Love was resplendent that day. And when the light was angled right across Piazza Santa Croce, one could almost believe that Dante smiled when he heard a young woman called Evelyn whisper to one called Livia, You are my teacher and my author.
The rapid progression from kissing to something more happened the night the reverend arranged a visit to the Teatro Verdi to watch a production of Spontini’s La vestale.
I’ve heard it’s as good as Covent Garden, he declared at breakfast one morning.
Evelyn knew the outing would fall on Livia’s night off, so both women agreed that Evelyn would leave at the end of the second act and Livia would be waiting somewhere nearby. In the dark. The subterfuge was dramatic enough. Who needed opera?
The orchestra tuned up, and Evelyn sidled along the third-tier row towards Miss Everly’s enthusiastic waving. Mr Collins hadn’t arrived yet either, and his empty seat enflamed the reverend’s ire. He was seated in the first tier, along with the Luggs and the Browns and an American couple he’d saved in San Lorenzo, after they’d been cornered by a pack of feral cats. The audience was quite boisterous, and not like Covent Garden at all. And here came Mr Collins all flustered and surprisingly handsome. Sorry, sorry, sorry, he said as he made his way to his seat. You’re late, said Reverend Hyndesight. The sharpness of the last consonant was the cue for the gaslights to dim, and the overture began. Miss Everly clasped Evelyn’s hand and the women succumbed to the music.
After the first act, Evelyn and Miss Everly followed the crowds to the café and accepted a glass of champagne from a portly German who spoke good English. Miss Everly thought the soprano was jolly good and Evelyn agreed and then Evelyn leant in close to her ear and said, I’m going to feign a headache and leave at the end of act II, Miss Everly.
How marvellous! said Miss Everly. A romantic assignation?
Evelyn smiled.
Leave it to me, said Miss Everly. I shall take care of this.
So, when act II came to an end and Evelyn got up to leave, Miss Everly could be heard saying, She has an awful headache. A right old thumper. We might not see her for days, reverend.
The night air was fresh and Evelyn, head down, pushed through the waiting cabmen and their lascivious comments and raced towards her rendezvous. She hadn’t got very far before the rendezvous came to her and pulled her into a dark alleyway.
A warm mouth on hers, a broad wall at her back. Footsteps, somewhere, pressed them further into the shadows. A dog barked. A man singing from an upstairs window. Warm breath on her neck, in her ear, the recklessness of the situation made her brave. She slid her hand into Livia’s blouse and onto her breast. Livia clasped the hem of Evelyn’s skirt and drew it up. Livia’s hand slipped into her drawers and soon Evelyn felt the smooth glide of fingers inside her. The sound of a horse and cart going past. And then only the sensation of pleasure, as her mouth was smothered by a hand and her body turned liquid.
Undeterred by the Church, class and convention, sex between the young lovers favourably won out. They decided they’d need a protective cloak under which to hide their love, and they found one sharpish and called it ‘Italian lessons’。
Whatever afternoon or morning Livia had free became the framework for this study. Beyond that, brushed shoulders and looks of longing were the flint spark to this tentative bed of passion. Evelyn became quite the linguist.
Isn’t she a delicious little thing? said Miss Everly, as Livia passed by one morning with an armful of linen.
Evelyn blushed. An hour before, they’d just fingered one another in the closet.
She’s a jolly good teacher, said Evelyn. She’s already got me on the modals. Could and should.
And let’s not forget would, said Miss Everly.
Between silent kisses, verb declension could often be heard coming from Evelyn’s room. Sometimes the cockney signora would stop to listen, recalling her own intrepid years of learning. The reverend passed by her door full of admiration at ‘Miss Skinner’s enthusiasm and diligence’。 And Mr Collins? All he could do was shake his head and smile. As if he was party to a private joke he had no intention of sharing.
Back in the room, Evelyn’s notebook had been cast aside next to blouses and stockings and undergarments. The young women facing one another on the bed, topless, kissing, a light breeze through the shutters texturing their skin. All the while, Evelyn remembering to say out loud: The omnibus is due at ten. The omnibus was due at ten. The omnibus had been due at ten …
A few days later, Evelyn bought postcards at Alinari’s, intending to return to the pensione to write them. However, the morning suddenly shed its dull cloak, revealing an ensemble of bright wonder and, instantly energised, she took off into the city which was becoming more and more familiar every day. She would stop to smell an orange, or a bunch of basil, or to converse with whoever manned the till. In Piazza della Signoria, tourists had gathered at an outside bar and she immediately decided to do the same. A quick tour of the statuary and then back to a table to write her postcards. A horse and cart passed in front of her and she was careful not to follow too close behind.