‘That’s right, Alessio,’ Elena said. ‘Francesca will always take care of you. She’ll put your needs ahead of her own.’ Alessio didn’t seem to notice the thinly veiled sarcasm, or if he did, he was too polite to show it.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to deal with that situation,’ he said to Francesca. ‘Thanks for the morning tour. And the pasticciotto. I might see you around later. Good luck with lunch service.’ He collected his shopping and nodded his farewell.
‘Ciao, Alessio!’ Francesca returned, while Maria blew him kisses and resumed singing his praises as a beautiful muscular man.
Once they heard the upstairs door leading to the apartment balcony open and close, Elena said, ‘Tell me, Francesca, do you think of this man as some kind of pawn in a chess game?’ She caught Francesca’s shoulders and spun her around so they were eye to eye.
Francesca shrugged herself free. ‘It’s not like that, Mamma. I’m just trying to get to know him. I want him to be able to trust me.’
‘Trust you, or fall in love with you?’
Francesca’s face dropped. ‘Are you serious, Mamma? I can’t believe you just said that!’
‘The little tour. The smiles. The laughter. The lunch on the terrazzo. And what’s this about a pasticciotto?’
‘I’m being polite, Mamma! He’s a guest!’
‘You never carry on with our other guests like this. You’re acting like a hormonal teenager!’
At this, Maria stood and waggled a finger at Elena. ‘You could use a fresh batch of hormones. Something to perk you up! You’re a miserable woman these days. Leave the poor girl alone. If she wants to sleep with him, then she should!’
‘Nonna!’ Francesca dropped to a squat and rested her forehead on the tops of her knees. ‘What a mess!’
‘Francesca, you can’t keep going like this. You need to tell Alessio about the festa.’
‘I know. I just can’t yet!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, because . . . it’s not that straightforward. He’s . . . It could be a big deal for him. I need to respect that.’
Elena began pacing, the volume of her voice rising. ‘Respect? Please! You have no respect for this man at all! Look what you’ve done to him! Without his consent or knowledge!’
‘Mamma, please!’
‘Francesca, you need to tell him. By tonight. Or else I will!’
Francesca bolted to standing, her hands reaching for Elena’s, pleading to her to see reason. ‘No! Don’t do that! You need to stay out of it. I’ll tell Alessio.’
Then a voice from behind made them fall silent. ‘Tell me what?’
dieci
Alessio peered over the serving ledge as he reached for his sunglasses. ‘I forgot these. What’s going on? Have I missed something?’ He hadn’t understood all the Italian, but he had definitely got the gist of that last line.
‘Caro Alessio, you have missed so much. Indeed.’ Alessio noted a distinct shift in Elena’s persona. Her sickly sweet smile had been replaced by a look of loss, or disappointment. She flapped her hands in front of her as if trying to work out what needed to be said next.
But Alessio’s attention quickly flicked to Francesca, who stood behind her mother, with Maria’s arms wrapped around her middle. ‘Francesca, what do you need to tell me?’
He watched her swallow nervously, and eventually her gaze rose to meet his. ‘I’m so sorry, Alessio. I didn’t mean to . . . It was before I knew . . .’
‘Sorry for what?’
He noted Elena taking a few steps back, her hands now folded under her arms. ‘Tell him, Cesca. You’ve made the mess.’
‘I . . . uhm . . . ok . . .’ She stepped forward and began pacing and turning on the spot. ‘Remember on Sunday, after you arrived, I left you in the apartment because I said there was a town meeting on? About a festival?’
‘Yes.’
