What did you say? asked Alys.
I said not yet, and Peg poured out the wine. The evening was warm, the air fumy and night was yet a few hours off. They were outside Michele’s, surrounded by tourists. Pete was at the piano inside, and at a nearby table, Ulysses and Massimo and the elderly contessa were discussing the best age for Parmigiano-Reggiano. On the stone bench, Evelyn was writing a letter to Dotty, and over by the statue was Romy – being a statue.
I’m not sure I want to go anywhere, said Peg. I’m not sure I want my life to change more than it has. And I’m not sure I want to leave you, and she lit a cigarette.
I’m not a kid any more, said Alys.
But you were. And I wasn’t here. So for now I’m staying put. And Glen can visit.
That’ll keep it fresh.
That’s what I thought, said Peg.
Alys grinned. And therein spoke a thousand words.
Here, said Peg. Before I forget. Thought I’d lost this. And she handed over the cameo brooch that Eddie had given her all those years ago. The one that had cost her a hotel room and had propelled her under a railway arch where Alys may or may not have been conceived. Strange how things work out.
Alys started laughing. Really? That’s how it happened?
Yeah. What a fucking legacy I’ve given you. Be kind to Romy, Alys. I know how she looks at you. It’s powerful, that kind of thing. Careful what you do with it.
It was October 1979. Evelyn Skinner was looking out of the window, watching time in the shift of light and shadow. Daylight beautifies and moonlight mystifies; that was day one for every new consignment of students. She had, moments before, turned ninety-nine but she looked ten years younger, something she would put down to cod liver oil and cold-water swimming and being loved. Despite the years having taken inches from her height, her seated posture was taut and upright. She heard Ulysses knock and enter her room and her face lit up at the sight of him. He handed her one of the glasses of frizzantino in his hand.
This would have been enough, you know, she said.
I know.
You, me, this – and she indicated the dusk-drenched square outside. ‘How beautiful is sunset, when the glow of heaven descends upon a land like thee, Thou paradise of exiles, Italy.’
Dante?
Shelley, she said and they clinked glasses.
Happy birthday, he said. To your long and extraordinary life.
She took a sip and said, You grew into your name after all. Took you a long time to get back from war, but you did it, Ulysses. I’ve left you the flat in Bloomsbury, by the way.
That’s not necessary.
London may beckon once again. Or give it to Alys. Dotty’s got Kent. She hates the countryside, but she’ll see the joke. And she’ll cherish it in the end. Everything else is by the by. And I want my ashes scattered on the Arno like Constance.
OK, he said. Anything else?
I think that’s all you need to know.
Righto.
You look like you want to ask me something.
It’s something Dotty—
Oh, don’t listen to her!
Were you a spy?
Of course I was. She’ll find out when the National Archives release the papers. Hopefully she won’t be driving or operating heavy machinery at the time.
He looked at his watch.
You’re going to tell me they’re all upstairs waiting, said Evelyn.
Not all, he laughed. Jem’s on his way. And Des, Poppy and Col got in an hour ago. They’re the surprise.
And Dotty and Penelope? said Evelyn.
But before Ulysses could answer, a wolf whistle pierced the air. Evelyn turned and there was Dotty leaning against the doorway, cross-armed, with a cheeky tilt of the head.
Evelyn squealed.
Hello, my darling Lynny, and Dotty rushed to kiss her. She took Ulysses’ glass and said, Sorry, Temps. Don’t mind, do you?
Go ahead, he said and Dotty downed it in one. She handed him the empty glass.
Me and Pen, said Dotty, we’ve just had our first argument in the taxi.
Good Lord! What about? said Evelyn.
You’ll never guess – Dotty suddenly turned to Ulysses.
OK, OK, he said. I’m leaving.
Surprise! they all shouted.
Evelyn gasped theatrically in the salotto. Des. Poppy. Col! What are you all doing here? she said.
You told her, said Col.
I did, said Ulysses and everyone laughed.
Massimo and Jem came in with plates of crostini – chicken livers, anchovy, tomato – and placed them in the middle of the table between the candles. More bubbles were poured and Ulysses opened the wine for those whose craving was red. He held a bottle in front of Evelyn and she read the label: Carruades de Lafite. Pauillac.