Livia.
They were greeted by the Contessa herself. Dark-haired, with hooded black eyes like her eldest son, she wore a pale-blue fitted dress over her surprisingly plump figure, and a large straw hat.
‘Luisa, my dear, how lovely to see you. It was fortunate, when you rang last night, that we had room for you. You were originally supposed to come next week.’
‘I know,’ said Luisa, ‘and I do apologise, Alessandra, but I couldn’t bear to wait any longer… the heat, the war, the rationing…’ She paused nervously.
‘I understand, of course,’ said the Contessa, inspecting the motley group. ‘And you are all most welcome. And little Livia is here too – how delightful, and how you have grown, my dear.’
Alberto hovered in the background, shuffling slightly. He had known the Contessa all her life, having been in the army with her father.
‘Alberto,’ the Contessa began, taking the old man’s hand. ‘Luisa didn’t mention you were coming.’ She left the comment hanging in the air.
‘Oh…’ said Luisa nervously. ‘I hope it’s all right. I couldn’t leave him alone in the villa – the servants, you know, they are absolutely useless.’
The Contessa smiled graciously. ‘I’m sure we’ll find somewhere for everyone; do please come with me.’
A servant gathered up their luggage and they were shown to a set of elegant bedrooms on the first floor, all with a distant view of the sea.
Clearly, ‘finding somewhere’ was not the problem the Contessa had implied, Livia thought, as she threw open the turquoise shutters. She sat for a while on the edge of the windowsill, admiring the tranquil, inviting water in the distance. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Cosimo. While he was fighting for his life, she was here, surrounded by this luxury and comfort. Unable to reconcile her guilt, she resolved to try to enjoy herself. She hung up her few clothes in the wardrobe and changed into a pale yellow summer dress.
When she came out onto the landing, intending to go downstairs, she could hear the Contessa, standing below her in the hall, complaining to her husband. ‘Not only are they here a week early, but she’s brought her father-in-law! He’s the most awful old man.’
Livia coughed quietly and the Contessa looked up. ‘Livia, how lovely you look! Do come down, dear. Join us on the terrace.’
She led the way through the comfortable house, past sofas upholstered in turquoise linen. The terrace overlooked a lush garden, and was arranged with cane chairs.
‘A Campari, Livia?’ The Count, Vicenzo’s father, was standing next to a large table laid out with bottles in all shapes and sizes. He was tall and slender like his children, his silver hair slicked back over his tanned forehead.
‘Thank you,’ said Livia uncertainly, for she had never tasted one.
‘Are the children expected?’ Luisa asked, settling into one of the cane chairs. The ‘children’ were, of course, the Contessa’s three adult children – Vicenzo, Raffaele and Luciana. But to Luisa, who had known them all since birth, they remained permanently infantilised.
‘I’m not sure,’ said the Contessa. ‘I think Vicenzo might join us for a day or two. He is filming in the north, you know, in Ferrara. Raffaele and Luciana will come later in the season.’
Giacomo left early the next morning, explaining he had to get back to his work. But he promised to return the following Saturday and collect his family.
Livia kissed him goodbye on the steps of the villa. ‘I’m not sure they really want us here,’ she said.
‘I know,’ said Giacomo. ‘The Contessa is a tricky old thing, but she and your mother have known each other for a long time – it will be all right. I had a word with her and explained how very tense your mother is. She’ll be able to relax here, and you’ll have fun. The house is comfortable, the sea is warm, and they have lots of food!’ He laughed. ‘Try to enjoy it, darling.’
Alberto spent the next few days sitting quietly in the garden, and gratefully eating everything that was put in front of him. The Contessa had a remarkable ability to obtain extra food rations, and the whole family enjoyed the soups, pasta and wild boar that she served up each evening.
Livia and her mother were driven down to the sea each day by the chauffeur, taking up residence in one of the bagnos that lined the white sandy beach. These private beach clubs were reserved for the rich residents of Forte dei Marmi, and were equipped with everything needed to