Ulysses gave the kid a coin for the jukebox. This one’s for Pete, she said. Ella Fitzgerald, ‘My One and Only’。
Pete lit a cigarette and made them listen to the piano accompaniment. Hear that? he said. Ellis Larkins, he said, and he played note for note across the make-believe keys. Michele came out from behind the counter.
Signor Temper, he said quietly. Telefono.
For me? said Ulysses and he sidled out and followed Michele to the bar.
Moments later he returned.
What’s up? said Cress.
That was Peg.
Peg? they said in unison.
She’s coming, said Ulysses.
Comin’？ Where?
Here.
Here?
Tomorrow. They’re in Rome.
They?
Her and Ted.
Oh, not bleedin’ Ted, said Col.
On their way to Venice.
You’re gonna have to play it cool, said Pete.
Never been good at that, Pete.
Me neither, Temps. Don’t know why I said it. I’ll get the drinks in. And he got up and ordered a round of biciclette.
Kid looked worried. She leant over to Ulysses and said, Why’s Peg coming, Uly? and he said, To see you, of course! And kid smiled bright. She staying with us, Uly? No, kiddo, not this time. （He kept it light but couldn’t look her in the eye.） You staying with us, Peg?
No. Ted wants to stay in the place on the corner.
The Bandini?
That’s the one. A friend of a friend of a friend stayed there.
That’s some recommendation, Peg.
She laughed.
（PAUSE.）
Wish you were staying with us, he added.
Yeah. But you know Ted.
I don’t really, said Ulysses. We had room for you, Peg.
I didn’t know.
You should’ve asked. Kid would’ve loved it.
Will she be pleased to see me?
You don’t know how much.
The following afternoon, the temperature dropped, and the sky tinged yellow and threatened snow. Ulysses blew on his hands and adjusted his scarf, waiting by the fountain in the fading light like a big old muggins. Col’s words, of course. But he couldn’t help himself. He was excited to see Peg, truth be told, and that excitement was the only thing keeping the fug of a hangover at bay. He looked at his watch. Not long now, he was sure. The front door opened, and kid came running out. Changed my mind, she said.
Frankie Lane’s ‘I Believe’ blared out from Michele’s. Kid and Ulysses sang along. A car appeared in the square, the thick chug of its exhaust emphasised by the chill air. Ulysses squeezed the kid’s hand, but the car wasn’t a taxi and it kept on through into Via Mazzetta.
I thought that was her, she said.
Me too, he said.
Funny we thought the same thing.
Kid began to dance to keep warm. You should try it, she said. OK, I will, he said.
Peg and Ted said little in the taxi. How could they go to Rome and Venice and not stop in Florence? Ted’s little game. Look at the light, said Peg as they crossed the river. It’s just light, said Ted, re-reading his three-day-old newspaper.
Ten minutes later, the taxi rolled into Santo Spirito and came to a stop outside Palazzo Guadagni. Bare trees and Christmas lights and a glowing church and the perfect symmetry of buildings. And in the middle, a man and a kid dancing by a fountain in the warm pink of dusk. The man and child were laughing, heat from their breath fogging. They looked happy and that’s all Peg needed to see. She could sleep now, might even be able to forgive herself. She should’ve left it at that, should’ve told the taxi driver to keep on going, but all of a sudden, the kid and the man stopped dancing and turned towards her. The man pointed and waved. Ted paid the taxi driver and said, We’re not eating with them tonight. Peg opened the car door. You hear me? said Ted. Yeah yeah, she said.
The air was sharp on her nostrils. Woodsmoke and garlic and something grubby. She smoothed her stockings and climbed out, wrapped her fur coat tight around her. She waved and the kid ran towards her and the kid was all Eddie. Those eyes, that mouth, that hair. Peg knelt down to greet her but really it was to stop herself from falling.
Clack clack clack across the square. Peggy’s tune. She was coming towards him. Hips swaying, arm swinging, fag in her rouged mouth. Other hand clasping the kid. A familiar twinge in Ulysses’ guts. Ted left behind on the pavement with the suitcases, pissed off that Peg had moved away （without asking his permission）。 Ulysses went towards her. She threw away her cigarette. The bells from the basilica began to ring.
They for me? she said.
Who else? he said. Cost me an arm and a leg to set that up. I’m still reeling from the amputation.