Samantha Tonge - One Summer in Rome - a deliciously uplifting summer romance!

Perhaps it simply meant happiness, as the customers certainly appeared cheerful. As for the group standing in front, the middle-aged man was Alfonso. Portly. Hairless – apart from an impressive moustache. And chunky fingers giving a wide-fingered wave. His whole face shouted Welcome ! – although his expression triggered a sense of sadness and she wasn’t quite sure why. In the end she decided it was because the smile only came from his mouth, not his eyes.

She recognised him easily from her Skype interview. He wanted another English waitress, like Sarah. Apparently with her GCSE in Italian and experience in catering Mary had outshone the other candidates. He was effusive and friendly and immediately put her at ease.

Alfonso’s arm was draped around the shoulders of a woman in her early twenties – that was bubbly Natale, who’d joined him during the interview to say hello. What a beautiful floral dress and long brunette waves that could have starred in any shampoo advert. She looked like Catherine Zeta Jones out of Jill’s favourite old show, The Darling Buds of May .

Natale held hands with a little girl – no doubt the granddaughter, six-year-old Lucia, with her mop of black curls. A real Mediterranean Annie with a scampish grin, except she was no orphan; she was surrounded by family. Perhaps Mary should have felt a pang of envy, but she didn’t. Lucia looked around the age she was when Mary’s grandparents had handed her over to Social Services and she never saw her mum again.

To the left stood a slim man, perhaps in his early thirties, with a high hairline and Harry Potter glasses. He wore black trousers, a white shirt, and black bow tie. In his hand was a pen. He looked like someone with little time to spare. That had to be Rocco, the head waiter the family employed. Sarah didn’t get on with him – said he’d always been standoffish. Her stomach squeezed. Was it just bad luck that the camera had caught him frowning?

Finally, her gaze settled upon …

A tide of heat spread up her neck. A sensation she hadn’t experienced for months. To the right, next to Natale, that had to be Dante. Broad. Bronzed. Thick, burnt-caramel hair. She couldn’t determine his height as he crouched, one hand casually in his pocket. The other wrapped gently around the most adorable-looking dog. That’s what pulled Mary in most. Such tenderness, as if the pet was his most precious possession ever. Dante wore a wide smile – or was he simply squinting, in the sunlight? Mary wished he wasn’t wearing those trendy aviator sunglasses, but they matched what looked like expensive designer jeans that perfectly showed off his strong thighs.

She’d wondered why he’d kept so quiet on Skype as Alfonso had encouraged Natale to ask questions and said it was a family interview. He’d simply sat in the background looking stern. Jill had mentioned something about a tragedy the whole family suffered a couple of years ago. Plus something about Dante facing his own problems. Looking for clues, she scrutinised his face. Did he have a drink problem? A physical illness? Depression? She looked at her watch. It wasn’t long before she’d find out.

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