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‘It’s an easy mistake to make,’ I reply calmly. ‘They filmed much of the movie adaptation on the coast in Positano, so I understand why you’ve mixed up fact with fiction. There are also many towns and villages a few miles inland which claim to be a part of Amalfi when they aren’t. They do it for the kudos and the tourism. I couldn’t pretend to do that.’ I stare him in the eye. ‘Be something I’m not. For money.’ He doesn’t flinch.
I use his attempt to discredit me as a springboard. ‘Do you know Italy well?’ I continue. ‘Have you travelled much or are you more of a homebird?’
‘I can be both.’
‘And where is home?’
‘Just across the county.’
‘Which direction?’
‘Northants.’
He drains his glass and reaches for the bottle of wine he brought with him. He chose it deliberately: it’s the one that belonged to me that she gave him a few weeks ago as a thank you. ‘Shall I open it?’ he asks, but he’s already unscrewing the cap. He leans towards her to fill her glass up.
I hold my hand over the rim. ‘She can’t drink because of her medication.’
‘Will one glass really do her that much harm?’
‘Then what, shall we give her some fireworks and a box of matches to play with? Alcohol can make her angry or confused and stop her from remembering.’
He turns to face her and gives her a wink. ‘And do you always play by the rules, Gwenny? I bet you could be a naughty girl in your day.’
She taps her nose and she chuckles. ‘What happens in Geneva, stays in Geneva.’
I have no idea what she’s referring to.
‘Come on, Connie. I’m sure one glass won’t hurt,’ Paul continues. And before I can protest again, he pours her glass up to the halfway mark. She sips it and her face lights up, like a child discovering sugar for the first time.
‘So Paul, what else do you do when you’re not so generously donating your time to others?’ I ask. ‘Do you have a full-time job?’
‘I’m self-employed.’
‘As what? There’s no business name on your van.’
‘I work on the railways ... maintenance ... that kind of thing. And you? Does it bother you always being the bridesmaid and never the bride?’
‘I’m a wedding planner, not a bridesmaid. And I took over a friend’s business when she left,’ I explain.
‘Which friend was that again?’ she asks.
‘Martine. We were in sixth form together.’
‘Have I met her?’
‘Many times.’
‘And what did you do before that?’ Paul continues.
‘A lot of things. Too many to list.’
‘I’m sure you made your mum very proud,’ he says and turns to her again. ‘What do you say, Gwenny? Did Connie make you proud?’
She thinks carefully before answering. ‘I suppose she must have.’
‘What was she like as a little girl?’ he persists.
She frowns. ‘I’m not sure. I ... I think ...’ She has lost her thread.
