Well, he stopped eating meat after a dream, said Cress.
What dream? said Alys.
That he ate his own leg. He said it was so real he woke up and vomited.
We’re about to eat! said Col. Who wants to know about vomiting and eating your own leg?
I’m just saying what he told me, said Cress.
Col finished his wine and poured out more. Ulysses turned to Peg and winked. So good to see her laughing.
So he gave up meat, said Pete. And?
And his teeth fell out.
Jesus Christ, said Col.
Because he didn’t need them any more.
So that’s why he could whistle, said Pete.
When he had teeth, not a note, said Cress. Afterwards, like a songbird.
Fucking hell, said Col.
Giulia said in broken English, You like the sformato ai carciofi instead, Signor Formiloe?
Yeah, I would. Sformato sounds lovely, said Col. Grazie, signora.
You don’t even know what it is, said Cress.
If it’s not a leg, I’m happy.
The next morning, Col watched his ambulance get towed away to a junkyard outside Prato.
Worse places to end up, said Ulysses.
Out with all those memories, eh? said Col. Non-violence is the only way, Temps.
I’m with you on that.
Come on, I’d kill for a coffee.
Peg had paid for Col’s flight home. Course they all had their Geoff Hurst money, but it was the gesture for Peg. To show him how important he was to her. How he’d been there when she’d needed him. She tried to say something to Col, but he cut her off; No need, he said. Next of kin meant everything to Col.
Ulysses drove Col to Rome in Betsy. On the way he turned to Col and said, Mrs Kaur?
Who else knows?
Just me and Peg.
Keep it that way, said Col. This one’s important. Like my life depends on it.
Spring saw the return of guests to the pensione. Capacity was down to two rooms on account of Pete and Peg, but Cress liked that, he found it manageable. A Miss Banderhorn turned up with her friend Miss Coleridge – they were from Kansas – and a father and son duo, the Sweephills, came in from Exeter. Both pairs requested nothing spicy for dinner.
Alys was alone in Ulysses’ workshop, pen in hand, radio on. She was putting the finishing touches to a globe that featured only cities more than a thousand years old: ancient names that became the ancient trade routes. Her globes were solely objects of art and Dotty had already alerted gallery owner Joyce. The globe before that had been luminous with pilgrimage walks and from that study had come intricate sketches of a bridge, seen from all angles. And on this bridge, attached by struts overlooking the river, the solitary hermitages for worship – the world Evelyn had long ago described. Wooden slats. Abutments. A ladder. Closing in on a window and the woman inside. And Alys came to understand why women would seek refuge on a bridge and she drew their youth, their pain, their ageing. Their existence and worth given shape by a virgin who birthed a child. She drew the lives they’d given up in the microscopic study of a flower, a vase, a cup, a plate, a piece of fabric – lace intricate and fine – darned sheets on a bed, a sketchbook in the corner, a fine lock of baby hair hidden between two pages. On and on and on, she drew the details of undetailed lives. Of forgotten women who once may have wanted so much more.
She put down the pen and stretched out her neck. She was taken aback to see Peg staring at her through the window. Alys opened the door.
Peg said, You looked so peaceful. Didn’t want to disturb you. I came to see if you wanted a coffee and Temps said they do nice ones round here. （Peg nervous and saying too much.） It must be weird having me around. And I don’t want to get in your way. That’s mainly what I wanted to say.
For twenty years I’ve wanted you to get in my way, said Alys.
Peg didn’t know what to say to that. Peg didn’t know if Alys was being kind or hurtful and she nodded and left. Ulysses said Alys was being kind. Peg went back and apologised. They had coffee together and there were awkward silences, but it was a start.
July brought heat and plenty of it. Mosquito deterrents burnt incessantly and the English group sought respite at a swimming pool in Poggetto. （You need a new swimming costume, Pete. Thanks, Peg, it is rather itchy.） July also saw man walking on the moon. Twenty-seven hours of continual television coverage at Michele’s sent Pete and Cress doolally. They fell asleep by the flickering black and white light and Claude kept guard. Cress attempted to walk as if there was zero gravity and Peg said he looked like his nuts were twisted.
Come the evening, Michele’s was fully booked. Lots of Americans in town drinking up a patriotic fervour. Pete became Master Commander of the atmosphere and shifted over to that velveteen stool and pulled out all the musical stops.