The Trevi Fountain was a short walk from our hotel, and during our time in Rome, we had strolled by it at least once a day.
“Remember that film, Three Coins in the Fountain?” Jeremy asked. We had just left our hotel to go out for a last meal at Giuseppe’s Trattoria. Then it would be time to pack up and fly home.
If we had been somewhere private, I would have reached down and pinched his arse. “It isn’t likely I’ll forget.” We’d seen it when it first opened in London, and for weeks afterward he’d gone ‘round the house singing about the coins being thrown into the fountain. In fact, I’d been sent on a mission and when I’d returned a couple of weeks later, he’d still been singing the tune.
“It’s our last day here. Let’s throw in a coin.”
The legend had it a coin was thrown into the founta
