Page 29

M y new friends are actual legends. Knowing how desperate the situation has become, they pulled out all the stops to get our new open-to-all language swap up and running the very next day. We’ve barely finished setting up, and there’s already a steady trickle of people coming into the bar.

Giulio wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea, but since he’s already admitted the bar needs more than just a busy Sunday to survive, he hasn’t stood in our way.

He is, however, standing at the counter with his arms folded and eyes narrowed, watching Ren move around the tables with a platter of bite-sized seaweed parmesan gougères – French cheese puffs made with Japanese nori and Italian parmesan.

‘You forgot to put something English, Portuguese and Arabic into the mix, too.’

There’s an unmistakable challenge in Giulio’s voice as he points to the six language tables we’ve set up around the bar.

But that only reminds me how proud I am that the four of us have come up with six languages between us.

For once, it feels like we have something to offer instead of something to make up for.

It’s Sofia’s efforts that have drawn in the crowd, though. She’s been posting regular updates on her blog and social media, and Kenzi made flyers using the language school’s computers and photocopier, thanks to Mas-si turning a blind eye.

Ma’s reaction has been harder to read. She hasn’t said much at all, which is SO unlike her.

It makes me wonder if, deep down, she’d prefer it if the bar closed and forced Nina into retirement.

Or maybe she’s worried about how Nina will cope if things do get busier.

Maybe it’s both, because she definitely looked torn.

And, well, I’m too nervous to ask her and find out.

It’s a while before I have time to check in with Giulio.

I raise one eyebrow – What do you think?

He quirks one in return – Not sure. Could work.

I respond with a slight frown and a head tilt – Is it enough, though?

He does what I can only describe as an eyebrow shrug – Maybe.

And then Signora Pedretti’s tugging his arm and holding up her phone. ‘Flaminia’s VideoFacing me, but she can’t see me.’

‘You did this last time, too. Thumb off the camera, Signora.’ Giulio’s tone is half amusement, half exasperation. He leans in next to Signora Pedretti and grins at the screen. ‘If I have to manage every call like this, you might as well ring me directly,’ he jokes, earning a giggle from Flaminia.

Kenzi laughs too as she surveys the scene. But then she catches my expression and goes quiet, her eyes searching mine as if she’s seeing something I’m not ready to admit.

‘Are you...OK?’ she asks hesitantly. ‘It’s just, Mehdi’s going to kill me if I stay more than an hour. My parents are out tonight and he’s stuck babysitting again, but I don’t want to leave if—’

I lay a hand on her forearm, stopping her. ‘I’m fine. Go when you need to...or get your brother to come along,’ I say, forcing a brightness I don’t feel into my voice.

Kenzi shakes her head. ‘He has to go and see a friend about a potential job. But this is looking promising, right? And look, we haven’t scared the regulars away either.’

She’s right. Enrico has drifted away from the snack table and is now approaching us with an older lady I’ve never seen before.

The woman says something to Kenzi in what I assume is Arabic, her tone warm and friendly.

I don’t understand a word, but from the way Kenzi’s shoulders lift in a modest shrug and her hands wave dismissively, as if to say ‘no need to thank me’, it must be about the prescription she helped translate a few weeks ago.

As the woman moves away, Kenzi leans in slightly. ‘Mehdi might not come, but I could bring my jad one night. He’d love this – he’s always looking for someone other than my family to talk to.’

Something warm unfurls inside me, even as my thoughts catch briefly on Giulio and Flaminia and their easy laughter.

It’s moments like these that make the bar more than just a place to grab a coffee.

It’s a little community, where people can help each other, connect over languages and find common ground. Here, it’s like everyone belongs.

We close much later than usual, and I’m yawning as I settle into the rooftop hammock to FaceTime Isla.

It’s dark here in Rome – well, as dark as it gets when there’s light pollution – but the cattery is bathed in the pale evening light of a northern summer.

Isla is sprawled on the sofa, surrounded by a glaring of cats – an accurate collective noun, given how they excel at silently judging everyone.

‘You look like a Bond villain.’

‘Really?’ Isla perks up. ‘That’s actually the look I was going for.’

‘Why does that not surprise me? So...how are things in Edinburgh?’ I ask, hoping to avoid her usual interrogation.

‘Let’s see...It’s cold and raining, obviously.

I’m here for the night while your dad is away living the life at a wedding.

My new hoodie is covered in cat hair and my best friend is – what was it?

– 1,500 miles away? You’d better have something juicy to tell me Livia Nardelli, because I am living through you now. ’

I try to bring her up to speed with the language swap, but she interrupts me.

‘No. By juicy, I mean something tall, dark and Giulio.Your mum said you were out all afternoon the other day...alone...together.’

A noise at my back makes my blood run cold. Giulio’s stepping over the railing to my side of the terrace. Oh no. Did he hear Isla?

‘Wait...your face!’ Isla shoots upright on the sofa, sending cats scurrying in all directions. ‘He’s there, isn’t he?’

I react so fast I practically tip myself out of the hammock and land in a heap on the terrace. I pick myself up, my voice low and urgent. ‘Isla, no—’

‘Oh my God, Liv. Don’t be selfish. Let me see the hot Italian boy again!’

‘Ommioddio ,’ I groan, mortified in more ways than I can count. ‘You’re turning into Ma. This has to stop.’

Ignoring me, she shouts, ‘Hi, Giulio! Nice to meet you!’

My entire nervous system short-circuits when Giulio leans into the frame, half-laughing. ‘ Ciao , Isla!’

Isla places the back of her hand to her forehead and pretends to swoon. ‘Say my name again!’

Yup. Isla is definitely a villain.

‘I’m hanging up now!’ I say, turning my phone off quickly because, while I can’t think of anything worse happening right now, I bet Isla could surprise me. I smile weakly at Giulio. ‘Sorry about that.’

He leans against the balustrade, an amused grin lifting one side of his mouth. Then his expression shifts, his eyes darkening. ‘I thought I’d find you out here.’

My heart loop the loops. He came looking for me? The person he finds...unique, in an attractive way?

‘We should talk about the swap,’ he says, casually. ‘See how much we made today.’

‘Sì, certo .’ I try to sound nonchalant while my stomach sinks a little. I mentally scold myself for being ridiculous. Obviously he’s here to talk business. What else would he need me for? ‘So, how did we do?’

He scrolls through some numbers on his phone. ‘We made just under four hundred euros. Better than Sunday morning...but even if this keeps up, we’d never pay off the debt in time – even with the Vespa as a down payment.’

I chew the inside of my cheek. ‘How much is it worth?’

He pauses, then sighs. ‘A vintage Vespa, in good condition? Around seven thousand, maybe more. Bertolli’s only offering five.’

I frown. Bertolli clearly knows Giulio’s in a difficult position and is taking advantage.

I do a quick mental calculation. Even with today’s earnings, it would take too long to make that money – and that’s without taking the rest of the debt into account, or the bills and overheads and all the other things Ma’s been muttering about.

I feel silly for getting my hopes up earlier – as if a bunch of teens can really make a difference.

‘Five thousand...’ I repeat, my voice trailing off. ‘That’s a lot.’

Giulio leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. ‘And the bank isn’t going to wait for ever.’

I force myself to focus. ‘What if...we trial the swap for another day or two and, if it carries on like this, we invite Bertolli to see for himself? He might give us more time if he thinks business is picking up.’

He considers it. ‘You think?’

I warm to the idea. ‘If we show him there’s potential for real, long-term change, he might. But...’ I check over my shoulder, making sure we’re alone. ‘We’ll have to keep it from Ma somehow.’

Giulio lets out a long sigh. ‘It’s worth a try, I suppose.’

As he goes back on his phone, I catch myself staring at him for a moment too long. Why did I even think for a second he came to see me? I shake my head, reminding myself to stay focused. It’s just the bar, the Vespa, the debt.

Besides, even if there was something more, Ma would go into overdrive. All the progress I’ve made at fitting in would be gone in a blink. I can practically hear her voice now: Another foreign girl bites the dust.