He’s at a friend’s house when he calls. It’s near a market, and I struggle to hear him above the shouts of traders advertising their wares in excited Spanish. I hear a word that sounds like ‘grenade’ and I freeze.
He shakes his head. ‘He’s talking about pomegranates,notgrenades.’
‘How can you be sure? You keep missing your Spanish lessons.’
Mark gives me an indulgent smile that I secretly call his Nella Smile.
I promise to send him some photos from tonight, and we sign off.
The black computer screen is like a mirror. I smile at my reflection and metaphorically pat myself on the back. Look at me being all grown-up and slaying at such a super platonic friendship. Go, me.
I allow myself exactly five minutes and six seconds of wallowing a day. Coincidentally, it’s the exact amount of time it takes to listen to ‘Gia Ena Tango’. Maybe one day I’ll be able to hear it without feeling sad.
I’m doing okay, even though Yan thought I was a hopeless case. What he doesn’t know about is the picture on my laptop from the official wedding photos. It’s of Tig and Theo standing outside the church, but Mark and I are in the background. I’m smiling as he picks confetti out of my hair and the way we’re looking at each other is, well, difficult for me to process.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looks like the final image in a romantic comedy. It’s an illusion, of course. A happy accident caught randomly by a photographer. I don’t usually like photos of myself, but this one I look at more than is probably healthy.
My other guilty secret is a new-found fondness for spicy romance books.Surrendering to the Sicilian Surgeonwasn’t hard to track down, and it was every bit as hot as I was promised. Especially the mascarpone scene.
Tonight will be the first time I meet Spiros, although my parents met him when they went to Yan’s for dinner a couple of weeks ago. They were very taken by him, even though he’s from Athens and islanders suffer from reverse snobbery about people from the big smoke. Spiros is an antiques dealer and travels a lot. He’s not due until much later because he’s been in Brussels, and his plane has been delayed. I spot Yan checking his phonea lot.
I arrive an hour before everyone else so I can help with any last-minute preparations.
‘The place looks amazing,’ I tell Yan. And it’s true – the transformation from the building site it was ten days ago is impressive. Although if his builders had kept to their agreed timetable, poor Yan would currently be sporting fingernails rather than bitten stubs.
The walls are painted a rich emerald colour, contrasting wonderfully with the white tablecloths. The bar is beautiful black marble, with a mirrored back wall featuring a glittering array of artisanal gins and whiskies.
The menu, which Yan has stressed over formonthsis Mediterranean/French fusion. Tonight, staff dressed discreetly in black will circulate with a constant flow of canapés – a preview of some of his signature dishes in miniatures.
‘What can I do?’ I ask.
‘There’s a delivery of paper shell pecans that should have arrived before six but there’s no sign of them. Keep an eye out, would you? They’re crazy expensive. I don’t want them left outside the back door for the blooming foxes to eat.’
‘No problem. Your overpriced nuts will be safe with me.’
Soon after, my parents arrive with Tig, Theo, and Pen.
‘You look lovely, Nellamou,’ says Mum.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Shame your father didn’t get the memo.’ She cuts her eyes to him. I don’t know what the problem is – he looks fine. Is she unhappy he’s not wearing a tie? Then I notice he’s wearing his M&S trainers – her pet hate.
Yan encouraged everyone to dress up tonight, so I’m wearing a black chiffon dress with spaghetti straps and someveryhigh and expensive shoes. They were an impulse buy and are completely impractical, but I love them.
Spiros arrives at nine and the whole family descends on him – poor guy. I’m looking forward to my turn to interrogate him – in a fun, totally non-Gestapo way – when Yan catches my eye from across the room and mouths the words ‘nuts.’
I give him the thumbs-up and let Pen ahead of me in the interrogation queue.
I walk through the kitchen towards the back door.
‘I hear you have some special nuts for me.’
A man stands in the shadows of the courtyard outside. He’s dressed for a smart party, not a delivery. I pause, confused.
He steps forward into the light.
‘Never had them called that before.’
