The Star in my Eye - 6. Chapter 6

As the following week passed by, the weather grew steadily colder thanks to a string of clear nights. On the morning of the last Saturday before Christmas, Gianni awoke to find a nip of frost in the air. Outside, the uneven paving stones glittered with a faint suggestion of ice. For the first time, he was reminded of those cold winter mornings back in London.

Angelo was tied up finishing a last-minute carpentry job in Scala, but Gianni seized the opportunity to give Sami a taste of the winter morning walks he remembered from his own childhood. Knowing that the frost would probably not last for long once the morning sun got to work on it, he walked the little boy back up the winding stairway after breakfast, heading straight for the panoramic gardens of the Villa Cimbrone. He had stowed his digital camera safely in his pocket, hoping to capture some of the magic.

The gardens were laid out on a plateau at the outermost edge of the rocky mountain crag on which Ravello stood. From the grand old entrance gates next to the villa itself, an eclectic old pile complete with cloister and a crenellated tower, a central avenue scythed out through the formal gardens straight to the Terrace of Infinity, a stone platform which offered an unparalleled view down over the coast some four hundred metres below.

Crowned with umbrella pines and tall, thin cypress trees, much of the gardens maintained a green feel, even in the winter. However, there were also open lawns and terraces that Gianni knew would not have escaped the frosty weather.

As usual, Angelo’s cousin Viola was manning the ticket kiosk. A bespectacled woman in her forties who usually dressed in an eccentric, Bohemian way, today she was so heavily swaddled in thick winter clothes that Gianni honestly couldn’t tell what she was wearing. She had on the heaviest of winter coats and a long, fluffy scarf. The only gesture to her usual dress sense was a colourful brooch of a swallowtail butterfly that she had pinned to the turned-up rim of her woolly hat.

Shivering slightly in her unheated, wooden hut, Viola smiled bravely.

“Buongiorno, Gianni,” she said. “I’m not sure how many visitors I’m really expecting today. You’re my first!” She leaned forwards so she could smile down at Sami, who was wrapped up so heavily that he looked like a ball with legs. “Ciao, caro!”

Sami smiled uncertainly back up at her, clinging to Gianni’s left hand.

“Ciao, Viola,” Gianni replied, reaching for his wallet with his free hand, but she waved it away.

“Please, come in as my guests,” she said. “Call it a thank you for inviting me to Angelo’s party last weekend. It was beautiful!”

“Thanks,” Gianni replied. He glanced sympathetically at her primitive accommodation. “Couldn’t they at least give you a fan heater, or something?”

Viola glanced ruefully around at her wooden surroundings. “That might start a fire… although, that would keep me a little warmer…”

They moved on. Gianni glanced down at Sami, wondering if Viola’s joke might have upset him, but the little boy’s mind seemed to be on other things. He was gazing around curiously, looking at the patches of frost that had settled on the more exposed patches of ground.

In the summer, the central avenue would be lined with lush foliage. For now, the grape vines that trailed over the pergola overhead were bare apart from the next year’s buds, and the hydrangeas that lined the side of the path were a faded purple-green.

A long, open lawn lined the nearest seaward side of the crag, dotted with statues and dormant herbaceous borders. Here, the frost had settled in earnest. It sparkled on every blade of grass, draping the lawn in a translucent blanket of white.

Sami crouched down low, cocking his head curiously and moving from side to side as he watched the frost sparkle.

“This is coo’,” he said. “Is it snow?”

Gianni chuckled. “Snow?” he replied. “No, snow is much cooler than this. Snow is like rain, but it falls as soft ice, and it piles up on the ground.” He mimed gathering it up with his hands. “If you pack it up like this, you can do fun stuff like having a snowball fight.”

Sami’s eyes widened. “Fight?” he asked.

Gianni smiled. “It doesn’t hurt. I hope you’ll get to do it someday, but it hardly ever snows here.” He fished out his camera. “Come on, Sami. Strike a pose.”

Sami stood up straight and grinned, revealing his first two adult teeth, so much larger than the milk teeth around them. Lining up his shot carefully, Gianni snapped a picture down the length of the garden, framed by a pair of statues, with the pale blue of the winter sky and sea blending seamlessly in the distance.

Anna said we could build a whole new album of memories. Maybe this is the beginning.

Taking Sami’s hand, Gianni led him down the garden. They crunched across the frosty grass, heading for the stone balcony of the Terrace of Infinity.

“C’mon, son. Let’s check out the view.”

* * *

Angelo returned from his carpentry job in the early afternoon and took Sami out to meet up with Claudia and Toto, which left Gianni free to complete an important errand.

A middle-aged man with a battered old truck had been making regular visits to Ravello for the past few weeks. Each Saturday, he had arrived at the edge of the cathedral square with a new load of freshly cut Christmas trees. Today was the last chance Gianni would have to buy one.

As demand had begun to wind down, the man had brought a smaller selection than usual, but Gianni still managed to find a decent six-foot specimen that looked fairly even, along with a sturdy-looking tree stand, which he hung from his back using a spare piece of plastic netting. Having paid the man in cash, he set off across the square, making for the avenue of oleanders, attracting curious glances from passers-by as he went.

The tree had seemed light at first but, by the time Gianni reached the top of the broad stairway, he was struggling a little. Enveloped in the prickly branches of the traditional Norway spruce, surrounded by its evocative, resinous scent, he set the trunk heavily down on the top step, lost for a moment in memories of Christmas past.

After a moment, he heard familiar voices, and his ears pricked up.

“I thought you’d be glad, now that school’s out for Christmas?” Elena’s voice, passing from right to left, somewhere between puzzled and concerned.

“I am, but…” Giacomo’s voice, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. They seemed to be passing from right to left; they must have come up to the Toro via the back path, the leafy stairway known as the Bishop’s Way.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Gianni lifted the tree up once again and began to follow. Now he could see the two of them, walking side by side a few paces ahead. Giacomo had his hands in the pockets of his winter coat, and his eyes were a little downcast.

“But what, caro?” Elena pressed him gently.

“Everything’s changed,” Giacomo burst out. “Emilia’s busy with Luca, and Dani… he and Marco are always off together.”

“Not always,” his mother reminded him. “Think of your sleepover. I’ve never seen the two of you so excited!”

Giacomo shrugged, as if reluctant to comment on the subject.

“You know Marco’s going through a tough time,” Elena said. “Daniele sees it and, because of who he is, he’s trying his best to help. He’s just being a good friend.”

“He was my friend first,” Giacomo grumbled.

“Things changed in the summer, too,” Elena remarked. “Do you remember?”

“That’s not fair!” Giacomo protested.

Elena gave him a questioning glance. “Isn’t it?”

“The thing with Laura… I guess I got kinda swept along for a while, but… I came back to Dani. I chose him!”

“And I’m sure Daniele remembers that,” Elena said patiently. “I know it can be tough to share a close friend, and maybe you’re feeling a little like the odd one out at the moment, but it won’t be that way forever.”

“I’m not five years old!” Giacomo replied testily. “It’s not about sharing. It’s just… it’s Dani. I…” He sighed, seeming to give up the fight. “Ah, never mind.”

Gianni had reached the gates to his courtyard. He set the Christmas tree down with a faint sigh of his own. The others turned around, noticing him for the first time.

“Goodness!” Elena exclaimed. “That’s quite some tree you’ve got there, Gianni.”

Gianni gave her an embarrassed smile. “It was a bit heavier than I thought.”

Elena turned to her son. “Why don’t you help him, caro?” she suggested gently.

Giacomo shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

The dark-eyed boy advanced back down the street and took the top end of the tree, helping Gianni to guide it through the metal gate.

“Thanks,” Gianni said, standing the tree up again. “Could you just hold it here while I open up?”

Giacomo nodded and twirled the tree idly on the spot while Gianni made his way up the stone steps, which suddenly seemed very steep and narrow, and unlocked the front door.

Once the old brown door was safely propped open with a pair of Angelo’s winter boots, Gianni and Giacomo guided tree carefully up the steps and wrangled it round the corner into the kitchen. Gianni took the tree from the teenager and rested it carefully against the dining area wall at the bottom of the stairs. From the comfort of his bed, Alfredo the dog watched him curiously with his black button eyes.

“You’re lucky to have a real tree, signore,” Giacomo volunteered. “Mamma can’t afford one, so we get the same old plastic tree out every year.”

“I told you,” Gianni said patiently, “call me…”

“Gianni, right,” the dark-eyed boy replied, with a slightly awkward smile. “Sorry, habit.”

“Who do and your mother spend Christmas with, Giacomo?” Gianni asked.

Giacomo shrugged. “It’s mostly just us. We don’t have a lot of family.”

Gianni shook his head. “These days, I find that hard to imagine. Angelo has so many cousins…”

“Dani and Marco have small families, too,” Giacomo said; and, for a moment, he averted his eyes, finding a distraction in Alfredo. He knelt down to greet the dog, who responded by giving him a friendly lick to his face.

“Eeeuw!” Giacomo yelped, rocking back on his heels, but the gesture seemed to have cheered him up all the same, because he laughed a little.

Gianni chuckled. “I guess he likes you.” He paused, wondering how much more he should say. “Dani still thinks about you a lot, Giacomo,” he went on, choosing his words carefully. “I can see it from the way he acts whenever you’re around.”

“You think?” Giacomo asked, glancing up at him uncertainly with his dark brown eyes that were so like Angelo’s.

“I can’t help wondering…” Gianni added gently, “just what you think about him?”

“I miss my best friend,” Giacomo replied, and it seemed that was all Gianni was going to get, for the teenager stood back up, brushing a few stray Christmas tree needles from his coat. “I’d better head home.”

Gianni nodded. “Well… thanks for your help, Giacomo.”

“No worries,” Giacomo replied, turning for the door. “Ciao, Gianni.”

* * *

Once Giacomo had gone, Gianni wandered about the house, wondering where best to install the Christmas tree, and eventually settled on the den. It was the cosiest room in the house, and also had the largest free corner in which to set it up.

Carefully, Gianni carried the tree down the spiral staircase to the basement level. Borrowing a couple of Angelo’s spare tools from the storage room, he sawed a couple of centimetres off the bottom of the tree trunk, as the man with the truck had advised, and then drilled a hole in the centre of the trunk just large enough to mount it on the metal spike in the middle of the tree stand. Carefully, he stood the tree on the spike, then locked it securely into place with the three metal bolts provided. Once he was satisfied that the tree was upright and stable, he filled the reservoir with water and sliced along the length of the plastic net the tree had come in with a pair of sharp crafting scissors.

The fine plastic netting parted, and the prickly, sappy branches unfurled, revealing a perfectly balanced, conical tree. It filled the warm little room with a scent so powerfully nostalgic that, for a moment, Gianni was a child of Sami’s age again, staring up at the family Christmas tree in his London home with awe. For a moment, his parents were there, too, ruffling his hair and assuring him that Christmas, itself, was finally just around the corner.

The memory was oddly painful. Gianni rubbed his eyes for a moment, thrown off-balance, until he was roused by a knock from the front door.

Gianni shook himself and hurried back up the spiral stairs. He opened the front door, wondering who had come to visit.

It was a courier, a small, hairy man who seemed utterly unfazed by the walk he must have had to take from the nearest road. If Ravello was on his regular patch, Gianni supposed he was probably used to it.

“Buon Natale,” the man grinned, handing Gianni a large cardboard box.

“Grazie,” Gianni replied, offering him a slightly mystified smile.

The courier nodded and went on his way, leaving Gianni to puzzle over the unexpected parcel. Retrieving the same pair of sharp scissors, he slit open the parcel tape and chuckled.

“Nice one, Sharon,” he murmured.

Inside the cardboard box were two vigorous-looking stalks of Brussels sprouts and as, an added bonus, a large, ready-made Christmas pudding.

Gianni stashed the supplies in the kitchen cupboards and returned to his efforts in the den. Returning to the storage room once more, he retrieved the box of Christmas decorations he had been quietly accumulating since he had first discussed hosting a traditional Christmas with Angelo.

He had just finished carefully winding the fairy lights around the tree when he heard the front door open, followed by voices and a clatter of feet.

Gianni stood back and admired his handiwork. The coloured lights twinkled in the depths of the otherwise unadorned tree, awaiting the decorations’ full glory.

“Sami?” he called up the stairs. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“Gia’i?” came the little boy’s answering cry.

There was a further thudding of feet as Sami came charging down the spiral stairs, only to come to a halt halfway down, transfixed by the unexpected sight in front of him.

“Wha’?” he yelped. “Why’s there a tree in the den?”

“It’s a Christmas tree, Sami,” Gianni replied. “We put it up to celebrate the season.”

Sami frowned. “Wha’ season?”

“You must have heard people talking about Christmas,” Gianni urged.

“Yes!” Sami replied. “But I don’t know wha’ it is,” he admitted, sticking his bottom lip out in shame.

Gianni exhaled slowly. “Then we’ve got some talking to do,” he said. “But won’t you help me decorate it?”

“The tree…?” Sami asked, descending the rest of the steps and approaching Gianni.

Gianni nodded. “That’s right.”

How am I going to explain this?

There it was, again, that nagging feeling that he and Angelo didn’t know what they were doing.

What did the Muslim kids back in London do around Christmas time?

He realised he had never thought to ask. Hadn’t he always just assumed that everybody did the same sort of thing?

There was the tread of quieter feet on the spiral stairs, and Gianni’s thoughts were interrupted by Angelo, who walked up next to them, scratching his head in amused surprise.

“Wow,” he remarked, “you really have been busy.”

Gianni grinned. “Do you like it?”

Angelo gave him a sideways glance. “It’s great, but doesn’t it need a few more decorations?”

“Sami’s going to help me with that,” Gianni replied. He turned to the little boy. “Aren’t you, son?”

Uncertainly, Sami nodded.

Angelo shrugged. “Well, I’d better get the dinner on.”

While Angelo began rattling about in the kitchen, Gianni roped Sami into helping him wrap silver and gold tinsel around the tree. Hampered by his small stature, the little boy wasn’t really much help, but he seemed glad to be included.

Angelo reappeared a few moments later clutching one of the long, knobbly stalks of vegetables.

“Are these your… Brussels sprouts?” he asked, frowning slightly as he tried to remember the name.

Gianni nodded. “A gift from Mrs. Deakes.”

“That was kind of her,” Angelo mused. “What are they, exactly?”

Gianni thought for a moment. “Sort of like small, hard, bitter cabbages.”

Angelo laughed slightly. “Wow, I can’t wait.”

Gianni stuck his tongue out at him for a second. “It’s traditional, dummy.”

Angelo shook his head in disbelief. “Whatever you say, Gianni,” he chuckled, returning to the kitchen.

“We’ll show him, Sami,” Gianni said.

“Show him wha’?” Sami replied blankly.

Gianni uttered a slightly despairing laugh and began to show the little boy how to hang the colourful glass baubles on the tree.

Sometime later, Gianni was resting on the corner sofa while Sami searched for places for the last few decorations, his brow knotted in concentration.

Throughout their efforts together, Gianni had had the impression that the little boy was enjoying the sparkle and the colours, but had no real idea of what he was doing or why.

He pulled out his phone to text Reza.

‘I need your help!’ he wrote. ‘What did your family do about Christmas, when you were little?’

The reply wasn’t long in coming. ‘Let’s catch up about it tomorrow. Coffee, 11am?’

Gianni smiled. It seemed their new friend had a healthy appetite for caffeine. Given time, he thought he would probably fit right in among the espresso-drinking locals of Ravello.

‘Deal.’

* * *

“So, what do you think?” Gianni asked.

With the tools and boxes all put away, the floor swept and the main lights turned low, the Christmas tree was at its majestic best, casting patches of colourful light and curious, three-dimensional shadows on the walls. Ennio had finally put in an appearance, and was investigating the tree thoroughly with quivering whiskers and an expression of intense suspicion.

Gianni and Sami had sat down together for a rest, and Sami, unbidden, had snuggled up to him. Unconsciously, Gianni returned the gesture with an arm around the little boy’s shoulders.

“It’s beau’iful,” Sami replied.

“When I was your age, we always had a big tree like this,” Gianni told him. “This is the first real one I’ve had in years.”

There was another knock from the front door. Both man and boy cast their eyes towards the staircase, wondering who the new arrival could be.

There was the sound of Angelo opening the front door, a snatch of voices, and then a familiar mousy-haired figure came trotting down the spiral staircase. Ennio shot the new arrival the briefest of green-eyed glares, then sat down and started washing his paws.

“Marco!” Sami cried delightedly, and he was free of Gianni’s clutches at once, running across the room to greet his friend. Gianni was left with his arm sticking out rather stupidly where, seconds before, the little boy had been cuddling him. He lowered it slowly to his side, left, again, with that strange feeling of emptiness and abandonment.

“Ciao, Sami,” Marco said, offering the little boy a weary smile and a quick hug.

“Wanna see my room?” Sami asked, as if the older boy had never seen it before.

“Sure,” Marco replied. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Sami nodded and shot off up the spiral stairs, leaving Marco alone with Gianni.

Gianni gave the mousy-haired boy an appraising look. He seemed tired and pale, with dark circles under his eyes. In the dim glow of the fairy lights, his clothing seemed even duller and more faded than usual.

“Ciao, Gianni,” Marco said. “I like your tree.”

“Ciao, Marco,” Gianni replied. “I’d forgotten you were coming. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Marco nodded. “If… you don’t mind.” His eyes found the staircase for a moment. “What’s Angelo making?”

Gianni smiled slightly. “He’s been practicing his mother’s recipe for lasagne. You might be waiting a while.”

Marco shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’d… like a proper meal.”

Gianni frowned. “Aren’t your parents feeding you?” he asked gently.

Marco waved the idea away. “No, they are! There’s just… never enough time.”

“Sit with me for a minute,” Gianni invited him, gesturing at the spot Sami had just vacated. He shuffled down the sofa a little to give the teenager some room.

Hesitantly, Marco sat down, watching Gianni warily with his cool grey eyes.

“I… don’t want to talk about my feelings,” he said.

“No pressure,” Gianni assured him. “I just wanted to know if everything’s okay at home.”

“It’s… like I’m not really there,” Marco admitted. “Like having me around is just another chore on the list.”

“That sounds tough,” Gianni said gently.

Marco shrugged. “It’s not that different. It’s just… I never thought they hated me before.”

He finished with an unmistakeable catch in his voice, and he turned away, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of one hand. Despite the teenager’s protestations, Gianni sensed that the floodgates were in danger of opening, and he hesitated. Would the mousy-haired boy really thank him for it if they did?

He wanted to offer reassurance; to tell Marco, as Elena had, that his parents loved him and that it would all be all right in the end. But did all he had seen and heard really support that?

Instead, he said, “We’re here for you.”

Marco gave him an uncertain look with eyes that shone just a little too much.

“Thanks,” he said. He got to his feet. “I’d… better go and find Sami.”

And he was gone.

* * *

Sunday arrived. Christmas Eve, the day of the big family dinner, was just one night away; the fridge was stocked with all the food Gianni and Angelo would need to prepare the meal, the presents were wrapped. All that was left to do was pass the time.

In the square and at the bus stops out on the Naples road, a steady trickle of people came and went, making last-minute journeys to celebrate large family Christmases in the Italian tradition.

Shortly before three o-clock, Gianni, Angelo and Sami descended the avenue of oleanders together. Despite the hour, and the bright sunny spells that had persisted between the scattered clouds, there was still a distinct chill in the air under the powder-blue winter sky; even Gianni had conceded to wear a woolly scarf this time.

Angelo had agreed to keep Sami busy for a while and had brought a tennis ball for the purpose. The three of them set themselves up in the middle of the stone-paved square, far enough away from the railings to reduce the chances of losing the ball, and began to play a game of catch under the watchful eye of the cathedral. As they darted about, their feet crunched over the fallen needles deposited by the eight great umbrella pines that lined the view across to Scala, their cheerful shouts echoing around the rough-rendered buildings with their rusting ironwork.

Soon, two familiar figures emerged from Via Roma and hurried over to join them. Reza and Tiziana were dressed in smart casual clothes today, Reza in a black shirt and Tiziana in a maroon roll-neck sweater and dark blue, figure-hugging jeans. They both looked much more elegant than they did when they were working the construction site, despite the extra layers they had added for warmth.

“To me, Sami!” Reza called, beckoning for the ball with both hands. Sami laughed and hurled the ball in his direction; it went wide, but Reza snatched it out of the air with one hand in a startling display of co-ordination.

“Coo’!” Sami exclaimed as Reza, who had already closed the distance between them, tossed it gently back and ruffled the little boy’s hair.

“Keep practicing, buddy,” he said.

“Ciao, Reza,” Angelo grinned.

“Ciao, Angelo,” Reza returned the greeting. “Are you on Sami patrol today?”

Angelo nodded. “I certainly am.”

“Tiz would like to help you keep him busy, if that’s okay,” Reza went on.

Tiziana elbowed him hard in the ribs. “I told you, stop calling me that!” she scolded him.

Angelo looked nonplussed. Reza shot Gianni a little grin and he chuckled, enjoying the fact that his partner was out of the joke, for once.

Angelo glared at Gianni reproachfully. Taking pity on him, Gianni leaned across and whispered something in his ear. To his credit, Angelo managed to turn his laugh into something that sounded remarkably like a cough.

“Well…” he managed, “what are we waiting for?”

The three of them led Sami away. The little boy cast Gianni and Reza one brief questioning, puzzled look with his large brown eyes, and then he was lost to the game once more.

“So…” Reza observed, as they sat down at the one remaining bar and ordered two caffè latte. “The three of you still seem to be getting on pretty well?”

Gianni nodded. “Sometimes, it’s great. We have fun together and do all the things a normal family would do.”

“But…?” Reza prompted.

Gianni sighed. “Sometimes, it’s like Sami’s just not really there when we’re together. I’ll think we’re finally connecting, then someone or something more exciting comes along and he’s off, like he was never with me at all.”

“Aren’t all young children a bit, I dunno… flighty?” Reza suggested. “Like… easily distracted?”

Gianni shook his head. “It’s more than that, I think. My old neighbour, Mrs. Deakes, says it’s something to do with attachment.”

Reza nodded. “I’ve heard of that, I think. I have a cousin who adopted two siblings. She says the twins have always struggled to trust her and her husband. It makes them act out in all sorts of weird ways.”

“How long’s it been?” Gianni asked.

Reza thought for a moment. “Must be seven years, at least. They’re at secondary school now.”

“Wow…” Gianni murmured.

Reza raised a pacifying hand. “Hey, I didn’t mean to freak you out. They love the twins. But it’s different from normal parenting, you know? They did a lot of reading before they were matched with the twins, I think, and their adoption social worker told them all about what to expect.”

“We didn’t have any of that,” Gianni said.

“That sounds tough,” Reza replied. “I don’t really know what to say.”

Gianni shrugged and offered him a weary smile. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t come here to counsel me on the lingering effects of childhood trauma.”

Reza nodded. “Right… you wanted to talk to me about Christmas, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gianni replied. “How do British Muslim families deal with it? I mean, the kids are bombarded with Christmas events and Christmas advertising for weeks, but it goes against their faith. How do their parents avoid them feeling completely alienated by it all?”

Reza shrugged. “Honestly, I think it varies. In my family, we pretty much did the full Christmas thing. I mean, I’m not really a full Muslim – only my dad had the faith – but I’m sure I wasn’t the only brown kid in my school to be given a few presents on Christmas Day so I didn’t feel left out.”

“They do it on Christmas Eve here,” Gianni murmured.

“Another difference for the list,” Reza observed. “I think I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“So, you think it’s okay for Sami if we go ahead?”

Reza chuckled. “Bit late to change your plans now, even if I said no.”

Gianni sighed. “We could still use your help with Sami’s… spiritual guidance, I suppose you could call it?”

Reza nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. Tiziana and I have had a few ideas about that. We’re almost ready to offer you something.” He smiled. “It sounds like you could use a bit of a break, you know. You’ve got your head all mixed up about this.”

Gianni laughed wearily. “You may be right there.”

There were cheerful voices, then, as three more familiar figures emerged from Via Roma. Claudia was in the lead, closely followed by Toto and Michele. When she spotted Gianni, Claudia broke off her banter with the two boys and waved. They came over to join them, glancing expectantly from Gianni to Reza and back again.

“Oh…” Gianni said. “Reza, this is Angelo’s sister Claudia, and her friends Toto and Michele.” He turned to the others. “Guys, this is Reza, a friend of ours from a few years back.”

Instinctively, Toto and Michele pulled together and placed an arm around each other, making their coupled status a point of pride, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the newcomer.

“Piacere,” Reza nodded, practicing his best Italian.

Toto narrowed his eyes in concentration, seeming to analyse the newcomer’s accent. Gianni could sense his acute linguistic mind at work.

“Another Englishman in the house,” Toto remarked with a cheeky grin. “Cool!”

“Wait a minute,” Gianni said, glancing thoughtfully at Claudia as a new memory crossed his mind. “Didn’t you guys meet?”

Claudia frowned, looking searchingly at Reza’s face.

“Help me out here,” she whispered to Gianni.

Gianni smiled. “Fish out of water, big SLR camera…”

“Oh!” Claudia beamed in delight. “I remember now.” She snickered. “‘Ragazzo sciocco!’”

Gianni nodded. “That’s right. He was…”

“…the one who ended up having it off with that cute German guy by the hotel pool?” Claudia said.

There was a loud splutter as Reza choked on his coffee, looking mortified; behind Claudia, Toto and Michele dissolved into laughter, seemingly unable to help themselves.

“We’re… sorry…” Michele panted, clutching at his boyfriend for support.

“Ah…” Gianni said, gesturing at Tiziana and Angelo, who were still playing with Sami just a few metres away. “You’d better not let his wife hear you say that, Claudia.”

Claudia’s hand flew to her mouth as Gianni saw her flush with embarrassment for the first time in her adult life. “Oh! Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Reza replied, mopping himself down in a desperate attempt to regain some dignity. “Tiziana knows all about it. We don’t have those kinds of secrets.” He fixed her with an ironic look. “Well, it was just wonderful to see you again.”

“Ah… and you…”

Still looking flustered, Claudia led her friends away. Gianni smiled as he watched Toto ribbing her for her gaffe. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be allowed to forget it for a while.

“So…” Reza said. “It looks like you and Angelo aren’t the only two guys to have formed a connection round here?”

Gianni nodded. “They didn’t have the easiest start, but Angelo, Claudia and I helped them out.”

Reza frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There was a whole family bust-up for a while, at least where Toto was concerned. The poor kid was only fourteen. Angelo and I sheltered him for a few days until we could help him reconnect with his dad.”

Reza’s eyebrows rose slightly. “And you were… how old, exactly, when you rescued him?”

Gianni thought for a moment. “Twenty-two, I guess.”

Reza shook his head in disbelief. “How many twenty-two year-olds could say they did something like that? And let’s not forget that you were just sixteen when you helped me.” He paused thoughtfully. “I saw you chatting with Emilia and her friends, too, at the party last weekend. I’d say you’re a natural with teenagers – you and Angelo both.”

Gratified by the compliment, but also troubled, Gianni glanced across at the three people still playing catch in the middle of the square.

“Then… why can’t we seem to get it right with Sami?”