Page 67 of The Dolce Vita Divas
What could that be then?
Perhaps he was embroiled in a court case which had been going on for years, paying back money to the government, fighting to clear his good name, while Stephanie – now a lawyer in a tight, black suit and stilettos – retrieved documents and made ringing challenges across the courtroom. It made me realise that there was still so much about him and his life of which I knew nothing, and suddenly I wanted to know everything.
‘I had to go to court about six years ago,’ I said. ‘It was very frightening.’
‘What did you do?’ he asked, obviously amused. ‘First degree murder? Arson? I remember you setting fire to a litter bin outside the café we used to go to. What was it called? The Green Door? Or was it Betty’s?’
‘It was Betty’s, and I didn’t set fire to it, itcaughton fire because I threw a cigarette end into it.’
‘Drunk driving then? Shop lifting? Fighting in the streets?’
I gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m so pleased you think all these are things I might be capable of doing, but no. I was on jury service. For a week.’
‘Anything interesting?’ He chuckled.
‘No. Someone who was disputing a parking fine, or it might have been council tax. I can’t remember now.’
Two waitresses came through the door at that point with our lunch and a large bottle of chilled water, the condensation running down the sides. Sorting all this out meant that by the time we started chatting again, the subject of going to court and solicitors and legal business was forgotten.
Instead, we were on to an Eric-centric discussion about who would win in a fight, a dinosaur or a robot, and would we rather be stuck in a lift with Bingo or Bluey? Not having much of an idea who they were, it turned into Eric explaining his preferences, while he swung his legs under the table and munched away at his pizza slice and fries.
After that he settled down by a table at the other end of the room by a window to do some colouring, thanks to a book and some crayons from Andrea’s backpack. Soon afterwards followed by a bottle of water, Andrea produced some shape-matching picture cards, wet wipes and a book all about cowboys. I’d forgotten how much stuff one needed to take with a child on even the shortest trip. And finally, Andrea took him to find the loo, and then go downstairs to find ice cream at one of the gelaterias in the square.
‘So tell me more about your life now,’ Paulo said.
At last we had a few minutes alone.
‘I live in a small town. My son Alex has been living in London although he is staying with me at the moment. I’m hoping he will be moving out soon. I see Jessie and Kat as often as I can, but of course they don’t live nearby. Sometimes I go and visit them, particularly when their husbands are away on business. Not because I don’t get on with them, it’s just a bit easier and I can help out with my granddaughters.’
‘Ellen was the same,’ he said, ‘you know that. She got into the habit of only inviting friends to stay when I was away. For company. Or she would travel to see them. Particularly you.’
‘I don’t understand. Why particularly me?’ I said, puzzled.
Paulo paused for a moment, thoughtful, and then he lowered his voice.
‘Surely you remember? I don’t think she wanted… how can I put this? Well, she didn’t want me to question my decision. My choice. At the time it was hard to make any other. We got engaged. She planned her life around me.’
‘Surely you didn’t regret it?’ I asked. ‘You can’t have done. What happened between you and me was?—’
I was glad there was no one else around to overhear this conversation, and I knew from experience that children heard and could repeat the most embarrassing things. Seven-year-old Jess had once loudly asked me in the middle of Sainsbury’s if Daddy knew I had thrown out his comic with the lady on the front.
Paulo looked at me but didn’t speak for a second.
‘I used to feel different, as though I had the power to go anywhere, do anything I wanted to. You made me feel like that when I first met you. But after we married, Ellen was absolutely focused on our life here. She had such great ideas; she was so good at what she did. And that was the difference. How could I turn my back on that, on seeing her so fulfilled? After a while, leaving, not running the hotel, was something that we would not, could not, talk about.’
‘You never did build any roads or bridges?’
He shook his head. ‘Not one. Not yet.’
There was something in his brown eyes that worried me then, and at the same time I recognised the meaning, the expression. He had turned his back on leading the sort of life he’d expected to, just as I had. I began to understand why Ellen had kept her life with Paulo so separate from her life with us over the years. In case he suddenly felt he wanted to change things, to make his life different, just as I had.
I’d assumed that she preferred to come to England for a break from running the hotel. A change of scene and climate that meant she could shop in different places, catch up with old friends and their families. Even on one occasion go with me to a university reunion.
She’d seemed to enjoy that, telling everyone about Capri and the hotel. She had looked fabulous too in a blue velvet dress, her hair pinned up in a chignon, and all eyes had followed her that evening. Everyone had envied her. She had blossomed under people’s admiration. She’d explained Paulo’s absence; such a shame, he was too busy, he didn’t like to leave Capri. It had never occurred to me that she might have wanted to keep Paulo away from us, or more specifically from me.
I thought about this for a few moments and suddenly it made sense.
Greg had always been a bit embarrassing when Ellen came to stay with us, paying her extravagant compliments, admiring her style, her flair for fashion. Pulling out a chair for her at the dining table as though he was a waiter. Always angling for an invitation to stay with them that had never materialised.
