Lucy Gordon - Gino’s Arranged Bride

At the end of the evening he asked if he could give her a lift home.

‘Thank you, that would be-’ Laura stopped, her attention caught by something she saw in the corner. ‘No, I don’t think so. Thank you anyway.’

He followed her gaze. ‘I see. A boyfriend?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘My brother. Goodnight.’

Laura put on her coat and headed for the corner.

‘Hey,’ she said, shaking Gino’s shoulder. ‘Wake up.’

‘Hm? Oh, hello.’

‘It’s time to go.’

He looked at the half full glass of beer.

‘It’s flat,’ he mourned. ‘How long since I dozed off?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know you were here.’

‘No, your boss served me. All right, I’m coming.’

He hauled himself sleepily out of his seat and followed her out into the street, dropping a casual hand on her shoulder.

‘You may have to support me home,’ he said.

‘How many did you have before you fell asleep?’

‘No idea. That’s the idea of falling asleep. It wipes the slate clean.’

‘Does it?’ she asked severely.

‘Oh, hush, you sound like a grandmother.’

‘You make me feel like a grandmother,’ she said. ‘Or an aunt. You need looking after.’

‘Wash your hands of me,’ he said gloomily. ‘I’m a hopeless case.’

She said no more until they were in the kitchen.

‘Sit,’ she said, pointing to a chair.

‘Like I’m a dog,’ he protested.

‘Yes. Now be a good boy and sit. ’

He did so, and remained there obediently while she put on the kettle, and went upstairs to check on Nikki. When she returned the kettle was boiling and she made instant coffee, which she set before him.

That brought him to life.

‘ English coffee ? Instant? Good grief woman, are you trying to kill me?’

‘No, I’m trying to sober you up.’

He gave her a look and, rising, started to make real coffee in the percolator, both of which he had bought and presented to the kitchen. Laura smiled quietly to herself. At least she’d got him going.

The coffee he set before her was perfect, strong, sweet-smelling, Italian.

‘Mm,’ she said appreciatively.

‘You must let me teach you to make coffee,’ he growled.

‘Nah, it’s wasted on the English.’

‘True.’

They sat in companionable silence for a while.

‘So, who is she?’ Laura risked asking at last.

‘Who’s who?’

‘The woman in the photo last night. That is what this is all about, isn’t it?’

For a moment she thought he would slide away from the question, but at last he said, ‘Her name is Alex. She came to Tuscany last year. She’d inherited a claim on our farm.’

‘Our?’

‘My brother, Rinaldo, and me.’ Gino’s voice became wry and slightly cynical. ‘We couldn’t afford to pay her, so it was obvious one of us would have to marry her. We tossed a coin.’

‘You what ?’

‘We tossed a coin. Don’t say it-’ he held up a hand as if to ward her off. ‘Disgraceful, despicable, chauvinist, anything you like. And I’ll tell you something that’ll annoy you even more. Rinaldo won, and immediately said he wasn’t interested and she was all mine.’ He grinned. ‘If you could see your face!’

‘The pair of you deserve to have your heads banged together. I hope she taught you both a lesson.’

He was silent a moment before saying quietly, ‘Let’s just say that she made her own choice.’

‘And it wasn’t you?’ she said gently.

He shrugged.

Her brief indignation died. Whatever boyish games he’d played at the start, the result had devastated him, so that now he was still wandering in a wilderness.

‘You seemed to be having fun in that picture,’ she said.

‘That was the Feast of St Romauld, last year, in Florence. The three of us went together. I don’t even remember when the picture was taken, but it was a good evening.’

Suddenly he said, ‘It’s dangerous to laugh.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘People think that’s all you can do. “Oh, it’s only Gino. He’ll laugh it off. All life is a joke to him.” Only then-suddenly it isn’t funny-but they don’t realise. And you can start hating people.’

‘I can’t imagine you hating anyone,’ Laura said.

‘It’s frighteningly easy when you get started. You have to keep reminding yourself that these are people you mustn’t hate, because if you do, you’ve got no one left to love. But then-’

His voice trailed off into silence. He was looking at something she couldn’t see. Laura wondered if he still knew that she was there.

‘Gino,’ she said softly, laying a hand on his arm.

He made a sudden sound of impatience. ‘Listen to me. I’m getting maudlin.’

‘I’m a good listener,’ she said.

‘Thanks but there’s nothing to talk about. Love comes and goes every day.’

‘Not real love. If it’s very real and true-as I think it was with you-it changes the course of your life. It changes you . Gino, I’m not trying to pry, truly, but you’re always there if I need a shoulder to cry on. Can’t I do the same for you?’

He smiled. ‘Bless you, but who’s crying? I got over Alex months ago.’

And if you believed that, Laura thought, you’d believe anything. But it was clear that he’d confided more than he’d meant to, and was now backtracking in self-protection.

He squeezed her hand briefly and went upstairs to bed.

T HEman at the bar was the same one who’d claimed Laura’s attention the night before. Gino recalled seeing him just before he himself had nodded off.

He seemed to be in his early forties, tall, heavily built, with a good head of hair, expensively dressed. When he laughed he showed white, regular teeth. Surveying him critically, Gino supposed that many women would have called him handsome. Certainly Laura seemed to enjoy his company. She was laughing freely and with no sign of tension.

For a moment she was the girl of the snapshots, before grief and worry wore her down. Some part of that girl was still there, he thought, just as her face was still beautiful with that light glowing from within.

The man seized her hand and kissed the back of it. She remonstrated, but not very severely. It took a wave from another customer to recall her to her duties, looking flushed and a little embarrassed.

Gino slipped quietly out of the pub.

At home he lay on his bed, fully dressed, and went downstairs when he heard Laura come in. She was in the kitchen, humming as she made the tea. She pointed to a cup and he nodded.

‘You sound happy,’ he said.

‘No, not especially,’ she said with a touch of self-consciousness. ‘Well, maybe a bit.’

‘A good evening in the pub?’

‘Yes, business was brisk.’

‘I expect you meet a lot of smart-asses, who think a barmaid is fair game,’ he said casually.

‘You know I do. You’ve seen them.’

‘I don’t mean the old boys, but the younger ones might be more of a handful.’

‘I know how to deal with them. Nobody fools with me.’

‘Nobody?’

‘Not unless I let them.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh.’

‘Is something the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ he said hastily.

‘You sounded funny.’

‘I’m just a bit tired. I’ll drink this and go to bed.’

He was a little put out by her refusal to confide in him. They were supposed to be friends, weren’t they?

But he told himself that it was her business if she didn’t want to talk about it. And with that he had to be satisfied.

Every morning, in the packing department, a variety of attractive young women would compete to bring Gino his tea.