nothing bad,’ said Wes stiffly, obviously not appreciating the ‘Oh, shit!’ part of Levi’s response. ‘It’s nothing I’m obliged to tell you, but I thought I ought to in the interests of transparency and because we’re friends.’
‘Right.’ Levi breathed slightly more easily. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to leap to the conclusion that it was negative. What is it you want to share?’
Silence.
‘Wes?’
Wes sounded defensive. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to tell you that Octavia and I are a thing.’
‘Oh!’ All attention now on his conversation, Levi spun the simple sentence around in his mind in an effort to make sense of it. He wanted to snort, ‘What? In a couple of days?’ But Wes was being weird. Octavia was odd and maybe Wes was catching it. ‘Thanks for telling me. How long’s this been brewing up?’
‘Not long,’ Wes answered. After a pause he added, ‘I’m sorry if I’m stepping on your toes.’
Levi almost dropped the phone. ‘Stepping on my toes?’
Wes cleared his throat. ‘Octavia explained you’d been on a date and had been texting.’
‘But I told you it wasn’t a date. Or only in her mind—’
‘I phoned to congratulate her about taking on Dick’s pages. She said could we meet to talk about it and suggested dinner. We really hit it off but, as I say, I’m sorry if I’ve trodden on your toes.’ Wes hummed and hawed before adding in a rush, ‘It sort of turned into dinner and breakfast. And I know what you’re going to say,’ he hurried on before an astounded Levi could react. ‘I know it’s not like me. I’m more of your cautious type so far as women are concerned. It just sort of happened. And, it was the night of my life, to be honest. The only fly in the ointment was that this morning Octavia did this big sighing thing and said she hoped you wouldn’t be hurt. Her version of what happened between you isn’t quite the same as yours.’
He paused as if to let Levi speak, but he was so astonished at this development that he couldn’t find the words.
‘Anyway,’ Wes went on. ‘I’m saying sorry if I need to say sorry, because Octavia insisted that I should clear the air with you. But, as the saying goes, “we just couldn’t help ourselves.”’
‘Right,’ said Levi blankly, watching a fat bee hover indecisively between two lavender heads then sink down to land on the largest. If he could have chosen someone for Wes to take on as a freelance and then jump into bed with, Octavia would have been at the far end of a very long queue. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ he admitted, because he felt he had to say something and What are you THINKING?, however heartfelt, seemed inappropriate. ‘But my feelings aren’t hurt. Are you sure—’
‘Phew!’ Wes laughed. ‘I’ll be sure to tell Octavia. How’s everything going out there? Have you achieved your goal yet?’
Levi gave up. Wes and Octavia were adults and if Wes was as happy as he sounded he probably wouldn’t appreciate Levi pointing out that Octavia was lying to him. ‘Getting that way. If things go on as they are I’ll be able to telephone Freya and tell her Amy’s doing OK. But I haven’t decided—’
‘Gotcha. Speak soon then.’ And Wes ended the call.
Levi put away his phone and gazed at his painting, his appetite for it now absent. Was Octavia simply bizarre enough to angle for dinner with every man she met? And then pretend there was more to it?
As he sat uneasily, turning things over in his mind, he became aware of a sound reaching him over the lavender-scented air. It sounded like a woman singing, punctuating her song with loud clicks.
Curiosity aroused, he washed his brush and closed the lid on his palette, then stood to stroll up the slope, past a couple of olive trees, tracking down the sound to one side of the terrace and a shabby wooden gate he hadn’t noticed before. On the other side of it he found Sofia, looking very much off-duty in black shorts that clung as if in joy at finding themselves touching such a good part of her. In her ears were earbuds and in her hand a big pair of scissors. A flourishing vine dominated almost every available support in the vicinity and she was making an attempt at taming it, judging from the carpet of clippings beneath her feet and the neatness of the growth where it had been tied to two uprights. As she worked, she sang softly in Italian, insects buzzing companionably around her as if they thought they were her backing group. The slow, gentle song made her voice sound especially sweet. She blinked hard, pausing to wipe a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her T-shirt.
Though she always seemed inexplicably tetchy where he was concerned – which was a shame – Levi recognised a private moment when he saw one. He was about to creep away when she shifted position and caught sight of him. Visibly startled, she dropped her scissors, which narrowly missed her toes. ‘Fu— for crying out loud!’ she squeaked, dragging her earbuds from her ears. ‘Why are you lurking there?’
Levi lifted his hands to signal he came in peace. ‘Sorry! I heard you singing.’ And then, because the opportunity to leave unobserved had passed and the evidence of her tears still glistened on her face he felt compelled to put aside her occasional snarkiness. ‘Are you OK?’
She lifted the hem of her T-shirt to blot her eyes, affording him a glimpse of a taut abdomen before she let the fabric fall. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she sniffed, managing a tremulous smile. ‘Amy and I began cutting back this monster vine last night and I’ve worked my shift today so I thought I’d finish off and tidy up. I was listening to an Italian radio station and a song came on that Dad used to sing – Solo Tu. Apparently my parents considered it “theirs” and used to smooch to it.’
‘Then I’m sorry I interrupted.’
She gave him another watery smile, stooping to pick up the fallen scissors. ‘It’s OK. I promised not to be sad after he’d gone.’
Because she didn’t appear to be doing a great job of keeping that promise, Levi found himself saying, ‘I’m on my way to Il Giardino for coffee. Fancy joining me? Maybe a shot of caffeine will help.’
She studied him for a moment before she nodded. ‘That’s kind of you. Thank you. But off-duty staff aren’t meant to hang out with guests so I’ll meet you there and conveniently find a vacant seat at your table. I need to wash the green stuff off my hands anyway.’
Waiting for Sofia to join him at a table in Amy’s section of Il Giardino he had time to order a bottle of cold water and a couple of glasses. He was just beginning to wonder if Sofia had had one of her lightning changes of mood and wasn’t going to turn up when she appeared, cleaned up and changed into a cotton skirt. He rather missed the short-shorts. However changeable she’d been towards him she always looked amazing.
Amy sailed up the aisle between tables, beaming. ‘Finished the breakfast shift, Sofia? What can I get you both?’
Sofia ordered cappuccino and Levi Americano and, perhaps to counteract the hot drinks, they also selected an ice-cream each from the cabinet behind the bar. Sofia chose a chocolate-hazelnut combination called bacio, which she said meant ‘kiss’. Levi chose limone, the translation of which he could work out for himself.
‘Amy seems a bit happier now,’ he observed, when she’d served them with tall glasses of ice-cream and moved on to another table.
Sofia
