would answer.

She didn’t. He hadn’t really expected that it would be that easy. He sighed, put his phone back into his pocket and looked for the signs that pointed the way to the Underground.

His phone buzzed and he hooked it back out of his pocket as he walked. Then stopped short, apologising to the woman behind him who almost tripped over his suitcase and staring at the text.

Did you call me?

The trouble with a text was that it didn’t transmit any inflection to the words. They could be accusatory, or happy, or... He decided that going through all the possible options wasn’t going to get him anywhere, and called Rose’s number again.

‘You did call me, then.’ There wasn’t a great deal to be gleaned from her tone either. If anything, it could be called pleasant, the kind of tone you adopted to use on the phone with someone you hardly knew.

‘Yes, I did. How are you placed for coffee? This afternoon sometime?’ Matteo held the phone away from his ear slightly, ready for the possibility that Rose might either scream at him or throw the phone out of the window.

‘Coffee...?’

She said the word as if she’d never heard of coffee, but that was better than an outright no. The thought occurred to Matteo that maybe her composure was because she’d got over him and moved on. If she had then maybe that would be the answer he was looking for. There would be no hope and he could return home a free man.

He decided to press on, in the hope that she wouldn’t stop him. ‘I’ve got a few things to do first, but I’m free any time after four. How about Borough Market? We can get coffee there and then take a walk maybe. If it’s not raining.’

There was a long pause. ‘Borough Market...? Raining...?’

‘Yes, down by London Bridge...’

‘I know where Borough Market is. And it’s a bit of a long way for me to come for coffee.’

He’d come a lot further. But something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t talking about a couple of extra stops on the Tube. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m at work, on site. In Sicily. Where are you?’

‘Heathrow Airport.’