One Winter Weekend

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“ I don’t think you understand …” Molly said tersely.

They’d been discussing her plans and expectations leading up to the wedding on Christmas Eve, but Fabrizio’s nonchalant attitude was now seriously rubbing her up the wrong way.

No matter what she suggested they do, the Italian gave off an air of frustrating carelessness, and resisted giving their days any structure whatsoever.

“We really want to see the sights of Rome - show the wedding guests some of this wonderful city.”

“Of course, Signorina , of course,” he responded gently, again flashing his debonair smile. “But Roma – she is not like other cities. She demands a certain… spontaneity. You must listen to her to see where she takes you.”

Molly’s father had had just about enough. He threw his napkin onto the plate in front of him – still full of small, white calamari , which Paddy couldn’t bring himself to eat, considering the look of the tentacles – and jabbed a finger at the man sitting across from him.

“Now, listen here lad,” he scolded, “I think we have been very patient so far with you. There’s a lot we want to see and do while we’re here, and I think we have the right to have some sort of plan. For God’s sake man, this is our daughter’s wedding!”

Helen put a hand on his arm, and he calmed down a bit. “What my husband is trying to say,” Molly’s mum began, “is that we want to make sure everything about the trip is being taken care of, and right now you aren’t reassuring us that it is.”

“ Signores ,” Fabrizio responded apologetically, “Please, listen. All will be fine. We have the church, we have a priest – Padre Beppe, he is the best – and afterwards, we will have a wonderful dinner here on the terrazza. It is also Christmas, yes? We will drink some wine, eat some delicious Italian food, and have some fun.”

Patricia cleared her throat. “I certainly hope so. In the meantime, if you would be so kind as to bring us a bottle of the ‘67 Conterno Monfortino, we’d like to buy a bottle for the table.”

“And perhaps a few packets of crisps as well?” Molly’s father added hopefully, as Patricia glared at Paddy as if he was something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

Fabrizio stood back and bowed his head. “But of course, signores . Would anyone like anything else? Caffe? Limoncello?”

“Could we get a pot of tea as well?” Helen inquired. “I could really go for a good strong cup right now.”

“Ah,” Fabrizio frowned, “I am afraid the hotel will likely not have any tea to speak of. Perhaps a caffe – erm, espresso?”

“Coffee?” Paddy gaped incredulously. “At this hour? Are you mad? We’d be up all night.”

Fabrizio eyed Molly’s mother. “Perhaps that is a good thing, yes?” he joked.

Caroline snorted and Molly blushed, but Paddy was not amused. “Now, see here lad …” he insisted, evidently offended.

Fabrizio looked abashed. “I am sorry, signore,” he said with a feint towards apologising, “it is only that I am, how you say, hot-blooded and your wife, she is so beautiful. I joke.”

“Well, it’s not amusing, nor is it appreciated,” Paddy replied curtly.

Fabrizio again flashed an apologetic look towards Helen, then he turned to Caroline and winked before walking off to get the drinks.

“Well …” said Caroline after Fabrizio was out of earshot, “He’s a saucy one, isn’t he?”

“Very much so,” Helen agreed, sipping from a glass of still water on the table. “He just seems so… forward.” She sighed and blushed a little. “Though I have to say, it’s been a while since a strange man looked at me like that.”

“Mum!” Molly was aghast. “Anyway,” she said wickedly, “I think he’s much more interested in Caroline.

Caught off-guard, Caroline began stammering. “Wha – I – I wasn’t – I – that is—” She was completely flustered, and she fought down a fierce burning in her cheeks. “I don’t think so,” she said finally, attempting to salvage what was left of her pride.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Ben teased.

“Oh come on ,” Caroline protested. “Sure, he’s … erm, good-looking… but you know how these Mediterranean men are…”

“ I don’t,” Molly said with a grin. “Enlighten us, Caroline since you seem to know it all.”

“I’ve heard the same stories you have,” she sighed, looking around the table for support but not getting any. “Oh stop it, you know exactly what I’m talking about. There are stories – legends, really – about Italian men and their dashing good looks and well-cut jaw lines and gorgeous accents and – ahem —” She noticed she was getting a bit carried away and cleared her throat. “ Anyway , they’re always on the prowl, looking for a foreign girl to make their… conquest.”

“Because they’re Romans, and they conquer things?” Helen volunteered, with a glint in her eye. “Much like your dad over here.”

“Mum!” Molly blurted, horrified afresh at her mother’s brazenness, while Caroline and Ben laughed uncontrollably.

Patricia scowled. “My word,” she said, disapproval dripping from her voice. “Is this really conversation for polite company?”

“Quite so,” James agreed as Fabrizio returned with the bottle of wine. He stood up. “I think it’s time we turned in for the evening, Patricia,” he continued. “We’ve had… a very long day.”

“Oh, come on, Father,” Ben pleaded, “don’t be that way.”

“Was it something I said?” Fabrizio asked, coming back with the wine. When no one responded, or even met his eyes, he understood the implication. “Well, I will not keep bothering you. I shall see you all tomorrow then. Buona notte .”

He left again, leaving an air of despondent silence to settle on the rest of the group.

“You know something?” Caroline said, cutting through the rampant awkwardness. “I think I should turn in, too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I think I’ve had enough wine for one night. Would you mind, Mol?”

Molly shrugged. “You’re right,” she said. She yawned as she got up, only now realising that, despite the abrupt way the Pembreys had exited, there might have been some truth to what they’d said, too.

And she was exhausted, and so disappointed that their Italian trip had started so badly.

Ben’s parents were annoyed, her own parents out of their comfort zone, and what with the disinterested wedding planner, missing dress and best man still absent, it seemed nothing had gone right for them so far.

“Night all,” she sighed, giving her parents a kiss on the cheek. “Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.”