Page 25 of The Dolce Vita Divas
He skidded to a halt in front of me and held out his arms for my approval.
His new outfit was probably the most impractical one any child had ever had. A white shirt with a little logo on the pocket in gold thread and white shorts. Even his trainers were spotlessly white. What was his mother thinking? At that age my children had been in T-shirts and jeans, and nearly always covered in mud or food.
‘I’m so pleased to see you again. You look very handsome,’ I said, ‘and now you are the smartest boy in here.’
Actually, he was the only boy in the room; the rest of the tables were filled with hotel guests, all of whom were well dressed, and about our age.
Behind Paulo I saw a glamorous couple gliding into the restaurant, a tall handsome man who somehow looked familiar, and a beautiful blonde woman who was so tall and slim she was practically two dimensional.
Paulo stood up.
‘Ah, there they are. Now then, may I introduce my son Leonardo, who I don’t think you have seen since he was quite small. He has been working in Texas for the last twelve years, and this is his wife Raleigh, who is from Atlanta, Georgia,’ he said. ‘And you have met their son Eric already.’
Of course, Leo. I had known they’d had a son; I’d met him once, when he was about ten. Ellen had mentioned him in her letters and emails over the years. Sent pictures of him graduating from school, from university. How he had moved to America and found a new life there. How much she had missed him. Her delight when he had married Raleigh. Her hopes for grandchildren, which had seemed to be coming true.
So, Eric was the much longed for grandson, but had Ellen ever known the boy? Had he been born before she had died or afterwards? It wasn’t the sort of question to ask, but I suddenly felt immensely sorry for her, that she had possibly never actually seen him except maybe in photographs.
We all stood up and were properly introduced while Eric stood at my side, tugging at my sleeve.
‘Eric, darlin’,’ Raleigh drawled in an accent rich with shades ofGone with the Windand the Deep South, ‘don’t do that. Come and sit by me and Poppa.’
Eric didn’t answer but plonked himself on the chair next to mine, his mouth a grim line of determination.
‘Looks like you made a fan,’ Leonardo said, who sounded like an American but looked just like his father at the same age. He had the same dark eyes, the same height and build, the same easy manner. It almost took my breath away. ‘Don’t you want to come over here, buddy?’
‘I wanna sit here, Poppa,’ Eric replied.
‘I’d be delighted,’ I said quickly, before he could cause any trouble, and I pushed his chair in towards the table, effectively trapping Eric there, his chin just over the level of the cloth. His eyes fixed on the glass jar of breadsticks in the middle of the table.
‘Well, if it’s no trouble,’ Raleigh drawled, looking more than a little relieved. Evidently Andrea was having the night off. I hoped she had a comfortable chair in her room and a decent glass of wine to keep her company.
After the introductions and small talk was over we all sat down, and I gave Eric a breadstick, while glasses of water and wine were poured.
‘I want soda,’ Eric piped up.
He didn’t make a request; it was more a demand, and it was all I could do not to say something.
‘Now, you know what you learned about that,’ Raleigh said, who had chosen to sit opposite me. ‘You were talking about cola in school only the other day. What did you learn about cola, Eric?’
Eric thought hard.
‘The Houston police use it to clean blood off the road after an accident?’
Raleigh looked shaken. ‘No, that may be true but that’s not what I meant.’
‘If you won’t let me be a cowboy I’m going to be a policeman,’ Eric said. ‘I’d like to do that.’
‘I don’t think?—’
Mercifully, Raleigh was interrupted by waiters bringing us the first course, which were some tiny bruschetta, laden with miniature tomatoes, slivers of mozzarella cheese and a drizzle of balsamic glaze.
Eric, swinging his legs under the table, scraped off the toppings and ate the bread.
‘What’s your favourite food?’ I asked him.
‘Candy,’ he said. ‘M&Ms.’
‘Yes, I like those too,’ I said, and Eric smiled.
