gaze on the cup that she was cradling in her hands. ‘What have I just been saying about seizing every opportunity I can get? I need the money. I need the publicity. And it is exactly the kind of traditional Italian food that I supply across London. So, yes, I am thinking about it. I am thinking about it a lot.’
‘Oh, Bunty. I thought you wanted to be free of the Carusos.’
‘I do, Alex. I do. But I am thirty and my dream of running a chain of Brannigans delis seems to be as far away as ever. This way I am working with Luca – not for him. Fifty/fifty. That was what he said and I will hold him to that. Equal partners. Promotional videos filmed right here. That’s new. Perhaps… Perhaps we can work together on those terms? I might be okay with that. A new opportunity, remember?’
Alex exhaled slowly and shook her head before rubbing the back of Bunty’s neck.
‘Make it sixty/forty. If that boy needs your help so badly that he would lower himself to turn up in person and turn on the charm, then he can afford to give you a decent percentage of the loot. Of course we shall have to find a bulldog lawyer to tie him down on the numbers and make sure that your names are the same size on the cover. And if he wants to use those recipes of yours in this new supermarket range? That is going to cost him a helluva lot extra. Think about that!’
Bunty replied by slumping forwards in her chair and pressing her fingertips into her forehead. ‘Just when I thought things were finally getting clearer. What a mess.’
Alex snorted back and waved her fingers in Bunty’s direction. ‘You think this is a mess, try Gatwick airport on a Friday afternoon! Although there were some advantages.’
She leant towards Bunty and smiled grimly through half-closed eyes. ‘I had no idea that airport shops carried such a wide selection of non-black clothing. Especially plum chiffon cocktail dresses. And shoes, and bags, and other fripperies! For once, you can have something made by another pair of hands to wear at your own birthday party.’
Bunty could not help but smile back. ‘That was very thoughtful. Thanks. But plum? Not so sure about that one with my hair, but, yes, you are right. As usual.’ She hesitated before going on. ‘Alex, after what happened just now with Luca, I need to get my head around what I need to do next. Don’t say anything just yet. It might be too early to celebrate.’
A trim French-manicured and moisturised hand was flung up in front of her face – palms forward. ‘Understood. My lips are sealed and shall only be opened by copious glasses of fine wine. And yes, I know that Luca has always been the golden princeling of the Caruso family, but tonight is your night and nobody is going to spoil your birthday party.’
Then she jumped up and stretched out both hands. ‘Righty. Let’s get you ready. Cinders shall go to the ball!’
Chapter Three
Fabio peered out of the side window of Jerry’s 4 x 4 luxury car and tried to read the street names on the white plaques pinned high on the walls around him.
They had been on the road for almost an hour and had probably travelled not more than a couple of miles. Most of it either stuck in traffic or going around in circles in the one-way road system.
‘Come on, Jerry. This is your city. Surely you can find one deli? Please. I would like to get there before midnight if that is okay with you.’
‘Hey,’ Jerry chuckled and rapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Do you know every street in Milan? No. I didn’t think so.’
Then he gestured with his head towards the sat-nav display. ‘We can’t be more than five minutes from the address but it looks like a pedestrian-only area to me. Which means I need to find a parking space and stay with the motor while you make the drop. The traffic wardens around here are ruthless.’
‘I’ll take your word for that.’ Fabio sighed and shrugged into his suit jacket as he scanned the street. ‘This is not what I was expecting. No big businesses. No factory units. Which makes me curious. What has the Caruso family got to do with someone who lives around here?’
‘Your dad didn’t tell you anything at all?’ Jerry replied, his attention on the traffic lights.
Fabio shook his head once. ‘My grandfather Salvatore only kept a few personal clients after he retired and Mrs Caruso was the last. There are bundles of sealed paperwork waiting to be opened but the ball only starts rolling once I make the delivery and the client opens the box and takes the prize.’
‘Didn’t you look inside? I would have.’
‘Look inside? Hell no,’ Fabio choked. ‘My grandfather would come back and haunt me. It could be anything inside that package. And frankly I am not so sure I want to find out. The Carusos are not labelled the smiling assassins for nothing. You won’t find tougher business people. The sooner we can get back to our new business, the better, as far as I am concerned.’
‘Amen to that,’ Jerry replied. ‘Here we go. Lights are on red. If you want to go, go now. I’m parking in that supermarket just around the corner. Be waiting for you there. Best of luck.’
Bunty sat back in her hard wooden chair and swayed a little from side to side as her whole crew of pals and teachers from the convent school and catering college joined in a very loud and very out-of-tune version of ‘Mambo Italiano’ that Elena was playing at full volume in her honour.
Normally the background music would have been Greek bouzouki music or Elena’s favourite classical opera CD, so this really was a special treat. Just for her.
There were wine spillages and salad-dressing smears and breadcrumbs all over the tablecloths, and probably over the new plum-coloured wrap dress Alex had squeezed her into. At some point she had lost her shoe under the table.
Then Fran had presented her with a crown she had made from gold paper and wire and insisted that she wear it as a party princess — at a jaunty angle, of course.
Worse, her make-up was probably a wreck after a brief but intense crying jag after Sister Teresa had made the sweetest speech about how proud her mother would have been of her and what she had achieved, which had everyone in the room reaching for the tissues. There was not a dry eye in the house. Even Alex the strong ‘accidentally’ dropped her napkin on the floor and had to drop out of sight for a couple of minutes to find it.
Bunty glanced up across the tables spread out around the room. It didn’t matter that she looked a mess. Not to her friends and family who had come out on a cold January evening to help her celebrate her birthday.
She grinned across at Maria who was carrying out yet more plates of lamb and roast potatoes. Her friend replied with a jaunty wink as one of the catering students patted her bottom the second the plate hit the table and Maria pretended to squeal, and then sat down heavily on his lap and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
These were her real friends. Her real family. Girls from the local convent school she had known all of her life and their husbands and boyfriends, pals from the local shops, students she taught at the catering college. All loud, boisterous and having fun. And that was precisely how she liked it. No false pretences here. Real people who shared her life each and every day.
She was so lucky to have them.
A warm glow of happiness and contentment spread from deep inside her like a furnace that pumped the heat from her heart to the very ends of her fingertips. She had never felt so safe and secure. Protected. And cared for and part of a very special community of friends who looked out for one another.
Maybe turning thirty was not so bad after all when she had friends like these in her life. So what if she didn’t have a mega TV career like her cousin Luca? She had something much better.
Bunty leant sideways and rested her head on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Have I said thank you yet for pulling this all together? It’s amazing and I love it.’
Alex laughed out loud and gave her a one-armed hug. ‘Several times. It’s