Grania just laughed at her now when she made these remarks. “Tony and I don’t want to crowd Dad out on this, and anyway we’re getting ready for the geriatric wedding of the century.”
Brigid giggled. Grania was so happy that you couldn’t offend her.
They were both thinking how odd it was that no mention at all of their mother had been made in the planning of this famous viaggio. But it was something they didn’t speak of. It was somehow too trivial and too serious at the same time. Did it mean that Mam and Dad were over? Things like that didn’t happen to families like theirs.
FIONA BROUGHT BARRY home to supper in her house shortly before the viaggio.
“You practically live in my house,” he complained, “and I’m never allowed into yours.”
“I didn’t want you to meet my parents until it was too late.”
“What do you mean too late?”
“Too late for you to abandon me. I wanted you to be consumed with physical lust for me, as well as liking me and admiring me as a person.”
She spoke so seriously and earnestly, Barry found it hard to keep a straight face. “It’s just as well then that the physical lust bit has taken over so strongly,” he said. “I’ll be able to put up with them however awful they are.”
And they were fairly awful. Fiona’s mother said that Ireland was very nice for a holiday because you wouldn’t get yourself sunburned and people wouldn’t snatch your handbag.
“They do here just as much as anywhere else.”
“But at least they speak English here,” her father said.
Barry said he had been learning Italian in readiness, he would be able to order food and deal with police stations, hospitals, and breakdowns of the bus.
“See what I mean?” Fiona’s father was triumphant. “Must be a very dangerous place if that is what they taught you.”
“How much is the supplement for a single room?” her mother asked.
“Five pounds a night,” Fiona said.
“Nine pounds a night,” Barry said at exactly the same time. They looked at each other wildly. “It’s…um…more for the men, you see,” poor Barry said in desperation.
“Why is that?” Fiona’s father was suspicious.
“Something to do with the Italian character, really. They insist men have bigger rooms for all their clothes and things.”
“Wouldn’t you think women would have more clothes?” Fiona’s mother was now suspicious. What kind of a peacock was her daughter involved with, needing a huge room for all his wardrobe?
“I know, that’s what my mother was saying…. By the way, she’s very much looking forward to meeting you, getting to know you.”
“Why?” asked Fiona’s mother.
Barry couldn’t think why, so he said: “She’s like that, she just loves people.”
“Lucky for her,” said Fiona’s father.
“WHAT’S THE ITALIAN for ‘Good luck, Dad’?” Grania asked her father the night before the viaggio.
“In bocca al lupo.” She repeated it. They sat in his study. He had all his maps and guidebook out. He would bring a small suitcase, which he would carry with him, containing all this. It didn’t really matter, he said, if his clothes got lost, but this was what counted.
“Mam working tonight?” Grania said casually.
“I suppose so, love.”
“And you’ll have a suntan for the wedding?” She was determined to keep the mood cheerful.
“Yes, and you know we’d have it here for you, you know that.”
“We’d prefer it in a pub really, Dad.”
“I always thought you’d marry from here and I’d pay for it all.”
“You’re paying for a big cake and champagne, isn’t that enough?”
“I hope so.”
“It’s plenty. And listen, are you nervous about this trip?”
“A little, in case it’s not as good as we all promised, hoped, and remembered even. The class went so well, I’d hate this to be an anticlimax.”
“It can’t be, Dad, it will be great. I wish I were going in many ways.”
“In many ways I wish you were too.” And neither of them said a word about the fact that Aidan’s wife of twenty-five years was not going, and according to herself had not been invited to go.
JIMMY SULLIVAN HAD a driving job on the northside, so he drove Signora to the airport.
“You’re miles too early,” he said.
“I’m too excited. I couldn’t stay at home, I want to be on my way.”
“Will you go at all to see your husband’s people in that village you lived in?”
“No, no Jimmy, there won’t be time.”
“It’s a pity to go all the way to Italy and not visit them though. The class would let you off for a day or two.”
“No, it’s too far away, right at the far end of Italy on the island of Sicily.”
“So they won’t hear you’re there and take a poor view?”
“No, no they won’t hear I’m there.”
“Well, that’s all right then, so long as there’s no offense.”
“No, nothing like that. And Suzi and I will tell you every detail when we get back.”
“God, the wedding was something else, wasn’t it, Signora?”
“I did enjoy it, and I know everyone else did too.”
“I’ll be paying for it for the rest of my life.”
“Nonsense, Jimmy, you loved it. You’ve only one daughter and it was a real feast. People will talk about it for years.”
“Well, they were days getting over their hangovers all right,” he said, brightening at the thought of his legendary hospitality. “I hope that Suzi and Lou will get themselves out of that bed and make it to the airport.”
“Oh, you know newlyweds,” Signora said diplomatically.
“They were in that bed for many a month before they were newlyweds,” Jimmy Sullivan said, brow darkening with disapproval. It always annoyed him that Suzi was so utterly uncontrite about her bad behavior.
WHEN SHE WAS alone at the airport, Signora found a seat and took out the badges she had made. Each one had Vista del Monte—the Italian for Mountainview—on it, and the person’s name. Surely nobody could get lost. Surely if there was a God, he would be delighted that all these people were visiting the Holy City and he wouldn’t let them get lost or killed or into fights. Forty-two people including herself and Aidan Dunne, just enough to fill the coach they had arranged to meet them. She wondered who would be the first to arrive. Maybe Lorenzo? Could be Aidan. He said he would help her distribute the badges.
But it was Constanza. “My roommate,” Constanza said eagerly, and pinned on her badge.
“You could easily have afforded the single room, Constanza,” Signora said, something that had not been mentioned before.
“Yes, but who would I have talked to…isn’t that half the fun of a holiday?”
Before she could answer, Signora saw the others arriving. A lot of them had come on the airport bus. They came to collect their badges and seemed pleased to see that they were from such an elegant-sounding place.
“No one will know in Italy what kind of a dump Mountainview really is,” Lou said.
“Hey, Luigi, be fair, it’s improved in leaps and bounds this year.” Aidan was referring to the rebuilding, the paint job, the new bicycle sheds. Tony O’Brien had delivered all he had promised.
“Sorry, Aidan, I didn’t realize you were in earshot.” Lou grinned. Aidan had been good company at the wedding. He had sung “La donna e mobile” and knew all the words.
Brenda Brennan had come to the airport to wave them off. Signora was very touched. “You’re so good, everyone else has a normal family.”
“No they don’t.” Brenda Brennan jerked her head toward where Aidan was talking to Luigi. “He doesn’t, for one thing. I asked his pill of a wife why she wasn’t going to Rome with the rest of you, and she shrugged and said that she hadn’t been asked, wouldn’t push herself where she
wasn’t wanted, and wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. So how’s that for normal?”
“Poor Aidan.” Signora was sympathetic.
Then the flight was called.
The sister of Guglielmo was waving like mad to everyone. For Olive, just going to the airport was a treat. “My brother is a bank manager, he’s going to see the Pope,” she said to strangers.
“Well, if he lays his hands on some of that money they’ll be pleased with him,” said a passerby. Bill just smiled, and he and Lizzie waved to Olive while they could still see her.
“FORTY-TWO PEOPLE, we’ll have to lose one of them,” Aidan said as they counted the flock into the departure lounge.
“Aren’t you optimistic! I keep thinking we’ll lose all of them,” Signora smiled.
“Still, the counting system should work.” Aidan tried to sound more convinced than he felt. He had divided them into four groups of ten and appointed a leader of each. When they arrived anywhere or left anywhere, the leader had to report that all were present. It worked for children, but adults might resent it.
They didn’t seem at all put out by it, in fact some of them positively welcomed it.
“Imagine, Lou is a leader,” Suzi said in admiration to Signora.
“Well, a responsible married man like Luigi, who better?” Signora asked. The truth was, of course, that she and Aidan had chosen him because of his fierce scowl. Nobody in his team would be late if they were reporting to Luigi.
He marched them onto the plane as if he were taking them into war. “Can you raise your passports?” he asked them. Obediently they did. “Now, put them away very carefully. Zip them away, I won’t want to see them unzipped until we get to Roma.”
The announcements were made in Italian on the plane as well as in English. Signora had prepared all this with them, so it was familiar. When the air stewardess began to speak, the evening class all nodded at each other, pleased to hear familiar words and phrases. The girl pointed out the emergency doors on the right and the left, the class repeated them all happily, destra, sinistra. Even though they had heard it all in English already.
When it was over and she said grazie, all the evening class shouted prego and Aidan’s eyes met Signora’s. It was really happening. They were going to Rome.
Signora was seated beside Laddy. Everything was new and exciting to him, from the safety belt to the meal with its little portions of food.
“Will the Garaldis be at the airport?” he asked eagerly.
“No, Lorenzo. The first few days we get to know Roma…we do all the tours we talked about, remember?”
“Yes, but suppose they want me straight away?” His big face was worried.
“They know you’re coming. I’ve written to them, they know we’ll be in touch on Thursday.”
“Giovedì,” he said.
“Bene, Lorenzo, giovedì.”
“Aren’t you going to eat your dessert, Signora?”
“No, Lorenzo. Please have it.”
“It’s just that I’d hate to waste it.”
Signora said she would have a little sleep now. She closed her eyes. Please may it go well. May they all find magic there. May the Garaldis remember Lorenzo and be nice to him. She had put her heart into the letter and was distressed that there had been no reply.
THE BUS WAS there. “Dov’è l’autobus?” Bill asked, to show he remembered the phrase.
“It’s here in front of us,” Lizzie said.
“I know, but I wanted to talk about it,” Bill explained.
“Don’t the girls all have enormous bosoms and bums,” Fiona whispered admiringly to Barry as she looked around her.
“I think it’s rather nice actually,” Barry said defensively. This was his Italy, he was the expert on the place since his visit for the World Cup, he didn’t want any aspersions cast.
“No, I think it’s great,” Fiona explained. “It’s just that I’d love Brigid Dunne to see them…the way she’s always bellyaching about herself.”
“You could tell her father to tell her, I suppose.” Barry was doubtful of the suitability of this.
“Of course I couldn’t, she’d know I was talking about her. She says the hotel isn’t going to be any great shakes. She says we’re not to be disappointed.”
“I won’t be disappointed,” Barry said, putting his arm around Fiona.
“Neither will I. I was only in a hotel once before, in Majorca. And it was so noisy that none of us could sleep at all, so we all got up and went back to the beach.”
“I suppose they had to keep the prices down.” Barry was terrified that there would be any criticism.
“I know it’s dead cheap, and Brigid was telling me that some half-cracked one came in wanting to know where we were all staying, so the word must be out that we got good value.”
“Did she want to join the group?”
“Brigid said she couldn’t join, that we had been booked at this rate for ages. But she just insisted on knowing the name of the hotel.”
“Well, now.” Barry was pleased as they stepped out into the sunshine and the head counting began. Uno, due, tre. The team leaders were very serious about their roles for Signora.
“Did you ever stay in a hotel, Fran?” Kathy asked as the bus sped through the traffic, which seemed to be full of very impatient drivers.
“Twice, ages ago.” Fran was vague.
But Kathy probed. “You never told me.”
“It was in Cork, with Ken if you must know.”
“Oho, when you said you were staying with a school friend?”
“Yes, I didn’t want them thinking I was going to produce yet another child for them to look after.” Fran nudged her good-naturedly.
“You’d be far too old for that sort of thing surely?”
“Listen here to me, if I get together with Ken again for a bit in America, now that you’ve won me a ticket there…I may well produce a little sister or brother for you to take home with us.”
“Or maybe even stay there with?” Kathy said.
“It’s a return ticket, remember?”
“They’re not born overnight, remember,” Kathy said.
The sisters laughed and pointed out sights to each other as the bus pulled in at a building in the Via Giolitti.
SIGNORA WAS ON her feet and an excited conversation took place.
“She’s telling him that we must be left at the hotel itself, not here at the terminus,” Suzi explained.
“How do you know, you’re not even in the evening class?” Lou was outraged.
“Oh if you work as a waitress you get to understand everything sooner or later.” Suzi dismissed her skill. Then looking at Lou’s face she added, “Anyway, you’re always speaking bits of it at home so I pick up words here and there.” That seemed entirely more suitable.
And Suzi was indeed right. The bus lurched off again and dropped them at the Albergo Francobollo.
“The Stamp Hotel,” Bill translated for them. “Should be easy to remember.” “Vorrei un francobollo per l’Irlanda,” they all chorused aloud, and Signora gave them a broad smile.
She had got them to Rome without any disaster, the hotel had their booking, and the class were all in high good spirits. Her anxiety was not necessary. Soon she would relax and enjoy being back in Italy again, its colors and sounds and excitement. She began to breathe more easily.
The Albergo Francobollo was not one of the smarter hotels in Rome, but its welcome was gigantic. Signor and Signora Buona Sera were full of admiration and praise over how well they all spoke Italian.
“Bene, bene benissimo,” they cried as they ran up and down the stairs to the rooms.
“Are we really saying ‘Good evening Mr. Good Evening’?” Fiona asked Barry.
“Yes, but look at the names at home like Ramsbottom, and we’ve even a customer in the supermarket called O’Looney.”
“But we don’t have people called Miss Goodmorning and Mr. Goodnight,” Fiona insisted.
“We do
have a place in Ireland called Effin, and they talk about the Effin football team and the Effin choir will sing at eleven o’clock Mass…what would outsiders make of that?” Barry asked.
“I love you, Barry,” Fiona said suddenly. They had just arrived at their bedroom and Mrs. Good Evening heard the remark.
“Love. Very, very good,” she said, and ran down the stairs to settle more people in their rooms.
CONNIE HUNG HER clothes up carefully on her side of the small cupboard. Out the window she could see the roofs and windows of tall houses in the little streets that led off the Piazza dei Cinquecento. Connie washed at the small handbasin in the room. It had been years since she had stayed in a hotel without its own bathroom. But it had also been years since she had gone on a trip with such an easy heart. She did not feel superior to these people because she had more money. She wasn’t even remotely tempted to hire a car, which she could have done easily, or to treat them to a meal in a five-star restaurant. She was eager to join in the plans that had been made in such detail by Signora and Aidan Dunne. Like every other member of the evening class, Connie sensed that their friendship was deeper than a merely professional one. Nobody had been surprised when Aidan’s wife had not joined the group.
“Signor Dunne, telefono,” Signora Buona Sera called up the stairs.
Aidan had been advising Laddy not to suggest immediately that he should clean the brasses on the door, maybe they should wait until they had been there for a few days.
“Would that be your Italian friends?” Laddy asked eagerly.
“No, Lorenzo, I have no Italian friends.”
“But you were here before.”
“A quarter of a century ago, no one who would remember me.”
“I have friends here,” Laddy said proudly. “And Bartolomeo has people he met during the World Cup.”
“That’s great,” Aidan said. “I’d better go and see who it is that does want me.”
“Dad?”
“Brigid? Is everything all right?”
“Sure. You all got there then?”