Nico lay on his back, grunting, without reaching up for Massimo’s hand.

The children went quiet. One of the girls giggled. Nico touched the back of his head, and looked at his fingers, which were covered in blood.

I knelt down next to him as Lara came rushing up with a tea towel and some water. Anna soon came witching out, screaming at the children to move back in a way they’d probably be recounting to their psychotherapists in later years to explain their fear of footballs.

Massimo hurried out an explanation. ‘I overbalanced and fell into him. He went toppling over and cracked his head. So unlucky.’

Despite Anna shouting at them, the kids edged closer in horrified fascination, with variations of ‘Ugh!’ ‘Yuk!’ ‘Gross!’ plus one little sod who shouted out a delighted ‘Wicked!’

I dabbed at Nico’s cut. He’d gone pale. I stared into his eyes, which thankfully weren’t rotating backwards in their sockets. ‘Are you okay? Do you think you’re concussed? Do we need to take you to hospital?’

Nico shook his head, then winced. ‘No, I think I’ll be all right. Just need to take it easy for a minute.’

I was torn between fear that he might have done himself serious damage and frantically trying to work out how we could take him to A & E when there was the small matter of thirty-five kids to keep under control for another hour.

Francesca was hovering next to him, looking as though she was holding back tears. I forced out a smile to reassure her. ‘Your dad’s going to be fine. Just nip and get Beryl for me – I think she’s in the garage wrapping up an extra pass-the-parcel.’

Within moments, Mum came thumping down the garden, her flip-flops clattering. We helped Nico into a sitting position, while Lara called in the kids for food. I loved the fact that a sausage sandwich held far more interest for ninety-five per cent of the people present than ascertaining whether Nico was going to live through the next half hour.

Massimo sat beside Nico, saying the same thing over and over again, ‘You’re all right, mate. Sorry. Lost my footing. When you’ve recovered you can crack me one.’

Anna was patting Massimo on the shoulder, ‘Amore, it was just an accident.’ She turned to me. ‘Poor Massimo, he’s going to feel so awful about this. Nico always makes such a fuss about things.’

I looked up at her, then back to Nico, who was gritting his teeth in pain.

Before I could answer, Mum turned to Anna. ‘Give the poor lad a break. He’s got a nasty gash there. I’ve seen you make more fuss about burning your tongue on a cup of coffee. I don’t think he’s bust anything though. Let me take him home and see what the wound looks like once we’ve given it a bit of wash. Mags, you stay here with Sam.’

I could have wept with gratitude that she was making things easy for me.

I squeezed Nico’s hand. ‘Will you be all right with Mum? Or do you want me to come back with you?’

Before Nico could respond, Massimo said, ‘You’ll be fine, won’t you, Nico mate? Don’t spoil the party for Sam and Maggie. You get home and I’ll look after them both for you.’

Deep down in my stomach was a thread of discomfort, a feeling something wasn’t quite right, a vague sensation that I struggled to define. But like a five-pound note snatched out of my hand by a gust of wind, it danced and whirled just out of reach, until I had to admit defeat.

27

LARA

Beryl went off with Nico and Maggie stayed to supervise Sam. I could see she was torn between dashing next door to check on Nico and not dumping us with the responsibility of all the kids, so I tried to persuade her to go home. But Massimo stepped in. ‘Nico wouldn’t want you to miss out. A bit of rest and he’ll be as right as rain.’ She was too polite to disagree but as soon as most of the parents had picked up, Maggie disappeared.

‘Sorry to leave you with all the tidying up. I’ll pop back when I know Nico is okay. Thank you so much though.’

Massimo waved her away. ‘You really don’t need to come back. My fault for being so clumsy, it’s the least I can do.’

‘It was just a mistake. I’m sure he’ll be fine.’

‘Will you ring me and let me know? Make sure you take him to the hospital if he starts being sick.’

Maggie nodded and rushed off, shouting her thanks over her shoulder.

A few parents lingered, sipping the wine Massimo pressed on them despite the ‘just a drop, I’ve got to drive’ protests. A handful of mothers remained, giggling at his stories, openly envious that I had a husband who got involved in children’s parties, let alone one who did all the shopping and preparing of games. ‘You’ll have to rent yourself out as a children’s entertainer.’ ‘When you see Tony, you tell him that he’s in charge of Louis’s eleventh birthday party. You won’t see him for dust!’

One mother bent down to Sandro. ‘Aren’t you lucky to have such an amazing dad?’

Sandro shrank away from the gaze of the little crowd in the kitchen and didn’t answer. After a few moments, he sidled out of the kitchen unnoticed. My heart sank. There’d be a price to pay for being too shy to speak and ‘making everyone think you’ve got the worst dad in the world!’

I busied myself sweeping up, while Massimo stood in the kitchen like a ringmaster, saying, ‘Excuse Lara tidying up, she’s a bit OCD. She can’t bear it when everywhere’s a mess. Come and sit down and have a glass of champers, darling. You’ve worked so hard today, done a fantastic job. I’ll help you clear up later.’ He patted the bar stool next to him.

There was a collective gasp of admiration as Massimo made a fuss about opening some more bubbles, rambling on about vintages and only the best for ‘my wonderful wife’. Massimo was holding court, calling the women by their names, singling out their children for ‘brilliant ball control’.

I looked at the faces turned rapt towards him. Which of these women with their diamond stud earrings and waxed eyebrows would believe he’d deliberately set out to injure his own brother?

I’d been washing my hands at the sink, tension tightening in my stomach when the chant of ‘loser’ started up. Massimo was the competitive firstborn. He wouldn’t lose to Sandro at a game of Snakes and Ladders, let alone to Nico in a football game. And certainly not with a crowd to witness the less sporty brother trouncing the mighty Massimo. I’d watched his face growing tighter, the pursing of the lips, the vigour with which he’d punched away the footballs, the fury every time he wobbled off the beam. When I saw him spring off and barge into Nico, I didn’t even register shock. Just resignation that events had unfolded as I’d expected. And as soon as Nico had staggered next door and the kids were all hero-worshipping Massimo, he was his jovial self in the spotlight again.

The giggling women finally simpered out with their offspring. My relief was tempered with the knowledge that the real drama was about to begin. The moment Massimo had stopped waving from the front door, he said, ‘Stop sulking.’

I tried to head him off. ‘I’m not sulking, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.’

‘I can see it in your face. You blame me for what happened to Nico. It was an accident. So typical of you to think I did it on purpose, you always look for the worst in everyone.’

I knew not to contradict him directly. I carried on throwing paper plates and napkins into the bin. ‘We should probably pop next door and check that he’s all right.’

‘Off you go then. I’ll stay here and get Sandro ready for bed. I feel bad enough about what happened without all of you crowding round to point the finger.’

Yes, so absolutely gutted that he’d been laughing and joking for the last two hours with the little harem from school. He was waiting for me to do what I always did and spend the evening trying to defrost him. ‘Cup of tea?’, ‘Here’s the paper’, ‘You choose what you want to watch,’ until he’d reward me with a comment that wasn’t barked out or grunted.

But, for today, I’d run out of placating. And tomorrow, I’d not only go out with Maggie driving, I’d book my test.

28

Maggie