Page 71 of It's All Sun and Games

At this point in the day, the atmosphere has shifted from a formal dinner to full-on party mode. There is a band on stage, the music is louder, and the guests are getting more lively. The chat, the laughter, the singing – everything is louder now.

‘“C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”, “C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”,’ Antonia says as she approaches Andrea.

‘Mamma, no,’ Andrea starts, his tone playfully pleading, before he says something else to her that I don’t quite catch.

‘What’s that?’ I ask, genuinely curious.

‘“C’è La Luna Mezzo Mare”,’ he replies with a smile. ‘We sing it at family parties. It’s sort of a funny song, about a woman asking her mamma what sort of man she should marry, but everything sort of has two meanings.’

Antonia chimes in with something else and then she smiles at me, as though perhaps she wants me to help her out.

‘Mamma says it’s tradition,’ Andrea translates. ‘And that I always start.’

‘You can sing?’ I reply, surprised. Actually, thinking about it, I’m not surprised at all. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’

‘Italian men, what else can you say?’ he replies with a shrug, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘But, really, just because I can sing, does not mean I sing well.’

‘Well, tradition is tradition,’ I remind him, a playful glint in my eye. ‘You can’t let your mamma down.’

‘Okay, but we also dance,’ Andrea tells me, his expression hopeful. ‘Will you come and dance? It’s an even more important tradition. It’s a folk dance – the Tarantella – it’s so easy, and a lot of fun.’

‘Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal,’ I reply, unable to resist his charm.

I’m full to the brim with food and drink, and I’m feeling a little giddy from the wine, but the thought of hearing Andrea sing is just too intriguing to pass up.

As he agrees to sing, his mum’s face lights up with joy.

As I make my way to the dance floor, the butterflies in my stomach get a head start on the dancing. Weaving through the maze of tables and guests, I finally find a good spot, while Andrea climbs onto the stage to join the band.

He’s so confident as he steps up to the microphone, and I have no idea what he’s saying because every word of it is in Italian, but he just looks right up there. He’s got everyone’s attention, totally commanding the room. In fact, as I look around, I don’t think there is a female in this room who isn’t gazing up at him with love hearts for eyes.

Then he takes the microphone in his hand as he waits for the music to start, a smile playing on his lips that makes my knees feel a little weak. I have to say, I have excellent taste in fake fiancés.

As the first notes fill the air, Andrea’s voice rings out, and again, I have no idea what he’s saying, but it’s such a fun song and he looks like he’s having a blast singing it. It must be a crowd favourite too, because everyone is having a good time.

I dance on the spot as the catchy tune gets into my head. I think I’ll be humming this one for weeks.

When Andrea finishes his part, he hands the microphone to his dad and then jumps down from the stage. Then he grabs my hands and pulls me into the centre of the dance floor. We dance together and, despite loving a bit of a boogie on a rare night out, I didn’t realise how much fun it is to dance with a man – or just Andrea, I guess. I love having his hands on me, having his full attention. It’s nothing short of thrilling; that’s the only word for it.

‘Okay, what’s happening now?’ I ask, watching as everyone on the dance floor moves out to the edges to form a circle.

‘This,’ Andrea tells me before darting towards the centre, where Lucia and Dario are already waiting.

As the upbeat instrumental tune fills the air, Andrea starts kicking his legs one at a time, clapping his hands underneath each kick to the beat of the music. Dario joins in, and even Lucia kicks her legs. She doesn’t clap her hands, though, seeing as she needs them to hitch up her wedding dress.

I vaguely recognise the tune – it’s the same one as a song I’ve heard – ‘Lucky Lucky Lucky Me’, I think it’s called.

Andrea returns to me, taking my hand, and then the person on the other side of me takes my other hand, and soon we’re all moving in a circle, following the beat of the music. The next move involves standing still and kicking our feet – thankfully clapping your hands underneath each leg is optional, because there is no way I could do it in this dress. Next we link arms with the person next to us – Andrea in my case – doing what is pretty much a do-si-do, linking opposite arms, going round in a circle.

I smile so widely, practically screaming with laughter as I join in, loving being involved in such a fun, fast-paced dance. Honestly, English weddings could never. This is so much more fun than doing the Cha Cha Slide.

Glancing across the dance floor, I can see that even Andrea’s nonna is joining in as best she can, sitting on a chair, whipping a white napkin around like a lasso. Honestly, she’s so beyond amazing for her age.

‘Shall we dance with Nonna?’ Andrea suggests, obviously following my gaze.

‘Let’s do it,’ I reply, eager to join in the fun, but not exactly sure how we’re going to do it.

We make our way over to Nonna, who greets us with a warm smile. She takes my hand, squeezing it tightly, and begins to move to the music with me.

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