The click-clack of Gina’s heels alerted me to incoming and I turned back to the window, watching a designer-clad toddler wobble uncertainly around on the grass, his nanny inches behind, ready to catch any tumble.
‘Libby, daaaaaarling!’ Gina purred, her thick Italian accent infusing the words with a depth I could never hope to achieve. Gina could make ordering pizza sound erotic. She was very Sophia Loren – all curves and sex appeal. She had over twenty years on me, but still knocked me, and most other women, so far into the shade it was covered with permafrost.
‘Hi, Gina. It’s nice to see you.’ And I meant it.
Dad hadn’t seen anyone for a long time after Mum had passed away. She’d been his world, his rock, and, despite both having occupations in which they dealt with mortality on a regular basis, they’d never considered they didn’t have many more years together. She was always so bright, so vital. To have that ripped away so suddenly – it wasn’t something Dad could understand. He spent his life saving people, but he had to watch the one person he loved more than anything in the world die before his eyes, unable to do a single thing to prevent it.
Gradually, however, he did begin to see other women. They were always classy, bright, and reserved. Mum was both the former, but she’d never been reserved. She certainly hadn’t been one for bottling things up. If something needed saying, it got said. She’d always said it was because she was Irish and that seemed as good a reason as any. Matt and I had inherited the same trait, and shamelessly used the same bloodline excuse.
So, it seemed strange to us that Dad had chosen to go for these demure types. We were never surprised when he didn’t see them more than once or twice. And then Gina came into view like a thunderbolt, fizzing and popping. And Dad began to smile. He laughed, properly laughed, for the first time in what seemed like forever. I’d never be able to thank Gina enough for being responsible for that. For all Dad’s chosen oblivion to what I was trying to do with my life, and his constant wish to set me up as Mrs Doctor Whoeveritmaybe – which I knew was only encouraged by Gina, one thing I didn’t thank her for – I still wanted him to be happy. And she made him happy. He’d never marry again and had told her that and the arrangement suited her. But privately Matt and I were still of the ‘never say never’ camp when it came to that subject.
‘So, has Joseph been telling you all about the gorgeous Dr Anthony DiMarco?’
‘Nope! But I’m pretty sure he was about to,’ I said, taking another drink.
‘I told Libby that it wasn’t planned or anything, we’d just got talking about the same restaurant.’
‘Of course not!’ Gina picked up, seamlessly. ‘We just thought it would be nice for him to have some company.’
‘If he’s a gorgeous doctor I’m pretty sure that’s one thing he won’t be short of.’
‘Well, you know how it is.’ Gina waved a toned arm and the diamonds in her cuff bracelet caught the sunlight streaming in through the large Georgian windows. ‘Everyone is so busy these days. Nobody has the time to meet anybody else! You are all so busy, busy, busy!’
So, definitely not by chance, then. Strategically planned. God knew what the poor man had been told. I imagined he’d felt that he had little choice, being asked to dinner by a senior, well-respected colleague. And, of course, he might not even be aware that he was being set up. After all, I’d only found out by accident. No, I was pretty sure this had been planned as an ambush on every front.
After another hour, I asked if it would be all right for me to go and have a lie-down, claiming that it had been a busy morning and that I wanted to be awake enough for dinner tonight. Nothing to do with the thumping headache I had and how the champagne now didn’t seem such a great idea.
Closing the door, I pulled my phone from my bag and opened the email app:
Dad’s done it again. I’d really been looking forward to this meal and spending some time with him and Gina but once again, they’ve added a fourth person to the party. Dr DiMarco this time, apparently. I know they mean well but I also know this wouldn’t happen if you were still here. I just wish Dad understood me like you did.
Love you xxx
I undid the ankle straps of my shoes and slid them off, then slipped out of my suit and laid it carefully over the back of the overstuffed armchair. The guest bedroom was decorated in a mix of soothing whites and soft greys and I could see over the rooftops as I lay in the luxuriously comfy bed. The sheeny thousand-thread-count sheets were soft on my skin and I closed my eyes.
* * *
A strange noise reached down into my dreams and I swam up to meet it. The noise came again. My mobile was ringing. Switched to vibrate, it was now dancing towards the edge of the bedside cabinet. I reached out and caught it, just as it dropped off the side. The screen was lit up with a picture of Amy pulling an ironic Kardashian pose, complete with duck-face pout and sticking-out bum.
‘Hi.’
‘Hiya! How’d it go? Are you OK? You sound weird.’
‘I just woke up. I’m at my dad’s.’
‘Are you ill?’
‘No.’ I reconsidered the fact my head was still thumping a bit. ‘Well, no, not really. I had champagne earlier, which was probably a mistake, but apart from that…’
‘Libs, you know you’re crap at alcohol! What made you think you could handle afternoon drinkies?’
‘I know!’ I sighed. ‘But Dad’s done his thing again and the “family dinner” has turned into yet another “let’s try and find a husband for Libby” dinner.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Oh, yes. Matt gave me a heads up earlier. If I wasn’t so keen to go to this restaurant, I’d be on the first train home. The food better be bloody good after all of this.’
Amy made a sympathetic sound. ‘But how was the meeting?’
