“Yeah. Do you not know them?”
“I wave to them on the road but not really. I only live up the hill but we might as well be in different worlds.”
I nod. “So how did you meet Wilf?”
She twists her gold watch around her wrist. “It was shortly after Edgar and I moved in. I spotted him one day, painting at the side of the road. As you’ve seen, I’m very interested in art, so I went over and introduced myself and we chatted. Of course, Willie pretended he was living with his ‘friend’ but I saw through that straight away. Being an air hostess, I was used to being around gay men. My gaydar was as sharp as a stiletto.”
I chuckle. “From what I can make out, he and Arnaldo were very private.”
She takes another swig of her drink. “They were, darling. And Willie was suspicious of me at first. I could tell he was holding back. But I told him stories about going out on the gay scene in San Francisco and Sydney. I remember telling him about trying to find the toilet in a bar and ending up in the dark room—but I didn’t leave till I’d flicked on my lighter so I could check out what was on offer.”
I roar with laughter. I look over to check the kids aren’t listening but they’re engrossed in their game.
“Willie loved that story,” Angelika says. Then her smile falls. “Edgar was used to gay men, too, as he had a gay brother. But he died of AIDS. When I first met Willie that was all very recent. It was terrible, such an awful way to go.”
I run my fingers up and down the stem of my glass. “I’ve heard it was really grim.”
She nods and lights another cigarette. “I lost a lot of friends, but Edgar was extremely close to his brother. The first time I persuaded Willie and Arnaldo to come here for drinks, he burst into tears. But it was probably a bonding moment for us. I think Willie and Arnaldo could see we understood something of the challenges they’d faced.”
Mabel walks past us and drops the key down the back of the steps to the pool. “On your marks, get set, go!”
There’s a huge splash as the boys jump in.
“So did they go through a lot?” I ask. “Wilf and Arnaldo?”
Angelika drags on her cigarette. “They had a terrible time.”
As Callum and Archie try to find the key, Mabel hovers by our table, her arms crossed, shielding her boobs.
“Was this when Wilf first came to Italy?” I press.
She nods. “And for a long time afterwards. That’s why they used to tell people they were friends. They even set up a decoy bedroom, in case anyone came to the house.”
I take another sip of my drink. “Which one was that?”
“The one in the cottage on the side.”
“That’s where we’re sleeping!”
She gives a wicked grin. “How appropriate. That is, assuming sleep isn’t all you do in there.”
I don’t like to tell her we haven’t had sex this summer.
Angelika tips back the rest of her drink. “Anyway, despite their efforts, the news got out and there was a hideous scandal—down in the village but also in Camaiore. People spat at them in the street and shopkeepers refused to serve them.”
“God, that’s hideous,” I say. I turn to Mabel. “Did you hear that? Angelika just answered your question.”
She smiles, but Callum has found the key, so she jumps back in the water.
“At the time, Wilf was trying to find a job as an English teacher,” Angelika continues, blowing smoke over her shoulder. “But there was no way any school would employ him. And people refused to do business with Arnaldo. He’d set up his own company but it fell apart within a few years.”
“So what did they do for money?” I ask.
Angelika takes one last drag on her cigarette and stubs it out. “Willie found part-time work teaching English to adults at a night school in Lucca, and he gave a few private lessons. People were more accepting in the city. He was still working when I met him, although he stopped a few years later, once he qualified for hispension. They kept their heads above water but they never had much.”
“Were they happy, though?”
Angelika serves us another drink. “Very much so. Especially when it was just the two of them at home.”
