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‘Are you sure it’s this way?’ Sarah called to Lucy, who was now walking ahead with her phone in her hand looking up at the buildings around her, then back to her phone again.
‘Yes, Ginevra said it was this way. Said we couldn’t miss it.’ What they were looking for was a small trattoria in the square Lucy had mentioned, suggested by the hotel’s owner as the perfect place to find something to eat before heading out to see the sunset over the Arno. ‘She said it’s run by an old friend of hers, best bruschetta on this side of the river apparently,’ said Lucy, still walking at pace.
They’d left the hotel and walked along quiet streets lined with sand-coloured buildings, their shutters painted green. Neighbourhood shops sat closed behind metal grilles, their huge dark wooden doors were firmly closed. The streets were low-key and quiet until, as they rounded a corner, they found themselves at the edge of a cobbled piazza. At one end stood a large church with a plain light stone façade and a simple round window at the top. In the middle of the piazza, an impressive octagonal fountain provided a place to sit in the shade of the trees, and cafes and restaurants lined the edges, tables spilling out onto the cobbles.
‘I think we need to come back here later for a drink,’ said Sarah, gazing up at the tall buildings around her, admiring the arches at the top. ‘I like the look of that one there.’ She pointed up to what looked like a rooftop bar.
‘Lucy, hang on,’ Stella called out to her cousin, now marching across the piazza ahead of them.
‘It’s just up here. If we get there now, we’ll have time to get something to eat before walking up to the bridge to see the sunset,’ Lucy called back.
‘Nothing’s going to get between her and a plate of food,’ Bridget laughed, grabbing Stella’s hand and pulling her on.
They walked down a few more quiet streets before coming to a tiny square. Benches lined the outside, bicycles strewn against the back of them. People sat in groups, talking and laughing, and in the middle, a huddle of small children drew on the stone floor in chalk.
‘Please say it’s this one, I’m starving.’ Sarah looked ahead at a restaurant on one corner, the tables outside already busy.
‘Oh, it looks gorgeous,’ said Stella, slightly out of breath.
They were quickly shown to a table by the waitress and Lucy noted how most of the people at the other tables were both young and Italian. She took this as a personal triumph. ‘Always a good sign when you’re surrounded by locals, I think.’ She nodded conspiratorially to her friends.
A waitress brought menus and Stella suggested they order a selection of dishes and share.
Lucy nodded. ‘As long as there’s tomatoes and bruschetta involved, I’m happy. What about to drink – more Prosecco?’
‘Surely it’s got to be a negroni given it was invented in Florence.’ Stella looked at the drinks list as she spoke.
‘Good choice, our bartender here makes a very good negroni.’ The waitress smiled at them knowingly.
‘Sounds good, thank you. We’re all in.’ Sarah looked at them, to be met with nods of approval all round.
The air was still warm and the sky above showed signs of a setting sun. Their first negroni loosened their limbs, the second their tongues. Before long, plates of crostini topped with cavolo nero, bruschetta piled with bright red tomatoes and slices of salami covered the table as they talked easily and laughed a lot.
They quizzed Sarah on the modern minefield of internet dating now that she was very much back on the field of play post-divorce and listened open-mouthed at Sarah’s descriptions of what some men expected to know before even committing to a first date. She horrified them with tales of personal grooming expectations in places they’d never even considered and had them in hysterics at the tale of one potential date who sent her an unexplained picture with a sock covering his genitalia.
Bridget brought up the time she’d got talking to the most beautiful-looking man she’d ever seen in a bar in Greece when she and Stella had gone on holiday, years before, when they were both still single. ‘He leaned across and kissed me right there, in front of everyone. Except for Stella, who’d missed it because she was in the loo. When she returned, I decided not to tell her what had happened for fear of appearing to be a total lush.’
‘Which obviously you were.’ Sarah grinned.
‘Anyway,’ said Bridget, ‘a few moments later, I went to the loo and returned to find Stella at the bar kissing the same man, so I went up and tapped Stella on the shoulder, who turned round mid-kiss and looked absolutely mortified.’
Stella put her hands over her face, laughing. ‘Shit, I’d forgotten all about that.’
‘However,’ continued Bridget, dramatically, ‘the guy simply shrugged and said he didn’t realise we were friends, then said given he’d kissed us both, how did we feel about carrying on? And that’s when Stella picked up his beer from the bar and poured it into his crotch.’
‘You didn’t!’ cried Sarah and Lucy in unison.
‘Too right I did.’ Stella nodded, laughing.
More drinks arrived and it was only as they finished their third negroni that Lucy looked up and realised with a cry that they’d missed seeing the sunset.
‘We’ll see it tomorrow, I promise.’ Stella squeezed her cousin’s hand across the table. She sat back in her chair and looked up at the sky, now a beautiful dark blue. Her cheeks ached from laughing, a feeling she’d almost forgotten. Simon popped into her head, almost as if passing through to make sure she hadn’t forgotten about him. She closed her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’
Stella opened them to see Lucy looking at her, brows knitted together.
‘I will be. Thank you.’ She smiled and took another sip of her drink. ‘Now we’re here, shall we stay and order some pasta to share? Those aperitifs have left me still hungry.’
