‘I take it that wasn’t a welcome surprise?’ he asks. ‘Unless you normally emit unbridled cringe from your pores.’
‘That obvious, huh?’ I reply. ‘God, I’m so sorry. My mum has no filter. It’s a problem.’
‘Don’t worry about it!’ he says. ‘It’s not the worst thing in the world.’
‘True.’
‘My mother on the other hand. . . Well, my wife was white. Let’s just say that my Nigerian mom wasn’t initially open to interracial dating. Her filter is also non-existent, though at least she was polite enough to only express her concerns to me.’
‘I see,’ I reply. ‘That’s harsh.’
He remains silent for a moment while we stroll.
‘I do have a question, though,’ he says, tentatively. ‘And can you be honest?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Who the hell is Soapy?’
We find a family-run limoncello shop and head inside to sample, and they happily oblige. From the window display to the walls inside, the store is bursting with bottles of different shapes and colours, along with souvenirs.
I take a sip from the small shot glass. It’s so cold and sweet that my face almost collapses in on itself. ‘I think I hate this,’ I whisper to Ellis, so as not to offend the friendly staff.
‘How can you hate it?’ Ellis laughs. ‘It tastes like lemon meringue pie.’
I take another sip, just to be sure. ‘Nope. It’s too sweet! My teeth are retracting back into my jawbone.’
Ellis happily takes mine, eventually buying two bottles as gifts, while I buy two little lemon Christmas decorations because I don’t want to leave empty-handed.
‘Who are you giving those to?’ I ask as we leave the shop. ‘Will you be like, “Surprise! I secretly hate you!”?’
‘I have many enemies around the world,’ he replies, ‘but I wouldn’t waste this on them. Who was the guy with your mom? He seems decent.’
‘Paul is her newest boyfriend,’ I respond. ‘First time I’ve met him, but yeah, he does.’
‘Newest boyfriend?’
I nod. ‘She has a trail of broken hearts behind her. It’s hard to keep up.’
Chapter 33
Fifty minutes, two sips of limoncello and a prosciutto Piadina later, our next and final stop is Pompeii. The crowds are already slowly swamping the entrance, like the walking dead in bumbags and crocs.
We have four hours here to explore. My knowledge of Pompeii is somewhat limited but what I do know is that it was a Roman city, buried under a volcano, and some of it still stands. It was the subject of a British comedy series in the late sixties where every second line was an innuendo, and my father said it was the funniest show ever made. It wasn’t.
‘Mount Vesuvius,’ Ellis informs me. ‘That’s the name of the volcano.’
I roll my eyes. Is he really volcano-splaining me? I decide to have a little fun.
‘You only know that because Camilla just told us.’
‘What? No, I knew that!’
‘Did you, though? Seems awfully convenient that you repeated that right after she shared that information.’
I enjoy watching him vehemently insist that he already knew this fact until he understands that I am just winding him up.
‘Very funny.’
