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19
‘Her own bathroom? On a boat?’
There is nothing more delicious than your sophisticated older sister being impressed by what you’ve seen. Usually, after a long night’s work, the last thing she wants to do is sit up and talk. But Donatella is bolt upright in bed, sheet over her knees, white cotton nightdress, brushing her hair as she pumps her for information.
Mercedes nods. ‘But also,’ she says, ‘she has a wardrobe you can walk into.’
‘On a boat?’
‘And it’s full. Completely full. She hasn’t just brought a suitcase. She says it gets changed out every season.’
‘Completely?’
‘Completely.’
‘Oao.’ Donatella’s mouth hangs open. She tips a drop of olive oil onto her palm from the little decanted bottle that lives by her bedside, runs it over the bristles of the brush, continues to groom. ‘And what happens to the old ones?’
She hadn’t asked. She’d been too busy gazing at the summer dresses her new friend had carelessly pressed into her hands. Fine, heavy cotton. One white with watermelons. One green, with orchids. And a shift made of some unbelievably soft, light material, in a rich magenta purple. The cotton dresses are cut far too low and the shift is obscenely short, but she’s sure her mother will think of some way to adapt them. You never turn down a gift on La Kastellana.
‘I don’t know,’ she says.
‘God, you’re so lucky,’ says Donatella. ‘I can’t believe you got so lucky. And I can’t believe she pissed on you.’
‘Don’t tell Mama.’
‘Sure,’ says Donatella, ‘I’m going to tell Mama you were looking at some girl’s minge. So what was he like?’
‘Who?’
‘The father.’
She’s not sure what to answer. She’s not sure what she thinks. He was welcoming enough, this man. All smiles and treats. Go on, Mercedes. The best chocolate in the world. Chef flies them in from London. The filling is made with fresh cream and he has to store them in the fridge. These little macarons? From Paris. Rosewater. What do you think? Good, eh? And all the time he fed her, she felt as though she was being tested. That there was some agenda she didn’t understand. As if he was being watched.
‘Friendly,’ she says.
‘But?’
Oh, how did you get so smart? ‘I’m not sure I like him,’ she confesses.
‘Well, I don’t suppose you have to. It’s the girl you want to be friends with.’
Mercedes thinks. ‘True.’
‘So what else did you do?’
‘Watched TV,’ she replies airily, as though watching TV were an everyday experience.
‘TV? On a boat?’
Mercedes bounces a little. ‘A huge TV! Like, the size of the wall! And she has one in her cabin, too! Imagine!’
‘But how do they … ?’
There is no TV where they live. No money. No signal.
‘That … you know that thing on the top? The thing that looks like a huge plate?’
Donatella nods.
