Some Like It Greek - Sue Roberts Page 0,29

many years ago at night school and became quite fluent. Well, apart from the odd misunderstanding. I remember telling a waiter in an Italian restaurant that the food was “debauched” – I meant to say “delightful” of course.’

‘Why, did he present you with a large Italian sausage?’

We both howl with laughter.

‘I thought there was something so romantic about Italy and I dreamed of going to Rome one day,’ she continues. ‘I never did go but at least I’ve finally made it to Italy. I can hardly believe I’m here.’ She takes in her surroundings with a smile on her face.

A strong sun is beating down, even though it’s only late morning as we stroll along. There are several people waiting at the bus stop so I’m hoping one will arrive soon.

‘Phew, it’s going to be a scorcher. Cold drinks and ice creams might be the order of the day,’ I tell Demi. Two glamorous Italian women wearing sun hats, oversized sunglasses and short linen dresses pass by looking effortlessly chic. They grip the hands of equally stunning-looking children as they step onto a zebra crossing and head towards a row of shops and outdoor cafés, adjacent to a park, where a fountain can be glimpsed in the background. Both women have immaculate haircuts, one sporting black, shiny, shoulder-length hair, the other a smooth bob with caramel highlights. I bet they paid a lot more for their hairstyles than I do at Good Head.

‘How do your family feel about you coming over to see them?’ I ask her, imagining them laying on a huge welcoming party, with lots of Greek food and dancing.

She doesn’t answer for a second, before she turns to face me.

‘They don’t know I am coming.’ She almost whispers the words.

It takes me a moment to process what she has just told me.

‘What do you mean, they don’t know you’re coming? Why on earth would you not tell your family you are coming to see them?’ I can hardly believe what I have just heard.

‘Because…’ She pauses. ‘Well, just in case I changed my mind.’ She sniffs. ‘I would not want them to be expecting me and then to not show up.’

We’re roughly halfway into our road trip now and I’m hoping that at this stage, Demi isn’t having second thoughts about seeing her family, although Greece is a big place, I suppose. She could stay with me and not visit her family at all if she chose not to, although I don’t understand the reasons for her doubts.

‘But don’t worry,’ she says, as if tapping into my thoughts. ‘I’ve made my mind up now. It’s about time I returned.’

The red bus with a bright orange front appears from around a corner and after a short ride, passing tall cypress trees lined up along the roads, we arrive in Bologna city and head for the Piazza Maggiore. Dozens of tourists alighting from tourist buses and cars follow us and begin snapping away with their cameras as soon as the historical buildings appear in view.

‘Wow. Isn’t this just stunning?’ My eyes scan the centuries-old sand-coloured buildings, with wrought-iron balconies. It is a complete contrast to the Alpine scenery we left behind yesterday.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Demi agrees.

We stand in the centre of the square, and marvel at the arched colonnades, mediaeval structures and street cafés and soak up the atmosphere. Strolling on to the Piazza del Nettuno, we find a crowd standing, admiring a statue of Neptune on a fountain outside the tall, Gothic-style cathedral.

‘You know, this is probably just like Rome,’ I tell Demi as we mingle with the crowds around the fountain. I’m not entirely sure this is true, having never been there myself but hope Demi thinks so.

‘Perhaps it is. But I have seen pictures of fountains in Rome. These are not pretty as the Trevi Fountain.’ She sighs.

‘I bet it’s horrendous in high season though, being jostled all over the place. It’s just as nice here. Better, probably.’ I thread my arm through hers as we walk.

Demi touches my arm. ‘You are very kind, Anna.’

Following a tourist sign, we head to the Two Towers at the Piazza di Porta Ravegnana, which is the city’s focal point a short walk away. The towers, both of them leaning slightly, are named after the families who constructed them in the twelfth century. The taller tower is called the Asinelli Tower, the smaller, the Garisenda Tower. The public can pay a fee to scale the steps of the tower and take