From Rome with Love: Escape the winter blues with the perfect feel-good romance!. Jules Wake
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.
‘Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.’ Giovanni’s sing-song Italian accent rang out across the pub as he loped across the room, a broad smile filling his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. ‘Bellissima. You look bellissima.’
An exaggeration, Lord love him, as she’d come straight from work. Knackered from a day on her feet dealing with a bunch of energy-sapping demons otherwise known as ‘early-years children’, everything drooped and her get up and go had got up and gone, but Giovanni’s blatant, eager charm did good things to her ego, especially with Will in sight.
‘Hey, Giovanni, how you doing?’ She greeted him with a grin.
He gave her an exuberant hug and kisses on each cheek.
‘Glad when your British summer arrives. I have a small little problem with all this rain.’
He lifted his feet to show sodden trouser hems, which had clearly had a bit of a dunking. ‘Piddles everywhere.’
‘Puddles,’ corrected Lisa, stifling a laugh at the disgruntled expression in his dark-brown eyes. ‘Hopefully, the summer will arrive soon. You have to remember all this rain is what makes this country a green and pleasant land.’ She nodded her head towards the view through the French doors. The hillside rose, coated in a blanket of brilliant green, the trees rounded and full like plump broccoli.
‘Hmm,’ said Giovanni, not looking the least bit convinced, but then he flashed his model-boy smile at her. ‘Can I buy you a drink? Are you staying?’ The hopeful look made her pause.
‘Sorry, not tonight.’
When his face fell, she added quickly, ‘I popped in to pick Siena up. Jason’s