‘He’s called Mario. Of course there is!’
Dad tilted his head towards me. ‘She’s always had a thing for Italian men.’
‘I have not!’ Mum gave him a little push.
Dad slid his eyes to me and waggled his brows.
‘OK, what do you want to know? Remember I only met him last night though.’
‘So, what do you know about him?’
I gave a shrug. ‘He loves to dance, he came over from Italy six years ago, works in graphic design, is very astute when it comes to people and has a wicked sense of humour.’
‘Is he good looking?’
‘Yep. Very. Tall, dark, Italian. The whole caboodle.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’ I tried to ignore the hopeful look on Mum’s face.
‘Are you seeing him again?’
‘Yep. Next week at class.’
‘Not before.’
‘No.’
‘Why not? It sounds like you got on well.’
‘We did. But he’s my dance partner. That’s all.’
‘Darling, I know you’re happy with Humphrey, but I don’t want you to think that just because some things haven’t worked out, that there isn’t hope.’
I caught Dad’s eyes and rolled my own. ‘I don’t think that, Mum.’
‘Good. Good. So, you like this Mario?’
‘Yes. He’s very nice. We went out after class to a bar for a drink.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes. Me and Mario and Jess and Harry. And Andy.’ Time to put Mum out of her misery. Or plunge her into it. Either way, it had to be done.
‘Andy? Was he from dancing too?’
‘No. Andy is Mario’s partner.’
Dad snorted a laugh which he expertly morphed into a cough. Mum absentmindedly patted him on the back.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled, keeping his eyes diverted from mine. We were the big gigglers in our family. Sally and Mum had a level of control Dad and I had entirely missed out on. We both knew that if he looked at me now, it was over.
‘Partner?’
‘Yes.’
‘As in… boyfriend.’
