Chapter 5
5
After I had finished unpacking and put all my things away in the enormous baroque wardrobe, I changed into some new grey linen trousers and a white shirt, which back home had looked quite chic. I wasn’t sure they did here.
I fussed about in front of the mirror and turned the collar of the shirt up, to try and look more like Jane Fonda did in the skincare adverts when she was trying to hide her perfectly acceptable jawline and neck, and then turned it down again because it just looked as though I had got dressed in a hurry. I added a chunky glass necklace and then took it off because it looked what it was – something I had found in a charity shop for three pounds. Then I put it back on again.
I peered at myself. I looked different here. Perhaps it was the light that was so clear and bright. It certainly was doing my wrinkles no favours. Where did they spring from all of a sudden?
I put on some makeup. And found a lipstick. And a small handbag I’d discovered at the bottom of my wardrobe. I’d last used it years ago at an evening wedding party and Greg had said it was ‘a bit much’, but here it seemed perfectly okay to go out with a scarlet bag decorated with a sequinned butterfly and some coloured feathers.
As I got older, I was beginning to see the appeal of handbags. Unlike shoes (I was sure my feet had been spreading) or clothes (sizes always unreliable), a handbag always fitted and never got too small. And that was somehow very reassuring.
I looked at my nails. I’d had a manicure, and for once they looked okay. Instead of being rather grimy from time spent in the garden, they were coloured a rather sexy crimson to match my toenails. They were the nails of a woman who was going out for drinks in the garden on Capri and was staying in a beautiful hotel with her friend. Not someone who didn’t usually give her appearance much consideration. This could be something I did on a regular basis from now on. After all, if I didn’t care what I looked like, why should anyone else? No wonder women like me were ignored or not even seen at all.
Manicures were another thing I was beginning to see the value of. The rest of me might be gradually looking older, but with minimal financial outlay, my nails looked okay. They could be the nails of a much younger woman actually if I held my hands out in a particular way to hide the age spots. Nails didn’t wrinkle or sag like some bits of me were doing. Interesting.
Then I straightened my shoulders and stood up properly instead of slouching as I often did, taking a last look in the mirror to check. Much better.
There was a knock on my balcony door. It was Susie, looking very sophisticated in strappy sandals and a delightful cream cotton dress patterned with lavender wisteria, which made the most of her bosom.
‘I couldn’t decide between striped capri pants in honour of the location, or this dress. I was feeling in an Audrey Hepburn mood.’
‘You have the figure for it,’ I said. ‘When I wear capri pants, I always look like I’ve been paddling. Or I’m standing in a ditch.’
Susie laughed and went to check her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was glossy and shining and pinned up into a messy chignon. The now permanently evicted Simon would have been kicking himself if he had seen her.
‘It’s a pity you decided to foreswear off men,’ I said, ‘because you look sensational.’
Susie blushed and fiddled with her straw bag, pulling out a pair of oversized sunglasses.
‘Oh, you,’ she said with a little smile, ‘don’t be daft. No one’s going to notice me.’
I watched her preening in front of the mirror for a moment and wished that I could be more like her. More confident, sure of herself despite all the years when Simon had tried and failed to control her. Perhaps the effect was wearing off quite fast. She had such energy, and a poise that was very endearing, just as she had when we were younger. Could I do that too? Discard all the negative feelings I’d had about myself for so long, and believe in myself again?
We went down the marble staircase and out into the gardens below our rooms. Through a stone archway and some luxuriant swags of yet more bougainvillea, we found a small gathering of people clustered around a long table covered with a white cloth, where waiters were serving drinks.
‘Ah, there you are!’
It was Paulo looking very elegant in a dashing Panama hat with a striped band. I felt a silly little thrill of excitement. On other men it might have looked as though he was umpiring a cricket match, but yet again, here things looked very different.
‘At some point I must introduce you all to the family,’ he said, ‘at least the ones who are here. Firstly, let’s find you some Prosecco.’
He held up a hand and instantly a waiter brought a tray of drinks. The place seemed to run like clockwork; it was very impressive.
How could he be so relaxed at meeting up again? Had he forgotten everything? Or had he really just forgotten all about me, the feelings I thought we had shared all those years ago?
It felt horrible to realise that, yes, he probably had. That he hadn’t given me a second thought for decades, while I remembered him in so many ways. His birthday, the way he could throw on any clothes and still look stylish, the sound of him singing in the kitchen, his unwavering support for Inter Milan football club.
At that moment I wondered if he remembered anything about me at all.
‘And now come with me. My son and his wife and my grandson are here somewhere, but for now I must take you to say hello to my mother and stepfather,’ he said, and he gave a funny little grimace. ‘Do you remember her? And please don’t take too much notice of what she says. She can be a little outspoken these days.’
In the possible comments for ‘how to put guests at their ease’, this didn’t work at all, but obediently we followed him through another stone archway to a little pergola where an elderly but very elegant woman was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair, holding court to a group of young people.
She looked up as we approached.
‘Paulo , eccoti finalmente. ’
‘She said “There you are at last”,’ Susie murmured.
I caught my breath. Ah, yes, I did remember her. This woman might have been my mother-in-law if things had worked out differently. I had met her at Paulo and Ellen’s wedding, a rather intimidating but striking figure in a blue outfit, loaded down with jewellery. Next to her sat an elderly man in a dark blue blazer and cream trousers with a sunhat tilted over his eyes, who looked like he might have been in the middle of a nap.
The group of young things parted respectfully, and Paulo bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.
‘Mamma , questi sono gli amici de Ellen . Do you remember Jo and Susie? These are Ellen’s oldest friends. From England.’
‘It might be true but I’m not sure I like the use of the word “oldest”,’ I murmured.
Paulo darted a look at me and laughed. ‘Okay. Some of Ellen’s dearest friends.’
Susie giggled and stifled it with a cough.
We shuffled towards her rather nervously, although at least we did resist the temptation to push each other forwards. It felt almost as though we were meeting royalty. Or our old headmistress. Should we curtsey? It almost felt appropriate.
For heaven’s sake, we were mature women in our sixties, not timid schoolgirls.
‘My mother, Contessa Carolina,’ he said, ‘and this is my stepfather Conte Frederico di Genovese.’
The elderly man woke up with a start and looked around him, rather confused.
‘I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes,’ he said, and then he stood up, took off his hat and bowed charmingly over our hands.
‘Please call me Freddy,’ he said.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Freddy, and happy birthday, Contessa,’ I said, and I handed over the birthday card and the gift we had bought.
Susie and I had debated long and hard about this. What did you give a wealthy woman for her eighty-fifth birthday? We had no idea of her taste, her colour preferences or indeed her health. Perhaps the glamorous box of Charbonnel et Walker truffles, striped and tied with a satin ribbon, would be acceptable. We had stuck to the classic milk chocolate version; personally, I think there are far too many sea salt and caramel versions of things. All older women liked straightforward chocolate, didn’t they? Or perhaps our gift would be the one thing that would send the Contessa into a diabetic coma and then we would get the blame.
Freddy perked up at this and held out a hand.
‘Shall I look after those for you, mia cara ?’
The Contessa dipped her chin and gave him a glance that said no, and he shrugged good-naturedly. Then she looked up at us imperiously with dark, curious eyes and watched us for a few long seconds.
I remembered that look from years ago. She would have been a good interrogator for the FBI. No one would have been able to stand up to her for long. And then unexpectedly she smiled, and her face softened into beauty again.
‘Thank you. These are my favourite. You may call me Ceci,’ she said. ‘All these birthdays and titles are nonsense these days, unless we want tickets to the opera, or a free flight upgrade. Which we often have in the past, haven’t we, Freddy? But not so much these days, now I am old and decrepito .’
Frederico flapped a hand towards her in disagreement, and to be fair, Ceci didn’t look decrepit to me. I did some rapid mental maths. Paulo was my age, so Ceci must be in her eighties. What had he said in that message? Eighty-five? She didn’t look it. She sat ramrod straight in her chair, still beautiful, with fine brown eyes and thick silvery hair swept up into an elegant chignon, and Frederico watched her with eyes that clearly adored her.
She waved a hand, weighed down with a massive emerald ring, towards us, beckoning us forwards to sit next to her.
‘You must tell us all about yourselves,’ she said. ‘I am sure I must have met you at Paulo’s wedding, but that was so long ago, and I am smemorata – forgetful.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ Paulo said. ‘Your mind is still as sharp as ever.’
‘If I choose,’ she said with a wicked smile.
Now that we had passed the initial scrutiny, I was beginning to warm to her. She might have been portraying herself as an old woman who needed her husband to fuss over the cushions behind her or worry about freshening up her drink, but I had the feeling there was far more to Ceci than that.
‘Ellen spoke of you often,’ she said. ‘She was very fond of both of you and your times together. Am I saying this correctly? My English is not good. Freddy is far more fluent than I am. He speaks four languages.’
‘Your English is excellent,’ I said, ‘and Ellen was a good friend to us. We had fun over the years and saw each other through some difficult times too.’
‘Fun,’ Ceci said mournfully, her gaze drifting off to the horizon, ‘there is not enough fun these days. People are so angry, so busy with being offended. It tires me. You know the best weapon? Laughter. Laughter and tiramisu make everything better.’
I nodded then because I couldn’t argue with that, and then Ceci looked at Paulo hopefully and raised her eyebrows.
He took the hint. ‘ Sì, Mamma, I will fetch you both some tiramisu.’
‘Not for Freddy, he has had some already and I am keeping an eye on his diet.’
‘You’re not as much fun as you used to be,’ Freddy grumbled.
‘You may be able to speak four languages, but you can’t say no in any of them,’ Ceci said.
She rewarded Paulo with a lovely smile, and he wandered off, ducking through the archway, the fronds of bougainvillea brushing his broad shoulders.
‘ Bene allora , tell us about yourselves, it might keep my husband from dozing,’ Ceci said. She pointed at Susie. ‘You are Susie. I met you more recently, didn’t I? I think you are the one who travelled? I remember Ellen told me when you came here before. But I was only visiting too. I was living in Rome with my second husband. Never mind, è stato un errore – he was a mistake.’
Susie nodded. ‘Yes, I did visit, but not for many years. I was making the same sort of errore too.’
‘ Chi non fa non falla – if you don’t make mistakes, you make nothing,’ Ceci said, ‘and now we can laugh about it, can’t we?’
She patted Freddy’s hand affectionately and he smiled back at her.
‘Nearly,’ Susie said doubtfully, ‘once I get the stink of Simon’s shaving oil off my driveway. I threw the bottle after him when he left.’
‘And you are Joanna. Ah, yes, I remember you,’ Ceci said. ‘I believe you were the one who caused the most trouble.’
‘No, I was the one who was caught,’ I replied, wondering how much she knew about me, ‘because I was the oldest, people assumed I was the ringleader.’
Ceci chuckled approvingly and then waved a commanding hand at the young people, and they obediently moved away and started flicking their hair and taking selfies. Then she motioned us to sit down.
‘Young people,’ she sighed, ‘look at them. They all think they are so different, but they are all the same really. They wear the same clothes; they pull the same foolish expressions when they take pictures of themselves. And why do they do that? Do they really believe that this magnificent view over the Bay of Naples is improved if they stand in front of it pouting? Last year one of my god daughters visited the Taj Mahal, but you can hardly see it. She and her girlfriends were standing in front of it, all with the same silly eyebrows and inflated lips. Giulietta is the prettiest girl, but she said she needed “starter surgery”. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?’
‘In which case I probably need finisher surgery,’ I said.
‘Giulietta has her father’s nose, that is the problem,’ Freddy said. ‘It would take a lot of work to sort that out.’
Ceci laughed. ‘You are mean, Freddy.’
‘Well, it looks all right on him. Perhaps she will grow into it?’ Freddy muttered.
Paulo returned with a little plate of tiramisu and a lace-edged napkin. Freddy’s eyes followed it sadly as it was placed on the table in front of her.
‘I need another drink,’ Ceci said, holding out her empty glass towards him. She looked around the table and then added, ‘Never mind that, bring us a bottle.’
‘I thought you insisted you were staying for only one drink and then leaving?’ he said, raising one eyebrow.
‘Freddy and I have found amusing company,’ Ceci said.
‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ he said. ‘That means I can leave you both to enjoy yourself. I have things to see to.’
She took a spoonful of tiramisu and closed her eyes with pleasure as she tasted it.
‘My doctor would be cross to see me eating this, but at my age, who cares? This is almost as good as the one my mother used to make. One night when I was about seven, she caught me going downstairs in the dark for more, and I told her it wasn’t my fault. I heard voices, and it was the tiramisu calling to me. She said it was strange how the tomatoes and the onions didn’t call to me too.’
‘It’s calling to me too, mia cara ,’ Freddy said sadly. ‘Why do I have to listen to my doctor, but you don’t?’
We sat there in the dappled shade chatting and drinking some very fine wine, which was nothing like the rather acidic Prosecco I had been expecting.
Ceci was very chatty and, as time passed and the rosé went down, delightfully indiscreet.
‘I was first married at nineteen to a man who fell in love with my feet,’ she said, ‘and the rest of me was assolutamente bellissima – beautiful at that age. I have the photographs to prove it. I must show you one day. He hardly noticed. I had a wonderful figure, a high proud bosom, a tiny little waist, but it was my feet he loved. He liked to paint my toenails purple, and then he could stare at them for hours, which didn’t leave much time for anything else. We divorced when Paulo was five. Luigi had found a dancer in Paris with higher arches than mine. He wouldn’t be so happy if he could see my feet now. They have spread out like a duck’s. I am sure if you threw me in a pond I would be able to paddle to the side in no time. My second husband was a gambler. I married him for passion. He married me for my money.’
I wondered how her current husband was taking all this, but he looked quite happy.
Paulo returned with an ice bucket and a new bottle of wine, which he opened with practised skill, and topped up our glasses.
‘Mamma, are you boring these ladies with your stories?’
‘Not at all,’ I said.
‘We are enjoying every moment,’ Susie said, shading her eyes and looking out at the matchless views of the Mediterranean.
Paulo looked down at me then, a polite smile on his face, and there was suddenly an unexpected silence. The noise from the people behind us seemed to fade, and it was as though just for a split second, everyone stopped moving. It was just as it had been all those years ago.
I think if I had been in possession of a Geiger counter, it would have registered something. But I wasn’t sure what it was. I was probably out of practise at recognising those moments. But there was definitely something. But then again, perhaps it was just me, and Paulo was wondering why I was looking so glassy-eyed.
‘And my third husband, dear Freddy…’
‘Mamma, you are a terror,’ Paulo said, turning back to her. ‘I’m sure Ellen’s friends don’t want to hear this.’
‘You’re joking,’ I said, ‘we absolutely do!’
Paulo chuckled and went off back to his other guests. I watched him, perhaps for longer than was strictly necessary. The years had changed him, of course, but I could suddenly remember him so well. How he laughed, how he always walked quickly as though he didn’t want to be late for something, his ability to look as though he was having important thoughts, when in fact he was probably thinking about football.
Ceci sighed. ‘I met Frederico in Monte Carlo. We had such fun, didn’t we? Back then he played the piano and I would sing. I had the voice of an angel, didn’t I, darling? We used to sing all the old songs. And we used to throw parties where one day would melt into another. Do you remember that wonderful time just after you had retired, when we went to Aix, and met up with all your old colleagues?’
Freddy looked thoughtful. ‘I remember fragments. Something about trying to balance on two champagne bottles. Now then, we have this excellent wine, let’s have a toast. To your birthday, my darling, and to Ellen, who we still miss.’
We clinked our glasses together and I took a sip. The new wine was icy cold and refreshing.
‘And you, Jo. Do you have a husband?’ Freddy asked.
‘Not any more,’ I said.
Ceci widened her eyes at me and held out a hand, rotating it slowly, encouraging me to elaborate.
‘He had an affair with his secretary, and at one point he promised to end it if I would take him back, but I realised that I didn’t much like him any more,’ I said, feeling that my marital history was far less interesting than hers.
‘ Bene ,’ Ceci said. ‘I didn’t really like my first two husbands. I do like this one though. And when the first passions cool, that’s the most important part.’
Freddy smiled happily and blew her a kiss across the table.
I thought about this. Yes, I supposed she was right. Every marriage went through difficult bits. The disagreements about the children, what colour to paint the bedroom. As I remembered, Greg and I had one of our worst arguments about that. How ridiculous.
If I was honest, the passion in our marriage had faded after about two years, and we had been married for over thirty. That was a bit sad. Particularly as when I looked at him in the cold light of day, it was true – I didn’t actually like him much at all.
Ceci wagged a finger at me.
‘You are thinking about that, aren’t you? I can tell.’
‘I didn’t like Simon either,’ Susie said, ‘but he was so charming and handsome and very good in – well, never mind that. I forgave him for a lot.’
Ceci leaned back in her chair and stretched out her arms in front of her. A diamond bracelet flashed on one wrist. A tiny watch sparkled on the other. And I remembered the sapphire engagement ring Paulo had given to Ellen, ‘a family heirloom’ . Perhaps it had been one of hers?
‘ Meglio soli che male compagnati – better to be alone than in bad company. At my age there is nothing worse than being bored, and Freddy makes sure I am not, don’t you, darling? If I was as young as you, or even ten years younger, I would want to have an adventure, but I have only recently had my cataracts done, and I am not supposed to do anything interesting.’
Freddy patted her hand. ‘When you are properly recovered, we will go to Las Vegas, and you can gamble, and I can stay up all night and watch the showgirls.’
‘That’s a terrible idea on so many levels, and you hardly keep awake until dinner these days,’ Ceci said.
I had a think for a moment while Freddy sneakily topped up our glasses again. It looked as though the bottle was nearly empty.
I couldn’t come up with anything that someone as vibrant as Ceci might consider an adventure but one that didn’t involve – what were people supposed to avoid after a cataract operation – bending over or weightlifting?
‘Perhaps we should go shopping,’ I said.
Ceci pulled a face, and her mouth turned down.
‘I am done with shopping. I have too many clothes already…’
‘You are right,’ Freddy murmured.
‘…things that remind me of the past, that hold so many memories. New fashions don’t hold the same appeal to me now. Colours are so dull, tessuti sintetici – synthetic fabrics are so ugly. Perhaps I have lived long enough. I have done the things I wanted to do, seen all the places, been in love often enough. What is there left to do?’
‘Have fun?’ I said. ‘My mother always said that when she got old she was just going to get into mischief. And I didn’t really know what she meant, but just recently, I have been thinking I may well do the same.’
Ceci’s face brightened. ‘Yes. I like the sound of that.’
She finished her Prosecco, looked at the empty glass and put it down on the table with a grimace.
‘I shouldn’t drink this, mi rende scontrosa. ’
Susie murmured, ‘She says it makes her grumpy.’
‘It’s a bit late to tell us that now,’ I muttered back.
‘So, what will you do while you are here?’ Ceci said. ‘The event is the day after tomorrow. Ellen said it was not to be a sad occasion. She wanted a small funeral, and then a time later on, when people could remember her with joy, not tears. Non sarà così – it will not be like that for me. When I go I want the whole island to be there, lining the streets as my coffin passes, weeping and wailing and telling each other how wonderful I was. Everyone will wear black and there will be white flowers filling every balcony and vase. I’ve written it in my will.’
‘I expect that will be quite an event,’ I said.
Ceci smiled and leaned forward to pat my hand.
‘Oh, you must come,’ she said, ‘you’ll enjoy it. I’ve been to so many funerals and they are sono insoddifacenti – unsatisfactory. These days there is far too much reserve, too much bravery when someone dies. We need to mourn properly and then the grief is gone, leaving only the memories.’
‘Please don’t die any time soon,’ I said, ‘just so we can come to another party.’
Ceci threw back her head and laughed, and her diamond earrings sparkled in the sunshine.
‘I am in my eighties. How much longer do you think I have? Now then, back to now. What were we talking about?’
‘What are the arrangements for the event?’ Susie asked.
‘You’ll have to ask Paulo. I can’t remember,’ Ceci said, scraping up the last of her tiramisu, while Freddy watched her with the sad eyes of a spaniel. ‘But I do know there is going to be a lunch and then just an informal gathering in the evening. I do not stay up late any longer. I need all the beauty sleep I can get. You must wear your best, most glamorous, most colourful outfits, if only to please me.’
Susie and I looked at each other, obviously thinking the same thing. After a lot of phone calls and discussion, we had both packed something smart: black dresses and jackets. Dark tights and sensible shoes. Nothing glamorous or colourful.
‘I’m not sure…’ Susie said.
‘I have a dark dress,’ I added. ‘It does have sleeves. I don’t think I will need the jacket in this heat.’
Ceci picked up her empty glass, looked at it and put it down again.
‘Well, ovviamente – obviously you can’t come like that,’ she said at last, with a nod towards our outfits.
I thought we looked okay, actually. Quite presentable.
‘Oh, I don’t know, darling, they look charming to me,’ Freddy said kindly.
‘Freddy, every woman over twenty-one looks charming to you,’ Ceci said, rolling her eyes.
‘But none as beautiful as my wife,’ he responded gallantly.
‘What sort of thing did you have in mind?’ I said. ‘Perhaps we should go shopping.’
I said this quickly, trying not to remember that we had not seen any shops other than high end designer boutiques and famous labels as we drove through the town. I didn’t think my budget would stretch to those unless they were prepared to sell me a glossy carrier bag.
‘I’m sure something can be arranged. For young women like you, it’s much easier. It’s the shoes I have trouble with. Back then I could dance all night in stilettos. These days, I wear them only to sit down in. Freddy calls them my barstool shoes. In an ideal world I would be carried from my car in a litter. Sono stanco adesso, I’m tired. I will go to my rooms now,’ Ceci said.
She stood up and tapped Freddy on the shoulder as he looked as though he was nodding off again, and then as he reached behind his chair for his walking stick, she waved a hand to catch the attention of a silver-haired, very distinguished-looking man who was standing a little way away, talking to another dark-haired chap who could have been, but probably wasn’t, a Mafia Don.
‘Raimondo. To me if you please.’
Raimondo put his glass down and offered Ceci his arm.
‘Raimondo is my—’ She looked up at him. ‘What are you? I can’t remember.’
‘ Sono il tuo figlioccio – your godson,’ he replied with a charming smile. ‘Your favourite godson.’
Ceci made a dismissive noise. ‘He can’t be my favourite until he gets married again. It’s ten years since his wife died. A man shouldn’t be on his own. No one should. I don’t know what Freddy would have done if I hadn’t found him.’
‘I would have thrown myself into a ditch and died of despair,’ Freddy said dramatically.
‘Yes, you probably would.’
Ceci tottered away, Freddy a few paces behind her, and then turned just before she went back under the archway.
‘You may call on me tomorrow morning. At ten thirty. No, at eleven o’clock. I will see you then.’
‘Flipping heck,’ I said as we watched her slow progress, ‘I feel like I’ve had an audience with the Queen. Or Bette Davis.’
Susie gasped. ‘Oooh, I saw that only recently. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane . She was terrifying. Ceci doesn’t look like that. She’s rather gorgeous, isn’t she?’
‘I bet she was an absolute beauty in her youth,’ I said. ‘I’d love to see the photographs.’
Susie chuckled. ‘Can you imagine Simon’s reaction if I’d tried that with him? Simon, to me, if you please. He would have thought I’d lost my mind.’
Another waiter appeared with a silver platter filled with gorgeous-looking little treats.
‘Compliments of Signor de Massimo,’ he said, sliding it onto the table.
‘What a way to live,’ Susie said. ‘I could get used to this. And what is it about Italian men? They are so incredibly attractive. Raimondo, for a start. What a hunk. You don’t see many men like that in Somerset.’
‘And from the way he looked at you, the feeling was mutual,’ I said.
‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ Susie said, blushing a little.
Suddenly a small boy came cannoning through the archway and skidded to a halt at our table.
‘I’m hungry,’ he said accusingly, a distinctive Texan drawl in his voice.
He was a lovely looking child, decked out in a Ralph Lauren shirt and shorts, but his expression was dark with anger. From my years of experience dealing with primary school children, I knew he was on the edge of a full-blown tantrum, something I had always wanted to avoid, and still did.
‘Would you like something from here?’ I said, trying to deflect him.
Actually, I didn’t think there was much on the table that would appeal to a child. Kids seemed to have a whole new segment of the food industry devoted to them – cartoon characters and crazy shapes and packaging. Headache-inducing television ads and wild colours. I’d often wondered why they couldn’t be encouraged to eat actual food? Oh well, perhaps it was just me who thought like that.
He looked at my plate, picked up a miniature blini topped with smoked salmon and shoved it into his mouth. After a moment he spat it out into his hands, wiping the cream cheese onto his shirt and throwing me an accusing look.
‘What’s that? And where’s Andrea?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. Is she your mummy?’
The boy evidently found this so funny that he laughed, doubling up so his head almost touched his knees.
‘No, she’s not my mommy . Andrea is my nanny.’
‘Lucky Andrea,’ Susie murmured.
I picked up a paper napkin and tried to wipe his hands with it, marvelling not for the first time how a small child’s fingers could be so bendy.
A harassed-looking woman, who I recognised from the reception desk earlier, hurried towards us.
‘There you are,’ she said, her voice heavily accented. ‘Where have you been? So sorry, ladies.’
‘I was looking for fries,’ the boy said, his lower lip trembling, ‘and she gave me weird stuff to eat.’
Andrea looked at me with horror in her eyes, as though I was a clear and present danger to her charge and she wanted to call the police.
‘Come with me. Mommy is worried about you.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Am I allowed fries as a treat if I do?’
Andrea took his hand, let go with an expression of disgust, pulled out a pack of wet wipes from her pocket and cleaned his hands properly before leading him away, murmuring in what I think was Spanish to encourage him.
‘Well, he’s a little charmer,’ Susie said.
Seconds later the boy was back, flinging himself onto my lap where he buried his face in my neck. Andrea appeared a few moments later.
‘You must come with me. You shouldn’t talk to strangers. And Mommy will want you to change into clean clothes.’
‘I don’t want to,’ he said.
Andrea threw me an anguished look.
‘Do you have something special to wear?’ I said.
The boy looked up at me, his huge brown eyes suddenly filled with the sort of tragic despair small children can project one minute, usually followed by unrelenting joy the next.
‘I expect you are going to look quite the little gentleman,’ I added, ‘and that shirt has cream cheese all over it.’
And come to think of it, so did I now.
He gave an enormous sniff and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again later when you are all cleaned up,’ I said, wiping a smudge of cream cheese off my face, wondering if I could peel his arms from around my neck without him throwing another tantrum. ‘Now then, go along with Andrea like a good boy, quick as you can, and do as she says.’
Without a word, he slithered off my lap and onto the ground and wandered off, Andrea hurrying after him.
‘Not lost it then?’ Susie said. ‘Those headmistressy tones still work.’