Boyfriend For The Day By Jo Thomas
Poor harry – this family picnic is about to throw up more challenges than simply pretending he’s with lovely Lucia…
He didn’t want to INSULT either MAMA… or allow Enrico TO WIN
You said itwas just a picnic!” “I never said itwas just a picnic.” Lucia stood beside Harry at the field entrance. Hedges lined the expanse dotted with clusters of ivy covered trees. Running along one side was a small stream which children were attempting to dam with branches.
A strand of soft brown hair blew across Lucia’s face as she looked up at Harry. He pushed his sunglasses up over his hair, slightly damp after his long bike ride, and stared at the packed cars arriving, tooting as they went. “A family picnic, you said.” ‘They are mostly family. That’s my grandfather’s brother’s family. Andmy cousins. Ciao!” She waved. “More cousins… I think.”
“But we’re in a field in Wales!”
“This is our Scampagnata. Our Italian families come together every year for this.”
“Yoo-hoo!” A big-bosomed woman appeared from a bunting-festooned gazebo. Lucia pulled Harry towards her. “Mama!” “I’m not sure I can do this!” “Harry, please. You have to help. Every year they want to know why I’m still single. This time they’re going to set me up with a family friend’s son, visiting from Italy. Please, Harry. If they think I’m with someone, they’ll stop trying to marry me off to some ‘nice Italian boy’.”
“He might be nice!”
“He isn’t. We grew up together, then his family moved back to Italy. He’s annoying. Cheated at board games.
“Besides, I don’t want a boyfriend. Not after Two Timing Trevor! My parents think they know best. I just want to pretend for the day. It’s only because we’re such good friends.”
They’d hit it off straight away when they started working together in a Cardiff department store.
“Ciao, bella!” Lucia’s mama, Maria, embraced her daughter. “Mum, this is Harry. My, erm…” Maria raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend.” Harry tried to smile. Maria eyed him suspiciously. The table behind her groaned with bowls of salad glistening with olive oil, piles of fluffy focaccia and florets of cured ham. “And this is Enrico!” she announced. Out from the gazebo stepped a tall, olive-skinned, smartly-dressed man.
“Lucia!” He kissed her and then shook Harry’s hand.
“You’re a lucky man.” He nodded to Lucia, who suddenly looked very warm. “Yes.” Harry cleared his throat. “I am.” Enrico gestured to the gazebo. “Come, meet my family. My mama has been cooking for days.” Maria laughed and nudged Harry. “I started weeks ago!” Lucia looked gobsmacked. “Not the annoying git any more, then?” Harry whispered, before being swept towards the table. Maria positioned him firmly next to her. Enrico sat opposite, beside his mama, Donatella. “Look at this spread, Mama!” Lucia picked up a plate and handed it to Harry. Maria beamed.
All around families greeted one another, Prosecco corks popped and cutlery clinked. Harry hastily pushed his rucksack, packed with Lucia’s favourite cheese sandwiches, under the table.
“Give him more of my calzone,” Maria instructed Lucia. “Oh no…” Harry protested. “You should try my Mama’s calzone too.” Enrico put some onto Harry’s plate. Enrico smiled at Lucia, who went pink. Under the table, two small boys opened Harry’s rucksack and pulled faces at the sandwiches.
“Try the meatballs. Mama makes them just howthey should be,” Enrico said. Maria bristled. “I’m sure yours are wonderful too, Maria,” Harry said diplomatically.
Enrico added a spoonful to Harry’s plate, which looked like Mount Snowdon. “Mangiare!” both mamas commanded. Enrico took a mouthful and smiled at Harry, who matched him bite for bite. Soon hewas flagging, but felt determined to finish so as not to insult either mama or allow Enrico the satisfaction of winning.
“Magnifico!” Maria clapped as Harry sat back, stuffed. “Now, dessert!”
Both mamas produced deep dishes of dark, cream-topped tiramisu. “You don’t have to,” Lucia said gently. Maria, hearing her, looked horrified. After two large portions, Harry looked beaten. The sun disappeared. Dark clouds rolled in and rain started to fall.
“Now, the tug of war!” announced a voice over the Tannoy. Enrico slapped his rival’s back. “Come on, Harry!”
Harry was on his feet, lurching towards the rope in the middle of the field, scowling at Enrico, striding out purposefully.
Facing Enrico, Harry was suddenly gripped by a desire to wipe the smug smile from his face. He couldn’t bear it if Lucia decided to see Enrico again.
Actually, he realised, he couldn’t bear it if Lucia wanted to see anyone else again. “Avante!” Harry stared intently at Enrico. “Heave!” Harry leaned backwards, pulling with all his might. But the ground was damp. Harry heaved, slipped, fell backwards and, for a moment, everything went black.
“Harry?” Lucia looked down. Lucia. The loveliest person he’d ever known. “Did we win?” he croaked. “You did brilliantly.” “Iwanted to make you proud,” he said. “And you did!” Tenderly Lucia wiped the rain from his face.
“So… Are you and Enrico… seeing each other again?” Thewords caught in Harry’s throat. “Have I been dumped?”
“Never!” Lucia said. “Actually, I’ve quite liked you being my boyfriend.” “I liked being your boyfriend.” “We could always carry on pretending.” She smiled. “I’d like that.” He smiled too. “Let’s see howour first pretend kiss goes, shall we?” She leaned down. “…For a pretend boyfriend, you’re a good kisser.” “That’s because I’m not pretending.” Grinning, Lucia helped Harry to his feet. He picked up his rucksack from under Enrico’s chair. Itwas dripping. Inside was squashed calzone, four meatballs and a large dollop of tiramisu.
“Enrico’s still an annoying cheat, then!” he whispered to Lucia, who giggled.
Maria hugged Harry warmly and tucked a tinfoil parcel under his arm. “It’s tiramisu. For later.” She winked. Harry had other plans. They involved Lucia rather than tiramisu – once he’d recovered from his two Italian picnics.