Page 66 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘There is Nonno!’
He darted off, dodging around people until he reached Paulo, who swung the boy up onto his shoulders.
‘Now I am taller than Nonno,’ he called triumphantly.
‘Lunchtime, I think,’ Paulo said. ‘Follow me if you are ready?’
He went over to a restaurant in the corner of the Piazzetta where there was a queue of about ten people waiting to get in, but as we got there, he headed for a small side alley, lifted Eric down and went through a blue beaded curtain. We followed him up a narrow staircase where the air was dark and scented with garlic, eventually coming out into a room where light flooded in through the glass walls. It was breathtaking, the new view out over the sea crystal clear in the sunshine. A refreshing and cooling breeze too, which was very welcome.
I wondered for a moment how on earth anyone could clean that expanse of glass, and then sat down at a table set for four.
‘My friend’s place,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘The food here is very good.’
‘Can I have fries?’ Eric asked.
I raised my eyebrows and sent him a questioning look.
‘Can I have fries, please?’ he added.
I was happy to see that the little talk we had shared had made a small difference. Paulo looked at me and a little smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
‘Were you good for Andrea this morning?’ Paulo asked, looking stern once more.
‘I was good, wasn’t I, Andrea?’ Eric said. ‘I didn’t run away, and I was kind like Jo said.’
‘Eso es cierto, it’s true,’ Andrea agreed.
‘Then you can have fries and ice cream as well.’
Eric beamed at me.
‘You see? I was right, wasn’t I?’ I said.
That was the thing I remembered from my teaching days. The constant need to reinforce good behaviour and then go home and sort my own children out. It had got exhausting after thirty years.
Once we had ordered food, Andrea and Eric went off to look out of the windows at the square below, pointing at a dog running after some pigeons.
‘How did your meeting go?’ I said, too curious to keep off the subject any longer.
Paulo nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
‘Good. We made progress.’
This effectively told me nothing at all.
Progress with what, for heaven’s sake?
‘So, everything is good?’
‘Quite good, I think.’
He was different from the way he had been yesterday. He was more reserved, almost formal. I wondered how to draw more out of him.
Are things going well? Are you up to date with your taxes? Are your investments okay? Did you order a stack of new towels? How old is Stephanie? Is she younger than me? Well, probably. Recently I’ve been realising most people are. How long have you been friends with her? Are you more than friends? What are your intentions?
‘That’s great,’ I said.
‘It’s a weight off my mind,’ he replied, ‘or it will be.’
