I lead Francesco to my favourite place to picnic, past the hibernating rose bushes to a secluded corner, where the gleaming white statue of the Empress Elizabeth, like an ethereal goddess, sits staring at the water fountain, lost in melancholy thought.
‘Who is thisbella donna?’enquires Francesco, spreading his scarf on the frosty grass before her, and beckoning for me to sit down. ‘She look so sad.’
‘Francesco, meet my friend Sisi, wife of the Kaiser, Franz Josef. I come and visit her whenever I’m passing. She and I have quite a lot in common.’
‘Cosa?’
‘We both used to travel a lot, and we both had our hearts badly broken.’
‘The Kaiser, he was animbecille, Sisi,’ says Francesco, waggling his wrist at her.
‘She’s not too keen on Italians, I’m afraid.’
‘Perché? Why? We are not all Romeos.’
‘No?’
He gives me a playful clip.
‘Maybe not, but she was murdered by one,’ I continue.
‘A dangerous race,’ he says, solemnly shaking his head.
‘Thanks for the warning,il postino,’ I say through a mouthful of hotdog.
‘Mr and MrsPuccini!’ comes a familiar transatlantic drawl behind us.
Jeez. It’s them – our American friends.
‘Buongiorno!’ says Francesco, leaping to his feet and shaking their hands.
‘Hi,’ I murmur, giving a feeble wave.
‘Did you enjoy the opera?’ asks Francesco.
‘To be honest, and no offence to your great-grandfather, but we couldn’t understand a word, could we, Bob?’
Bob openshis mouth to speak, but is cut off by his wife.
‘And it was way too long,’ she continues, pointing her camera at Sisi. ‘Do you know anything about this statue?’
‘Allora…’ begins Francesco.
‘Darling, look at the time,’ I say, in an attempt to rescue another potentially farcical situation. ‘Plane to catch,’ I say with a weak smile, hastily gathering up our stuff.
‘Oh, we thoughtyou said you came by bicycle …’
* * *
Sono andati? Fingevo di dormire
Have they left us? I was not really sleeping
perché volli con te restare.
because I wanted to be alone with you.
Ho tante cose che ti voglio dire,
