Chapter 12
12
Both of us felt very self-conscious and a bit tense as we walked carefully down the staircase. Susie in her unfamiliar heels, and me concentrating on my posture and not tripping over the hem of my dress, keeping my head up, my chin out and not slouching.
‘We look great,’ I said as we turned the last corner, ‘it will be fine.’
‘I don’t know why I’m so twitchy,’ Susie said.
‘I could suggest a reason – the lovely Raimondo has got you all fired up.’
Susie tugged at her dress. ‘Could be.’
‘So have you…?’ I asked.
‘Have I what? Oh, you mean… No, of course I haven’t! What do you take me for?’
‘I expect he will be waiting for you, desire in his eyes, love on his mind,’ I teased.
‘Shut up! I’m nervous enough as it is,’ Susie said, ‘although he is very attractive. And what about you and Paulo, before you start poking fun at me.’
I stopped and turned round, causing Susie to bang into me and nearly knock me flying down the last four steps. That would have been a great way to make my entrance.
We grabbed at each other to stop from falling and I dropped my bag on the floor where everything spilled out.
‘This is all about Ceci and Ellen,’ I said, cramming things back into my bag and catching one foot in the folds of my dress. ‘Anything between me and Paulo would be in very bad taste indeed.’
‘Will we know anyone?’ Susie said, resting a hand on my shoulder and adjusting one shoe which had nearly come off. ‘I hate going into places where everyone knows everyone else but me. And then I end up standing at the side, nursing a drink with a weak smile on my face.’
‘Nonsense, we are strong confident women of a certain age,’ I said, ‘allegedly. We can go and introduce ourselves to people. But what if they only speak Italian?’
‘Just say meraviglioso to everything, which means marvellous. Or interassante , which means interesting. Or bene , which means good.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’ll try.’
By then we had reached the reception area, and we could hear the noise of the party coming from the open doors of the ballroom.
Childishly, we tried to push the other forward and it might have ended in an undignified shoving match, but then Paulo appeared as if by magic, and he smiled at us. At me.
‘Come and meet some of my family and friends,’ he said. ‘You both look wonderful.’
* * *
The thing that struck me as we went into the ballroom was the wonderful scent of the flowers. It was quite intoxicating. There were people congregating in little groups, some laughter and hugs. It looked as though they all knew each other already. And the room was warm, even though the wide windows out onto the Mediterranean were all open.
I felt suddenly nervous. And even more unsettled, and I could feel sweat break out on my upper lip, which was a really unattractive thing to happen at any age.
As we moved into the room, the gathering parted for a moment, and there was Ceci, seated at the top of the room on a glorious blue damask armchair, Freddy at her side.
She spotted me.
‘There you are, Jo. That dress suits you well. I wore it years ago in Ravenna. Or was it Ravello? Anyway, it was a place with wonderful views.’
Her eyes narrowed as they swept down to my footwear.
‘Are you thinking of playing tennis?’
Of course, that meant everyone else looked at my pale blue trainers too.
Susie moved a little closer to my side in a welcome show of solidarity.
I dabbed at my top lip with a tissue and gave a weak smile.
A tall, silver-haired woman next to her shrugged.
‘ è molto chic di questi tempi, Ceci . It’s chic these days.’
‘ Meraviglioso,’ I said with a bright smile.
Ceci gave me a look, sighed and waved a hand at one of the waiters.
‘If you say so. I expect next year women will be wearing football shorts to the opera. Now then, you need a drink. There’s nothing worse than coming to an event where you know no one. And I see Sylvia and Lucia have not made an appearance. I know they are both in the building somewhere. I can sense their negative energies. Perhaps Sylvia has developed some new illness which means she cannot join us. The Lord does indeed move in mysterious ways.’
Moments later, Raimondo appeared with a wide white smile to offer Susie a drink.
‘ Carissima, questo è per te .’
So, he was calling her darling now, was he? That man didn’t seem to have a pause button at all.
I felt quite the spare part for a moment but Paulo was suddenly at my side with a glass of crisp refreshing Prosecco for me, and I knocked back half of it in a mild panic. I really should have calmed down. The last thing I needed was to get tipsy. What was causing this?
‘Here’s to you, Ceci, and to Ellen,’ I said, realising too late I should have said that first.
Freddy raised his glass too.
‘To my wonderful, beautiful, talented wife.’
I wondered what it would be like to have a husband who talked like that about me. How long had they been married anyway?
Ceci nodded graciously and then Paulo raised his glass to me and smiled.
‘Come and meet some of my family. They are not so terrifying as you will see.’
I felt his hand touch gently on the small of my back as he steered me towards a group of cheerful-looking people standing by the open window. One of the women had a painted paper fan and was wafting cool air over her face. What a good idea; I wished I’d thought of that.
We went through the introductions and formalities and fortunately all of them spoke excellent English.
A stout man with a disarming smile and a jaunty bow tie shook my hand and introduced himself as Ernesto, Paulo’s cousin.
‘So, tu sei Jo . You are Joanna. We have heard a lot about you.’
How? And what?
‘ Meraviglioso,’ I said. Marvellous. And then I tried to remember the other words Susie had said.
What had they heard? Nice things or the bits about my reckless behaviour when I was younger; my messy divorce? Did they know anything about the feelings I’d had for Paulo? Had he ever told anyone? No, of course he hadn’t.
The woman at his side who was resplendent in a purple cocktail dress was introduced as Ernesto’s wife Giulia, and she nodded.
‘Ellen spoke often of you. You were the clever one, with una carriera entusiasmente – the exciting career.’
‘ Bene! ’ I said, smiling and wondering what the third word Susie had mentioned.
Then I thought back and wondered how my years in teaching could be construed as exciting. Worthwhile, yes, but exciting?
I’d retired when my little school had closed and been amalgamated with a new, glossy, bigger school where everything was colourful and state of the art. Not like Highfield Infants, where the windows were too high to see out of, the heating boiler was temperamental, and the roof had leaked in various places.
‘ Direttrice. A headmistress,’ Giulia said. ‘So important. Not a job I could do.’
Her admiration made me relax a little and we chatted for a few moments about everyday things: the weather, the wonderful views, and of course Ellen.
‘Such a lovely person,’ Ernesto said sadly. ‘Kind. Generous and welcoming.’
‘Always in church every Sunday. And always helpful,’ Giulia added.
‘And everyone loved her,’ Ernesto said.
‘Everyone,’ Giulia said with a sad shake of her head. ‘And now she is no longer with us.’
‘Meraviglioso,’ I said, which earned me an odd look from Giulia.
I began to feel rather strange at that point. Here we all were, celebrating Ellen’s life as what sounded like a living saint, and I had been remembering my envy of her, my own failed relationship with Ellen’s husband, thinking about him, recalling that night when we had kissed each other; not a friendly peck either, but a full-blown snog.
There was no doubt about it, I was a bad person.
I would make myself stop thinking about the way Paulo and I had occasionally spent Sunday mornings, not going to church but waiting for the others to wake up, huddled under the blue and grey blanket at either end of the sofa in the sitting room watching children’s programmes on television, eating toast and drinking endless cups of tea. Taking care not to touch each other. Complaining about the crumbs and the work we should be getting on with.
And then Ellen or someone else would appear and we would go to the pub where we would meet up with friends and we would start bickering again. Give it a rest, you two, someone would say. All you ever do is argue.
We would spread out the Sunday papers, drinking beer and eating toasted sandwiches until someone suggested doing something else. The something usually involved lounging around on the sofa again, watching old films and eating biscuits.
‘She was lovely,’ I said, hoping to make up for my previous comment. ‘Such a loss to us all.’
Then Ernesto and Giulia saw some old friends across the room, made their apologies and wandered off.
Susie appeared at my side looking cross.
‘I’ve just had a phone call from Simon,’ she said.
‘What the heck did he want?’
Susie pulled a face. ‘He said he’d gone back to my house to collect the last of his stuff and he couldn’t find the celebration tea towel from the coronation that he bought. I suppose I’m impressed he needs one. Where did I keep them? I mean, he lived in that house on and off for four years, and they have always been in the bottom drawer next to the sink. He says he is going to “have a sort out”, which means when I get back I won’t be able to find anything and he will have taken some of my things too. I’m only away for a flipping week. I should have changed the locks.’
‘Hardly worth phoning you about?’ I said.
Susie gave a wistful look. ‘I know what it is, he’s sorry now and he’s missing me. He sounds all grumpy and put upon, but I know. He would never come out and say it, but I can tell.’
‘I hope you are not weakening and thinking about getting back together with him?’
Susie smiled, this time with a slightly steely look. ‘Not a chance. It will do him good to realise I did a lot more than just buy cake and magically produce clean laundry.’
Which was truer, I wondered? Out of sight out of mind, or absence makes the heart grow fonder. I started down that line of thought regarding Paulo and then stopped myself.
We had been apart for so long, so many years had passed, so much had happened to both of us. Surely the magical attraction we had felt for each other was long gone. But why then did he still make me feel like this?
I had not been like Ellen, gracious and serene.
I had been the one with the temper who criticised the way Paulo left muddy football boots in the middle of the kitchen floor. Who disagreed with his choice of television programmes, who occasionally stamped out of the room when he came in. He had been the one who had pulled all his clothes out from the laundry basket in a fury when he couldn’t find a favourite shirt. We had shouted at each other, and then eventually laughed. I’d read once that love and hate were two sides of the same blade, that there is only a small difference between them. The only thing that was worse was indifference. And that was not something I had ever felt about Paulo.
Had he been like that with Ellen?
‘Where’s your admirer now?’ I said, picking a canape from a tray as the waiter passed us.
‘Over there surrounded by fluttering women. He’s terribly attractive, isn’t he? I can see the appeal.’
I watched for a moment. There seemed to be a lot of laughing and cheek kissing going on in that particular group.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think I trust a man that age with so much hair. To my mind it usually means he’s had a hair transplant or is wearing a wig.’
‘Sweeping generalisation, don’t you think? But then men fret about losing their hair, don’t they? And trust me, that is real hair,’ she purred with a catlike smile. ‘And we worry about other stuff. Wrinkles and middle-age spread,’ she said, and we both pulled our stomachs in and straightened up.
‘I don’t much care if we look old; it’s a sign we are still alive. And even my son Alex says all the young women on television who are supposed to be attractive look the same. Too thin and the same hair and eyebrows and pouts. And they always seem to be laughing hysterically about something. Perhaps that’s what is expected on television these days. And the clothes they wear are always too small.’
‘So now what about Paulo?’
‘Oh, I expect we will have a proper chat at some point, when he has time. What we have been doing, just like old friends, that sort of thing.’
‘You’re fooling yourself,’ she murmured.
‘Oh, stop it.’
We stood sipping Prosecco and people watching for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to be part of a couple, were well dressed, elegant and wearing studied expressions that said, Yes, I am having a good time, but I’m remembering Ellen so I’m slightly sad as well .
Funny how people paired up. I watched and wondered what had attracted one to the other. A tall man with a huge voice accompanied by a tiny woman in blue. Another striking woman with a complicated hairstyle clinging on to the arm of a man who looked like a retired banker apart from his shoes, which were brown and white co-respondent brogues.
‘Do you think Greg and the Trollop, you know, still?—’
I raised my eyebrows at the question.
‘Have sex? I expect so. If she ever gets off her horse. What a ghastly image. Perhaps she gets turned on when he mucks out the stables. Or maybe he grooms her with a Dandy brush and Curry comb, whistling through his teeth like an ostler. Oh, who cares? You should try one of these shrimp things, they are delicious.’
I realised that indifference was something I did feel for Greg.
At the head of the room, someone tapped loudly on the side of a wine glass and gradually everyone stopped talking. It was Paulo standing beside his mother’s chair. We could have heard a pin drop.
‘Thank you, grazie , friends and family for being here today. It has been five years,’ he shook his head, ‘but today we celebrate Ellen’s life the way she would have wanted. With joy, and happy memories. Not with tears or sadness.’
Ceci tugged at his sleeve to interrupt him.
‘When I die, I expect you all to be inconsolable. I insist on it.’
Everyone laughed at that, and the room relaxed a little.
‘And of course we wish a very happy birthday to my mother, the incomparable Contessa.’ He raised his glass in her direction, and she nodded and smiled back at him. ‘So now, please enjoy yourselves. We marvel at my mother’s energy and wisdom, and at the same time we remember Ellen. As we move on into the future we should celebrate both of them, with gladness, with laughter.’
‘If anyone laughs at my funeral, they are out of the will,’ Ceci added darkly.
* * *
It really was a lovely event. The room was indeed filled with people mingling, greeting each other with kisses and exclamations of delight, making a big fuss of Ceci and remembering Ellen, funny stories, happy memories. I had known her since university, and of course people wanted to hear about her as a young woman, what had she been like. Had she always been such a wonderful cook?
My memories of Ellen were of her having a particular fondness for bacon sandwiches, not gourmet cooking or fussing about with food preparation. Back then we considered finding a clean plate in the kitchen a culinary triumph.
I was standing with a small group of people on the terrace outside the ballroom, the afternoon sunlight casting shadows, the scent from the bougainvillea wafting in the warm air.
I bet it wasn’t like this back home. I could almost visualise the rain lashing against the windows of my cottage.
‘I remember her when she came to stay with me,’ I said. ‘She was so happy with her life, so proud of Leo. I don’t think I ever knew someone so content.’
Susie nodded in agreement. ‘But no one would have called her a wonderful cook. Not then.’
A woman who had identified herself as yet another of Paulo’s cousins, and with the sort of manicure that made me suspect she never cooked or did anything difficult, leaned towards me.
‘She learned. She tried. She was wonderful. Her Gnocchi alla Sorrentina was the best I ever tasted. And she was so welcoming. No one was ever turned away, even if we called in unexpectedly. And she was so kind to the convent in Sorrento, which was a particular favourite of hers. I understand the nuns still pray for her. She is sorely missed.’
‘And bambini a scuola – the children at the school – they loved her too,’ her companion added, placing one hand on my arm.
It came to me.
‘ Interassante, ’ I said.
They went off again, looking wistful, leaving Susie and me to stare at each other.
‘Do you know, I’m beginning to think we didn’t know her at all,’ Susie murmured. ‘I remember her as being friendly, but none of this saintly behaviour. Looking back, I think she was probably quite controlling. She was always telling Paulo what to do. And Raimondo said the same thing.’
Could this be true?
‘I feel very unworthy,’ I agreed. ‘What on earth are we doing here? I’m surprised I haven’t been struck by lightning.’
At that moment, Leo, Raleigh and Eric held firmly in between them came into view, all three of them looking absolutely marvellous. Leo and Eric in what looked like matching suits and ties, Raleigh swathed in a complicated pale blue silk dress and stilettos which could have come off the cover of Vogue.
I sighed. ‘I wonder how Ellen would have dealt with young Eric?’
‘She would, I am sure, have been the perfect grandmother,’ Susie said, chuckling. ‘Remind me why we liked her? She sounds like Mother Teresa crossed with Grace Kelly.’
‘I feel utterly hopeless in comparison. I bet she wouldn’t have thrown her husband’s wellingtons out into the garden when he stomped through the house with them covered in mud and grass clippings like I did.’
‘Probably not,’ Susie said.
‘Or pretended to have a sprained ankle because she didn’t want to go to visit his parents for the weekend.’
Susie laughed. ‘Did you?’
‘Twice. I said I might have shingles one year when we were first married, so we didn’t have to entertain them for Christmas. Chicken pox always goes around primary schools at that time of year, so it could have been true. I did have a sore throat. I bet Ellen wouldn’t have done a thing like that. Hang on, I can see that priest is gradually making his way down the terrace towards us. I don’t think I can talk to anyone else for a bit about Ellen’s humanitarianism and modesty. I am ashamed of myself, I’ll admit it.’
We went back into the ballroom where people were starting to take their places at the tables and found some seats near the back of the room.
No sooner had we stashed our handbags under the table and settled down for some people watching than a waiter approached us.
‘Apologies, madam, Permesso. May I show you to your proper seats?’
Obediently, I followed him, hoping that the next people to sit there didn’t mind the crumbs from our breadsticks. He led me, with many apologies, to the biggest table at the head of the room, and then he took Susie off in another direction.
‘ Un posto d’onore . A place of honour for you, madam,’ he said.
‘Oh good lord,’ I muttered.
I scanned the room, looking for Susie, finally tracking her down to where she was once again firmly attached to Raimondo’s side, a new glass of Prosecco in her hand.
I wondered how she was feeling. Was it wise for her to plunge into another relationship so soon after Simon? But then what did I know about such things? Look at the way my life had turned out.
I needed to find out more about him, what his prospects were, before he started asking her for money.
No, surely he wouldn’t? But I’d read enough depressing stories in the papers about men latching on to a lone woman of a certain age, and before they knew it the man was having problems with their bank, their child was somewhere abroad needing an operation, and Susie would end up in the papers with a tragic expression talking about it.
Susie turned and waved at me and then came trotting over for a quick word.
‘Isn’t this lovely?’ she said, her cheeks rather flushed. ‘I’m having such a fabulous time. It makes life with Simon seem even more dreary, looking back. Raimondo has a villa near Amalfi. And a boat. He’s just been telling me all about it. It sounds gorgeous.’
‘Yes, are you sure?’ I murmured. ‘Has he got a daughter abroad, doing good works?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Susie said, looking puzzled.
‘Have you asked?’
‘Well, no. That’s not the sort of thing that comes up in conversation, is it?’
‘Well, I’m going to ask him,’ I said, ‘and find out.’
‘He’ll think you’re mad,’ Susie said, looking irritable.
‘We aren’t going to watch as he empties your bank account and you end up in some documentary about older women being dogfished,’ I said.
‘I think it’s catfished,’ Susie replied waspishly.
‘That too.’
Susie raised her chin defiantly.
‘He has asked me to come back soon to Amalfi. To stay with him in his villa.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ I said. ‘For all you know he has a titchy little flat somewhere on the outskirts of town, and the boat is a dinghy covered in barnacles.’
Susie chuckled. ‘I don’t know. I mean, this is enormous fun, but in my experience real life is badly planned, under rehearsed and a bit worrying. Still, I’m enjoying the moment.’
‘So you won’t be rowing off into the sunset with him?’ I asked. ‘You’re sure?’
Susie spluttered with laughter.
‘I’m not daft. But why shouldn’t I bask in the warmth of his attention? It’s been a flipping long time since anyone said anything nice to me. I’m having a lovely time. Did you know my eyes are the same colour as the waters of the blue lagoon? No, nor did I. He was telling me Ellen started up a charity in Sorrento, I think, rescuing abandoned animals and rehoming them.’
Of course she did, I thought.
Perhaps Susie had been right and we hadn’t really known her at all. Seeing Ellen for a few days every so often didn’t mean quite the same as the friendship I had with Susie, who I spoke to nearly every day, or even Juliette who had become a friend in almost no time in comparison.
What was a real friend? Someone to do something or nothing with and still have a good time? Why didn’t Ellen just drop me when she moved away? Was it just to show me that I hadn’t ruffled the surface of her perfect life? To prove to me that she didn’t care what I had done, that I hadn’t mattered?