AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I thought you’d never offer,’ Cecco says. With a certain amount of puffing and muttering, he lowers himself into the chair just as Totò hurries over.
‘Leave the poor girl to eat in peace,’ he says, earning a glare from Cecco. ‘Tori, just say if this old fart’s bothering you and I’ll move him on.’
‘It’s fine, really.’
‘See?’ Cecco says. ‘I’ll have the cacio e pepe as well, and a glass of white wine. Bring one for Tori, too. Unless you have important work to do this afternoon, madame writer?’
‘None at all,’ I say. ‘I’m having a day off.’
‘Make it a half-litre, then.’ He gives me a sharp look. ‘How’s the book coming on?’
‘Really well,’ I say. I almost tell him about finding Stella – it’s on the tip of my tongue, but of course I can’t. I already feel a little guilty about telling Marco. ‘I’m making good progress. You know, perpetuating the overblown cult of personality.’
Cecco snorts. ‘I suppose you know your market. God, we’re going to be overrun with tourists.’
‘And no bad thing,’ Totò cuts in. He fills my glass and Cecco’s before putting the carafe on the table between us. ‘I need the business. Your pasta’s almost ready,’ he tells Cecco, ‘so don’t you harangue me about it.’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Cecco retorts. ‘I’m a very well-mannered person.Cin cin.’ He raises his glass to me, and I toast back.
We sit in silence for a while. I finish my pasta and Cecco starts on his. It’s actually quite companionable, but something tells me he’s working up to saying something. Finally, he sits back and looks away from me, across the square.
‘I think,’ he begins, and clears his throat. ‘I think perhaps I seemed rather harsh when I spoke to you before. About Achille.’
He’s so obviously uncomfortable that I could almost laugh. In a nice way, of course. ‘I see. Do you want to retract your statement? Maybe make another one?’
‘Oh no. I meant what I said – I meant every word, and I’ll stand by it. It’s just… well, your grandmother loved him. He was important to her and of course he’s important to you, too.’ He shrugs. ‘You must have thought I was a bad-tempered, joy-killing old bastard.’
‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ I say. Cecco turns to look at me, and I quickly clamp my napkin to my mouth to hide my smile.
‘I’m being serious,’ he says, with an air of wounded dignity.
‘I know. And look, I appreciate it. It’s good to have a different view. In fact, it’s going to make the book much better.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course,’ I say – and I’m not even being diplomatic, because it’s true. ‘Achille was such a big charismatic personality, and he’s dead, so people only remember the good stuff. Or that’s all they’ll admit to remembering. Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to find someone who says:well, personally, I didn’t like the guy all that much?Besides,’ I add, ‘conflict makes great copy. Readers love a bit of drama.’
‘Oh.’ Cecco’s fiddling with his napkin. He seems to be processing. ‘So it’s good that I told you about all that.’
‘Absolutely. It’s great material.’
‘In a way,’ he says, puffing up a little, ‘you could even say that I did you a big favour.’
‘You did,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you did.’
*
By my calculation, I get back to Florence at least an hour before Marco’s train should come in. But as I approach the house, fishing for my keys, I see him sitting at a table outside Bar Dianora and looking towards me. Looking for me. His face lights up, and I feel a rush of joy and anxiety and I don’t know what else. He stands and opens his arms and I go to him, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing him in.
‘Tori,’ he says. ‘Tori, thank God.’
‘You heard, then,’ I manage to say.
‘Elisa told me all about it. I can’t believe that asshole. Thank God you’re safe,’ he says, and his arms tighten around me.
I have to ask. I can’t not ask. ‘And Chiara, did she…?’
‘Oh, I heard from Chiara.’ Marco’s voice is dry. ‘I’m sorry she reacted like she did. She made a few wrong assumptions, to say the least.’
