Page 72 of Serenity Falls

‘Fine.’ She tries to lighten the tone. ‘As long as you don’t chat up any young waitresses.’

Her dad pretends to preen. ‘I’ll really try. But I mean, who wouldn’t want this?’ He stands and strikes a bad model pose.

Sadie pushes herself up from the sofa. ‘Forget what I said before, Dad. Seriously. You are going to die alone.’

Mama Mia’s is as traditional as, well, spaghetti and meatballs. Inside, they are greeted by the smell of herbs, rich tomato sauce and gently piped Italian music. Garlands of garlic are draped from fake beams on the ceiling. A dozen or so tables covered with chequered cloths are crammed around a central bar. Candles drip melted wax down the necks of quaint old wine bottles.

Despite wanting to roll her eyes, there’s something about the vibe, and the damn gorgeous smell of food, that is winning Sadie over. It’s so clichéd that it’s kind of cool.

They are greeted at the door by a plump man with a moustache who looks like he’s parkoured straight out of a Nintendo game.

‘Welcome to Mama Mia’s. I’m Vito. Have you booked a table with us this evening?’

Her dad nods. ‘Err, yes. Dan Barker. Table for two.’

‘Of course, Mr Barker.’ Vito beams so happily Sadie fears he might just implode with joy (or jump in the air and punch some coins). ‘I have one table left for you and your lovely daughter by the window. Come, this way.’

He plucks two menus from a stand and gestures extravagantly for them to follow. Amid the clink of cutlery and piped music, Sadie is sure the low buzz of conversation drops a little as they pass. Of course, maybe it’s just her imagination, but the sensation, again, of being an exotic animal on display refuses to budge.

‘And voilà!’

Vito holds out an arm and then whisks out a chair for Sadie. The table is small and wedged in a corner by the window. The table next to theirs has obviously just been vacated, plates still waiting to be cleared. Vito smiles benevolently as Sadie and her dad take their seats.

‘Ah. Perfecto, no?’

‘Err, yes. It’s great,’ her dad mutters. ‘Isn’t it, Sadie?’

Sadie nods, then feels she should probably try to ratchet up the enthusiasm to maybe a tenth of Vito’s.

‘Really great,’ she mutters.

‘Bellissimo! Now, can I get you some drinks? Our specials are on the board.’

Her dad glances briefly at the drinks menu. ‘Erm, a glass of Moretti, please.’

‘Just a Sprite,’ Sadie says.

‘Of course.’ Vito makes a little half-bow and scuttles away.

Sadie looks at her dad. ‘You think that accent is real?’

‘I dunno, but I’m calling that moustache.’

They grin and look at the menu. It’s short and simple but full of rustic Italian fare. The sort of food Sadie likes.

‘I think I’m going to go for the lasagne,’ her dad says. ‘What about you?’

‘Fiorentina pizza.’

‘Garlic bread?’

‘Of course.’

Vito returns promptly with their drinks, and they order. Sadie begins to relax, a little. The atmosphere, the music, the smell, are all lulling her.

‘So, did you have fun with Ellis and her friends today?’ Dad asks.

She gives him a look over her glass. ‘We’re not five, Dad.’