I’ve asked myself if Louise could be the person splashing our names all over town, but I have yet to come up with a reason why she’d want to. Why anyone would care. That’s the weird part: the motive. Do they want to harm us or . . . or what?
‘But also, she’s not wrong,’ he says, and turns to me. Olive has made herself comfortable on his legs, and her eyes are half shut in bliss while Simo rubs her back. ‘We do make a pretty picture.’ He holds my gaze, and if I didn’t knowbetter, I’d say he’s flirting with me. That’s when I know I’m well and truly fucked. My crush is so out of control it’s making me see things. Heat creeps up my neck while I scramble for an appropriate reply.
Daniel saves me. He’s dressed in black, from his tuxedo trousers to the loose dress shirt, complemented by his dark hair and beard. It’s the easy-going laugh and the heartfelt way that he greets people that make him truly shine. He looks at ease in his new restaurant.
‘Boys, I’m so glad you came. Looks like Olive has made you her disciples already.’
‘We don’t mind,’ Simo replies, ‘and thanks for inviting us. You’ve turned this into such a nice place.’
Look, I know we root for rough boys, bad boys, boys who act first and think later, but right now Simo’s gentle voice and impeccable manners are having a real effect on me. And on Daniel too, who is beaming.
‘I’m proud of what I’ve pulled off, but there’s one thing that would make me even happier,’ he says, turning to me. ‘Are you sure you can’t convince your dad to come?’ He points over my shoulder. When I turn, I get a clear view of Dad mopping the floor of the cafe.
‘I doubt it,’ I say. Guilt creeps up on me, seeing Dad alone in the shop while half of Lombard is squeezing itself into Daniel’s place just across the road. Staying away is his decision though, not mine.
‘Please?’ Daniel says, ‘I don’t want to antagonise him. Life is going to be easier if we can be friends. And you could look after Olive from time to time.’
There’s no way I can refuse now. ‘If you let me borrowher, I’ll have Dad over here in no time.’
‘She’s all yours,’ he says. I lift her from Simo’s lap and scoop her into my arms. She licks my chin to say hello.
‘Be right back,’ I tell them, and I’m out the door and across the street, giggling as she tickles my neck with her sniffs. I’ve barely set foot in the cafe when Dad stops me in my tracks.
‘Don’t you drop that. I just cleaned,’ he warns.
‘Thatis a dog, and her name isOlive,’ I retort. ‘And she’s clean.’
‘What do you need?’ Dad asks, eyeing her suspiciously.
‘Daniel wants you to come over.’
‘Does he now?’ he says, and wipes the already spotless counter.
‘So will you come?’
‘I’m busy tidying.’
‘The place couldn’t be tidier, Dad.’
‘Some of the tables wobble. I was going to fix that.’
‘How about this: I leave Olive with you, and you’re forced to bring her back over unless you want her to mess up your squeaky-clean floor – or you join us now?’
With narrowed eyes, he stares out the window at the crowd of townsfolk mingling, snacking, sipping Aperol.
‘Fine, let’s go.’ He throws down the towel and heads for the door.
‘You’re not going to change?’ I ask.
‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’
‘I can identify about twelve meals you’ve served today just from looking at your shirt.’
Even Olive is craning her surprisingly long neck to get abetter sniff. Dad grumbles but stomps upstairs and reappears five minutes later, still grumbling, but in a clean white tee and a fresh pair of denims. I think he even combed his hair, and –
‘Did you put onaftershave?’
He ignores me, so of course I repeat the question, twice, until we reach the restaurant.
