Nowhere and everywhere, said Cress.
Fancy company?
Not tonight, son. Oh, by the way: Peg’s in bed with Constance Everly.
Nothing would surprise me any more, Cress.
It was dark under the trees and the ghosts rode wild across the square and brought a sardonic eyebrow-lift to Cressy’s soft, accepting features. A Fellini-esque quality saturated the nocturnal tableau – to his left a drunk carrying a big fish, to his right a nun with a strange-looking habit, and straight ahead a glowing church of shapely perfection.
Cress didn’t feel tired any more. He was travelling the highway of memory. How about we throw in a little ecstasy for good measure, Cress? What a life!
Three in the morning, Ulysses awoke with his heart thumping and a strong ominous feeling like the first creeping awareness of smoke. He threw on a T-shirt and a pair of trousers and walked barefoot through the apartment. A flash of blue in the gloom. Shh, he said to Claude, who settled on his shoulder. He checked the kitchen, the salotto, and all seemed well. He listened at Alys’s door and could hear her steady breath. He moved along to Evelyn’s and listened for the same easy, sleepy drawl. Cressy’s door was ajar. A gentle push revealed the room was empty and the bed unslept in.
In the square, the Moto Guzzi was where Cress had left it and Ulysses wished the old boy had taken off on a whim. He launched Claude into the night – Go find Cress, he said, and the bird took flight.
Ulysses walked down Via Maggio and turned into Piazza dei Sapiti. He went past the Pitti Palace, down to the Ponte Vecchio and headed east along the river. Could almost see the old fella’s footprints glowing in the dark. He called out Cressy’s name, shone the torch into dark corners but the city was pretty empty ’cept for a dog bark and the clandestine clinch of lovers, nothing unusual. The river was still and lit by streetlamps and the faint edge of lightening sky. He began to run.
All the way to San Niccolò, he could feel it, and his legs weakened and his breath shallowed, and yet he needed to hold it all together for all that was to come. He lit a cigarette and doubled back.
He called out for Cress again and it sounded more like a lament, and then suddenly, along Lungarno Torrigiani, he heard it: a faint squawk. He stopped. Claude? He approached the Lutheran church, a splay of torchlight cast out in front of him. Shadows and bushes and there against the wall by the portico, the crumpled shape of a body with a parrot standing guard. Ulysses ran towards Cress and felt for a pulse. The heat had gone, though, and the face was at peace. Ulysses sat next to him and leant into him one last time. He lifted Claude onto his lap and could feel straight away that something was wrong.
Hey little fella, what’s going on?
Claude struggling to breathe.
What is it? said Ulysses.
Claude’s voice was faint. Out, out, brief candle, he whispered.
You wanna go with Cress?
Claude blinked.
Life’s but a walking shadow, Ulysses.
I know, said Ulysses, holding him close to his chest. I know, I know.
And I do love nothing in the world … so well … as you.
Ulysses watched the sun rise and the river turn gold and he didn’t remember much after that. Pete found him, though. Pete had a sense, too. Pete went back and made known what needed to be made known.
The women rallied. A seamless tide of knowing exactly what to do. An English send-off, that’s what Cress got. No funeral mass, no open casket, but a crematorium and a gathering at Michele’s after. A death notice attached to the building informed the square of the arrangements but mostly it was the elderly contessa who delivered the news. She delivered it tenderly because she had feelings for the old boy that she’d always kept hidden. It was the elderly contessa who took Ulysses to buy chrysanthemums in the market. Watched him decorate the doorway of the pensione, watched him fill the sidecar of the Moto Guzzi with orange blooms. Nice touch, she said. And in English she added, Classic Cressy.
Massimo raced back, of course. He took the first plane out and was surprised to see Ulysses waiting at the airport for him. I’m OK, I’m OK, said Ulysses and Massimo said, No you’re not, Ulisse, now stop. Sort of did Ulysses in, that did, and he had to pull over and let Massimo drive. Des and Poppy came back, too. Des said, I thought old Cress’d live forever. I thought he was plastic. And Pete played ‘Cressy’s Song’ and would never play it again. Afterwards he disappeared with a bottle of whisky and Alys found him in the cellar. I feel safe down here, he said.
Col didn’t come back because Col couldn’t face it. Had a memorial at the pub for Cress and the turnout was huge. Spilled out onto the pavement despite the rain. Col learnt by heart the poem Cress had recited in the English Cemetery and Col got hammered and ended up a blubbering mess. If not now, then when? said Mrs Kaur.