Chapter 16
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. ‘Nonno said 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.
‘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.’
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, it caught on 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.
‘It’s been a lovely visit,’ she’d said one time as she was leaving, ‘and Greg is so unlike all your other boyfriends. I do hope you’re just as happy as Paulo and I are.’
My mouth was suddenly dry, and the pasta salad which I had enjoyed for my lunch now sat like a rock in my stomach.
I took a sip of water.
‘I never did or said anything about it,’ I said.
‘Nor did I,’ he replied, ‘but she knew. We never discussed it, but she always knew.’
‘Knew what?’
Behind us there was a sudden clatter as Eric came back into the room, still clutching the remains of an ice cream cone. He came across to lean his surprisingly sharp elbows heavily on my knee.
‘Can we go and buy some jeans now, please? So I can really be a cowboy?’
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment.
I felt Paulo’s hand on my shoulder and we stood up together.
We exchanged a long look, while Andrea on the other side of the room cleared up all the debris into Eric’s backpack and wiped his hands with a wet wipe.
‘We must talk about this later,’ Paulo murmured, and my heart gave a little leap of anticipation.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think we must.’