Jules Wake - From Rome with Love - Escape the winter blues with the perfect feel-good romance!

‘It’s important, but I finally found the sweetest spot. The old post-office building on the High Street.’

‘Really? It looks a bit grot.’

‘It won’t by the time I’ve finished.’ Will’s quiet, confident declaration was no idle boast. When they’d lived in the village as teenagers, the pub had been the haunt of elderly men who nursed one pint over endless dominoes marathons. He’d transformed this place.

‘Hmm.’ She didn’t have the imagination for that sort of thing. ‘What sort of food are you going to do?’

‘Authentic Italian. Want to come and work for me?’

‘No thanks …’ Although there was no point cutting her nose off; the extra money would come in handy – as a teaching assistant she was only paid for term-time. ‘Well, maybe in the holidays, but I’m only half Italian, so probably not authentic enough,’ she added.

‘I’m not that fussy.’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘A waitress is a waitress.’

‘Don’t we know it,’ snapped Lisa. With a sniff she flounced off into the pub. He could bloody well get on with it, then.

‘Hey, Lisa.’ Siena tossed down her tea towel and stepped out from behind the bar to give Lisa a swift hug. ‘You looked seriously pissed off.’

‘Flat tyre.’ Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘I got it on the way here.’ And a run-in with her least-favourite person on the planet.

‘Bummer. Do you need to call someone?’ Siena shrugged, with her usual Gallic charm. Although English, she’d spent most of her life in France and had been born with a silver spoon in her red-lipped little bouche . Lisa smiled. She couldn’t imagine Siena even attempting to change a tyre.

‘Will’s changing it for me.’ Lisa flashed her friend a wicked grin.

‘Is he now?’ Siena raised one of her elegantly arched eyebrows, managing to combine surprise and feline amusement with a mere shapely lift.

‘He might as well make himself useful for a change.’ Lisa put down her bag on one of the bar stools and hopped up on the other one. ‘We could be here for a while. I could murder a drink. You don’t mind staying here for a bit, do you?’

‘No, suits me.’ Siena wiped her hands on a tea towel. ‘Might even get a few on the house, if Will’s feeling in a good mood.’

Lisa doubted that even Pollyanna would be hard pressed to maintain a sunny disposition after having changed a tyre.

‘Give me five minutes to finish tidying up in the kitchen and I’ll join you out here. Marcus will get you a drink, won’t you?’ Siena called over to the shaggy bear of a barman, busy replenishing the glass racks from the under-counter dishwasher. ‘Be a sweetie and pour me my usual.’

‘Hey Lisa, babe. How you doing? What’s it to be?’ Marcus spoke with a lovely Edinburgh burr, which Lisa could never get enough of. His accent brought back a vague memory of her mother, who’d been brought up in Scotland. She had a singular recollection of being very young and visiting there and being very put out that she never saw a single man in a kilt. Wasn’t it supposed to be the national costume?

Half-Scottish and half-Italian, she’d barely left Bedfordshire in years. She ought to remedy that one of these days.

‘G&T, please.’

‘I see Siena’s been educating you. What sort of gin do you want? Dorothy Parker, Bombay Sapphire, Hendricks?’

‘Hendricks, with cucumber.’ Lisa grinned at him. ‘I’m getting a taste for it, see, although I’d better stick to one as there’ll be Prosecco at Siena’s and I’m driving in the morning. Can’t overdo it. I’ve got to take Nan for a hospital appointment.’

‘How is the wee battle-axe?’

‘Battling. She’s so rude to the consultant.’

‘At her age, she’s allowed to be.’

‘No, at her age she should know better. Dr Gupta speaks perfectly good English and Nan insists she can’t understand a word he’s saying.’

‘Is he English?’

‘No,’ Lisa giggled. ‘He’s got the strongest Northern Irish accent I’ve ever heard: born and bred in Belfast. She’s being contrary because he’s clearly British despite his name and the colour of his skin.’

‘She’s from a different generation, I guess.’

‘My mum married an Italian; you’d have thought she might have got used to it. There’s no excuse. She’s just being rude.’

Will walked into the pub, wiping his black hands, about half an hour later. ‘All done. I’ve put the spare on. You’ll need to take the other one to the garage, see if it can be repaired or buy a new one.’

‘Thank you. Very much.’ She grimaced. Yeah, she knew about the tyres, but buying a new spare was going to wipe out the pathetic little rainy-day fund she’d scrimped and saved for.

When Siena’s lips twitched, Lisa realised how it had looked. ‘I am … very grateful. Er … can I buy you a drink?’

Will looked at the bar, again with that amused smirk.

‘Okay, you own the place,’ she said. ‘It was a gesture.’

He grinned at her, unabashed, but then, when was he ever abashed – or whatever the opposite was?

As she turned to look away, he said, ‘Do you know what …?’ She frowned.

‘Changing tyres is thirsty work. I’ll have a pint.’ Typical, now he was being contrary.

With a wink at Siena, he added. ‘Married in May will do nicely.’

Siena smiled, leaning back in her chair with one of her cool, unperturbed Gallic shrugs. ‘Tease all you want, it’s Jason’s best-selling beer.’ Her look said it all. She was very proud of her boyfriend, Jason, who’d set up a successful micro-brewery in the barn complex at the back of the pub.

‘I can’t believe he went and named it that. It was meant to be a joke.’ Will nudged Siena. ‘That’s what falling in love does for you. Rots your brain cells. Head over heels! More like arse about tit.’

Siena sipped her gin. ‘Mock all you like. We’re very happy and you … I think, are just jealous.’

‘Jealous. Yeah, right.’ Will sneered, although when he did it to Siena, he did it with a smile. ‘You keep believing that, sweet cheeks.’

‘I will,’ quipped Siena, with her usual insouciance.

Lisa caught Marcus’s eye with a nod and ordered Will’s drink.

‘There you go.’

‘Thank you. And make sure you do get a spare sorted.’

‘Anyone would think you cared,’ said Lisa, raising a deliberately cheeky smile. It wouldn’t do to let Will know how much he needled her.

‘No, I don’t want some poor other sod to spend half an hour getting a wheel off, only to find there’s no spare.’

He always had an answer.

Luckily, he took a few sips of his pint and retreated to prop up the bar and chat to Marcus, far enough away that Lisa could talk to Siena without Will butting in, as he was prone to doing.

‘You’ve got that grumpy “I-hate-Will” face on again,’ said Siena, with her uncanny white-witch sense.

‘No I haven’t. See.’ Lisa plastered a happy smile on her face. She lifted her drink and took a sip. ‘I’m getting a taste for this gin malarkey.’

Siena ignored her attempt to change the subject. ‘Yes, you have. Honestly you two, you’re like a brother and sister, with all the bickering. You shouldn’t let him get to you.’ She gave Lisa a stern look. ‘He’s doing it on purpose, just because he gets a response. Ignore him. He’s like one of those silly schoolboys in the playground.’

Lisa massaged the tight muscle in her right shoulder. ‘I know. He’s an idiot.’

But ignoring him was easier said than done. He did everything he could to wind her up. Regret pinched at her. Once they’d had a bantering, fun friendship, where they’d take the piss out of each other constantly, but after one hideously misjudged night, they’d gone from nought to snide in twenty-four hours. If only it were possible to turn the clock back, she never would have kissed him.