‘Did I? I didn’t realise.’ She added quickly, ‘Tell me about your family.’
‘My mother’s dead, my dad’s remarried, and they don’t really want to know. My mother’s mother is still alive, but Dad quarrelled with her when Mum died. He said she kept interfering, and wouldn’t let her visit us.’
‘Then you’re going to need some help, and that’s why I’m here.’
She took over, arranging to pay the girl an allowance, and practically ordering her to leave work with a firmness that afterwards made her blush to recall. Luckily Gina recognised the good will behind the ruthless organisation, and was only too ready to do as she was told.
Della went home feeling happier, although slightly shocked at herself.
Bossy, she thought as she looked out at the lights on the river that night. I arrange things for people without asking how they feel.
And I never saw it until now, she added wryly to herself.
The year was moving on, and the work at Pompeii was coming to an end. Now Carlo was there at all hours, going back to his apartment to sleep, then rising early to get to work next morning. One afternoon he looked up to find Ruggiero staring at him with a baffled expression on his face.
‘What is it?’ Carlo asked.
‘I’m trying to recognise you. What have you done to your hair?’
‘Cut it off,’ Carlo said, rubbing his scalp self-consciously.
‘But why so short?’
‘It was an accident,’ Carlo said defensively. ‘I spilt some goo on one side and it wouldn’t wash out, so I had to cut it off, and then I had to cut off the other side, too.’
‘And you did it yourself, by the look of it.’
‘I was in a hurry.’
‘So that’s why you haven’t been home for ages. You can’t face Mamma.’
‘Not at all. I just don’t want to give her a fright. I thought I’d let it grow a bit first.’
‘Get your things and come with me.’
‘Where?’
‘First to a barber, so that he can make you look human again. Then your apartment, so that you can shower and get presentable. Then we’ll have a night out. You look like a man with an urgent need to get drunk.’
‘Let’s go.’
Many hours later, as the Villa Rinucci was preparing to close down for the night, Toni suddenly grew still and cocked his head towards the door. ‘Can I hear singing?’
They both listened, and Hope said with wry amusement, ‘I think it’s meant to be singing, anyway.’
The next moment their twin sons appeared in the doorway, supporting each other.
‘Good evening,’ Ruggiero declaimed tipsily.
‘Who’s that with you?’ Hope demanded, staring. ‘Good grief!’
‘It really is Carlo,’ Ruggiero said. ‘Although it doesn’t look like him.’
‘You didn’t drive home like this?’ Hope demanded, aghast.
‘No, we took a cab,’ he said, adding as an afterthought, ‘Both ways.’
‘So you went out knowing that you were going to get disgustingly drunk?’ Toni enquired with mild interest.
‘That was our intention,’ Ruggiero agreed.
‘Well, you might have taken me with you.’
‘Next time, Poppa, I promise.’
‘Stop talking nonsense,’ Hope said, trying to sound stern. ‘Sit down before you fall down.’
They made it at far as the sofa before Carlo collapsed and lay sprawling, his shirt open at the throat, his head thrown back, dead to the world.
Hope regarded him for a moment, trying to see the perfect picture of a happy playboy, as had happened so often before. But her mind went back to the night not so long ago when he’d slept on this very sofa after a party. That had been a man living life to the full. This was a man seeking oblivion.
Looking up, she saw the same memory in Ruggiero’s eyes. A silent question passed between them, and he shook his head.
In early December the weather became much colder, and sometimes Della could barely make out the river through the rain.
She began to look forward to Christmas, when she would see Sol again and hear how his time at college was progressing.
She had become good friends with Gina, accompanying her to the clinic whenever she could, and helping her become reconciled with her grandmother. Now she had gone to spend Christmas with the old lady, and Della was alone.
She made a point of going out in the evenings. In this way she could tell herself that she was dating again, and had put Carlo behind her, but the truth was that her ‘dates’ were usually with men who were dealing with her professionally. Often there were four in the party.
One night in December she came home to find a light on in the boat.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, as she boarded and Sol appeared. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been thrown out?’
‘No, no-it’s not as bad as that,’ he said, in a soothing tone that made her heart sink. ‘They just suggested that I come home for Christmas a few days early, to cool off.’
‘Off from what?’
‘Well, a group of us made merry. Only we had a bit too much and it turned into a fight, and-well, the police were called-’
His shrug implied that it was all a storm in a teacup, and he topped it off with a sheepish smile, designed to charm her out of making a fuss. It had worked so often before, but now she saw him through different coloured lights. He was no longer a boy but a grown man, always seeking the easy way.
‘I think I’d better call the head of your college-’
‘But I’ve told you what happened-’
‘Yes, and he’ll tell me what really happened. Don’t take me for a fool, Sol.’
His look of surprise said clearly enough that this hadn’t been a problem before. Her eyes warned him not speak.
‘You’d better go to bed now, and tomorrow I’ll let you know where you stand with me. Right now I’m not sure.’
This time he actually gaped.
When he’d gone to bed she sat up, brooding.
She knew that since returning to college Sol had continued to be extravagant, despite his good resolutions, but she guessed that now things were even worse. He’d accepted it as normal when she’d taken responsibility for his child. She had spoiled him all his life, damaging him in the process.
And only one person had seen it.
Carlo had known how to deal with Sol. He hadn’t got heavy. He’d simply been quietly implacable, and the young man had backed down in the face of authority.
I wish he was here now, she thought. I could do with his advice.
Next day she made the call and learned the worst.
‘The principal says you’re a big disappointment,’ she told Sol later. ‘A lurid social life, and doing as little work as possible. That’s it! I’m cutting off your funding. You get a job, and from now on you support yourself.’
‘But I’m good for nothing,’ he said, trying to charm her again.
‘That’s the truest thing you ever said. But even good-for nothings can work. Get a job as a road-sweeper if you have to, but get a job.’
‘Hey, Mum, don’t give me orders. I’m not a kid.’
‘As long as you’re living off me, you are a kid. You want to be a man-earn a living.’
He gulped.
They entered into edgy negotiations. Now he had to take her seriously, as though something warned him that she’d really changed. His master stroke was to go out and get a job delivering parcels, then work himself into the ground.
