You Had Me at Merlot: Part 2 Page 3

  I grabbed an early lunch from the buffet table and was sneaking it back up to my room when I met Jamie in the corridor.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Cupid himself,’ I said.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Bella Notte’s very own heartbreaker. Where are you going with that?’

  ‘I needed a break from everyone; I was going to eat it in my room.’

  ‘I know a slightly more interesting place to hide out, if you want.’ He led me further down the corridor, past Laurie and my rooms, past those of the other guests, and around the corner to a door marked ‘fire escape’. He opened it, and I stepped out onto a stone veranda that ran along the back edge of the building, shaded by trees and foliage. We sat down on the wall and he helped me plough through the slightly excessive amount of Pecorino I’d helped myself to.

  ‘Jamie. Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course, if I can have a bit of that chilli jam.’

  ‘Sure. What’s the deal with you and You Had Me at Merlot Holidays? You don’t seem to … like them very much.’

  He looked a bit bashful. ‘Yeah, I’m a little bitter, you could say.’

  ‘Like an unripe grape.’

  ‘Just like that. I will tell you why, because you seem nice. Are you nice?’

  ‘So nice I was voted Nicest Person in my school yearbook.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No. But I do give generously to a cat-shelter charity.’

  ‘That’s pretty nice. Okay, the problem is that Bella Notte, as a winery, is not doing too well. Don’t get me wrong, our wine is the best in the whole of Italy, but there’s a lot of competition, and whereas a lot of our income used to come from wine clubs around the world and past visitors placing rolling orders, now supermarkets abroad offer big-brand wine at cheap, cheap prices and ours is getting pushed out. Like many winemakers, we are nearly at the last resort, which is to sell our brand to one of these supermarkets, let them repackage and put their name all over it. But then Bella Notte wines become faceless; it fades away.’

  Sadness washed through his voice and he rubbed his hands across his face. I wanted to make it better, make him smile, but what could I do? So I lamely handed him another lump of Pecorino.

  ‘This place has been in mia mamma’s family for hundreds of years. I don’t want it to fade away.’

  My heart bled for him. He wasn’t scornful or grumpy, he was lost. He was scared. We all get that sometimes, and instinctively my hand reached out and rubbed the back of his neck.

  ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me,’ he continued, ‘and think I don’t want you or the other guests here. My parents have been running You Had Me at Merlot for a year now, in a last attempt to bring in money and drum up new business. I should be less stubborn because actually you’re keeping Bella Notte alive.’

  ‘I understand, though. I imagine it would be like the threat of losing your family home and having to open it as a B&B. You’re grateful to the guests, but can’t help but feel a bit invaded.’

  We sat in silence for a little longer, until he looked up and gave me a lopsided smile. ‘You are just going to have to fall in love with George, because we can’t afford to have any unhappy customers.’

  ‘If I end up falling in love with George I’m leaving the most furious review on TripAdvisor.’

  Come afternoon, Laurie and I scuttled off to the far end of the vineyard for a sunbathe and a catch-up.

  Laurie rolled on to her front. ‘Ouch. I’m lying right on a massive, twiggy vine.’

  ‘Do you want to move?’

  ‘No, that would take even more effort than ignoring it. Now listen, I don’t want you talking to Jamie any more because we’re out here to find me a husband, not you.’

  I lifted my sunglasses in surprised. ‘Are you being serious?’

  ‘Yes, stop being such a crap friend.’

  My heart thudded. Laurie and I never fought, unless we got on to a discussion about cryogenic freezing, which we had completely opposing opinions about. I didn’t know whether to feel hurt or angry. ‘I’m sorry – nothing’s even going on between Jamie and me really. I didn’t realise you needed me to be—’

  ‘Love, I’m joking. I’m not that much of a cow. Tell me all about him, and I want all the details, especially if you’ve had any saucy dreams about him.’

  ‘There have been no dreams.’ My laughter trailed off. Or have there? ‘It’s nothing. We’re a little bit flirty, I guess, but it’s just harmless fun. He’s just messing with me anyway; he seems far more interested in getting me together with George than with himself.’

  ‘So, basically, it’s like when a boy at school tells you he hates your face and it means he wants to snog it.’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. I’m sure there will be no snogging.’

  ‘Oh, there’ll be snogging. You need a snog. Even if it comes from me after too much Merlot.’

  ‘You need to save your lips for all your men.’

  Laurie stretched out like a cat in the sunshine and smiled. ‘I love men, I love Italy, I love love.’

  ‘Seriously, though, what are your thoughts so far? Anyone that you think might make you happy?’ I asked with delicacy. I didn’t want her to wallow, or get teary. The Botox has only just started to settle.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m being too cautious. Or maybe too desperate. I don’t feel a click yet, but it’ll come, I’m sure. It’s only the third day. It’ll come.’ I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, her or me, but either way I sensed the conversation was over and we went back into a peaceful lull.

  A while later, as my eyelids were drooping and the page of my John Grisham was becoming blurred, Laurie let out a snort and sat bolt upright. ‘Well, sunshine and wine are having a wild old time reminding me I’m getting old – I think I need to head in for another nap.’

  We dragged ourselves up, stretched and gathered our belongings.

  ‘See you downstairs tonight though – good luck!’ said Laurie with a yawn.

  ‘What’s tonight?’

  ‘It’s the lucky-dip date. We all have to show up at eight and the first person you see, you have dinner with. They’re setting up little tables for two outside on the terrace, I saw Sebastian and Sofia getting it ready earlier on.’

  Urgh, who would I have to make small talk with? It was sure as hell not going to be George this time.

  Clearly I am also ancient, because when we got back to our rooms I went straight to sleep, feeling utterly crumpled and in need of a wash when I woke up at seven. Stepping out of the shower, my stomach growled. I didn’t care who I had to sit next to at dinner, I just wanted to eat. Unless it was George, but then I’d probably be put off my food anyway.

  As I was debating whether it would be considered rude to not bother dressing up for my lucky-dip dinner date, and instead wear some combination of pyjamas and no bra, I noticed a note had been slipped under the door.

  Dear All,

  The chef is running a little late, please come down at 8.30 instead.

  Grazie,

  You Had Me at Merlot xx

  The beast in my belly roared with anger and I scoffed half a pack of Smints that were in my handbag.

  Eventually, at eight twenty, I couldn’t wait any more and decided it was close enough. I put on my bra (sigh) with a T-shirt and jeans (compromise) and scooted downstairs, out the door and round to the terrace.

  Even an unromantic cynic like me could see this was perfect for an evening of romance. The terrace had been transformed with a dozen bistro tables, beneath hanging stained-glass lanterns. On the tables were red and white checked cloths and tall glasses filled with breadsticks, while low accordion music played out of who-knows-where, giving the ambience of a real little Italian nook restaurant.

  The only thing that ruined it for me, and it was a tiny thing, was that everybody else was already paired up and seemed to be tucking into platters of antipasti.

  ‘There you are,’
cried Sofia, running up to me and weaving me by the arm through the tables. ‘Elle, I’m sorry about this, but only one other person turned up late as well, so here is your date.’ She stood aside and pulled out a chair, and of course – of course – there was George’s face grinning up at me like the cat who’d got the cream.

  ‘Baby, baby, this is just meant to be! And I like that you didn’t dress up, playing hard to get, making me work to see your body.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said to Sofia. ‘I’m not late. The note said to come down at eight thirty.’

  ‘The note?’

  I turned to George. ‘Did you get a note? Saying the chef was running behind and we should come down later?’

  ‘Sure did.’

  Sofia wrung her hands. ‘But Sebastian is your chef tonight, and he is always here. I’m sorry, I don’t—’

  ‘Did you write the note?’ I butted in and glared at George.

  ‘Guilty of a lotta things, but not this, baby. Though I’d like to shake the hand of the man who did.’

  And the penny dropped. I’d like to shake the neck of the man who did.

  ‘I don’t even use Viagra, I don’t need to. Now, I think we both know that’s a lie, but if role-playing is what you’re into I can play the virile younger man. You wait and see, baby.’

  And people wondered why I didn’t want a boyfriend. ‘I just reeeeeeeally don’t want to sleep with you.’

  ‘You say that now, but we’ll see.’

  ‘No we won’t.’

  ‘How’s your pasta?’

  ‘Delicious. Yours?’

  ‘It would be better if I were eating it off your body.’

  ‘George, I am this close to getting up and leaving you sitting here all on your own.’ Except I wasn’t, because the pasta was amazing and no one else was going to get their hands on it.

  ‘How are the love birds?’ cooed Jamie the puppet-master, appearing out of the darkness with his guitar and a tealight in a heart-shaped stand, which he placed in the middle of the table.

  ‘Close to flying away.’ I glared at him through slit eyes.

  ‘Flying away together to the Bahamas on our honeymoon!’ George roared with laughter. ‘Can you picture this one in a bikini, holy hell …’

  ‘Save me,’ I begged Jamie.

  ‘Elle, you just need to feel a bit more romantic. Give George a chance. He’s a remarkable, macho man—’

  ‘With a huuuuge—’

  ‘George, leave it to me. Close your eyes, Bella Ella, and let the mood take you.’

  I closed my eyes, but not to let the romance in. It was purely to shut George’s face out. Jamie strummed and started softly singing Bella Notte from Lady and the Tramp. His voice, though not perfect, was gentle and husky, and it lulled me like a soft wine into a blissful state. I almost forgot who I was sitting opposite as I revelled in the pure, unadulterated cheesiness that being serenaded under the moonlight brought. If the ladies back home could see me now …

  ‘Well now that’s a nice smile,’ said Jamie when he finished and I opened my eyes to see him crouched next to my chair, peering at me. A big dopey grin had indeed crept over my face, and for a moment my eyes just twinkled with his and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  And then George broke the mood. ‘Hot diggidy damn, Jamie, you’ve done it. I think she’s just fallen in love with me.’

  The boiling sun was in the very centre of the sky and tendrils of my hair were sticking to my face and neck, but I couldn’t move them.

  I was knee-deep in an enormous vat of grapes, the hem of my dress soaking, my hands stained mauve. I moved a few inches to the left and my feet squashed and squelched another dozen bunches. It was messy, but the most satisfying experience you can have outside rolling down a hill in a bubble-wrap dress.

  Laurie, Marco, Pierre and Vicky were also in the vat, with George and everyone else on the side-lines. We’d been divided into small groups to try the grape-crushing, and just this once I’d refused to let go of Laurie when she was called up.

  ‘Now everybody hold hands and run on the spot as fast as you can,’ called Sofia, to the whoops of the other guests. The last thing I felt like in this heat was a burst of cardio, but I wasn’t going to be Donna, sitting at the side away from the others, not joining in, so I grabbed the hands of Pierre and Vicky and ran like mad.

  With a sudden whoosh Laurie’s foot slipped and she tumbled backwards into the mushy grapes, causing bursts of laughter from everyone, including her. Pierre and Marco fell over each other trying to help her, splatting face down into the grapes themselves. In the end Jamie reached in and hauled her upright, catching my eye and chuckling. It was nice to see him having fun.

  I waded over to Laurie, who threw sticky arms around my shoulders and we both slipped and fell back down with screams.

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ yelped George. ‘This is better than jello wrestling!’

  I gripped the sides of the vat and yanked myself up, darting a look at Donna. That was not the kind of thing you want your potential future boss to remember you for. I expected a raised eyebrow, a contemptuous look, but she was staring off into the distance, quite oblivious to the whole farce. And I found myself wondering, for the eightieth time so far this holiday, why she was here.

  Jamie took our hands and helped us out. Once my feet were back on the solid, if rough, terrain I flicked chunks of grape from my dress. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like my favourite wine,’ he said.

  ‘Like your favourite wine, or your favourite wino?’

  ‘Wino?’

  ‘Drunkard.’

  ‘Ah, both: my favourite everything.’ He removed a crushed grape from my hair, sending a cold shiver down over the sweat on my skin. ‘George,’ he called. ‘Have you ever seen such a beautiful creature?’

  ‘Hey Bella, how are ya?’ said Sebastian, squinting into the evening sunshine as I walked back to my room to clean off.

  ‘Good, thanks, though I look like an extra from Carrie.’ I motioned to the blood-like splatters of juice that covered my feet, legs, hands and forearms.

  ‘Fun, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘It was so much fun. It’s satisfying just to squash the hell out of something – not to sound like a psychopath – and watch it splatter all over the place, knowing you don’t need to clean it up.’

  ‘Did Jamie work you hard in there?’

  ‘No harder than anyone else,’ I countered.

  Sebastian hauled a large wooden bucket onto his shoulder and we walked up towards the house. ‘So he hasn’t asked you to be my daughter-in-law yet? What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘I think you should give up.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘He clearly isn’t interested.’

  ‘Now why would you say that?’

  ‘Because never has a guy devoted this much attention to setting me up with another man.’

  ‘But you’re interested, right? I can see you like him. You look at him the way most women look at me.’

  I laughed. ‘But it’s kind of beside the point if the guy would rather marry me off to some old American dude rather than be alone with me.’

  ‘He’s just testing you, Bella. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s a little broken, and he’s seen many women – and men – come and go on these holidays. They get seduced by the wine, and the food, and the sun, and more wine, and their attention can swing back and forth like a bloody great pendulum.’

  ‘Are you saying he’s trying to push me away to see if I’ll stay?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t have put it in such a self-help book way, but yeah, that’s the gist of it.’

  I watched Jamie as he skirted around the edge of the lounge that evening, pausing to examine nicks in woodwork or to brush dust off wine bottles.

  ‘I’m gagging for a coffee, do you want one?’ Donna asked. She hadn’t left my side since dinner.

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ Off she went and I continued to watch Jamie with interest. Eve
ntually he reached me.

  ‘Ciao again.’

  ‘Ciao.’

  ‘You told my dad on me.’

  I laughed. ‘I what?’

  ‘Yeah. He just told me off, said I had to stop being mean to you.’

  ‘Did he now?’

  ‘I said I wasn’t being mean, I just really believed in you and George. But he was all, you’ll regret it if you don’t treat her well, blah blah blah. So I have a question for you.’

  Little teenage butterflies awoke inside me. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Would you like to escape for the day tomorrow? Go to Florence with me?’

  ‘Just me and you?’

  He kicked at the ground. ‘If you want.’

  ‘To Florence? We can do that in a day? Or did you mean … um … an overnight stay?’

  ‘No, it’s, like, an hour away; we don’t have to spend the night together. There. Spend the night together there.’

  ‘Good. I mean, cool. I mean, that sounds brilliant. How will we get there?’ As if details like that really matter when Jamie has just asked me on a full-day date and I have to be entertaining and fabulous for hours on end. Holy crap, I just agreed to a date. Maybe I should just have said no.

  ‘We could go on my Vespa. If you’d be happy with that?’

  ‘Yeah, that sounds … really not like a hardship. Thank you, I’ve always wanted to go to Florence. I can’t believe I’m going tomorrow!’

  ‘I like seeing you smile like that.’

  ‘We’re going to Florence tomorrow? How lovely!’ Donna reappeared and handed me a coffee, which for a moment I wanted to throw in her face.

  ‘Florence?’ said Jane. ‘That’s where they filmed Jersey Shore season four.’

  ‘That was the best season,’ chimed in Vicky. ‘Do you reckon they do a Jersey Shore locations tour?’

  ‘I’ll go to Florence! Pierre, Jon, Marco – you’ll come, won’t you?’ said Laurie, appearing with her band of suitors.

  ‘We’re going to Florence?’ asked George, coming over and standing – as usual – right next to me. ‘There’s a lotta statues there in just their birthday suits, Elle, it’s gonna be harder than ever to keep your eyes on me.’