Learning to Dance Again by Frankie Valente Page A

again he leered at the young woman, who turne d away from him in disgust.
    Before Julia had time to give him the money the young woman suddenly launched into a tirade of abuse at him. He stepped back in surprise, and although he was annoyed, his shoulders dropped a little of their swagger. He turned and looked at Julia, and she realised she was being talked about.
    He waved away the money from Julia and stalked off in a huff.
    ‘Thank you; but what just happened?’
    ‘I told him off for being rude to a widow, and for harassing a young female lawyer.’
    ‘T hat’s very kind of you. And thank you for telling me how to use the ticket machines. I won’t make that mistake again.’
    ‘No problem. It’s my stop now. Enjoy Sicily.’
    The train pulled into Palermo Centrale station and the woman got off with a little wave to Julia.
    The rest of the journey passed without any further drama and ninety minutes later Julia got off the train at Cefalu, into the scorching mid-day sun.
    She wheeled her suitcase over to the café just outside the station and took a seat at a table outside. A waiter hurried over and handed her a menu.
    She ordered a dish of strawberry gelato and a bottle of mineral water. While she waited for her order she watched people wandering in and out of the station. A young couple pulled up on a scooter close to her table. The girl climbed off the back of the scooter and kissed her boyfriend. Neither of them wore a crash helmet which made Julia feel anxious on behalf of their parents. The girl turned and walked towards the station, click-clacking along the pavement on high heeled sandals; she paused and blew her boyfriend another kiss and he revved the engine of his moped and sped off.
    Julia took out her phone and sent the landlord of her holiday villa a text to say she had arrived in Cefalu and was at the café where they had agreed to meet. Almost immediately she got a text back saying he would be along to pick her up in twenty minutes. Her gelato arrived as she put the phone back in her bag.
    Julia was pretty fond of ice cream, but this was strawberry flavoured heaven. She sighed with pleasure and put the spoon down. She did not want to rush this moment. It was so strange sitting in the sunshine eating gelato when just a few hours earlier she had been in chilly rainy London, and a few days before that in even colder, rainier Shetland. She took out her phone again and took a photograph of the gelato and sent it to Marianne.
    She got a text a moment later.
    “ Lucky cow! It’s not ice cream weather here. Enjoy! Any gorgeous Italian stallions in sight?”
    Julia looked around and noticed an old man selling newspapers from a cart outside the station. He wore a dark blue cap pulled down over his eyes and a battered looking leather jacket, which made Julia feel hotter th an she already was. She discreetly took a photograph of him and sent it to Marianne.
    “ You wouldn’t think it was so hot here. He must be melting,” Julia wrote.
    She finished her dessert, savouring every intense mouthful, and drank her water and felt a little more refreshed after the tiring journey. She wanted nothing more than to get to her villa, unpack and then have a lazy afternoon by the pool, or even a siesta.
    A bright red Fiat 500 convertible pulled up ou tside the station. An elegant middle-aged man got out of the car and leaned against the door. He wore a white linen shirt, cream trousers and brown leather loafers. He took off his sunglasses and looked over at Julia and waved.
    Julia paid the waiter and hurried over towards him.
    ‘Hello, you mus t be Julia. Lovely to meet you; I’m Tony Hugo. Welcome to Sicily!’
    Julia shook hands with him.
    ‘Nice to meet you too. Thanks for coming to pick me up.’
    ‘No problem. Let me take your bag.’
    ‘Lovely car! I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car with the roof down before. This should be fun.’
    ‘Oh that’s right; you’ re from Shetland aren’t you? Well this must