Chapter 6
6
That evening after I had changed into a smart dress, Paulo led us to a wonderful table in the restaurant, where the matchless view over the bay of Naples was equally as delicious as the meal we were served.
He pulled out a chair between me and Susie and joined us.
‘I should be in a hundred different places,’ he said. ‘There is always someone calling me away to sort something out, but I thought it would be more enjoyable to take the opportunity to talk to you all.’
‘Marvellous,’ Susie said. ‘Everything on our journey here went like clockwork. And the island is just as beautiful as I remembered.’
Paulo gave a pleased smile. ‘It is. Sometimes I forget, or perhaps I take it for granted. Nowhere else has quite so much charm. So much of my family history is here. I hoped my mother and stepfather would join us this evening, but she is tired, and they will be eating in their rooms.’
‘She’s a fabulous character,’ I said.
Paulo nodded. ‘She is. I hope she didn’t shock you. I think she likes to elaborate her stories.’
‘Freddy seems a really lovely man too,’ Susie said. ‘Very distinguished with that silver hair.’
‘He is,’ Paulo said. ‘It took some time, but in the end she found the right person to keep her happy.’
‘I can’t wait to chat with her again,’ I said. ‘She’s an inspiration.’
At that moment there was a small commotion at the doors and the familiar sight of the same small boy from earlier, barrelling towards us. Or rather towards me. I braced myself for the onslaught.
He skidded to a halt in front of me and held out his arms for my approval.
His new outfit was probably the most impractical one any child had ever had. A white shirt with a little logo on the pocket in gold thread and white shorts. Even his trainers were spotlessly white. What was his mother thinking? At that age my children had been in T-shirts and jeans, and nearly always covered in mud or food.
‘I’m so pleased to see you again. You look very handsome,’ I said, ‘and now you are the smartest boy in here.’
Actually, he was the only boy in the room; the rest of the tables were filled with hotel guests, all of whom were well dressed, and about our age.
Behind Paulo I saw a glamorous couple gliding into the restaurant, a tall handsome man who somehow looked familiar, and a beautiful blonde woman who was so tall and slim she was practically two dimensional.
Paulo stood up.
‘Ah, there they are. Now then, may I introduce my son Leonardo, who I don’t think you have seen since he was quite small. He has been working in Texas for the last twelve years, and this is his wife Raleigh, who is from Atlanta, Georgia,’ he said. ‘And you have met their son Eric already.’
Of course, Leo. I had known they’d had a son; I’d met him once, when he was about ten. Ellen had mentioned him in her letters and emails over the years. Sent pictures of him graduating from school, from university. How he had moved to America and found a new life there. How much she had missed him. Her delight when he had married Raleigh. Her hopes for grandchildren, which had seemed to be coming true.
So, Eric was the much longed for grandson, but had Ellen ever known the boy? Had he been born before she had died or afterwards? It wasn’t the sort of question to ask, but I suddenly felt immensely sorry for her, that she had possibly never actually seen him except maybe in photographs.
We all stood up and were properly introduced while Eric stood at my side, tugging at my sleeve.
‘Eric, darlin’,’ Raleigh drawled in an accent rich with shades of Gone with the Wind and the Deep South, ‘don’t do that. Come and sit by me and Poppa.’
Eric didn’t answer but plonked himself on the chair next to mine, his mouth a grim line of determination.
‘Looks like you made a fan,’ Leonardo said, who sounded like an American but looked just like his father at the same age. He had the same dark eyes, the same height and build, the same easy manner. It almost took my breath away. ‘Don’t you want to come over here, buddy?’
‘I wanna sit here, Poppa,’ Eric replied.
‘I’d be delighted,’ I said quickly, before he could cause any trouble, and I pushed his chair in towards the table, effectively trapping Eric there, his chin just over the level of the cloth. His eyes fixed on the glass jar of breadsticks in the middle of the table.
‘Well, if it’s no trouble,’ Raleigh drawled, looking more than a little relieved. Evidently Andrea was having the night off. I hoped she had a comfortable chair in her room and a decent glass of wine to keep her company.
After the introductions and small talk was over we all sat down, and I gave Eric a breadstick, while glasses of water and wine were poured.
‘I want soda,’ Eric piped up.
He didn’t make a request; it was more a demand, and it was all I could do not to say something.
‘Now, you know what you learned about that,’ Raleigh said, who had chosen to sit opposite me. ‘You were talking about cola in school only the other day. What did you learn about cola, Eric?’
Eric thought hard.
‘The Houston police use it to clean blood off the road after an accident?’
Raleigh looked shaken. ‘No, that may be true but that’s not what I meant.’
‘If you won’t let me be a cowboy I’m going to be a policeman,’ Eric said. ‘I’d like to do that.’
‘I don’t think?—’
Mercifully, Raleigh was interrupted by waiters bringing us the first course, which were some tiny bruschetta, laden with miniature tomatoes, slivers of mozzarella cheese and a drizzle of balsamic glaze.
Eric, swinging his legs under the table, scraped off the toppings and ate the bread.
‘What’s your favourite food?’ I asked him.
‘Candy,’ he said. ‘M&Ms.’
‘Yes, I like those too,’ I said, and Eric smiled.
‘I’m not allowed the blue ones.’
‘We always take the blue ones out, darlin’, don’t we? We don’t want a repeat of last Thanksgivin’,’ Raleigh breathed and favoured me with a slightly raised eyebrow. ‘It was like havin’ dannilburn in the house.’
We tutted and nodded together while I tried to work out what she had said. She then went on to mention The Alamo – not in conjunction with car hire but with reference to a site of historical importance. By a process of elimination, I realised she was talking about e-numbers and Daniel Boone the famous frontiersman, and I looked at Eric with new respect.
‘I love your necklace,’ she said, eyeing my charity shop bargain. ‘Is it Murano glass?’
Doubtful, I thought .
‘From a vintage shop back home,’ I said at last, which seemed to satisfy her.
We then had crab claws the size of bicycle spokes arranged on a platter with lemon wedges and aioli followed by salad in frosty glass bowls with chilled forks.
Raleigh picked daintily at the meal, keeping up a thoroughly entertaining and censored stream of scandalous gossip, which was spoiled a little because I didn’t know any of the people she was ‘dissing’.
Someone called Clarke had run off with the pool guy and someone else called Jelly – although in retrospect it might have been Julie – was suspected of another ‘enhancement’. Following some subtle pointing to her own nose, I guessed this was code for cosmetic surgery.
Raleigh looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and leaned towards me, tapping her upper lip with a manicured nail.
‘I’ve discovered a wonderful lady back home. She specialises in threading.’
I covered my impending moustache with my napkin and wondered what it would be like to be one of those women who were constantly tweaking and titivating themselves, unlike me who thought applying body lotion after the occasional bath was a bit out there.
Raleigh then filled me in on her latest purchases from the mall where she liked to go with her friends, as the remains of the hapless crustaceans were cleared away and Eric lay on his stomach across his chair and pretended to be swimming.
Eric, his appetite blunted by breadsticks, picked at his meal with no great enthusiasm, having wrapped his napkin around his fork as he said it was too cold, pretended to sword fight with a crab claw and dabbed at his fantastically beautiful salad with a pout of dissatisfaction.
Lamb medallions arrived shortly afterwards – a mini work of art with the beans artistically arranged into a tiny log cabin. Eric demolished these with a sweep of his fork and asked for fries.
I wondered if his parents ever admonished him or tried to instil good manners into him. It seemed not.
Dessert was more fresh fruit cut into fantastic shapes as though a sushi artist had been let loose in the kitchen. Eric wandered off at this point to stare at some of the other guests.
‘Hey, buddy, don’t leave the table, come back and join us!’ Leonardo called.
‘We’re not saying “No” at the moment,’ Raleigh confided quietly. ‘It’s a new thing we’re trying. It’s called No No Parenting. It seems to be working.’
Oh really? Did she think so?
Leonardo looked up from his dessert and exchanged an eye roll with his father.
‘We want Eric to find his own boundaries,’ Raleigh continued with a confidence I thought was misplaced. So would she if she could have seen Eric behind her crawling under someone else’s table.
‘What if his boundaries aren’t the same as yours?’ I asked, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘What if he wants to set fire to the curtains or smoke a pipe?’
Raleigh gave me a patient look and moved her fruit slices around her plate.
‘He wouldn’t because of mutual respect,’ she said.
‘Well, I’d prefer he get it sorted sooner rather than later,’ Leonardo muttered rather testily, pulling the cheese platter a little closer. ‘I’m not sure it’s working.’
Eric came to sit down again and watched, mesmerised, as his father cut him some thin slices of cheese.
‘Now, we all know little boys and girls who are good get treats,’ Raleigh said, bending towards Eric, who ignored her as he put about half a pound of butter on a bread roll and made a cheese and strawberry sandwich.
After Eric had messed about a bit more, ignored his grandfather’s attempts to distract him by making animals out of his napkin, dropped some cheese on the floor and cleaned his knife on the tablecloth, he began to whine. A quick call from Leonardo’s cell phone produced nanny Andrea from her room upstairs and she shepherded her grumbling charge away.
‘So now then, you were going to tell me how the Hutchinson deal is going,’ Paulo said to his son.
Leonardo began to elaborate on a brief earlier conversation regarding oil reserves in Arizona while Raleigh went back to more salacious gossip now Eric was out of the way. Someone called Kitten and a black-tie event where the waiters were topless and ‘ver’, ver’, accommodatin’ indeed.’
‘It did cause quite a fluster, but they raised ninety thousand dollars for St Xavier’s,’ Raleigh said. ‘It’s the pre-school where Eric has been going. I’ve been helping with a lot of fundraising. It takes up a lot of my time.’
My mouth dropped open. When I’d been a headteacher we had thought ourselves lucky to raise a few hundred pounds for the school every year. What on earth did they need that for, and how on earth did they prise ninety thousand dollars from the parents?
‘Ninety thousand dollars? What does his pre-school need? A private jet?’
Raleigh looked blank and then twirled the stem of her water glass rather pointedly.
‘We want them to become the well-rounded citizens of tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I’m sure they will be.’
I thought back again, remembering the stationery and little extras our fundraising had bought. What sort of life did they live? I couldn’t imagine it.
Eric’s return at speed to the dining room at that point, was followed a few seconds later by some shrieks of anger and a torrent of Spanish from his nanny.
‘What on earth is the matter?’ Paulo said.
Raleigh flapped a casual hand. ‘Oh, he’s just over excited.’
‘In that case he’s been over excited for about two years,’ Leonardo said waspishly.
‘Now, honey, you know what we said.’
Eric deposited a handful of rather sticky M&Ms in front of me across the table. He’d obviously got some from somewhere.
‘They are for you,’ he said. ‘You said you liked them.’
‘How very kind,’ I said, scooping them up. ‘I’ll have them later.’
Eric beamed at me and banged his hands down on the table, leaving smudges of chocolate and food colouring.
‘Don’t react,’ Raleigh hissed.
So much to my disappointment, no one did.
Andrea let loose another anguished flood of Spanish.
‘Lo siento mucho, el esta peor que nunca, nose que le esta pasando y me tiene muy afligida. Ya he tratado pero el no lo nota. Que debo hacer? Soy una mujer.’
And then she took Eric away. He turned at the door and waved at me and I waved back.
‘What did she say?’ I said.
Raleigh flapped a hand.
‘Oh, nothing important. Something to do with it getting late. She’s Spanish. She gets emotional over the smallest things.’
‘Actually, she’s from Venezuela. And she said she doesn’t know what to do with him. So how long is this No No stuff going on?’ Leonardo said, reaching for the wine. ‘And why?’
Raleigh gave a patient sigh. ‘No is a negatory word and we want Eric to be positive, don’t we? I’m going to say yes as much as possible to him.’
‘I don’t mind trying that too, honey,’ Leonardo muttered and took a bite of his cheese.
Raleigh didn’t respond. Irony, sarcasm and humour seemed to pass her by unobserved.
She smiled, showing perfect teeth. ‘I keep meaning to ask. I love the idea of spending one Christmas in Englandland? What’s it like?’
I thought back to Englandland and conjured up a completely inaccurate but very pleasing picture for her of snow, sparkling winters, chestnuts roasting by an open fire, hot chocolate and, of course, rosy-cheeked carol singers at the front door.
‘So you have Santa and presents and all?’
‘Yes, and the true meaning of Christmas too. Happy Christmas, not Happy Holidays. The Nativity, the three kings, that side of things.’
Raleigh smiled. ‘Yes, it’s real handy the way it’s all sorted at the same time, isn’t it?’
I tried to get my head round the thought processes behind this and failed.
And was Christmas really like that? Probably not if I was honest. What would it take to change things as far as that was concerned? To stop it being a mad, labour-intensive slog, which I was not sure anyone really appreciated. When people sat at the table with their phones next to them to see what other people were doing.
Just once I would have liked to have that picture-perfect event, with snow and sleigh bells and everyone being happy. A handful of glitter spread over my day, like an old-fashioned card with candles and lights and an advent calendar with pictures inside, not chocolate.
A new resolve grew inside me. That was something else that was going to change. This year I would switch off the Wi-Fi and confiscate everyone’s phones as they came into the house. And we would do things properly and actually talk to each other and to me. Perhaps this would be my version of No No parenting.