The Italian Effect. Josie Metcalfe
the door last night and realised that she would probably be one of the oldest women in the room. Their average age seemed to be little more than eighteen, and as for the music…
Lissa sighed then grimaced, remembering the days when her parents used to complain about her own choice of music. Did this mean that she was rapidly becoming middle-aged at only twenty-eight years of age?
She pulled on some lightweight trousers and a cotton top then reached for the phone, resigned to the idea of room service and a book. It wouldn’t do her any harm to have an early night after all the excitement of the day. She could start her holiday afresh tomorrow and hopefully be in a better frame of mind for it.
‘Here we are again,’ Lissa muttered as she flopped back on her towel, her sunglasses firmly in position.
It was actually two days since Taddeo’s accident, but everything around her looked and sounded exactly the same…even the ice-cream van playing ‘Greensleeves’.
It wasn’t that the accident had put her off the idea of spending time on the beach; she hadn’t been particularly keen in the first place. In fact, she’d picked up some of the literature supplied in her room that detailed the various local attractions, and had spent the intervening time exploring a little.
The trouble was, finding the village where her grandmother had grown up wasn’t nearly as satisfying without someone to share it with. Nor was her enjoyment of a particularly stunning view or the series of ancient frescos she’d discovered in a tiny church.
If all had gone as she’d expected, there should have been two of them spending their days, and their nights, together.
‘Sightseeing on my own was a bit of a washout,’ she muttered under her breath as she put the bottle of sunscreen away in her bag. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a bit more luck getting into the holiday mood with all these happy people all around me.’
She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin on her folded arms while she gazed around.
‘It’s uncanny,’ she murmured as her eyes went from one group to another. ‘It’s almost as if the world has stood still since I was here the first time. Absolutely nothing has changed while I’ve been away.’
There were the same family groups, the same honeymooners still besotted with each other, the same group of predatory young men eyeing the scantily clad girls giggling their way across the beach.
‘No. Something has changed!’ she exclaimed under her breath in mock surprise when she heard the accents of the target of the young men’s comments. ‘They’re after new prey today—Scandinavian, perhaps?’
She wondered idly what had happened to the group of English girls being pursued last time she was here. Had they succumbed to the false smiles and well-practised lines, or had they seen through them in time?
‘Signorina?’ said a voice nearby. ‘Mi scusi. Sei medica?’
Lissa groaned silently as she rolled over and sat up. That was all she needed…another medical problem on a beach this far from proper hospital facilities. It must be someone who had recognised her from the other day.
She looked up at the young woman standing in front of her and suddenly realised that she recognised her.
‘Maddelena!’ she exclaimed, rising to her feet and finding herself wrapped in a fervent hug. ‘How is Taddeo? Is he well?’
‘Si. He is well. We have brought him back to the beach with the whole family so that he will have good memories. Come and see.’ She grabbed Lissa’s hand and gestured towards the other side of the beach. ‘He is over there with my mother. Come. You must join us.’
Lissa paused just long enough to grab her belongings then threaded her way through the various groups of holidaymakers towards an older woman waving a welcoming hand.
Introductions were made and Lissa found herself once more enveloped in an enthusiastic embrace.
‘What would we have done if you hadn’t been here to take care of our Taddeo?’ Maddelena’s mother exclaimed. ‘How can we thank you enough?’
Lissa tried to downplay her contribution, but she wasn’t having it.
‘No, no! We think you’re a heroine!’ she exclaimed, gesturing towards the rest of the family for confirmation. ‘Please…sit. Join us!’
It wasn’t long before they were also trying to bully her into joining them for some fast and furious games on the beach. Maddelena’s brothers and sisters and cousins were numerous enough to form two complete opposing teams.
With Taddeo only recently released from hospital, it was inadvisable for him to be involved in quite that much rough and tumble, so Lissa opted for keeping Taddeo occupied with Maddelena’s mother.
Soon enough the whole family rejoined them on the array of blankets and deck-chairs for the most sumptuous of picnics and a lazy hour of recuperation while she was regaled with numerous tales of family misdeeds and successes.
It was no hardship to listen when she realised just how often Matteo Aldarini’s name was included, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t actually a member of the family.
‘That’s my daddy,’ Taddeo had announced proudly the first time it had happened and she’d smiled at him. She’d been quite surprised to find out that although the youngster couldn’t remember much of the accident, he seemed to remember her quite clearly from her visit to his bedside in the paediatric ward.
‘He told me you carried me to his hospital on a surfboard when I hit my head,’ Taddeo continued, chattering so brightly that it was obvious that he’d suffered few after-effects from his mishap. ‘I fell on those rocks.’ He pointed at the wicked piles of broken limestone that could so easily have been the cause of his death.
Unfortunately, the sparkle in his eyes suggested that he was the sort of daredevil child whose accident wouldn’t put him off the next reckless challenge.
‘Who’s going swimming?’ demanded one of the cousins and there was a noisy response as everyone erupted from their lazy relaxation.
‘Will you swim with me?’ Taddeo demanded with a grin. ‘I’m good. I bet I can race you.’
A quick glance at Maddelena confirmed that he’d been cleared to swim.
‘I’ll look after him,’ Lissa promised and they were off across the beach at a run.
He launched himself into the waves with a shriek almost as soon as the water came up to his knees and it was soon obvious that his words hadn’t been an idle boast. He wouldn’t have to be able to swim much faster before he could beat her, legitimately. She’d only had to shorten her stroke slightly to allow him to pull ahead of her.
‘You swim like a fish!’ she exclaimed when they came up for air at the float anchored a little way out from shore. ‘How old were you when you learned?’
‘My daddy took me in the sea when I was just a baby. Only one year old. He said I was like a baby frog.’
‘Taddeo the tadpole,’ she said in English and chuckled, remembering that ‘Taddy’ was the nickname her mother had called her when she’d been learning to swim.
‘What is a tadpole?’ he demanded. She racked her brain for a moment but couldn’t remember the Italian word although she was sure her grandmother must have taught her once upon a time.
‘I’ll tell you when we go back on the beach,’ she promised, knowing that there was a dictionary in her bag. ‘Are you going to race me back? I need to practise.’
She could see that several of the younger members of the family had started to build an ambitious sand castle and thought that would probably be better for the youngster than too much swimming. At least he would be no more than a few steps from the blankets if he grew tired.
Not that he seemed lacking in energy as he ploughed his way through the water