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Elisa raises an eyebrow. ‘Everything okay? Your friend doesn’t look too happy.’
‘He isn’t,’ I say in my cheery-teacher voice, and gesture to the pastry in front of me as if I’m describing it. ‘And he isn’t my friend, either. He’s my ex.’
‘The guy you told me about?’
‘Right. And he just showed up here last night out of nowhere. He’s been going through my things and now he’s accusing me of cheating on him although I left months ago.’
‘Oh,’ Elisa says in the same faux-bright tone. ‘You mean, with…’
‘Right,’ I cut in before she can say Marco’s name. ‘Sorry for the drama, but he wanted to talk and I thought it was best to meet somewhere public.’
‘You did right. What a prick.’ Elisa shoots a smile at Duncan, who smiles faintly back. ‘If he starts to get nasty, just yell and I’ll call the carabinieri.Buon appetito.’
She pats my shoulder and hurries back inside.
Duncan gives me a suspicious look. ‘Were you talking about me?’
‘Of course not,’ I say, and take a sip of my cappuccino.
‘Well, I don’t know, do I?’ He picks up his spoon and stirs at the foam on his coffee. ‘I know you don’t wear lime-scented aftershave, though,’ he says.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. And, oddly enough, I am a little bit sorry. He looks so broken down that, against all sense, I’m actually starting to wonder whether I really did do something wrong. Maybe Iwasn’tclear it was over. Maybe I could have done more and avoided this whole situation.
Duncan drops his spoon with a clatter and pushes his cup away. ‘I’m such an idiot,’ he says. ‘I’m a bloody idiot. Coming all the way here, thinking I could get you back, trying to convince you when all the time you’ve been… oh God!’ He slumps forward. ‘I can’t… I just…’
Oh, fuck. I lean forward and put my hand rather awkwardly on his arm.
‘Look, Duncan.’ I lower my voice in the hope that this will somehow calm him down. ‘I can see this is a shock, and I am sorry. I wish you hadn’t found out like this, but the fact is that…’
‘I can’t believe it!’ To my horror, he grabs my hand and pulls it to him, holding it against his cheek. I try to extract it from his grasp, but he only grips it tighter. ‘I can’t believe you’d actually… I never thought you’d be s-so… I thought you loved me.’ His voice is an agonised near-whisper. ‘I thought you loved me like I love you. Because I do love you, Tori. Maybe I don’t always show it like you want me to, but I don’t want to carry on without you. Don’t make me.’
‘Tori!’ someone says just over my shoulder. I turn and am deeply relieved to see Chiara, wearing a sharp suit and holding a takeaway cup of coffee. Oh, thank God, the cavalry’s here.
She glances from me to Duncan and back again. ‘What’s going on?’ she says in Italian. ‘Isn’t this your ex? The guy from the photo?’
I tug my hand away and this time Duncan lets go, burying his face in his hands in an attitude of abject suffering. ‘Yes. He just showed up out of nowhere – my awful sister gave him my address. I’m trying to get rid of him and he won’t leave. Can you help me? I don’t know, have a real estate emergency or something? You can make up any old shit, really. Just so long as I absolutely have to go with you right now.’
For a moment I think Chiara’s going to leap to it. I think she’ll invent some brilliant excuse and whisk me away. After all, she’s my friend, and she knows what Duncan did to me. But she’s studying me. In fact, I realise, she’s got that look again – that same quizzical look she gave me when I tried to explain why I’d married him, why I’d stayed so long. ‘But you were supposed to be staying at Marco’s this week. Weren’t you? Or have I missed something?’
‘I was. I only came back to my flat to wash some underwear and, er, improve my mood.’ My Italian’s going now, fragmenting under stress. ‘I didn’t know he’d show up and I’d ordered a pizza but it wasn’t pizza, it was him, and I can’t make him go away and I don’t know what to do. That’s why I need your help. Please.’
Chiara looks at Duncan, who’s still hunched over in an attitude of misery, and then at me again. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you broke up with him months ago.’
‘I did! I did break up with him, he just didn’t… accept that I had,’ I finish lamely. Her disbelief is so obvious that even I’m starting to feel this is all a bit far-fetched.
Chiara shakes her head. She looks genuinely regretful, which is somehow even worse. ‘I’m sorry, Tori, but this is really weird. I can see there’s something going on here and that it’s distressing for you. I want to believe what you’re telling me – I really do. But…’ She sighs. ‘Marco’s my best friend in the world. You know that. And there’s something here that just doesn’t add up. I wish I could help, but I can’t, not in good conscience. I have to look out for Marco, and I’m going to have to tell him about this. I’m sorry. Good luck.’
‘Wait,’ I begin, but she turns on her heel and walks off.
‘Sorry,’ Duncan says. He sits up, rubbing his face. ‘I embarrassed you in front of your friend.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, although it’s not. It’s not fine at all. I’m hurt, and I’m exhausted. All the broken nights, all the stress and fear and effort seem to be bearing down on me like a wave. ‘She’s not my friend. Well, no, she is. But she’s really close friends with, uh…’
‘With him,’ Duncan says. ‘Mr Lime-Aftershave Guy.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I suppose that’s over, then.’
