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‘Yes, it was,’ replied Marielle. She’d had to split herself in two, working and nursing them both. Cilla hadn’t pulled anything like her fair weight to help, considering all her adoptive mother had done for her. She was a widowed mum herself then with a two-year-old daughter, but she could still have helped more. Marielle had had to rely on Teddy far more than she’d wanted to. He’d been at catering college then and when he wasn’t studying, he was working in restaurants to get experience. He’d been a rock for her then and he still was.
‘Happy marriage?’
Marielle puffed out her cheeks. ‘We stayed together,’ she said, ‘but he caused me a lot of pain.’
‘What sort of pain?’ Sabrina lifted her mug up to her lips. It was black with the wordTeddy’swritten on it in a scrolling font over an Italian flag.
‘Other women sort of pain,’ said Marielle. ‘I can’t tell you how many times I took off my wedding ring to fling at him. I stayed with him because I didn’t want to break up my family; not until Teddy was grown up anyway. He wasn’t the best of husbands to me but he was a wonderful father to our son. I planned to come back to England alone, but Teddy wanted to come with me and Sal said he wanted to as well. I don’t know what happened but here, he became the husband I’d always wanted him to be and we had four fabulous years. Then he fell ill, nothing serious we thought; but weeks laterhe was gone and I’m sorry that I didn’t have enough of that Salvatore.’
Her eyes had gone glassy, Sabrina noticed.
‘What about your son? Does he live close by?’
‘Yes, and he has his own restaurant in town. It’s a bit of a family affair. His two young cousins from Naples live over here and are waiters – very good-looking boys, they’re having quite the time of it – and my cousin’s daughter Flick is our, well… everything: receptionist, waitress, sommelier, sometimes sous chef, sometimes washer-upper. They’re always so busy, she has to wear a few hats. My son is thirty-eight, she’s nineteen, but I have to stop and ask myself sometimes who’s the oldest because she doesn’t half rule the roost.’
Flick was someone Marielle seemed fond of, Sabrina could tell that by her voice.
‘And has Teddy given you any grandchildren?’ asked Sabrina, because if anyone would make a perfect granny, it would be this woman sitting next to her.
‘Oh Sabrina, the one thing I wish I could go back and change is that Teddy grew up seeing a very dysfunctional template of a marriage,’ replied Marielle with a sad smile of regret. ‘You try and hide your unhappiness from your children, but they know. I cried too much, we rowed too much, it was probably no wonder that Teddy almost married someone who was giving him the runaround. It was like watching myself and Sal, only with the sexes reversed. I don’t mind telling you I couldn’t have been more relieved when they broke up and I’m not sure he’s been out with anyone since. He always says he’s too busy for a relationship, which is a real shame because you should never be too busy for love. So, one day, I hope…’
‘Families are complicated,’ said Sabrina, though she wasn’tsure if she just knew that as a general point or was speaking from experience. ‘I bet even those picture-perfect ones on Instagram who make their own jam from fruits they’ve grown in their gardens end up throwing teapots at each other sometimes.’
That made Marielle smile. ‘I threw all sorts of things at Sal. I’m not proud of it.’
Sabrina bit her lip in thought, recalling something Marielle had just said which might kill two birds with one stone. ‘You said that your son’s restaurant is always busy. Do you think they’d like another pair of hands to help out? I could do with a bit of pin money to earn my keep, and pay you what I owe you.’
Marielle shook her head. ‘You don’t owe me anything, it’s all freely given.’
‘I know but you said the girl you helped in Naples got her memory back by doing some jobs and keeping busy. I’d like to at least try that,’ said Sabrina.
Marielle thought about that for a minute. There wouldn’t be as much to keep Sabrina busy here as there had been for Viola in Naples. She’d thrown herself into helping with young Teddy and Sal’s parents, cooking with Sal, cleaning their large house while they were both at work.
‘I can ask for you, if that’s what you want.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Sabrina. It couldn’t do any harm – only good – and she’d feel better repaying her debt, whatever Marielle might say to that.
TheDaily Trumpetwould like to apologise to animal behaviourist student Murphy Benson for inadvertently reporting that his professor at Cambridge was ‘mightily impressed with his faeces, so much so that he insisted it went into the Cambridge University Library as a shining example to others to replicate the standard’. This, of course, should have read thathe was mightily impressed with his thesis.
Murphy has kindly agreed to accepting dinner for two at the ‘Dog and Boner’ pub in Knaresborough as fair recompense for any embarrassment caused.
Chapter 22
Teddy Bonetti was in a very bad mood the next morning. Next door there was a lot of activity going on in the empty building that would soon be a rival restaurant. Also he’d had to tell a builder’s van and a flash Mercedes that had parked up on his private land to shoo. It was clearly marked for patrons of Teddy’s and it wasn’t the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. He’d been so distracted that he’d cocked up a batch of ice cream which had ended up more like soup.
Felicity Charlesworth, affectionately known as Flick, put up with him grumping about all morning like a grizzly bear with an ingrowing toenail, until she reached satiation point. He was her second cousin, but she’d always thought of him as more of an uncle and that’s what she called him.
‘Right, that’s it, Uncle Teddy, be quiet or go and have a smoke outside.’
‘I don’t smoke,’ he said, looking at her as if she were insane.
‘Well start. You might find it helps. I thought most Italians smoked anyway.’ She didn’t stop wiping down the tables as she admonished him; she was quite capable of doing the two jobs simultaneously.
‘It’s a myth. Like Nero fiddling while Rome burned and bulls hating red. And the earth is flat like a pizza.’
Flick tried not to chuckle. Uncle Teddy was at his funniest when he was on one. His accent was a strange hybrid of Yorkshire and Italian but when he was impassioned, it veered towards the latter, and his hands started flying around as if he was conducting the Philharmonic Orchestra playing the ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’.
‘Ah look, someone to cheer you up,’ said Flick, seeing Marielle coming through the door.
