Page 60 of The Dolce Vita Divas
Ceci sat back in her chair and sighed. ‘Now then,che giornata deliziosa– what a lovely day we have had. Everything so well organised bymyson. You see, Sylvia, the world doesn’t just need bureaucrats.’
Sylvia nodded. ‘No, that’s true. Inn keepers are important too.’
‘I’m sure César Ritz and Waldorf Astor would agree with you. And wasn’t the food delicious? Last year, Paulo lured his chef away from the Cipriani in Venice.’
‘Venice is sinking, isn’t it?’ Lucia said smoothly. ‘I expect he was glad to leave.’
By that point, I wasn’t sure if I was going to laugh or have a fit of the vapours, being in the middle of all this.
The three ladies took a break from their verbal jousting for a few minutes as their drinks arrived on a silver tray, accompanied by much deferential bowing from the waiter.
‘Nuts,’ Ceci said, which caused Sylvia to jerk her head round at the anticipated insult. ‘I think I would like some cashew nuts.’
The waiter hurried off to find some and Sylvia dabbed at her throat with a handkerchief.
‘It’s been a splendid celebration of Ellen, someone who was much admired and loved,’ I said, hoping I was going to defuse the situation.
‘She was indeed,’ Ceci said, ‘very much admired. But strict. Very disciplined.’
‘Isn’t it wonderful when our children succeed in the world? My son Ralph is very much admired too,’ Sylvia said. ‘He has been told he may well be in line for a promotion soon. He was told by the assistant to the acting deputy leader of the department. Although I shouldn’t be telling you this,è molto confidenziale– it’s very confidential.’
‘Oh, I promise we won’t breathe a word,’ Lucia purred. ‘I mean, who would want to know?’
I looked over at Freddy, who was sipping his whiskey with a little smile on his face. He might be used to all this bickering, but I wasn’t.
‘Is Ralph married?’ I asked.
‘He is. To a lovely English girl. Cressida. Her father used to work for the government, so she is no stranger to a political life at the highest levels. He is an assistant director, which I’m told is the equivalent of a captain in the navy.’
‘I love to see a man in uniform,’ Ceci purred. ‘Do you have any recent pictures? All that braid, all those medals.’
‘Not with me,’ Sylvia said icily, ‘and it doesn’t work like that.’
‘Che peccato– what a shame.’
I pressed on. ‘And do they have children?’
Sylvia dived into the depths of her handbag and brought out a little book of photographs.
‘This is Quentin, who is six, and Amelia, who is five. He is so bright, and she is going to be a beauty. The most delightful children.’
‘Goodness me, is that blood?’ Lucia asked, peering over my shoulder.
‘Spaghetti sauce,’ Sylvia said tersely, flipping the page over, ‘and here they are on their first day at school. They go to the European School, such a wonderful place. Probably the best in the world.’
‘I thought that was Carlsberg?’ Freddy murmured.
Sylvia ignored him.
I looked through the pictures. From what I could see, Quentin and Amelia were a pair of perfectly ordinary-looking children who needed help with their table manners. But then Sylvia was a proud grandmother and perhaps I could cut her some slack. Violet and Maud were after all more than capable of wreaking similar carnage at the dinner table.
‘How lovely for you,’ I said.
Sylvia sipped daintily from her water glass.
‘Do you have grandchildren?’ Ceci asked me politely.
‘Two, Violet and?—’
