Plenty of Fish in the Sicilian Sea

By Stefania Hartley

FROM EXCITING ROMANCE AUTHOR STEFANIA HARTLEY

Sicilian marine biologist Serena Ingotta has never understood men, but when she uncovers a mafia factory polluting the sea, it only adds to the things that confuse her.

Twenty-four-year-old Sicilian scientist Serena Ingotta has always misunderstood men, from her workaholic anti-mafia judge father to the Catholic seminarian she's hopelessly in love with. Interning in a marine biology lab alongside her irritating colleague Enrico, she discovers an illegal polluting factory that is possibly connected with the mafia.

When it turns out that their boss is going to cover up the story, she publicly denounces him at a science conference and gets expelled from the lab. Alone and ostracized, Serena's attempts to find love and expose the factory seem to be failing epically until she finally realizes that everything she has been searching for was just under her nose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Jan 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839434716

Stefania Hartley

Stefania Hartley, also known as The Sicilian Mama, was born in Sicily and immediately started growing, but not very much. She left her sunny island after falling head over heels in love with an Englishman, and she’s lived all over the world with him and their three children. Having finally learnt English, she enjoyed it so much that she started writing stories and nobody has been able to stop her since. She loves to write about hot and sunny places like her native Sicily, and she especially likes it when people fall in love. Her short stories have been longlisted, commended and won prizes. Sun, Stars and Limoncello is her first novel.

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Totally Bound Publishing books by Stefania Hartley

Single Books

Sun, Stars and Limoncello

PLENTY OF FISH IN THE SICILIAN SEA

STEFANIA HARTLEY

Plenty of Fish in the Sicilian Sea

ISBN # 978-1-83943-471-6

©Copyright Stefania Hartley 2021

Cover Art by Louisa Maggio ©Copyright January 2021

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2020 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.

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Sicilian marine biologist Serena Ingotta has never understood men, but when she uncovers a mafia factory polluting the sea, it only adds to the things that confuse her.

Twenty-four-year-old Sicilian scientist Serena Ingotta has always misunderstood men, from her workaholic anti-mafia judge father to the Catholic seminarian she’s hopelessly in love with. Interning in a marine biology lab alongside her irritating colleague Enrico, she discovers an illegal polluting factory that is possibly connected with the mafia.

When it turns out that their boss is going to cover up the story, she publicly denounces him at a science conference and gets expelled from the lab. Alone and ostracized, Serena’s attempts to find love and expose the factory seem to be failing epically until she finally realizes that everything she has been searching for was just under her nose.

Dedication

To RB Owen, thank you for helping me see the way forward for this story, and for all your support, encouragement and advice.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Hunchback of Notre Dame: Victor Hugo, Disney Enterprises Inc.

Superman: DC Comics General Partnership

Lego: Lego Juris A/S Corporation

Battleship: Hasbro Inc.

Pinocchio: Disney Enterprises Inc.

Vespa: Piaggio & CSPA Corporation

Polo: PRL USA Holdings Inc.

Barbie: Mattel Inc.

Paddington Bear: Paddington & Company Ltd.

Playmobil: Geobra Brandstatter Stiftung & Co. LLP

Nature: Nature Research, Springer Nature

Scientific American: Springer Nature

Nutella: Ferrero S.p.A.

Sylvanian Families: Epoch

Sleeping Beauty: Disney Enterprises Inc.

London Gatwick: Global Infrastructure Partners

Sherlock Holmes: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Super Glue: Innovative Security Products Inc.

HP: HP Hewlett Packard Group LLC

Dell: Dell Inc.

The Matrix: Warner Brothers, Roadshow Entertainment

Fifty Shades of Grey: E.L. James

Romeo and Juliet: William Shakespeare

RAI: Radiotelevisione Italiana

Ferrari: Ferrari S.p.A. Corporation

Siciliana: Ferrer

Massimo Theater: The City of Palermo

Prologue

The first time Serena misunderstood a man she was six, and she was holding a gun.

She could tell it was a gun—everyone saw them often on TV and in the newspapers if they lived in Palermo—and she immediately knew that she had to tell Dad. Even better, take it to him in the kitchen, so that he could throw it in the rubbish bin. Some baddie must have put it in her Dad’s bedside drawer so that he would get hurt, but she was saving him.

She wasn’t afraid to touch it. If she carried it with her palms perfectly flat—the way people fed apples to horses—it wouldn’t hurt her. Fingers bent backward for extra-flatness, nose twitching at the smell of sweaty metal, she paraded out of Mom and Dad’s bedroom, down the dark staircase, toward the smell of coffee and the view of sunlight coming from the kitchen. Dad would say, ‘Well done, Serena. You’ve saved me from this dangerous gun!’, then he would hug her and kiss her.

Stepping out into the doorway with her palms thrust out, she announced proudly, Look what I’ve found!

Dad jumped out of his chair, knocking it backward and spilling his coffee all over his white shirt. Mom’s hands flew to her mouth as she gave out a choked shriek. Dad lurched forward, knocking over the table with all the biscuits, the milk and the coffee, snatched the gun from her hands—not with flat palms—and made it go click-clack. Then he leaned against the wall with his chest rising and sinking quickly and the gun dangling from his arm, as if he were very tired. How the hell did you find it? he panted.

I—

What were you even doing in our bedroom?

I— She had always been allowed to play in their bedroom.

You should have locked it away, Domenico, Mom said.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Why wasn’t anyone saying, ‘Well done, Serena, for saving your daddy from this dangerous gun’?

While Serena stood in the doorway, confused and bewildered, Dad wiped his face over and over with his hand and sank down on his haunches. As if my job wasn’t hard enough already…

She desperately needed to hug him and be hugged, so she lurched forward. Flinching-quick, he rolled away, clutching the gun to his chest as if she might have wanted to snatch it off him. He’s hugging the gun instead of me!

Her dad thought she wanted to hurt him! Hadn’t he seen the ‘I love you’ she had etched on the penholder she’d made for his desk? If he imagined that she wanted to hurt him, he couldn’t possibly like her, because only Jesus could really love his enemies.

From that day onward, Serena couldn’t help suspecting that her dad didn’t love her and thought her capable of hurting him. So, she religiously kept out of unfamiliar drawers, never entered her parents’ bedroom unless invited and never, ever, played shooting videogames.

Chapter One

Serena jangled the lab keys inside her bag and smiled. The cheerful clink told her that, even without a salary, a job description or a coat peg, she belonged there. The sound echoed in the silent corridor. There was no tapping of wooden soles, no irritated voices, no whispered gossip at that time in the morning. There was just her, the pickled coelacanths and the embalmed, startled pufferfish to greet her through the glass cabinets.

She stuck the key into the lab door and tried to turn it, but it was already unlocked. Strange… I’m usually the first in. As she opened the door, she found the tall green shutters gaping open and a gust of wind slammed the windows shut with a tinkling of glass.

Hi, Sery!

Enrico? He was perched on his stool, hunched over the wooden workbench with his grubby lab coat unbuttoned, as attractive as the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He straightened, turned toward her and blinked as if he were only just waking up. He usually turned up around ten o’clock. How come you’re here so early?

"Just to spook you. No, not really. I just suddenly thought, Shit, we have to finish our research by the end of the week, and I freaked out. Are you freaked out too?"

A bit. Mostly about your sudden interest in our work. I thought I’d never get any help from you.

He smiled. I’m here to the rescue, baby. He thrust a fist in the air, and Serena groaned inwardly. He was even wearing a Superman T-shirt.

She took off her motorbike helmet and put it down on the floor under the coat pegs. Maybe we’ll get our own pegs after the conference.

He shook his head. Coat pegs were for staff, not unpaid interns. I wouldn’t hold my breath, Sery. We’re out of filter paper and we can’t order more until next year’s funding arrives. I don’t think either of us is getting a job here anytime soon.

Hold on. If we’re out of filter paper, what are you using for filtering? she asked, pointing to the funnel dripping a red liquid into a conical flask on their workbench.

Hand towels. He grinned.

She clutched her head. You can’t do that! No wonder our results—

Just joking. He grinned, winking. I’ve cut the discs in half so we have enough. If you pour carefully, they do the job just fine.

Please, don’t make a joke like that again. Not now. They only had until Friday to persuade their boss to submit their research to the upcoming Marine Biology Conference. If they presented their research at the conference, they could put it on their CVs and maybe they’d get a research bursary or—if dreams ever came true—a permanent research position. Two years of unpaid work in Schettino’s lab would not have been in vain. Right. Let’s get to work.

By the time Giovanna and Titti arrived after dropping their kids off at school, Serena and Enrico had dissected the fish samples, isolated the gill tissues and filtered the extracts. Giovanna and Titti were research associates—with coat pegs, name badges and monthly salaries—but they were too nice for Serena to wish that they accidentally cut their own heads off while dissecting a fish so that she could have their jobs.

"Cornetti to see us through today," Giovanna announced, putting down a parcel wrapped with the paper from the café downstairs on a nearby bench. The heavenly buttery scent of the Italian croissants temporarily flushed the smell of the fish samples from the room. Yes, Giovanna is definitely too lovely to hate.

Shall we have a break? Enrico suggested hopefully.

I want to see the spectrophotometer’s results first, but you can, Serena said.

Enrico hesitated but picked up a cuvette with fish juice instead of a cornetto with custard and walked over to the spectrophotometer in the far corner of the room. Enrico called out the machine’s readings and Serena entered them into her laptop.

How are things going here? Professor Schettino suddenly appeared behind them. The boss never arrived before eleven o’clock. He must be early because of the conference deadline.

We’re getting together the last results, Enrico said confidently.

Great. I want to see all your results by lunchtime.

Sure.

After that deadline was issued, the cornetti weren’t mentioned anymore.

Just before midday, Schettino shouted from his office, Enrico, Serena, are you done?

They looked at each other. Almost! Enrico called back.

It was a very early ‘lunchtime’ for Italy. They entered the last few results into their table and clicked on the button that would create a curve of best fit. But what came out was not a curve by any standard.

I’ve calibrated the machine three times! Enrico protested, waving his arm in the air.

I don’t think our results are wrong. The repeats are very close to each other.

Then why does our data make no sense?

It does make sense. Negative results disprove the hypothesis.

Enrico twisted his mouth. Negative results aren’t exciting enough to be presented at a conference.

Schettino will agree that science doesn’t have to be sensational. Come… Let’s show him. She got up with her laptop and marched to Schettino’s office-cave. Enrico followed her. Here are our results, she announced, putting her laptop down on their boss’ desk, which was scattered with printouts crossed through and scribbled on in red pen. Enrico stopped on the threshold and leaned against the door jamb.

Schettino adjusted his reading glasses, put down the red pen and looked intently at the graph. Ah, he said, pushing his wheelie chair back and dropping his glasses to look intently at Serena.

Serena waited for a more comprehensive comment, possibly with some indication of his appreciation.

So, what’s your conclusion? he asked, shrugging.

That there’s no correlation between heavy metal concentration in fish and distance from the shore.

Enrico stepped into the room. We’ve calibrated the instruments before every batch of measurements, we’ve repeated each reading at least three times and…we’ve worn gloves.

Uhm—Schettino pursed his lips—perhaps you need to plot against depth instead of distance from the shore.

Why? What’s wrong with our results as they are? This was not how she had imagined the conversation would go.

Not impressive enough to go to a conference. The selection committee won’t give you even a five-minute slot to present it. Nobody is interested in you having an idea and proving that it was wrong, Serena. I don’t care what you plot your results against, so long as you find a correlation of some sort. Otherwise, I won’t submit your work to the conference. It’s as simple as that. He stood up, which made him a lot taller than her—but not Enrico.

But the submission deadline is on Friday, Enrico protested.

"You don’t have to come to this conference. There’ll be many others."

But we’ve worked for two years with the promise of being allowed to submit to this conference.

"We’ll turn the research around by