Page 23 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

Lucy took a sip. ‘Wow, this is great. Thank you. I love the sharpness of the lime and the mint, so refreshing.’

‘Lush,’ was all Tamsin said, after taking a huge slurp. She flashed Jack a grin, made a token gesture of wiping over the counter, then went back to her phone scrolling.

‘So, Papa’s story?’ The party was winding down, there was no-one waiting at Ruby, so Jack took up one of the little chairs beside the horsebox trailer.

Lucy finished wiping down the surfaces and then leaned out of the hatch, with her mocktail in hand, ready to tell the tale.

‘Okay, so, how my grandparents met … Well, my grandma – or Nonna as we call her – Nancy, she came into Papa’s family’s restaurant down near the quayside in Newcastle for dinner one day, with her then boyfriend. Papa was working and happened to be their waiter. Some item had been missed from their order, and the boyfriend guy was really rude and offensive about it. Papa took an instant dislike to him, but the lady with him seemed lovely, trying her best to calm the situation.’

Jack nodded, enjoying the story.

‘And, Papa was taken in by this lady’s beautiful blue eyes and her dark hair.’

Jack instinctively looked up into Lucy’s eyes – dark brown, not blue – but very distinctive; and her hair, yes … those glossy dark waves he’d noted the first time he ever saw her.

‘He wondered what on earth a nice young woman like her was doing with such a chap,’ Lucy continued. ‘Well, that was it. After they’d left, Papa was determined to find out who she was, and at least to talk to her. He realised he might only get one chance, might never see her again after tonight. He suddenly spotted an umbrella that had been left hanging around by the main entrance. He knew it wasn’t hers, of course he did. But he grabbed it anyway.

‘The two of them, Nonna and the boyfriend, were away up the street, walking some distance apart, obviously having taken umbrage with each other. “Excuse me, madam,” he called out as he chased after them. “I think you must have left your umbrella.”

‘She looked confused, about to say it wasn’t hers, and then saw his broad smile and vigorous nodding. “Oh yes … right, thank you,” she said. He approached, close enough to whisper, “If you’d like to come out on a proper date, I’d really love to be the one to take you.” He then handed over the umbrella along with one of the restaurant’s business cards. “My name is Antonio.”

‘“Well, thank you, Antonio,” she said.

‘The week after that he always said was the longest of his life, until the day a phone call came, his mother shouting across the restaurant floor: “Antonio, someone is asking for you …” And well, the rest is history.’

‘That’s a nice story.’

‘It is, isn’t it. I never got tired of Papa telling it.’

Lucy climbed out of the horsebox and took a seat next to Jack; her feet were killing her, it was a relief to take the weight off them and just relax for a moment.

‘And what about the pizzas? The link with your business?’ Jack asked, not quite wanting the story to end.

‘Oh yes, they were the best pizzas in town at the time. Everyone said so. A recipe handed down from his family in Sorrento. But when the recession hit in the 80s, it got harder to make ends meet. Papa’s father had some problems with loans, and sadly the restaurant had to close. When Papa was in his late thirties, he got a job as a bus driver. He was still doing that in his fifties, when I came along, his first grandchild, but he was always nostalgic about those days in the restaurant. He wanted to recreate that for us when we were young. Hah, I was the only kid at school whose grandparents had a wood-fired pizza oven in their back garden. We used to love it, me and my brother. Loading up our own pizzas, with homemade tomato sauce, on the thinnest, most delicious bases you can imagine …’

‘That must have been cool. He sounds a real character.’

‘Yeah, he was,’ Lucy’s tone softened, surprised to find herself opening up so much to this guy.

Jack was smiling softly too, happy just to listen and sensing there was more to this story.

Lucy took a slow breath. ‘He died several years ago … he was in his late sixties. It was so sudden, an aneurysm. We never got the chance to say goodbye.’ Her eyes had misted. She missed him so much.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lucy …’ Jack’s own past came hurtling in. He knew that feeling too well. Never saying goodbye. Not knowing that the last time was the last time you’d ever see that person.

Lucy looked up, seeing a shadow cross his face. Suddenly recognising that they might share that same deep shard of grief, but not daring to ask.

Jack was suddenly very quiet.

‘You okay, Jack?’

‘Yeah, yeah, fine. Good pizza.’ He switched tack, keen to cut that conversation short. Today wasn’t the day to go there. He didn’t want to pick at that particular scab right now, just wanted to enjoy the last of the evening. And perhaps, make the most of getting to know this intriguing Pizza Girl, who’d finally opened up a bit.

‘Come on,’ Jack found himself grasping her hand, which was warm, reassuring. He remembered Frank’s words from earlier about living life to the full: ‘I don’t think the Merry-Go-Round’s packed up quite yet. Do you think he might let us have a go for a couple of bottles of beer and that last pizza you’ve got?’

‘Worth a try,’ Lucy said with a shy grin. She couldn’t help but get caught up with Jack’s enthusiasm, his energy. ‘Tamsin, would you mind just keeping an eye on everything here … just for five minutes?’

The girl gave a bit of a huff, followed by a ‘S’pose so.’