Page 87 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

‘Have we bitten… What I mean is, it’s great that we’re super-busy, but I worry that it’s all becoming too much.’

Elena stood up, chucked the contents of the dustpan in the bin and drew up a chair. Placing her arm around Lucy’s shoulder she said softly, ‘I thought Valentina’s new online booking system was helping.’

Lucy bit down on her lip. ‘Oh, it is helping with the admin side of things, it’s just that since the ceilidh, as you know, factory tours and teashop bookings have tripled, and I don’t want the teaching to suffer as a result. I mean, after all, that’s why I’m here. And I feel guilty for admitting this, ’cos the teashop was my idea, but can you imagine how busy we’ll be after the screening of the documentary?’

Elena took Lucy’s face in her hands and looked intently into her bloodshot eyes.

‘Stop.’

‘My ex accused me of being a control freak,’ Lucy continued, her words tumbling out like a runaway train. ‘He told me that’s why I became a teacher – that I like being in charge. I’m starting to think he was right.’

Elena placed her hand over Lucy’s mouth. ‘Punto e basta! Enough is enough! Drink this,’ she said, handing her a freshly brewed espresso. ‘You are overthinking things, Lucy. Nothing could be further from the truth. Everyone is so happy you are here. And not just because business is good. Without Giancarlo we felt lost, like a boat that had run aground. You put the wind back in our sails. Do you understand?’

Lucy nodded, huge relief bringing the sparkle back to her tired eyes.

‘In fact, only yesterday, Alfonso, Valentina and I were discussing the possibility of hiring extra staff to help out in the teashop.’

‘Really?’

‘Once the screening is over, he’d like to meet with us to discuss ways in which we can reinvest some of the profit to ease the pressure on us without jeopardising the teashop’s reputation.’

‘I… I think it’s a great idea.’

‘Salute!’said Elena, clinking coffee cups.

Lucy sniffed the air. ‘Mamma mia!The scones!’

The door to the changing room opened slowly.

‘I’m not sure this is “me”,’ groaned Lucy with a self-conscious twirl by the boutique’s ornate long mirror, a frown flitting across her face.

Elena’s jaw dropped. ‘Madonna mia!Bellissima!’

Lucy studied her reflection. She didn’t recognise the woman looking back at her. She flushed, instinctively covering her cleavage with her arm.

‘Don’t you think it’s a wee bit…?’

Elena was on a mission and refused to be interrupted.

‘Allora,what we need now to complete the look is some killer heels.’

Lucy pulled a face. The dress was screaming ‘Look at me!’, while inside Lucy was screaming, ‘Please don’t look at me!’

Inspecting the shoe display, Elena ploughed on, ‘In the words of Sophia Loren, “To be beautiful is painful.”’

‘Did she really say that?’ said Lucy, eyeing her suspiciously. ‘I thought she owed her beauty to spaghetti.’

‘You wish,’ Elena replied in a no-nonsense voice, dangling a pair of sling-back, metallic leather skyscraper heels in front of Lucy’s saucer-like eyes. ‘These will go perfectly with the dress.’

‘Must we make a decision now?’ said Lucy, wrinkling her nose as she clocked the price tag. ‘The première isn’t for another six weeks or so.’

‘Yes, but as you said yourself, we have a lot to do before then. Since we are in town anyway, let’s get this ticked off the list and avoid any last-minute panic.’

Lucy sighed, slipped on the shoes and stood up – no mean feat, considering she’d never walked on stilts before – and the emerald green dress Elena had chosen for her hugged her hips and thighs so tightly she could hardly breathe. She grabbed the wall to steady herself, feeling even more gawky and uncoordinated than usual.

‘Perfetta!’ trilled the glossy-lipped assistant, displaying a row of perfect teeth.

‘Bellissima!’ gushed Elena. ‘You look like a movie star.’