Page 50 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘I hope you are not weakening and thinking about getting back together with him?’
Susie smiled, this time with a slightly steely look. ‘Not a chance. It will do him good to realise I did a lot more than just buy cake and magically produce clean laundry.’
Which was truer, I wondered? Out of sight out of mind, or absence makes the heart grow fonder. I started down that line of thought regarding Paulo and then stopped myself.
We had been apart for so long, so many years had passed, so much had happened to both of us. Surely the magical attraction we had felt for each other was long gone. But why then did he still make me feel like this?
I had not been like Ellen, gracious and serene.
I had been the one with the temper who criticised the way Paulo left muddy football boots in the middle of the kitchen floor. Who disagreed with his choice of television programmes, who occasionally stamped out of the room when he came in. He had been the one who had pulled all his clothes out from the laundry basket in a fury when he couldn’t find a favourite shirt. We had shouted at each other, and then eventually laughed. I’d read once that love and hate were two sides of the same blade, that there is only a small difference between them. The only thing that was worse was indifference. And that was not something I had ever felt about Paulo.
Had he been like that with Ellen?
‘Where’s your admirer now?’ I said, picking a canape from a tray as the waiter passed us.
‘Over there surrounded by fluttering women. He’s terribly attractive, isn’t he? I can see the appeal.’
I watched for a moment. There seemed to be a lot of laughing and cheek kissing going on in that particular group.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think I trust a man that age with so much hair. To my mind it usually means he’s had a hair transplant or is wearing a wig.’
‘Sweeping generalisation, don’t you think? But then men fret about losing their hair, don’t they? And trust me, that is real hair,’ she purred with a catlike smile. ‘And we worry about other stuff. Wrinkles and middle-age spread,’ she said, and we both pulled our stomachs in and straightened up.
‘I don’t much care if we look old; it’s a sign we are still alive. And even my son Alex says all the young women on television who are supposed to be attractive look the same. Too thin and the same hair and eyebrows and pouts. And they always seem to be laughing hysterically about something. Perhaps that’s what is expected on television these days. And the clothes they wear are always too small.’
‘So now what about Paulo?’
‘Oh, I expect we will have a proper chat at some point, when he has time. What we have been doing, just like old friends, that sort of thing.’
‘You’re fooling yourself,’ she murmured.
‘Oh, stop it.’
We stood sipping Prosecco and people watching for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to be part of a couple, were well dressed, elegant and wearing studied expressions that said,Yes, I am having a good time, but I’m remembering Ellen so I’m slightly sad as well.
Funny how people paired up. I watched and wondered what had attracted one to the other. A tall man with a huge voice accompanied by a tiny woman in blue. Another striking woman with a complicated hairstyle clinging on to the arm of a man who looked like a retired banker apart from his shoes, which were brown and white co-respondent brogues.
‘Do you think Greg and the Trollop, you know, still?—’
I raised my eyebrows at the question.
‘Have sex? I expect so. If she ever gets off her horse. What a ghastly image. Perhaps she gets turned on when he mucks out the stables. Or maybe he grooms her with a Dandy brush and Curry comb, whistling through his teeth like an ostler. Oh, who cares? You should try one of these shrimp things, they are delicious.’
I realised that indifference was something I did feel for Greg.
At the head of the room, someone tapped loudly on the side of a wine glass and gradually everyone stopped talking. It was Paulo standing beside his mother’s chair. We could have heard a pin drop.
‘Thank you,grazie, friends and family for being here today. It has been five years,’ he shook his head, ‘but today we celebrate Ellen’s life the way she would have wanted. With joy, and happy memories. Not with tears or sadness.’
Ceci tugged at his sleeve to interrupt him.
‘When I die, I expect you all to be inconsolable. I insist on it.’
Everyone laughed at that, and the room relaxed a little.
‘And of course we wish a very happy birthday to my mother, the incomparable Contessa.’ He raised his glass in her direction, and she nodded and smiled back at him. ‘So now, please enjoy yourselves. We marvel at my mother’s energy and wisdom, and at the same time we remember Ellen. As we move on into the future we should celebrate both of them, with gladness, with laughter.’
‘If anyone laughs at my funeral, they are out of the will,’ Ceci added darkly.
