Lucy Gordon - Married Under the Italian Sun

‘Mio Dio!’ he said. ‘“Ghastly Gavin.”’

A loud snort of laughter from Sam greeted this, while Roy and Frank smothered grins. Gavin wisely pretended not to notice. It gave Angel a moment to get over her first surprise and study him.

She’d thought she knew how he looked, but the magazine pictures had only partly prepared her. He was heavier, flabbier, with an unhealthy, pasty face that spoke of self-indulgence. At nineteen she had thought him fantastically gorgeous. Now there was just enough of that Adonis left amid the ruin to make her sad.

‘Hello Gavin,’ she said.

‘Angel!’ He approached her with his arms outstretched, voice throaty with emotion. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘Yes, hasn’t it?’ she said with faint amusement, before being swallowed up in an embrace that was so heavy with the cheapest brand of male cologne, nearly making her choke.

‘Sam!’ Gavin turned on him with even more fulsomeness, ready to embrace him too, but Sam was ready for him.

‘Get off!’ he spluttered. ‘Who are you? I don’t know you.’

‘Of course you know me. We used to be the best of friends.’

‘No, we didn’t. I don’t know you. And I don’t like you.’

‘Sure you do.’

‘Don’t you tell me what I like, young man. Keep away from me. You smell like a brothel.’

Gavin’s smile became a little frayed and Angel, deciding it was time she remembered her duty as hostess, hastily introduced Roy, Frank and Vittorio as ‘family friends’.

‘It’s lovely to see you again, Gavin,’ she lied. ‘But how do you come to be here?’

‘I was just passing and I knew my old friend Angel lived nearby, so I thought I’d drop in.’

It was so absurd that Angel almost laughed out loud, but instead contented herself with saying, ‘When you knew me I was Angela. I was never Angel to you.’

‘But I always thought you were an angel,’ he riposted quickly. ‘Do you think you and I could talk-privately?’

He invested the last word with a throaty emotion that was almost too much for her self-control.

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re about to have something to eat, but you’re welcome to join us.’

‘He damned well isn’t,’ Sam growled.

‘Come on, Sam,’ she coaxed. ‘He’s our guest.’

‘He’s no guest of mine. I don’t want him in the house.’

‘But it’s Angel’s house,’ Gavin said, smiling ferociously.

‘I wonder how you knew that,’ Vittorio mused aloud to no one in particular. ‘You must have been reading glossy magazines.’

‘Throw him out,’ Sam yelled.

‘I can’t send a guest on his way without something to eat,’ Angel protested.

‘All right, give him something to eat. Then throw him out.’

From the hall there came a cry and the sound of crockery hitting the floor. Angel turned to leave the room, but she was met at the door by Berta, who was flustered and annoyed.

‘ Scusi , signora. Ella has had an accident in the hall and broken some plates, but it was not her fault as she fell over two suitcases that she didn’t know were there.’

‘No, of course it wasn’t her fault. Give Ella a glass of wine and tell her to sit down for a while.’

They had spoken Italian but when Angel turned back to face Gavin it was clear that he’d understood the gist.

‘I brought a few things with me,’ he said with a placating air. ‘I thought you might ask me to stay.’

‘ Two suitcases?’ she enquired sweetly.

‘I’m a snappy dresser.’

‘Throw him out,’ Sam protested.

‘Gavin, I’m sorry I can’t invite you for a long visit, but you can stay tonight.’

‘No, he can’t.’ Sam sulked.

‘One night will be just fine,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s enough for me just to see you again.’

‘I’m going to be sick,’ Sam announced loudly.

Vittorio met his eye and winked.

Dinner was a fraught business. Angel’s attempts to persuade Sam that he would rather eat in his room had met with a blank refusal.

‘Well, don’t sit there being rude to him all evening,’ she begged.

‘Why not? I never liked him.’

‘You said you didn’t remember meeting him before.’

‘I don’t. Aha! But you say I did,’ Sam replied.

‘Oh, you’re so sharp! Yes, you did. I was dating him before I met Joe.’

‘Well, there you are, then. I told you I never liked him.’

She waylaid Vittorio to say, ‘I hope you’re planning to stay.’

‘Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’

‘You realise you started the problem with that “Ghastly Gavin” crack.’

‘It’s no crime to tell the truth. And I’m fascinated to discover what your taste used to be.’

‘I was very young then,’ Angel said defensively. ‘And he was a lot slimmer.’

Vittorio grinned.

‘Just help keep Sam in order, please. There’s no knowing what he’ll say tonight.’

‘Really? I’d have thought we could guess exactly what he’ll say. And no power on earth will stop him.’

In the event the evening was so dire as to be almost entertaining. Sam expressed himself loudly and often, ignoring all attempts to shush him. Vittorio, Angel noted with exasperation, was actually encouraging him.

Only Gavin seemed oblivious to the darts headed his way. He had set himself to play the part of a much-loved old friend whose visit was a matter for rejoicing, and nothing was going to divert him. It didn’t matter that the audience was unresponsive and the performance fell flat. It was the role he’d prepared, and he stuck with it.

But he wasn’t the only one playing a part. As the meal ended Sam grinned at Vittorio and said knowingly, ‘You’re drinking well tonight, my boy. I’ve never seen you putting it away like that.’

Since Vittorio had been notably abstemious that evening, everyone stared at this, except Vittorio himself, who said, ‘Sorry, Sam. Do you think I’ve had too much?’

‘Too much to be driving home along a cliff road. You’d better stay here tonight. No problem about that, is there?’ This was to Angel.

‘No problem at all,’ she said, appreciating these tactics, and thinking that Sam could sometimes be more shrewd than anyone guessed.

All Gavin’s cleverness wasn’t enough to have Angel to himself. After supper Vittorio pinned him down to talk about motor cars, which Angel interrupted just long enough to say goodnight, before vanishing.

Then Roy and Frank emerged from putting Sam to bed, and suggested a nightcap. One brandy became three, then four. Gavin was finally assisted to his room by Vittorio, who dumped him on the bed before retiring to spend the rest of the night on a window seat from which he could see Gavin’s door.

Gavin finally secured a private moment with Angel after breakfast the next morning, but this was less because of his own efforts than because Angel, exasperated, had decided to get it over with so that she could be rid of him. So she led him out onto the terrace.

‘I thought we’d never be alone,’ he said, in what he fondly hoped was a winning voice.

‘Well, we’re all rather busy.’

‘I can see that, but I don’t have to go immediately. If we could only spend a few days getting to know each other again…’

‘Sam would never agree to that.’

‘Sam’s very protective of you, and I don’t blame him.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Angel replied, suppressing a desire to laugh.

‘He remembers how close we once were.’

She was about to remind him that Sam didn’t remember him at all, but decided not to bother. There was no diverting him from his self-deception, and the sooner he got to the end of his prepared script the better.