“Lorenzo,” Signor Garaldi said, and approached Laddy, who sat terrified at his approach. “Lorenzo mio amico.” He kissed him on both cheeks.
Laddy didn’t harbor a grudge long. “Signor Garaldi,” he said and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Mio amico.”
There were quick-fire explanations and the rest of the family realized what had happened. Wine was brought, and little Italian biscuits.
Laddy was beaming from ear to ear now. “Giovedì,” he kept saying happily.
“Why does he say that?” Signor Garaldi was raising his glass and toasting next Thursday as well, but he wanted to know why.
“I told him that we would be in touch with you then, I wanted to prevent him from coming here on his own. I put that in my letter, that we might call by the house for ten minutes on Thursday. Did you not get it?”
The little man looked ashamed. “I have to tell you I get so many begging letters I thought it was something like that, if he came some money would have been given. You have to forgive me but I didn’t read it properly. Now I am so ashamed.”
“No, please, but do you think he could come on Thursday? He is so eager, and maybe I could take his photograph with you and he could show it to people afterwards.”
Signor Garaldi and his wife exchanged glances. “Why don’t you all come here on Thursday, for a drink and a celebration.”
“There are forty-two of us,” Signora said.
“These houses were built for gatherings like that,” he said with a little bow.
A car was called and they were soon crossing Rome to the Catania, in a street where a car like the Garaldis’ had hardly ever driven before. Signora and Aidan looked at each other, as proud as parents who had rescued a child from an awkward situation.
“I wish my sister could see me now,” Laddy said suddenly.
“Would she have been pleased?” Signora was gentle.
“Well, she knew it would happen. We went to a fortune-teller you see, and he said she would be married and have a child, and die young, and that I would be great at sport and I would travel across the sea. So it wouldn’t have been a surprise or anything but it’s a pity she didn’t live to see it.”
“It is indeed, but maybe she sees now.” Aidan wanted to be reassuring.
“I’m not at all sure that there are people in heaven, you know, Mr. Dunne,” said Laddy as they purred through Rome in the chauffeur-driven car.
“Aren’t you, Laddy? I’m getting more sure of it every day,” said Aidan.
AT THE CATANIA everyone was singing “Low Lie the Fields of Athenry.” The waiters stood in an admiring group and clapped mightily when it was over. Any other guests brave enough to dine in the Catania that night had been absorbed into the group, and as the threesome came in there was a huge shout of welcome.
Alfredo ran to get the soup.
“Brodo,” Laddy said.
“We’ll go straight to the main course if you like,” Aidan said.
“Excuse me, Mr. Dunne. I’m in charge until relieved of it, and I say that Lorenzo is to have his brodo.” Luigi looked fiercer than he had ever looked. Aidan quailed and said, of course, it had been a mistake. “That’s all right, then,” Luigi had said generously.
Fran explained to Signora that one of the younger waiters kept asking young Kathy to go out with him later, and Fran was worried. Could Signora say that they all had to return together when the night was over.
“Certainly, Francesca,” Signora said. Wasn’t it amazing, none of them asked what had happened to Laddy, they had just assumed that she and Aidan would rescue him in Rome.
“Lorenzo has had us all invited to a party on Thursday,” she said. “In a magnificent house.”
“Giovedì,” Laddy said, in case anyone should mistake the day. They seemed to take that for granted too. Signora finished her soup quickly. She looked around for Constanza and saw her, not animated as she normally was, but looking absently into the distance. Something had happened, but she was such a private person and would not say what it was. Signora was that kind of person herself, she would not make any inquiries.
Alfredo said that there was going to be a surprise for the Irlande. There was going to be a cake in the Irish colors, they had arranged it because all the people had been so happy and they wanted to make it a memory for them. They’d known the Irish colors since the World Cup.
“I can’t thank you enough, Alfredo, for making the evening so special for us.”
“You can, Signora, can you come and talk with me tomorrow? Please?”
“Not tomorrow, Alfredo, Signor Dunne is giving his talk about the Forum.”
“You can hear Signor Dunne anytime. I have only a few days to talk to you. Please, Signora, I am begging.”
“Perhaps he’ll understand.” Signora looked over at Aidan. She hated letting him down, she knew how much he had put into this lecture. He was determined that everyone would see Rome as it was when chariots raced through it. But the boy did look very anxious, as if he had something to tell her. For the sake of the past and of everyone, she must listen.
SIGNORA MANAGED TO get Caterina back to the hotel and out of the clutches of the waiter very easily, she just told Alfredo that the boy was to be called off immediately. So the soulful Roman eyes had beseeched Caterina for another evening, and he had given her a red rose and a kiss on the hand.
The mystery of the message had not been sorted out by Connie. Signora Buona Sera said she had delivered it to Signora Kane. Neither she nor her husband knew whether it was a man or a woman who had left it. It would always be a mystery, Signora Buona Sera said. But during the night Connie Kane lay awake and worried. She wondered why some things should always be mysterious. She longed to tell Signora but didn’t want to intrude on the quiet woman who lived such a private life.
“NO, OF COURSE, if you have business of your own. Business to do with Sicily,” Aidan said next day.
“I am so sorry, Aidan, I was looking forward to it.”
“Yes.” He turned away shortly so she wouldn’t see the naked hurt and disappointment in his face, but it was too late. Signora had seen it.
“We don’t have to go to this lecture,” Lou said, pulling Suzi back to bed.
“I want to go.” She struggled to get up.
“Latin, Roman gods and old temples…of course you don’t.”
“Mr. Dunne’s been getting it ready for weeks, and anyway Signora’d like us to be there.”
“She’s not going to be there herself.” Lou spoke knowledgeably.
“How on earth do you know that?”
“I heard her telling him last night,” Lou said. “He was sour as a lemon.”
“That’s not like her.”
“Well now we don’t have to go,” Lou said, snuggling back into the bed.
“No, now it’s more important that we go to support him.” Suzi was out of bed and into her dressing gown before he could protest. She was halfway down the corridor to the bathroom before he could reach out and catch her.
LIZZIE AND BILL were making their sandwiches carefully. “Isn’t it a great idea?” Bill said eagerly, hoping that it was something that might be extended to their own life at home. The idea of saving money by any means at all was something that he prayed would catch on in Lizzie’s mind. She had been very good on this visit and not even looked at a shoe shop. She had noted the cost of Italian ice cream in lire, translated it, and said it wasn’t a good idea.
“Oh, Bill, don’t be an idiot. If we were to buy ham and eggs and great chunks of bread like this to make sandwiches it would be dearer than having a bowl of soup in a pub like we do already.”
“Maybe.”
“But when you’re an international banker out here, then we might consider it. Will we be living in a hotel do you think, or having our own villa?”
“A villa I imagine,” Bill said glumly. It all seemed so unlikely and far from reality.
“Have you made any inquiries yet?”
“About
villas?” Bill looked at her wildly.
“No, about opportunities in banking, remember that’s why we are learning Italian.” Lizzie was prim.
“It was in the first place,” Bill admitted. “But now I’m only learning it because I enjoy it.”
“Are you trying to tell me we’ll never be rich?” Lizzie’s huge, beautiful eyes were troubled.
“No, no, I’m not trying to tell you that. We will be rich. This very day I’ll go into banks and ask relevant words. Believe me, I will.”
“I believe you. Now I have all these done and wrapped, we can eat them in the Forum after the lecture, and we might send our postcards too.”
“This time you’ll be able to send one to your dad,” Bill Burke said, always seeing the silver lining.
“You got on well with him, didn’t you?”
They had a brief visit to Galway and a reasonably successful attempt to reunite Lizzie’s parents. At least they were speaking to each other and on visiting terms now.
“Yes I liked him, he was very comical.” Bill thought this was a masterly way to describe a man who had almost crushed Bill’s whole hand in his, and who had borrowed a ten-pound note from him within minutes of their meeting.
“It’s such a relief that you like my family,” Lizzie said.
“And you mine,” Bill agreed.
His own parents were warming more to Lizzie’s ways. She wore longer skirts and higher necklines. She asked questions to his father about cutting bacon and the difference between smoked and green bacon. She played noughts and crosses endlessly with Olive, letting her win about half the time, which gave the games an air of frenzied excitement. The wedding wouldn’t be nearly as fraught as Bill had once thought it would be.
“Let’s go hear about Vestal Virgins,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.
“What?”
“Lizzie! Didn’t you read your notes? Mr. Dunne gave us one page, he said we’d all be able to remember that much.”
“Give it to me quick,” said Lizzie.
Aidan Dunne had drawn a little map highlighting the places they would visit and that he would describe. She read it speedily and returned it.
“Do you think he’s in bed with Signora?” she asked, eyes shining.
“If so, Lorenzo and Constanza will be feeling a bit in the way,” said Bill.
CONSTANZA AND SIGNORA had dressed and were about to come down to breakfast. There was an air that something was about to be said.
“Constanza?”
“Sì, Signora?”
“Could I ask you to take notes when Aidan is speaking today? I can’t go, and I’m upset and, well, I think he’s upset. He went to such trouble, such great trouble.” Signora’s face looked very sad.
“And you have to miss it?”
“Yes I do.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand but I will pay great attention, and yes of course I’ll tell you everything.” There was a pause, then Connie spoke again. “Oh, and Signora?”
“Si, Constanza?”
“It’s just that…well, did you ever hear anyone in our group saying anything bad about me, resentful, or possibly caught up in losing money to my husband or anything?”
“No, never. I never heard anyone saying anything about you. Why do you ask?”
“Someone left me a rather horrible note. It’s probably a joke, but it upset me.”
“What did it say? Please tell me.”
Connie unfolded it and showed it to the other woman. Signora’s eyes filled with tears. “When did this happen?”
“It was left at the desk yesterday evening before we went out. Nobody knows who left it. I have asked but the Buona Seras don’t know.”
“It can’t be anyone in this group, Constanza, I tell you that.”
“But who else knows we are in Rome?”
Signora remembered something. “Aidan said there was a madwoman back in Dublin inquiring what hotel we were all staying in. Could that be it? Someone who followed us here?”
“That’s hard to believe, it’s very far-fetched.”
“But it’s even harder to believe that it’s any member of our group,” Signora said.
“Why me? Now? And in Rome?”
“Is there anyone with a grievance, do you think?”
“Hundreds because of what Harry did, but he’s locked up in jail.”
“Not someone mad, disturbed possibly?”
“Not that I know.” Connie shook herself deliberately. She must spend no time speculating and worrying Signora as well. “I’ll just walk well away from the traffic side of things and be watchful. And, Signora, I’ll take notes. I promise you, it will be just as good as being there.”
“ALFREDO, THIS HAD better be important. You have no idea how much I have upset somebody by missing a lecture.”
“There are many lectures, Signora.”
“This one was special. A great deal of trouble had been taken. Anyway?”
He made them coffee and he sat down beside her. “Signora, I have a very big favor to ask of you.”
She looked at him, anguished. He was going to ask her for money. He could not know that she had nothing. Literally nothing. When she got back to Dublin, she would be penniless. She would have to ask the Sullivans to let her live free in their house until September, when payment would start again in the school. Every last coin she had, had been changed into lire so that she could pay her way on this viaggio. How could this boy from his simple village and working as a waiter in a shabby restaurant in Rome know this? He must see her as responsible for forty people, a person of importance. Power even.
“It may not be easy. There’s a lot you do not know,” she began.
“I know everything, Signora. I know my father loved you, and that you loved him. That you sat in that window sewing while we all grew up. I know that you behaved so well to my mother and that even though you didn’t want to go, when she and my uncles said it was time to leave, you left.”
“You know all this?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Yes, we all knew.”
“For how long?”
“As long as I remember.”
“It’s so hard to believe. I thought…well it doesn’t matter what I thought…”
“And we were all so sad when you went away.”
She lifted her face and smiled at him. “You were? Truly?”
“Yes, all of us. You helped us all. We know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my father did things he would not have done otherwise, Maria’s wedding, the shop in Annunziata, my brother going to America…everything. It was all you.”
“No, not all. He loved you, he wanted the best. Sometimes we talked. That was all.”
“We wanted to find you when Mama died. We wanted to write and tell you. But we didn’t even know your name.”
“That was good of you.”
“And now, now God sends you into this restaurant. It was God who sent you, I really believe that.” She was silent. “And now I can ask you the great, great favor.” She held tightly onto the table. Why had she no money. Most women of her age had some money, even a little. She had been so uncaring about possessions. If there was anything she could sell for this boy, who must be very desperate to ask her…
“The favor, Signora…”
“Yes, Alfredo.”
“You know what it is?”
“Ask me, Alfredo, and if I can I will.”
“We want you to come back. We want you to come home, Signora. Home where you belong.”
CONSTANZA DIDN’T EAT breakfast, she went off to the shops. She bought the soft shoes she yearned for, she got a long silk scarf for Signora and cut off the designer label in case Elisabetta would recognize the name and exclaim at how much it must have cost. And then she bought what she had set out to buy and went back to join the trip to the Forum.
THEY ALL LOVED the lecture. Luigi said you could nearly see the poor Christians being led into the Coliseum. Mr. Dunn
e said that he was only a crusty old Latin teacher and he promised he wouldn’t keep them long, but when it was over they clapped and wanted more. His smile was surprised. He answered all their questions, and occasionally looked at Constanza, who seemed to be waving a camera near him all the time but never took a picture.
THEY SEPARATED FOR lunch to eat their sandwiches in little groups. Connie Kane watched Aidan Dunne. He had no sandwiches with him, he just walked to a wall and sat there looking absently out into the distance before him. He had told everyone the route back to the hotel. He made sure that Laddy was in the hands of Bartolomeo and his funny little girlfriend, Fiona. Then he just sat there, sad that the person he had prepared the lecture for had not turned up.
Connie wondered whether to join him or not. But she didn’t think there was anything she could say that might help. So she walked to a restaurant and ordered herself grilled fish and wine. It was good to be able to do so easily. But she barely tasted the food as she wondered who could have come from Dublin to frighten her. Could Harry have sent someone? It was too alarming to think about. It would be preposterous to try to explain it to the Italian police, and difficult to get any detectives in Ireland to take her seriously either. An anonymous letter in a hotel in Rome? It was impossible to take seriously. But she walked very close to the walls and shops as she returned to the hotel.
And she inquired nervously at the desk if there had been any more messages.
“No, Signora Kane, nothing at all.”
BARRY AND FIONA were going to the pub where Barry had met all the wonderful Italians during the World Cup. He had pictures taken that summer, flags and bunting and Jack Charlton hats.
“Have you written and told them we’re coming?” Fiona asked.
“No, it’s not that kind of scene, you just turn up and they’re all there.”
“Every night?”