Page 65 of The Dolce Vita Divas
I saw a young woman dart into a café and return almost immediately with a carrier bag laden down with paper-wrapped sandwiches. Perhaps Paulo and Stephanie were having a business lunch?
Or maybe they were in bed together, lying languorously on rumpled sheets, smiling at each other as the sun shone through the slats of the closed shutters.
He had been on his own for years. What had Ceci said? No one should be alone.
I had no right to be jealous or suspicious.
Maybe Stephanie was a management consultant who was stepping in now that Ellen’s capable hand had gone. She would be grey haired and sensible, sitting in a dingy office with piles of cardboard folders blocking her view out of the window to the sea below. She would be smoking a cheroot and talking very fast about hand dryers or chill cabinets and Paulo would be reading documents and signing paperwork and looking perplexed.
What had he said?I can’t do this any more.
16
By the time I returned to the Piazzetta, the day had warmed up, and even though I had been trying to stay on the shaded side of the streets, the sweat was trickling down between my shoulder blades. I wished I had brought some suncream. And my sunglasses. But then in England these things never seemed to be high up my list of priorities. Whether to take a coat or an umbrella were the things to consider.
The crowds were bigger; queues were forming for the funicular railway. And people were obviously thinking about lunch. I watched them, stopping outside the cafés and restaurants, reading the menus pinned up outside. Occasionally the waiters would appear from inside, to encourage people in.
Suddenly a small child ran straight into me at speed, stopping and throwing his arms around my legs so I nearly fell over.
It was Eric, and a few steps behind him Andrea hurried up, her progress hampered by a big backpack in one hand and Eric’s iPad in the other.
‘Where have you been?’ he said to me.
‘Nowhere,’ I replied.
Eric shook his head. ‘Everyone is somewhere. I’ve been swimming and then we got the bus which was very exciting, and now we are looking for Nonno. He said he would see us here for lunch.’
‘We are ten minutes early, Eric,’ Andrea puffed, dropping the backpack onto the floor. ‘Nonnosaid one o’clock.’
‘I want him to be here,’ Eric said, pouting.
‘How is your headache, Andrea?’ I asked, ignoring him.
‘Estoy mucho major. Not too bad, very good.’
‘I gave her that rose,’ Eric said, ‘and it worked.’
Andrea put an arm around him and looked at him with genuine affection.
‘Un buen chico, a good boy,’ she said, and Eric beamed up at me.
‘Can I have an ice cream now?’
‘Maybe after lunch,’ I said, ‘and you will find that if you ask nicely and say please, you tend to get better results. But first you need some proper food to make you grow as tall and strong as Poppa and Nonno.’
Eric looked annoyed.
‘I am as tall as Poppa and Nonno.’
‘No, you’re not, not nearly as tall,’ I said.
Eric wanted to argue with this.
‘I’m strong.’
‘You will be even stronger when you have eaten your lunch,’ Andrea said, and Eric looked thoughtful.
He took a deep breath ready to resume the argument and then his face suddenly cleared.
