A Vintage Vacation by Maddie Please

Author:Maddie Please [Please, Maddie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books

My mother didn’t agree.

She was sitting at the best table in the trattoria window, elegant as always in a tailored dress and court shoes. Rather surprisingly Uncle Franco was at her side, looking very dapper in pale slacks and a blazer.

Her face lit up when she saw me and then just as quickly fell. She fiddled for a moment with her pearls.

‘Franco, perhaps you could get my daughter a glass of wine?’

‘Certo, it will be my pleasure.’

Franco heaved himself up and limped over to the bar, although I noticed he had abandoned his usual walking stick.

Mum sighed, narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze onto me.

‘What are you wearing now? Is this what Italian women wear? Or is this fancy-dress night and no one told me? You look like a throwback to the sixties. And a denim jacket? Really?’

I sat down and smiled back at her. ‘I’m comfortable.’

‘When did comfort have anything to do with fashion?’ Mum hissed.

‘Mum, I’m not at work now. I’m happy like this. Just be happy for me.’

She drew in a deep breath ready to continue, but then Franco returned and gave me my glass of red wine.

‘Perdona un vecchio – forgive an old man – I am confused,’ he said, sitting down with a grunt. ‘This lady is your mother? And yet, surely not. She is too young, too glamorous.’

Mum, always a sucker for a compliment, lifted her chin.

‘I was very young when I had Clover,’ she said. ‘I had a smaller waist than Princess Margaret when I married.’

Franco nodded. ‘English ladies are so beautiful: complexions like latte e rose –milk and roses.’

‘Well, I always have tried to protect my skin; the sun is so aging,’ Mum said, sipping her gin. Her bad mood was obviously rapidly fading.

‘I am the luckiest of men tonight,’ Franco continued. ‘Two beautiful ladies to talk to.’

I watched in some amazement as he and Mum started chatting away like old friends. I felt quite the gooseberry.

‘So, what would you like to order?’ It was Zoe, mischief in her eyes and a pencil and pad in her hands. ‘Paulo recommends the pappardelle di coniglio; it’s very good indeed.’

‘Deliziosa! One of my favourites,’ Franco said, kissing the tips of his fingers to emphasise the point. He turned to my mother. ‘You must try it.’

‘Well, then, if you recommend it, Franco, let’s try that. No garlic in mine, thank you, Zoe,’ Mum said.

Zoe widened her eyes at me and didn’t say anything.

Mum turned back to Franco, and they continued their conversation, which from what I could tell consisted of a lot of compliments from Franco, and some half-hearted protestations from my mother.

Zoe and I exchanged another look, and she came to sit next to me.

‘So, everything okay?’ Zoe muttered as she pretended to scribble on her pad.

‘Great – we had a lovely day. Sorry you had to deal with this; I honestly didn’t know she was coming.’

‘Don’t be daft. It’s fine. She said she was here to look after you and pressed a wad of cash into my hand for a room.

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