The Runaway Visitors (13 page)

‘Oh, isn’t it hot?’ cried Amanda.

‘I told your sister and brother,’ said Giorgio, ‘that it was too hot to walk the lanes this afternoon, so I brought them back on my way to Firenze.’

‘All squeezed together in the cab in front,’ laughed Amanda. Victoria guessed that Amanda was in the middle and that that had pleased her.

‘I’d have ridden in the back,’ said Sebastien, ‘only it had had pig food in it. ’

‘Do sit down, Giorgio,’ said Victoria. ‘You have time for a cup of something with us?’ For she knew that he did not drink tea.

‘I do not have time really,’ Giorgio told her, seating himself comfortably. ‘A cold drink, if that is possible.’

They all wanted a cold drink, except Victoria who preferred her tea. She went to the kitchen to see about it.

‘All right,’ said Miss Jameson, ‘I’ll bring it out,’ and Victoria had learned that it was best not to protest to Miss Jameson but to agree with whatever she suggested. She went back to the terrace, where Amanda was speaking Italian with Giorgio.

‘You know,
signorina,
this sister of yours is
very
good,’ Giorgio said. ‘ She is very quick to learn and has the good accent. She will speak the Italian much better than I speak the English. ’

‘That’s because you’re such a good teacher, Giorgio,’ said Amanda, and he laughed at her and aimed an affectionate blow at her chin, which she ducked, laughing. Victoria reflected that she could not remember any time when Amanda had been so consistently good-tempered and approachable. At home she seemed always to be in the sulks about something or other. Victoria hoped it could last, but had an uncomfortable feeling that it all depended on Giorgio.

Miss Jameson came out with the tray and Sebastien immediately sprang up to take it from her. There was tea for Victoria, lemonade for Amanda, and scones for everybody. ‘I brought ice-cold lager for you, Giorgio,’ she said, ‘and I suppose you wouldn’t object to the same, Sebastien?’

Sebastien was pleased at this promotion from lemonade to lager. He said affectionately, still standing by the tray beside Miss Jameson:

‘Bless you, Jeanie, that’s just the job.’

The others expected the sky to fall. Sebastien himself was looking at Miss Jameson half in apprehension, half daringly. She eyed him sternly.

‘I’ll thank
you
to use a little respect, you impudent ragamuffin,’ she said, and turned and went back to her kitchen. On the terrace, they all looked at each other in astonishment.

‘Oh, there’s no doubt about it, you’ve got on the right side of Miss Jameson,’ Victoria said to her brother.

‘It’s the famous Fenn charm,’ Sebastien said complacently.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Giorgio quite seriously, ‘you are a charming family.’

This embarrassed them and reduced them to silence, until Victoria, seeking for something to break it, said:

‘Not everybody finds us charming, not by a long shot.’ And the others immediately backed her up, saying:

‘Gosh, no, remember the Inneses . . .’

‘And Aunt Catherine getting stiffer and stiffer every day . . .’ ‘And those awful Hunter-Keys . . .’

‘And the General sulking about his Labradors . . .’

‘We had some
awful
times,’ said Sebastien.

‘If it was always like this! This is the best yet,’ said Amanda. Giorgio was completely lost now. He had no idea what they were talking about, so he finished his lager and said he had to get to Firenze.

‘My friends are talking about another party,’ he said. ‘The last one was a success, no?’ ‘But we ought to have it here. It’s our turn,’ Victoria insisted.

‘Oh yes! There’s room to dance on this terrace,’ Amanda supported her.

‘And we could have a buffet—something quite informal.’

‘ And perhaps we could have lights in the little garden with the fountain . . .’

‘Hey, hold on!’ said Sebastien. ‘Informal, remember.’

‘I’d have to ask Mr. Duncan’s permission,’ said Victoria, ‘but I’m sure it could be arranged. Perhaps we could even do it next Saturday?’

Giorgio departed, promising to find out how many of his friends would be available, leaving the Fenn family to their own thoughts on the terrace. Victoria, sipping her tea, now felt reasonably sure of Charles’s indulgence. Amanda, following Giorgio in her thoughts, could only remember how close together they had been in the cab of the truck, as he brought them back to the house, how handsome he was, how fond of her he seemed to be, patient with her efforts at Italian, generous with his compliments. She thought that Italian girls grew up quickly; that Italians did not think fourteen as young as English people did. She must talk to Victoria about some new clothes. Her jeans were fine, but her dresses were too young. Victoria would understand—she had bought make-up for her birthday, after all. Amanda went on dreaming her dreams.

Giorgio sent a message by Sebastien a day or so later that he had eight friends who would love to come to a party, and Victoria decided she would ask Charles’s permission before making any arrangements with Miss Jameson; so later that day, she returned to the studio where he was still working.

‘I’m not going to be a constant nuisance to you,’ she began, ‘but can I have a word with you?’

He glanced at her briefly and then back at his work, carrying on without a pause.

‘What is it?’ he asked as briefly. Victoria was taken aback. She knew he was absorbed, but it sounded like a rebuff.

‘I only wanted to ask your permission to have a little party here next Saturday. Giorgio Beltoni and a few of his friends.’

Charles did stop work then to turn and look at her. Victoria

hastened to explain.

‘We thought we would have dancing on the terrace. Giorgio would bring his record player. But we don’t want to disturb you with our noise.’

‘Well, I was planning to have a dinner party myself on Saturday.’

‘Then we’ll put it off,’ Victoria said at once, ‘because it
would
disturb you.’ She thought of those elegant friends of his, and the noise that their young fun-loving Italian friends would make.

‘I don’t mind in the least if you have a party,’ Charles said, ‘but it might be better not to have it on the same day; especially as I shall want you to be a guest at mine. ’

‘Me?’ Victoria was pleased and surprised, but then immediately remembered his last party, and her own dolefulness, and Charles saying to Margarita: ‘Our fair Victoria was in floods of tears because she hadn’t been invited.’ And she saw this as reparation more than any desire for her company, and she said with a return of her reserved manner: ‘ Please, Mr. Duncan, you don’t have to include me just because I’m staying here.’

‘Have no fear,’ said Charles, ‘that was not my reason. I’m being plagued by your young friend Giuseppe because he doesn’t see you in Firenze or at the places he goes to, and he is desperate to meet you again. So I asked him to the dinner party, promising that you would be there too. . . . But it can all be quite easily arranged. I’ll postpone mine, and you can have yours on Saturday. Giuseppe has waited this long, he can wait another few days.’

‘Isn’t that inconvenient for you?’

‘Not at all. ’

‘Well, if you’re sure . . .’

‘Quite sure. I’ll let you know the new date for the dinner when it’s settled. Now run along, Victoria, because I’m busy.’

She left the studio this time in quite a different mood. He was only going to ask her because Giuseppe was plaguing him. He thought of her in the same bracket, young, ingenuous. She had thought, for the briefest moment, of asking him to their party, but realised at once that it wouldn’t do. Her guests for Saturday were also too young for him; carefree, noisy. Victoria realised that her reason, and Charles’s, for not inviting each other were the same, from a reverse point of view: not exactly a generation gap, for there was not enough difference in their ages. Perhaps a halfgeneration gap. She sighed quite unconsciously as she went to find Miss Jameson to make arrangements.

In the event, this second party was also a great success. The young people poured on to the terrace and Giorgio fixed up the record player. The exuberant and extrovert nature of these young Italians banished any reserve that the Fenn family might feel, and almost at once they were dancing in their modern fashion.

Victoria had stressed the informal nature of this party so emphatically that even Miss Jameson had restrained herself regarding the supper, although the food was more varied and more delicious than at the farm. The terrace furniture had been taken down into the fountain garden, where a dozen candles in their tall coloured glasses had been set round at intervals. The man who worked in the garden had succeeded in making the fountain work, and the gentle splashing of the water added to the atmosphere created by the points of coloured light in the darkness. It proved to be a very popular spot, as couples sat and talked on the stone edge of the basin, or took their supper plates and their wine glasses down there. Several times, Victoria was complimented on making life more fun for the young people of the locality, but she had an idea they were good at making their own fun anywhere.

Certainly, Amanda and Sebastien were having a good time. Victoria had driven Amanda into Firenze to buy a new dress for this occasion, and with her hair flying round her head as she danced, and wearing her new make-up, Amanda looked her age for the first time. Victoria hoped her growing-up would not be too painful an experience.

Yet that very evening brought one of the first painful experiences for Amanda, for nobody could miss the fact that Giorgio was unusually attentive to Victoria. Amanda did not miss it. Pretending to help her with the entertaining, he was at Victoria’s side almost continuously, missing no opportunity of an arm about her shoulders, of leading her by the hand. True, he danced with Amanda too. He put his arm about Amanda’s shoulders, and once in an access of cheerful high spirits, he whirled her round with her feet off the ground. But he went with Victoria to the supper table and when they had loaded their plates and filled their glasses, they went down together into the fountain garden, leaving Amanda alone and jealous. She filled her plate and went down too, refusing to join them but sitting with some other people. And it did not escape her that Giorgio chose one of the darkest places, that he seemed to be speaking urgently and passionately to Victoria. Yet when, by delicate manoeuvring and with apparent indifference, she managed to get close enough to overhear what they were saying, she was quite astonished that Victoria was saying to Giorgio:

‘But you mustn’t encourage her, Giorgio. She’s so young and she misunderstands your affection.’

‘Victoria, she’s only a child.’

‘She isn’t such a child, Giorgio, she’s fourteen. She’s an adolescent, just at the most difficult age of all. Do be careful

Some other people passed and one of them looped an arm about Amanda, carrying her off with them to raid the supper table for a second time. She was quite furious. Victoria! Trying to spoil everything for her! Victoria was jealous, of course. He was the most handsome young man they had ever known, and the nicest and the gayest. Of course she would want him for herself. Pretending to be concerned about Amanda, indeed!

But she had missed the subsequent conversation which might have caused her even more heart-burning. For Giorgio was saying:

‘I am quite sure, Victoria, that nobody could make such a mistake, not even Amanda herself. It must be that everybody can see it is
you
who matters to me. I am fond of Amanda, for your sake. For me, she is the little sister of the girl I love. Yes, it
is
love. You must understand that. I love you, Victoria.’

Victoria was distressed and began to point out everything that was unreasonable about this love. She would be gone from here in a matter of two or three months, to a different life. Their circles were so wide apart. His parents would not like him to have anything to do with a foreign girl. There were all kinds of things that could be troubles.

‘I know all that,’ said Giorgio. ‘I know. I will meet them as they come. There is no hurry. Everything has a way of settling down; what is impossible one day doesn’t seem so impossible later on. I just want you to know that I love you. I want us to meet and get to know each other better. I want my family to know you better. You will see, troubles will disappear.’

‘What touching faith,’ said Victoria, but he saw no irony in her words.

‘Oh yes, I have faith in my stars,’ he said blithely.

At this moment, in the reflected light from the terrace, they saw Miss Jameson coming down the steps with an empty tray and lighting her way with a torch. She shone it round the fountain garden, discovering two other couples before she saw Giorgio and Victoria.

‘Come along, you two,’ she said brusquely. ‘Get some of these young people to bring back the empties. I’m running out of glasses and plates.’ For she refused to risk the best glass and china in the garden.

Immediately, they jumped up to do her bidding, calling to the others to come and help. They carried plates and glasses to the kitchen and Victoria found Sebastien there with a large apron round him, washing up. He had two Italian girl helpers, darkeyed merry girls, both plump and slightly in awe of Miss Jameson’s forbidding figure. Miss Jameson regarded everything with her usual detachment, but Victoria thought she probably noticed very much more than she appeared to. She would have been surprised to know that Charles would receive a report on the party when Miss Jameson took his breakfast next morning; surprised to know that Miss Jameson at times could enjoy a little gossip, just like ordinary mortals. She would say: