and pick as many figs as you can. I shall make a preserve which might see us through the winter.’
‘I know we should give them all to Mamma,’ said Livia, sucking the juice from a fig, ‘but I love them fresh.’
‘Me too, they’re delicious,’ agreed Elena, waving away an angry wasp. ‘You’re so lucky to have this garden. We don’t even have a terrace in Florence.’
‘It used to be very beautiful,’ Livia mused, leaning against the trunk of the fig tree. ‘But we’ve had to turn a lot of it into vegetables now. Still, at least it means we eat a bit better up here in the hills.’
‘Have you heard from Cosimo?’ Elena asked.
‘Yes,’ Livia replied. ‘I had a letter this morning.’
‘And…?’
Livia rolled over onto her stomach and began pulling blades of grass out of the rough lawn.
‘Oh do tell me, Livia,’ Elena pleaded.
‘He’s much better,’ said Livia. ‘They’ve fitted his new prosthetic foot, and he’s getting used to it.’
‘That’s wonderful. He couldn’t have done that if he’d come away with us, could he?’ Elena still felt guilty that she had been secretly relieved Cosimo had been unable to join them.
‘No, I suppose you’re right. He needs to be in Florence in order to visit the hospital.’
‘Besides,’ Elena went on, ‘I’m not sure your mother would have liked him being here – she’s finding it hard enough to put up with me.’
‘That’s not true,’ Livia insisted. ‘She likes you, really.’
‘And I like her, but she’s very protective of you. And I’m not sure she thinks Cosimo is good enough for you, a nice middle-class boy with one foot.’ She laughed, but Livia frowned.
‘Don’t say that, it’s not kind – either to my mother or to Cosimo. Mamma’s just old-fashioned, that’s all.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Elena. ‘But whenever he’s mentioned she changes the subject, as if she doesn’t really approve.’
Livia sighed and stood up. She picked the last few ripe figs and dropped them into her basket. ‘Mamma’s got it into her head that I’m going to marry an old family friend.’
‘Who?’ asked Elena.
‘Count Vicenzo Lucchese,’ Livia replied with mock grandeur. ‘It’s ridiculous, really. Our families have been friends for generations. Our grandfathers were in the army together and we used to spend our holidays with them. They’re very rich. They have a lovely house on the coast in Forte dei Marmi. Do you know it?’
Elena shook her head.
‘Anyway, Vicenzo is their oldest son. He’s much older than me – ten years or more. He’s very handsome and charming and all the women are in love with him. I mean really in love with him.’ She laughed.
‘Would it be so bad to marry him?’ asked Elena slightly enviously.
‘And become “La Contessa”!’ Livia curtseyed theatrically. ‘No, it’s too absurd. Besides, he’s never shown the least interest in me, so my mother’s fantasy will remain just that. And let’s not forget, I’m already in love… with Cosimo.’ She picked up the basket of figs. ‘Let’s take these to the kitchen before the wasps get them all. Then we can go for a walk, I’m bored here.’
At lunchtime, the family assembled in the dining room. Angela brought a pot of soup and laid it out on the table.
‘Where’s Nonno?’ asked Livia.
‘I don’t know,’ said Luisa, arranging plates. ‘I’ve not seen him all morning.’
Livia went upstairs to her grandfather’s room. Alberto was still in bed, apparently asleep. She crossed over to him and listened to his breathing – it was slow and deep with an unusual gurgling sound at the back of his throat.
‘Nonno, Nonno…’ She gently touched his hand. ‘Nonno, are you all right?”
He opened his eyes and tried to smile, but one side of his face seemed curiously fixed.
‘Nonno, are you all right?’ she asked again.
The old man mumbled something incoherent.
‘Wait a minute.’ She rushed downstairs to her mother. ‘Mamma, it’s Nonno. Something’s happened to him. He can’t speak properly.’
Luisa ran upstairs, followed by Angela and Livia. She sat by the old man’s bed and took his hand. ‘Nonno, Alberto, it’s Luisa.’
He turned his head slowly and smiled lopsidedly.
‘He’s had a stroke,’ Luisa said softly. ‘Livia, run into the village and fetch the doctor. Ask him to come immediately.’
The family gathered in the sitting room, waiting for the doctor’s verdict.
‘You’re quite right,’ he said when he came downstairs. ‘It’s a stroke. Alberto will recover over time, but he will need rest and constant nursing. Can you manage, do you think?’
‘We will have to,’ Luisa replied phlegmatically, glancing at Livia.