'Yes. That will be fine.'
I kept listening after we said our goodbyes. I didn't like that word 'station', either. Her receiver went down without any special clicks full of ominous implications to an antique dealer like me. No special significance in the woman's voice, either, obviously just a young housewife doing multihanded domestic battle with her two riotous offspring.
Which in its way was as ominous as anything I had yet encountered since arriving in Rome.
I had bad news for Marcello. This rip needed Murph the Surf, not me. I cheered up and went out for a gander at the streets. It was high time other people started getting bad news, as well as me. Share and share alike, I always say.
* * *
You've never seen such neat shops as there are in Rome. I knew from Maria's relentless teaching that the shops shut for the afternoon and open again about four-thirty. They were just opening for their second rush.
I went down the Andrea Doria, a wide and pleasant street. You have to be an Olympic pole vaulter to get across safely but I made it. Two cups of caffe-latte with a cake columbe the size of a tram and I felt full of myself. Within one hour I'd be free of the rip, the whole bloody thing. I'd simply tell Marcello the Vatican was a fortress, protected by vigilant guards who were obviously wise in the ways of the horrible old world. Then, duty done, I would spend a few happy nights in this lovely city's museums and art galleries until my money ran out, then off home. What was impossible was impossible.
No two ways about it. I wandered on in a welter of relief. Even Arcellano would have to accept the obvious.
It was coming up to Easter. I'd never seen so many Easter things in my life. Shop interiors were hung all about with chocolate Easter eggs done in scintillating coloured papers, each egg decorated in a spray effect for all the world like a grenadier's badge.
And windows with a zillion chocolate shapes, chocolate baskets full of tiny eggs and little creatures doing their thing. You couldn't help but be fascinated. I saw one that I don't know to this day how it stayed upright, a giant floating dove cake in creams and puff pastry. Marvellous.
Marvellous, that is, until I saw old Anna struggling in the grip of the proprietor, her hand pointing imploringly at me and screaming blue murder.
'Nephew! Nephew! Enrico! He'll tell you the truth!'
I looked round. The old bat meant me.
Shoppers gathered instantly, volubly joining in and having a whale of a time explaining opinions.
'Are you her nephew?' the proprietor demanded.
'Yes! Yes!' Anna screamed, yelling it was all a misunderstanding which her nephew would account for. 'Enrico! Tell them!' Enrico, for Christ's sake?
'It's your auntie!' people informed me. I was pushed at Anna. Faces were everywhere.
A million voices were raised in tangled explanation as I looked about desperately for escape. And Anna was screeching and pleading, with the weary proprietor accusing Anna of stealing the things in her basket.
'Poor old woman!' people cried.
'Let my nephew explain!' Anna was bawling. She reached over and clutched at me. I could have strangled her.
'Hush! Let the nephew explain!' everybody babbled.
There was no way out. A horde of faces turned expectantly. I drew breath, trapped.
The trouble was, everybody looked so bloody nice and interested. If they hadn't I'd have scarpered in a flash— and I'd have got away, too. Nobody scarpers like Lovejoy Antiques, Inc.
'Yes?' the proprietor demanded.
Italy abhors a silence, so I started. 'I'm so sorry,' I said to the proprietor, casting a loving glance on Anna. There was no doubt in my mind the sinful old devil had half the shop in her basket and, seeing me contentedly sipping coffee, had hit on the notion of using me for cover. 'Yes. I'm her nephew. Hello, Auntie,' I smiled.
'There you are!' everybody exclaimed triumphantly. 'He is her nephew!' They told Anna I was her nephew, after all.
'I've been looking for you, Auntie,' I announced loudly, quickly beginning to get the hang of Rome talk. This was one thing Maria hadn't taught me: use gestures and keep going. If everybody else talks louder, use a few more decibels yourself. The system of alternates used where I came from—saying your bit in turn—is regarded hereabouts as surrender.
'You have?' Anna said, amazed despite herself.
'For two whole days,' I lied, embracing her. 'And here you are!'
'Yes! She is here!' the shoppers chorused.
'My poor auntie,' I bawled into the din, eyes misty, 'has been expecting me for Easter and wanted to give me a present, but she is poor—'
'Ah, how loving!'
'—but,' I thundered, 'proud!'
'Ah! How human!'
I had some of them in tears. The proprietor was glancing exasperatedly about. A strolling policeman across the street was looking across. One more problem I could do without.
'If there's any misunderstanding, I'll pay!' My yell gained instant approval, even scattered applause on the crowd fringes.
'She stole—' the proprietor tried loudly.
