Page 48 of In Just One Day

‘How old were you when you came here?’

‘I can’t remember exactly, maybe seven or eight. Tell you what I can remember: Billy running across here shouting at the pigeons. He’d yell at them, telling them to go away. Then get really cross when they’d take off and land again after a few seconds.’ She pictured him, white-blond hair, blue stripy jumper, running ahead but always looking back to make sure Flora was in sight. She liked being back here, in a space she’d once shared with him.

‘Look, there are people going into the church. Shall we go and have a look?’ Johnny motioned up ahead.

‘It’s worth a try.’

They crossed the square and slipped into the church through the just-open door. Inside, it was in total darkness. Johnny could just make out some folding chairs in front of him. He grabbed Flora’s hand and they took a seat as quietly as they could. Loud whispers in Italian seemed to come from somewhere in front of them.

Suddenly, enormous lights came on at the very front of the church, one after the other. Above their heads the roof turned to gold before their eyes. Then, gradually, as more lights came on, the entire ceiling was revealed, endless domes covered in mosaics now soaked in light.

They sat for a moment, staring at the ceiling, lost in the wonder of it all.

Suddenly, a voice called to them in Italian.

‘Scusi?’

Moving their gaze down from above their heads, Flora and Johnny looked across to see a stern-looking Italian woman walking towards them. Her tour group, sitting quietly either side of her, now all turned to look at the pair of uninvited guests at the back.

‘Sorry!’ Johnny called back, raising his hand and deploying a smile. He looked at Flora. ‘Time to make a swift exit, I think.’ He raised an eyebrow.

Together they sprang up and made for the door at the back, out and into the square.

‘This way!’ Johnny walked quickly, pulling Flora behind them. Turning right and right again, they were soon back in the narrow alleys walking away from the square and on into the maze of streets beyond.

‘I think we lost them,’ Flora panted. She stopped to catch her breath, laughing as she did.

‘I think we did.’ Johnny laughed too.

With air in her lungs and a flush in her cheeks, Flora felt a rush of energy. Maybe it was just the Martini, but she was happy to be feeling something – anything – that wasn’t sadness.

‘You sure you don’t want to find something to eat on the way back?’

‘Actually, I could do with something a bit more substantial. Can we find a plate of pasta somewhere?’ She pushed her hair back from her face.

‘I think we’re in the right place for that.’ Johnny took out his phone and punched in a few words. He scrolled down and read for a few moments. Flora looked in the window of a shop where they stood, filled with carnival masks.

‘It’s like they’re watching us.’ A shiver ran through her.

‘This way.’ Johnny pointed and headed off. ‘It says it’s open.’

They walked through the streets, over a few more bridges and across small squares, their now-growing appetites calling them on. Flora looked longingly at some of the restaurants they passed, the smell and warmth of food wafting from doors, but Johnny kept going. A few dead ends later, they arrived at the place he’d been looking for.

‘Here we are,’ he said, looking up at the sign above the door, the name in wooden letters over the double-fronted window. Inside, couples and families sat at small wooden tables, the walls covered with a jumble of pictures and photographs. ‘This is the one.’

‘It looks perfect.’ Flora was greeted enthusiastically by the owner. She assumed being a tourist would mean the same haughty treatment as at the previous bar but that certainly wasn’t the case here.

They were shown straight to a table near the back and handed two menus. Flora picked a half-carafe of house Valpolicella, conscious of the considerable amount of alcohol already flowing through her veins. She eyed a plate of spaghetti alle vongole on its way to another table. ‘Gosh, that looks good.’

The wine arrived and was poured quickly into tumblers on the table by the young waitress with a friendly smile. Flora marvelled at the cherry pop of colour and the bright, juicy flavours of the wine as she took a sip.

‘What are you going to have?’ Johnny clinked her glass before also trying the wine.

‘I think I’m going to have…’ she looked down the menu, all in Italian, ‘this one. I’m not entirely sure what it is but I think it’s a local speciality, spaghetti and anchovies.’

Johnny screwed up his face. ‘Seriously, I don’t know how you eat those. They’re so salty.’

‘Well, good, then I don’t have to share.’ She grinned back at him.

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