Page 1 of The Dolce Vita Divas
PROLOGUE
THEN
I first saw Paulo on 16 September 1984. It was during fresher’s week, in the student union bar. The soles of my shoes were sticking to the floor as I walked, and I glimpsed him across the room. Just for a moment. I stopped, wondering who he was, struck by his good looks, the easy way he stood there, sipping a pint.
He was wearing a clean white shirt that day, which stood out among all the grubby denim, and he looked slightly nervous but at the same time happy, approachable. So being me and, like everyone else, not really knowing anyone, I’d approached. I’d been like that back then.
Perhaps it was because I was a bit overconfident and didn’t really worry about much. And I’d also downed one pint already, which I wasn’t used to.
‘You look cheerful,’ I said.
He’d grinned back at me. ‘I am, why wouldn’t I be? What’s your name?’
Well, this had been a promising start. I took half a step, edging out a hopeful-looking blonde who had been inching closer to him.
‘Joanna,’ I said, holding out my hand, ‘Jo Parkinson. From Worcester.’
He hesitated for a second and then took my hand. ‘Paulo Massimo.’
I had dithered for a moment under the gaze of those beautiful brown eyes, and then of course I said something silly.
‘Gosh, that’s lovely. Are you Italian?’
‘I’m from Capri. What gave it away?’ he said, and we grinned at each other again.
Back then I wasn’t entirely sure where Capri was, except somewhere off the coast of Italy. It sounded far more interesting than Worcester anyway.
The blonde gave a disapproving hiss and moved off. I felt a little swell of triumph.
After that we chatted quite easily, while around us the bar became more crowded and people nudged us out of the way, eager to get to the subsidised beer.
He indicated a space in one corner and we moved into it.
‘You’re new here too of course?’ he said.
I nodded. ‘I’m an English student. I didn’t want to do that; in fact, I wanted to do History, but my parents thought English was a safer bet, so that’s what I did. What about you?’
There was a burst of noise from a group of people next to us and I didn’t really hear his answer, but I was so happy with the way things were going, I didn’t want to ask him to repeat himself.
When the noise died down, he was still explaining.
‘…roads, that sort of thing. We are creative problem solvers. At least that’s what it says in the prospectus.’
‘Impressive. To be a problem solver.’
‘I wonder if I could creatively solve a problem for both of us?’
‘That would be even more impressive,’ I said.
He took my empty pint glass from my hand.
‘Rimani qui– stay here. And don’t go away and I will creatively bring us back another drink, okay?’
‘Perfect,’ I said, and we smiled at each other.
It seemed there was already a definite connection between us. Wow.
I watched his broad shoulders moving through the crowds of other students and gave a happy sigh. Gosh, he was gorgeous. Dark curls, dark brown eyes, and he could have read out the fire escape plan notices on the wall and that wonderful accent would have made it sound interesting.
