Page 55 of The First Mistake

He looked away, as if embarrassed.

I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, lifting a bottle of white wine out of the door. ‘I’d rather this.’

‘Yep, great,’ he said, following me in, watching as my shaking hands fumbled with the seal covering the cork.

‘Here, let me,’ he said, and I watched as his strong tattooed arm took the weight of the bottle away from me. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so safe, which was ironic seeing as I was stood in the middle of a crime scene.

19

‘Tell me about your family,’ he said, as we lay in bed later that night.

It seemed momentous, not only because we were talking properly, but because it was the first time that we were in bed without having ripped each other’s clothes off to get there.

‘There’s not much to tell,’ I said. ‘My dad died when I was thirteen and it’s just been me and Mum ever since.’ Just talking about him brought a lump to my throat. The thought of the only part I had left of him – his ring and the necklace he bought me – being in someone else’s careless hands turned my stomach.

‘So, no brothers or sisters?’ he asked.

‘Nope, a spoilt only child,’ I said, forcing a laugh.

‘Me too. Though I bet I wasn’t as spoilt as you,’ he joked.

I smiled, knowing he was probably right. There weren’t many girls who got a pony for their seventh birthday, and a boat named after them. I can still remember the gasps of schoolfriends as they arrived at my house for birthday parties. If it wasn’t the long drive that stumped them, it was the swimming pool and extensive gardens. Every year, the celebrations were more outlandishly themed, from animals to Disney and circus acts, to my personal favourite, the actual Chitty Chitty Bang Bang taking us all for a ride.

Mum would look on, quietly embarrassed, whilst Dad, the Italian showman, took centre stage, making all his daughter’s dreams come true. The very next day though, it became tradition for him to take me around all his restaurants and into the kitchens, where the hard work really happened.

‘No matter how lucky we are, we must never lose sight of what it took to get here and where we came from,’ he used to say to me.

His wise words had stuck, as I’d barely missed a day’s work since. Even when I was genuinely ill, I’d think of the children who were expecting me and would drag myself into school.

‘I wasn’tthatspoilt,’ I said, defending myself.

‘What? With the dad you had?’ he said, laughing. ‘I find that very difficult to believe.’

I pulled myself up and turned on the light. ‘I wasn’t aware I’d spoken about my dad,’ I said, my voice clipped.

‘What?’ he said, still laughing.

‘When did I talk to you about my dad?’ I had no reason to be suspicious, but I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable.

‘After we’d had dinner with Diego Rodriguez,’ he said.

‘I don’t remember that.’

‘You were a little tipsy,’ he replied, smiling, as his finger traced my lips. ‘It must have been somewhere between the train station and home because, if you remember, we were pretty busy at all other times.’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

I felt myself blush at the flashback of being pressed together on the train and the overwhelming urgency to get back to the flat. All the details in between were sketchy.

‘We were talking about the wine business and you told me that your dad was a successful restaurateur and that in another life, me and him would no doubt be in business together.’

Thatdidsound like something I would say, forever holding a candle to my father’s entrepreneurial spirit.

I smiled. ‘He’d either be buying wine from you, or selling you his collection. He had a nose for a fine wine.’

‘Did your mum ever remarry?’ he asked.

‘God no. Dad was the love of her life. No other man stood a chance.’

It’s funny. I’d desperately wanted to share exactly this kind of information with him, had thought that we weren’t really a proper couple until we did, but now that we were, it didn’t feel right, and my protective barrier was going up again.

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