“Was Montemagno part of Lucca?” I ask, batting a fly off my polo shirt. I notice that Callum has finished his fruit and is sitting up, listening.
“It was. But it often came under attack from Pisa. Both states wanted to control the castle because it overlooked the Via Francigena.”
Mabel spits a cherry stone into her hand. “What’s that?”
Theo and I flash each other a smile.
“It was an ancient route for trade and pilgrims,” answers Luisa. “It ran all the way from Canterbury in England down to Rome.”
“That’s actually sick,” acknowledges Callum.
I’m about to translate but realize Luisa must understand because she’s smiling. “We know there was a major battle in 1242,” she continues, handing round more fruit, “because that’s when the castle was destroyed.”
“Oh, no, so we lost?” says Archie. Now that his mouth is empty, I notice that his adult teeth have started to come through in the gap at the front.
“We lost, I’m afraid,” confirms Luisa. “But that’s pretty much all we know—which is why we have to keep digging!”
Once we’ve finished dessert, the kids go back to playing with the kittens. This was Luisa’s plan to soften them up: her cat Camilla has three kittens that have just turned five weeks old. There are two girls and a boy and they’re gray and white, unbelievably fluffy, and make a cute little squeaking sound. And she was right: they do have a soothing effect on the kids. Mabel coos and giggles in a way I’ve never heard before. Archie shows previously hidden capabilities of being soft and gentle. Even Callum has a tickle and a cuddle, until Stefano offers to connect him to their Wi-Fi and he switches to flicking through his phone.
“Do you have any pets in Manchester?” Luisa asks.
Theo shakes his head. “The kids always wanted a cat or a dog. …” He stops.
“Our mum’s allergic to pet hair,” fills in Mabel, stroking a kitten with each hand.
“Dad, can we keep one?” asks Archie, scratching a kitten’s stomach. “Can we take it home?”
Theo slips off a loafer and starts massaging his foot. “I only have a little flat, squirt. And the kittens have all this lovely countryside here.”
“Iknow!” says Archie. “How about we keep one here, in Adam’s house?”
Theo frowns and slides his shoe back on. “We’re only here forthe summer. And I don’t think these kittens are ready to be taken away from their mum.”
We all look at Camilla, who’s stretched out on the concrete, licking her paws, glancing up every now and then to check on her young.
“Where’s their dad?” asks Mabel. I notice that she’s pushed her hair behind her ears so the kittens can’t claw at it, but she doesn’t seem self-conscious.
Luisa shrugs. “In the animal world, dads don’t always raise their young. Once they’ve mated with the mother, they tend to leave.”
I wince, in expectation of a criticism of Theo. It doesn’t come.
“Where areyourkids?” Archie asks Luisa.
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry,” says Theo. “He can be a bit blunt sometimes.”
“It’s OK,” insists Luisa.
“We do not have any children,” answers Stefano, standing up to slosh more wine in our glasses.
“Why not?” persists Archie.
Luisa gives a sigh. “I suppose when Mother Nature was creating me, she made a little mistake.”
And just like that, I’m ten years old again, watching a TV debate in which a Tory MP said gay men were mistakes, evidence of nature misfiring.
“Not necessarily,” pipes Mabel. “The planet’s overpopulated so people who can’t have children could be part of nature’s plan.”
