It was three days before she heard from him again. This came in the form of a text message and it simply read, Hi Debbie. Can I see you again? P.
They had been three surprisingly long days. Debbie had found herself thinking about him a lot and she had come close to calling or texting him herself on a couple of occasions, but had resisted the temptation. All the time she had found herself questioning why he had refused to come in for coffee, or whatever else she might have ended up offering. Who was this female colleague who required his help? Was he holding back because he wasn’t interested, or was there somebody else? Was there maybe a girlfriend back in Italy?
At the same time, she had also been doing a good bit of self-analysis.
Four months had now passed since Paul had left, and so far she had remained true to her resolve to steer clear of men. Did this sudden attraction to the handsome Italian mean she was over Paul and ready to move on?
Inevitably, this was also the question uppermost in Alice’s mind. On the way home from school on the day after their encounter at the Angler’s Rest, Debbie had been pretty sure she could expect a visit from Alice as soon as she got out of work. Consequently, she was totally unsurprised to hear the doorbell ring at six o’clock that evening. The questions started the moment Alice walked in the door.
‘Scruffy and smelly, eh? Are you sure, Debs?’
‘Well, maybe not smelly.’
‘He’s a total hunk, your Pierluigi, and you know it. So why deny it?’
Debbie took advantage of a few seconds’ thinking time as she filled the kettle and dug out two clean mugs, but, in spite of this, her answer sounded weak even to her.
‘I suppose he is quite good-looking really.’
‘He’s like something out of a catalogue and you know it. So, does this mean you’ve finally taken my advice and put that slime ball Paul behind you and decided to get on with the rest of your life?’
Debbie did her best to answer her friend as honestly as possible.
‘I really don’t know, Al. You’re right, of course, Pierluigi is very good-looking and he’s also kind, generous and intelligent. I suppose the answer to your question is probably a qualified yes. I think I may be over Paul, or at least getting there.’
‘Why qualified?’ Alice’s tone was now less confrontational and more sympathetic.
‘I mean this is the first time since Paul that I’ve felt attracted to another man, but I know nothing about him, really. He’s Italian. He’s a doctor. He lives in Florence with his parents and he’s going home in little more than a week’s time. That’s about it.’
‘Did you say Florence?’ Alice was one of the few people in whom Debbie had confided about her dreams of Florence. ‘Surely that has to be a sign? The universe is telling you this man’s the one for you, Debs.’ As ever, Alice had come close to reading Debbie’s mind.
‘I know, Al, it is a coincidence, but maybe that’s all it is.’
‘I’m not so sure, but anyway, what’re you going to do about him? Have you got his phone number? Do you know where he’s staying?’
‘Yes, and no. I think he said he was in one of the halls of residence, but I don’t know which.’
‘Well, call him and find out.’
Debbie shook her head.
‘To be honest, Al, he’s out of my league. His shirt alone probably cost more than everything I was wearing last night, and I’m pretty sure his watch would be worth more than the entire contents of this flat. He’s from another world. He even knew what the bloody pigs we were eating had been fed on, for crying out loud. He wouldn’t be interested in me.’
She saw Alice roll her eyes. ‘Do you hear yourself? What are you – little orphan Annie? You’re a grown woman with a good degree, a responsible job, and did I mention your bum? Of course he’s interested in you.’
Debbie wasn’t so sure. She would wait for him to make the next move.
So when the text message arrived, she hesitated before replying. There was no denying the fact that she would love to see him again, but she also knew she wanted to take things slowly, even though he would be leaving all too soon. The break-up with Paul had scarred her deeply and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. After a lot of thought, and taking a deep breath, she texted back: Love to. Where and when? D. She resisted the temptation to add a little x before her initial. ‘Take it slow,’ she murmured to herself.
Seconds later, her phone rang. It was his number. She was in the kitchen at the time, so she sat down at the table as she answered.
‘Hi, Pierluigi, how are you?’
‘Debbie, hi.’ He sounded very pleased to hear her voice. ‘Today’s Friday. I was thinking about renting a car tomorrow and taking a little tour of the area. Would you feel like joining me?’
‘That sounds lovely. The forecast’s good, too.’
‘Shall I pick you up at ten?’
‘It’s a date.’
As she put the phone down on the table, she reviewed her terminology. She had called it a date. Was that really what it was?
It was a beautiful day and their tour of the countryside around Cambridge was equally beautiful. There was just one problem. Pierluigi had arrived wearing shorts, and the problem for Debbie was that his long, tanned legs were very, very distracting. Time and again, she found herself having to consciously raise her eyes from his brown knees to the scenery outside. In the course of the day, they visited most of Cambridgeshire as well as quite a bit of Norfolk and Suffolk. Although she had lived in the area for five years, she had rarely ventured outside of Cambridge itself, and she thoroughly enjoyed discovering the surrounding countryside. And of course, she had a wonderful guide.
They stopped for midmorning coffee at a table outside a sixteenth-century inn by the side of the river Ouse. As they nibbled biscuits and sipped their drinks, they watched the antics of a family of mallard ducks with their tiny, fluffy young, as they threaded their way among the pleasure craft of all shapes and sizes that chugged up and down before them. Lunchtime was spent in Ely, visiting the wonderful cathedral, so incongruously enormous in such a little town. She wondered how it would rate alongside the Duomo in Florence.
It was after a pub lunch, while they were sitting on a bench in the shade of a massive old oak tree, that they gradually began to find out more about each other. Debbie was the first to pluck up the courage.
‘So, Pierluigi, is there a special lady in your life?’
‘Apart from my mother, my sister and the person sitting beside me?’
His tone was gentle. She nodded and waited until he gave his answer.
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
There was something in his voice that made Debbie decide not to pry. However, after a few moments, he elaborated.
‘Working shifts in Careggi Hospital doesn’t do a lot for your social life.’ He gave her a little smile. ‘On those nights when I am free, I’m normally too tired to want to go out. But, what about you? You said you’d broken up with your boyfriend some time ago. Surely a beautiful girl like you has got a queue of men at the door.’
Maybe it was because she knew he would be gone in a matter of days, maybe it was because she felt he was something a bit special, but unusually for her, she decided to go for full disclosure. Even so, she didn’t have the strength to look him in the face. Instead, she stared across at the intricate towers of the cathedral as she told him all about it. Her eyes followed the vertical lines upwards as she explained what had happened.
‘I was engaged to be married. His name was – is – Paul. We’d been living together for four years and we were planning to get married next summer. Originally it was going to be this summer – this month in fact.’ She stopped for a moment, composing herself. ‘But Paul insisted on putting it off, and I suppose I should have realised then that something was wrong. Anyway, to cut a long, sad story short, this winter wasn’t much fun and finally, at the end of March, we broke up and he moved out.’ She was relieved to have been able to deliver her speech without her voice betraying her. ‘And since then, I haven’t really felt interested in getting involved with anybody else.’
‘How awful for you. Why did you break up, if you don’t mind me asking?’
Debbie sighed inwardly, loath to revisit old, unpleasant memories that she had been trying so hard to suppress for months now. Reluctantly, she decided that, having started to talk, she might as well go the whole hog.
‘He worked for a company that owns English language schools, some of the biggest in the country, and even worldwide. They’ve got branches all over the place and he spent a lot of his time travelling, trying to promote the schools and get students. The trouble we had was that his busiest time was during the winter, while my busiest time in the classroom was the summer. As a result we really saw very little of each other and it was almost impossible even to arrange to go on holiday together. It was a mess.’
‘So is that why you broke up? Just logistics?’
Debbie steeled herself and looked up, turning towards him.
‘No, I could have lived with that. In fact, I did live with it. It wasn’t ideal, but I thought we could make it work. That is until I heard a chance comment from the group leader of a big group of Brazilians over in Cambridge for a course this winter. It turns out he and the travel agent in São Paolo had been having an affair for two years, on and off.’
‘And you tackled him about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And he admitted it?’
‘At first he tried to deny it, but then, finally, he admitted it. Not only that. It transpired that there was also a woman in Mexico, one in Paris, one in Spain… you get the picture.’
‘Did you love him?’
‘Yes… yes I did.’
‘And when did you stop loving him?’
For a moment she hesitated, unsure of the true answer.
‘I don’t know really. I suppose I did sort of love him right up until I heard the whole story.’
‘I’m so sorry for you.’ He reached across and took her hands in his and squeezed. She looked up at him gratefully.
‘Thanks, Pierluigi. I’m sorry to burden you with that.’
‘Not at all. It’s good to talk.’
That afternoon they visited Thetford and, finally, Bury St Edmunds, stopping to visit the stunning old abbey in the middle of the historic town. The weather remained fine and it was a lovely drive. They spent their time chatting, getting to know each other better and, although she knew it was crazy, seeing as he would be out of her life in a week or so, she felt closer to him than ever. When he delivered her back to her home at half past five, she had no hesitation in inviting him in.
This time, he accepted the invitation.
He finally left her house, and her bed, just before midnight, telling her he had to be up early to concentrate on the paper he had to write before the end of his course. As she closed the door after him and returned to the still warm sheets, she had no regrets. He was a lovely man and, although she knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t last, she told herself she didn’t mind. She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, smiling at her memories.
‘Carpe diem,’ she murmured to herself as she fell asleep. That night she dreamt about Florence once again, but the figure on the bench beside her now had a form, a face and a name.