‘A roll-away bed?’ I ask.
‘Sì, a roll-away bed.’
I look at Nick. ‘That could work.’ He nods, and Vittorio seems relieved that we’re being so understanding.
‘And one more thing,’ says Vittorio. ‘It’s, uh…boutique– the other place.’ He gestures to show that the room is compact – or the hotel is. Maybe both.
‘That’s okay,’ says Nick. ‘I might not even need a room tomorrow night.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
He gives me a funny look. ‘Well, Pip’s in Iceland, so…’
‘Yes, but as soon as we get hold of True North, they can bring her here. That’s what I figure will happen with Nicholas.’
Nick pauses, regarding me intently and making me self-conscious.
‘What?’ I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He drops his gaze, shaking his head, his lips straightening into a line. I’m becoming familiar with that expression, only I have no idea what it means.
‘Are you going to tell me?’ I prod.
He meets my eye with a huff. ‘Look, if that’s what you and your boyfriend decide – that he’s coming here – then great. But Pippa clearly has her heart set on Iceland, and if that’s where she is, then that’s where I’m going.’
‘Oh,’ I say softly, two thoughts charging into my mind:
Nick didn’t even hesitate. If Pippa wants him there, he’s going.
There’s no way Nicholas would do that for me. One hundred per cent he expects me to go to Iceland, even though it’s not my thing.
A final, more troubling thought brings up the rear:
I wish Nicholas was more like Nick.
‘So,’ says Nick, addressing Vittorio, ‘you’ll organise the bed for us?’
‘Sì, of course. Housekeeping will bring everything you need.’
‘Thanks,’ says Nick.
‘Yes, thank you, Vittorio,’ I say hurriedly. ‘We truly appreciate everything you’re doing.’
He smiles warmly and is about to leave when his phone rings. He takes it out of his inside blazer pocket, holds up a finger to excuse himself, and answers. ‘Pronto?’ He listens, his smile disappearing as if a switch has flicked. ‘Quando?’ He checks his watch, his frown lines deepening.
I glance at Nick, and his eyes are fixed on Vittorio – their expressions mirror images. Then Nick’s phone chimes, immediately followed by mine. I’m about to check it when Vittorio wraps up his call.
‘Va bene. Ciao.’
Vittorio draws in a deep breath, exhaling sharply, and dread snakes its way through my body. Something is very,verywrong.
‘Vittorio?’ I ask quietly.
His gaze clicks into focus and he looks at me, then Nick. ‘Uh…’
‘What’s happened?’ asks Nick.
‘Mount Etna – she erupted. Is very bad – a big plume of ash, lava…’