‘For Father’s Day. Yes, I know. 19 March, forla Festa di San Giuseppe.’ Stella sighed and caught a drip of ice-cream with her tongue.
‘We have a lot in common,no?’
‘Seems we do.’
‘Where’s yourmammanow?
‘Back home in Melbourne. She never really moved on. I know she has seen a few men here and there, but nothing serious. You know, no long-term partners. She’s happy, though. Keeps herself busy.’
‘She sounds like mypapà. He doesn’t want to find another partner. Just Mamma, forever.’
‘That’s very sweet. Do you still have yournonni? The ones you grew up with?’
‘No. Nonna Rosa and Nonno Salvatore died a few years ago. Two days apart, can you believe it? First Nonna, then Nonno. We say he died of a broken heart.’
That broke Stella. It was all too overwhelming. The combination of hearing of Marco’s loss, remembering her own and then the story of his grandparents. Perhaps living away from home was starting to take its toll on her. She suddenly felt very detached from her former life, and from her family.
‘Stella, don’t be upset.’ He offered her the napkin wrapped around his cone. ‘Here.’ She took it thankfully. ‘We were lucky to have them at all. That’s what I think.’
She nodded. Having lost her appetite, she was about to set her ice-cream down on the marble bench between them.
‘Ah,no.’ He signalled for her to give him the ice-cream. ‘Finito?’ She nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll finish it. It’s a sin to throw away gelato.’ From then on, he alternated between bites and licks of the two ice-creams.
Stella smiled up at him; he was a true gem. ‘Grazie,Marco.’
‘But of course.’ He smiled. ‘Let’s go back to the bar before we let too many other skeletons loose in the piazza.’
Stella stifled a giggle between sniffs. ‘Sure.’ Collecting her things, Stella looked up, taking in the sheer size of the Pantheon. It stood there, calming and steady, watching over the buzz of action in the piazza. ‘I know what I am going to start with today.’
‘Sì?’
Stella gestured to the enormous structure towering over them as they passed by. ‘The first instalment of the mural.’ She paused for a moment to take a few pics on her phone to use later. She captured the details of the columns, sure to recreate them as true to life as possible.
‘Perfetto.’
And it was.
Stella spent the rest of the afternoon perfecting the grey lead outline of her Pantheon on Bar Luna e Lupa’s wall. Once she was happy with it, she began the painstaking task of framing the depth, adding darker tones to the left-hand side. The right-hand side would be depicted as slightly illuminated by the light of the moon sitting up high in the corner. She mixed colours and played with textures until she was happy with the outcome. Stella became a source of entertainment for patrons in the bar, commenting and congratulating her on the incredible likeness. The immediate positive feedback gave her confidence a boost.
Thank all the Roman Gods for that. Phew.
Standing back, mixing palette in hand with paint streaked across her forehead, she was proud.Not bad, she thought. Once it had dried properly overnight, she would add the finer details to the Latin inscription which crowned the front façade. Deciding to tomorrow bring a headband to keep her fringe from her eyes, she began to pack up, swatting away a few loose strands that tickled her nose. Wrapping her palette and freshly rinsed brushes in cling film, she was almost ready to head home.
‘You’re finished,no?’ Marco asked from behind, drying his hands on his apron.
‘Yes, I’m so hungry. Time to call it a night.’
‘Why don’t we have some dinner nearby? We can finish the chat we started this morning?’ His eyes were hopeful.
The rumble in Stella’s stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch, and a hungry walk home wasn’t that appetising.
Worried about the time, she said, ‘Sure. Why not? But I can’t be too late.’
‘No problem. I’ll get my jacket.’
Marco disappeared for a moment, leaving Stella to send a quick text to Marcella and Vincent, letting them know she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Marcella replied with a hearty, ‘Buon appetito!’, whereas Vincent’s reply came as a warning: ‘Be careful.’
Be careful? Of what?
