Page 22 of It's All Sun and Games

‘Robin,’ I say again, as though saying it again will help. I rack my brains, trying to think of a way to mime to them who I am. Well, Andrea must have told them about me. Perhaps I can show them who I am.

I can’t think of anything to do to mime my job, or the fact that I’m here for a corporate retreat, so I decide to focus on the wedding part of the trip.

‘Robin… me… Andrea… trip… wedding…’

I can’t believe I’ve resorted to simply shouting keywords while I frantically rub my ring finger.

It works though because finally the man’s eyes light up.

‘Come ti chiami?’ the woman asks me.

Oh, oh, I know that one. And it has unlocked a memory, of sorts, from when I at least tried to learn Italian at school. He’s asking me what my name is. Okay, let’s see if I remember this correctly.

‘Mi chiami Robin,’ I say, which I don’t even think is right, but I watch as a wave of realisation washes over him.

‘Ciao, Robin, piacere,’ he says, smiling widely as he approaches me, kissing me on each cheek. ‘Mi chiamo Leonardo.’

‘Mi chiamo Antonia, ciao,’ the woman says. She pulls me close and kisses me on each cheek too.

This is, wow, weirdly familiar – especially considering that my own dad doesn’t even say hello to me most of the time when I drop by for a visit.

Leonardo and Antonia are a good-looking couple. People say that the Mediterranean diet does wonders for people as they age – which I’ve always found super hard to imagine because, to me, if I lived here, I would probably eat nothing but pizza and ice cream, but Leonardo and Antonia look great on it. Genuinely, I don’t think they have a grey hair between them.

Leonardo says something to me and, again, I have no idea what any of it means. He points at me, then at his wedding ring. Oh, I guess he’s checking that I’m here for the wedding.

‘Sì, sì,’ I say, nodding my head overenthusiastically.

Leonardo smiles, clearly happy that we’ve figured this out, despite the language barrier.

‘Andiamo, Robin,’ he says, beckoning me with his hand, instructing me to follow them.

‘Okay,’ I reply with a smile.

Leonardo kindly takes my case, walking ahead, while Antonia hangs back to walk alongside me. She doesn’t know what to say to me, obviously, so she just keeps smiling at me.

Yep, this is suitably awkward, but they seem nice enough. And at least I know for sure that Andrea speaks perfect English, so she will be able to translate my gratitude to them for picking me up.

Leonardo loads my case into the boot of his car before opening the car door for me.

‘Grazie,’ I tell him.

I don’t know if I’m impressed or ashamed by how little Italian I do actually remember. I want to say that, in my defence, I studied French for more school years than I did Italian, but I probably remember even less of that. That said, when I say I studied a language at school, that’s probably too grand a term for it. Does anyone actually leave school (in England, anyway) fluent in another language? Most of the kids I went to school with didn’t even leave with a great grasp of English as their first language.

There’s not much I can do now apart from go with the flow – and hope that Andrea isn’t long, because I’m not sure how far mimes and five words of Italian is going to get me.

10

Sitting at the kitchen table in Andrea’s parents’ apartment, I find myself feeling a confusing mixture of things (and I’m pretty sure that the effects of my mum’s weird drugs have passed now, so I can’t blame that). On the one hand, I’m in a strange place with people I don’t know. On the other, this place just has such a welcoming and relaxing feel about it – I feel oddly at home.

The room is a blend of contemporary and rustic Italian charm. Everything feels so new and fresh but in a way that obviously pays tribute to how things once were.

We’re sitting around the table, just me and Andrea’s parents, Leonardo and Antonia, who are both still just smiling warmly at me. I have a glass of Coke, which Antonia got me through a combination of her pointing and me nodding.

Occasionally, Leonardo and Antonia exchange a few words in Italian, their voices so soothing and melodic, but every single word washes right over me. Absolutely none of them are familiar to me. But despite the language barrier, their gestures and expressions speak volumes, and they’re clear as day, radiating warmth and hospitality.

I sip my Coke and it hits the spot in a way like never before. It’s icy and crisp, really taking the edge of the heat of the day outside. There’s something about drinking Coke in a hot country that just hits differently. Having a fizzy drink is the equivalent of smashing a bottle of champagne on a ship – a way to declare this summer holiday officially underway.

The balcony doors are wide open but the net curtains are closed, gently swaying in the breeze. It’s oddly soothing, watching them dance like that. It’s making me feel kind of sleepy, and incredibly relaxed.

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