Emma sighed.
“We’ve strayed off the subject, ladies. The question was: Is our man aware of what he’s doing, as Virginia claims, or is it rather a case of what one might call collateral damage?”
“I’ve always thought he was very like his father,” said Hortensia. “He was perfectly well aware of his effect on women.”
Miss Prim stopped eating, intrigued.
“You knew his father?”
“Of course,” replied the florist. “I’m one of the few residents of San Ireneo who lived here before the community was created.”
“What was he like?”
“A real swine, but an attractive swine, and he had class—attractive until you realized he was a swine.”
The librarian was curious.
“When you say he was a swine, what do you mean, exactly?”
“He was in the habit of abandoning his family. There was always another woman, but it never lasted long. That’s typical of men like that. I’ve known lots, and they never change. I suppose he loved his wife. She was a great beauty, and is still a handsome woman today. But that didn’t stop him going off with a different woman as soon as her back was turned. It was very painful for her. Very painful.”
“What about the children?”
“They suffered in a different way, because he was a very loving father. They suffered when their mother, who had had enough, decided not to take him back.”
Miss Prim recalled sitting beneath a camellia one icy evening as the old lady spoke bitterly of choosing between two paths.
“So that was it,” she whispered.
“It’s very difficult to judge in such situations. Many women would have done exactly the same; but the children adored their father and suffered hugely when they separated. She never relented, never let him back into her life, and she also made it difficult for him to see the children. He died alone and far away from all of them.”
Herminia stood up to put more logs on the fire.
“So, what do we conclude?” asked Virginia with a deep sigh. “Is our Man in the Wing Chair aware of his appeal, or is he entirely oblivious of the havoc he wreaks?”
They all stared expectantly at Prudencia, who smiled and then drained her third cup of tea.
“I’d say he has no idea,” she said softly. “And that, precisely, is his charm.”
5
Miss Prim had not expected to find it so difficult to say good-bye to the children. If anyone had predicted as much upon her arrival in San Ireneo, she’d have given a dismissive smile and a look that saidon your way.She’d never been especially inclined to glow with maternal tenderness at the sight of children. It wasn’t that she disliked them, but their charm would not be fully revealed until she was a parent herself and, even then, she would remain gratifyingly confined to her own offspring. Miss Prim was not one of those women who stop in the street to coo over babies, or strike up conversations with toddlers swinging from their parents’ hands in a cinema queue, or joyfully improvise ball games with lively throngs of schoolchildren. So she was shocked by how emotional she felt at the thought of leaving the four children she’d lived with for the past few months.
“Will we never see you again?” little Eksi asked after she had told them the news.
The four children were gathered around Miss Prim in the library, as solemn as a council of war.
She paused at length before replying.
“Neveris rather a strong word. Who knows what might happen? Maybe we’ll see one another again sooner than you think. Maybe you’ll go to Italy to study Bernini and Giotto and we’ll meet there.”
The children looked doubtful, so she went on.
“Imagine you’re going to visit the Basilica of St. Francis, for instance. Do you know where that is?”
“In Assisi,” replied Teseris from the aged ottoman.
“That’s right,” said the librarian brightly, “it is in Assisi. Imagine you’re there to see Giotto’s frescoes. You walk through the Upper Basilica, overawed by the beauty of the walls and ceilings decorated with scenes from the life of Il Poverello, and as you’re engrossed in admiring the paintings, you hear a familiar voice behind you say...”
