moments alike transpired.
‘How is everything?’ Mark asked.
‘Things are mad at the restaurant.’
‘Christmas, I suppose. Works parties?’
She nodded. ‘It gets worse every year. Starts earlier and earlier—this year we began before the beginning of December. Every lunch-time, every evening. We’re fully booked. If this trend keeps up, in a few years’ time, we’ll be serving Christmas lunches during the summer holidays, just to get them all in.’
Mark laughed. ‘How is Mamma coping?’
Serena’s anwering laugh was rueful. ‘Need you ask?’
‘She thrives on it,’ Mark reminded her.
‘Oh, absolutely. Without it, she’d just sit round and…get old. The excitement keeps her young.’
Observing the wrinkles at the corners of Serena’s eyes when she smiled, Mark suddenly realised that his sister herself was no longer young. She’d turned forty that year. Middle-aged, no matter how you looked at it. And he wasn’t that many years behind: it was a sobering thought.
‘How is Joe?’ he asked automatically, after a bracing sip of coffee.
‘Joe is…Joe. Works long hours, especially coming up to the end of term. He says he has lots of marking to do. And he says he can’t work at home, with Chiara making so much racket. She’s been practising her lines for the school nativity play.’
‘I thought she was going to be the Virgin Mary.’
Serena nodded. ‘She is. A great honour, of course. Mamma’s over the moon.’
‘Since when does the Virgin Mary have lines?’ Mark demanded. ‘I thought she just sat about and looked…you know. Happy about giving birth to the Son of God.’
‘Don’t forget the Annunciation,’ Serena smiled. ‘You know. When the angel lays it all on her, all the “Ave Maria” stuff. “Be it unto me according to thy word,’ Mary says. And later on, the Visitation to Elizabeth. That’s when she says the Magnificat. “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” Then there’s Mary’s soliloquy at the manger.’
‘Huh?’ Mark put his cup down. ‘I know I’m no Biblical scholar, but I don’t remember Mary’s soliloquy.’
Serena lifted her eyebrows. ‘Poetic license, from what I understand. The teacher fancies herself a bit of a playwright. Anyway, it gives Chiara quite a few lines to learn.’ She added, ‘You are coming, aren’t you?’
‘It’s in the diary,’ he assured her. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything . Especially now that I know about the soliloquy.’
She picked up the coffee pot and held it invitingly over his cup. ‘More coffee?’
Mark stole a glance at the clock on the wall; he really needed to get round to the reason for his visit, so he could go on to work. ‘Yes, okay. I’ll have another drop.’
After refilling her own cup, Serena opened a packet of biscotti and dumped them on a plate. ‘Have one,’ she urged. ‘I really bought them for Angelina—they’re her favourites.’
‘When is she coming home?’
A momentary shadow, so fleeting that Mark thought he might have imagined it, crossed Serena’s face. ‘I’m not quite sure. Her term ends next weekend. But she says she isn’t coming home until a few days before Christmas. Probably not in time for Chiara’s play.’
‘Oh, well. I’m sure she’ll make it if she can.’
Now there was no doubt about Serena’s expression: she was not happy. ‘That’s not all there is to it,’ she said slowly.
Mark couldn’t imagine what she meant. Angelina was an intelligent and sensible girl, not one to cause unnecessary worry or concern to her parents.
‘She has a new boyfriend,’ Serena blurted.
That was hardly surprising. In addition to being intelligent and sensible, she was also a very pretty girl, and she was almost twenty years old, in her second year at university. The surprising thing was that this hadn’t happened years ago. ‘So, what’s the problem?’ As he said it, Mark knew, with a hollow feeling in his stomach, exactly what the problem was. ‘He’s not
‘How is everything?’ Mark asked.
‘Things are mad at the restaurant.’
‘Christmas, I suppose. Works parties?’
She nodded. ‘It gets worse every year. Starts earlier and earlier—this year we began before the beginning of December. Every lunch-time, every evening. We’re fully booked. If this trend keeps up, in a few years’ time, we’ll be serving Christmas lunches during the summer holidays, just to get them all in.’
Mark laughed. ‘How is Mamma coping?’
Serena’s anwering laugh was rueful. ‘Need you ask?’
‘She thrives on it,’ Mark reminded her.
‘Oh, absolutely. Without it, she’d just sit round and…get old. The excitement keeps her young.’
Observing the wrinkles at the corners of Serena’s eyes when she smiled, Mark suddenly realised that his sister herself was no longer young. She’d turned forty that year. Middle-aged, no matter how you looked at it. And he wasn’t that many years behind: it was a sobering thought.
‘How is Joe?’ he asked automatically, after a bracing sip of coffee.
‘Joe is…Joe. Works long hours, especially coming up to the end of term. He says he has lots of marking to do. And he says he can’t work at home, with Chiara making so much racket. She’s been practising her lines for the school nativity play.’
‘I thought she was going to be the Virgin Mary.’
Serena nodded. ‘She is. A great honour, of course. Mamma’s over the moon.’
‘Since when does the Virgin Mary have lines?’ Mark demanded. ‘I thought she just sat about and looked…you know. Happy about giving birth to the Son of God.’
‘Don’t forget the Annunciation,’ Serena smiled. ‘You know. When the angel lays it all on her, all the “Ave Maria” stuff. “Be it unto me according to thy word,’ Mary says. And later on, the Visitation to Elizabeth. That’s when she says the Magnificat. “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” Then there’s Mary’s soliloquy at the manger.’
‘Huh?’ Mark put his cup down. ‘I know I’m no Biblical scholar, but I don’t remember Mary’s soliloquy.’
Serena lifted her eyebrows. ‘Poetic license, from what I understand. The teacher fancies herself a bit of a playwright. Anyway, it gives Chiara quite a few lines to learn.’ She added, ‘You are coming, aren’t you?’
‘It’s in the diary,’ he assured her. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything . Especially now that I know about the soliloquy.’
She picked up the coffee pot and held it invitingly over his cup. ‘More coffee?’
Mark stole a glance at the clock on the wall; he really needed to get round to the reason for his visit, so he could go on to work. ‘Yes, okay. I’ll have another drop.’
After refilling her own cup, Serena opened a packet of biscotti and dumped them on a plate. ‘Have one,’ she urged. ‘I really bought them for Angelina—they’re her favourites.’
‘When is she coming home?’
A momentary shadow, so fleeting that Mark thought he might have imagined it, crossed Serena’s face. ‘I’m not quite sure. Her term ends next weekend. But she says she isn’t coming home until a few days before Christmas. Probably not in time for Chiara’s play.’
‘Oh, well. I’m sure she’ll make it if she can.’
Now there was no doubt about Serena’s expression: she was not happy. ‘That’s not all there is to it,’ she said slowly.
Mark couldn’t imagine what she meant. Angelina was an intelligent and sensible girl, not one to cause unnecessary worry or concern to her parents.
‘She has a new boyfriend,’ Serena blurted.
That was hardly surprising. In addition to being intelligent and sensible, she was also a very pretty girl, and she was almost twenty years old, in her second year at university. The surprising thing was that this hadn’t happened years ago. ‘So, what’s the problem?’ As he said it, Mark knew, with a hollow feeling in his stomach, exactly what the problem was. ‘He’s not
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