Page 19 of The Dolce Vita Divas
Paulo darted a look at me and laughed. ‘Okay. Some of Ellen’s dearest friends.’
Susie giggled and stifled it with a cough.
We shuffled towards her rather nervously, although at least we did resist the temptation to push each other forwards. It felt almost as though we were meeting royalty. Or our old headmistress. Should we curtsey? It almost felt appropriate.
For heaven’s sake, we were mature women in our sixties, not timid schoolgirls.
‘My mother, Contessa Carolina,’ he said, ‘and this is my stepfather Conte Frederico di Genovese.’
The elderly man woke up with a start and looked around him, rather confused.
‘I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes,’ he said, and then he stood up, took off his hat and bowed charmingly over our hands.
‘Please call me Freddy,’ he said.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Freddy, and happy birthday, Contessa,’ I said, and I handed over the birthday card and the gift we had bought.
Susie and I had debated long and hard about this. What did you give a wealthy woman for her eighty-fifth birthday? We had no idea of her taste, her colour preferences or indeed her health. Perhaps the glamorous box of Charbonnel et Walker truffles, striped and tied with a satin ribbon, would be acceptable. We had stuck to the classic milk chocolate version; personally, I think there are far too many sea salt and caramel versions of things. All older women liked straightforward chocolate, didn’t they? Or perhaps our gift would be the one thing that would send the Contessa into a diabetic coma and then we would get the blame.
Freddy perked up at this and held out a hand.
‘Shall I look after those for you,mia cara?’
The Contessa dipped her chin and gave him a glance that said no, and he shrugged good-naturedly. Then she looked up at us imperiously with dark, curious eyes and watched us for a few long seconds.
I remembered that look from years ago. She would have been a good interrogator for the FBI. No one would have been able to stand up to her for long. And then unexpectedly she smiled, and her face softened into beauty again.
‘Thank you. These are my favourite. You may call me Ceci,’ she said. ‘All these birthdays and titles are nonsense these days, unless we want tickets to the opera, or a free flight upgrade. Which we often have in the past, haven’t we, Freddy? But not so much these days, now I am old anddecrepito.’
Frederico flapped a hand towards her in disagreement, and to be fair, Ceci didn’t look decrepit to me. I did some rapid mental maths. Paulo was my age, so Ceci must be in her eighties. What had he said in that message? Eighty-five? She didn’t look it. She sat ramrod straight in her chair, still beautiful, with fine brown eyes and thick silvery hair swept up into an elegant chignon, and Frederico watched her with eyes that clearly adored her.
She waved a hand, weighed down with a massive emerald ring, towards us, beckoning us forwards to sit next to her.
‘You must tell us all about yourselves,’ she said. ‘I am sure I must have met you at Paulo’s wedding, but that was so long ago, and I amsmemorata– forgetful.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ Paulo said. ‘Your mind is still as sharp as ever.’
‘If I choose,’ she said with a wicked smile.
Now that we had passed the initial scrutiny, I was beginning to warm to her. She might have been portraying herself as an old woman who needed her husband to fuss over the cushions behind her or worry about freshening up her drink, but I had the feeling there was far more to Ceci than that.
‘Ellen spoke of you often,’ she said. ‘She was very fond of both of you and your times together. Am I saying this correctly? My English is not good. Freddy is far more fluent than I am. He speaks four languages.’
‘Your English is excellent,’ I said, ‘and Ellen was a good friend to us. We had fun over the years and saw each other through some difficult times too.’
‘Fun,’ Ceci said mournfully, her gaze drifting off to the horizon, ‘there is not enough fun these days. People are so angry, so busy with being offended. It tires me. You know the best weapon? Laughter. Laughter and tiramisu make everything better.’
I nodded then because I couldn’t argue with that, and then Ceci looked at Paulo hopefully and raised her eyebrows.
He took the hint. ‘Sì,Mamma, I will fetch you both some tiramisu.’
‘Not for Freddy, he has had some already and I am keeping an eye on his diet.’
‘You’re not as much fun as you used to be,’ Freddy grumbled.
‘You may be able to speak four languages, but you can’t say no in any of them,’ Ceci said.
She rewarded Paulo with a lovely smile, and he wandered off, ducking through the archway, the fronds of bougainvillea brushing his broad shoulders.
