a tray of drinks and canapes.
‘Let’s take it down into the garden,’ suggested Victoria.
‘By the fountain,’ added Amanda.
Giorgio carried down the tray and set it on the stone edge of the basin. As usual, fresh lemonade was supplied for Amanda and Sebastien, but Giorgio and Victoria were accorded the courtesy of ‘grown-up’ drinks; while the canapes were so exotic that they all
hung over them, drawn by their picturesqueness and variety. ‘Miss Jameson does us awfully well,’ Amanda told Giorgio.
‘I can see that. But you must say it in Italian.’
‘Oh, I can’t,’ she protested.
‘We should all speak Italian,’ said Victoria.
‘Not me,’ declared Sebastien. ‘I’m not nearly good enough, I’d never say anything.’
The sisters tried, however, making many mistakes, which caused a good deal of correction and laughter. Sebastien, who would not even try, hooted with laughter at their mistakes. They were a happy little party, gathered round the fountain, Giorgio and Amanda perched on the stone edge, Victoria seated on a bench, Sebastien making himself responsible for passing round Miss Jameson’s delicacies; but it did occur to Victoria that they were making a good deal of noise and she glanced guiltily towards the house wondering if they were disturbing Charles. Immediately, she saw him at the open window in the end wall of his studio, drawn there no doubt by the outburst of laughter and conversation, to see what was happening. Her first reaction was to say: ‘Sh, we’re making too much noise,’ but she repressed this, for why shouldn’t they have a party?
At that point, Charles gave her a brief salute and turned away from the window. She was on the verge of calling out to him: ‘Come and join us in an aperitif,’ which would have been natural to her; but then she remembered her resolve not to be a nuisance to him. Besides, he was probably at work, up there in his studio; so she turned back to the others, trying to forget Charles, thinking he might even be relieved to know that they had their own friends. It certainly never occurred to her that he could be thinking: ‘So that’s what she wants, people of her own age. She is obviously bored by our stuffy, older society.’
Giorgio was full of plans for the party he would give for them. Music from his stereo for dancing on the terrace, the furniture there moved out of the way. His mother would probably insist on a sit-down supper— that was the way she did things—and it would probably be in the kitchen where there was so much room.
‘Oh, that will be fun,’ exclaimed Amanda. ‘I shall pretend it’s my birthday party. ’
‘What, you have a birthday?’ queried Giorgio. ‘But that’s marvellous, even more reason to have a party. We must have a birthday cake for you. ’
‘And I thought it was going to be such a dull birthday.’
‘Well, it will not be,’ he promised her. ‘We will have it this Saturday.’
Later in the day, Victoria went along to the kitchen to tell Miss Jameson about this party.
‘We shall all be out on Saturday evening, Miss Jameson, so won’t need dinner that evening. I thought I would let you know as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Giorgio is giving a party for us, to meet some of his friends and as a birthday party for Amanda.’
‘I see,’ said Miss Jameson.
Victoria was slightly stung by what seemed like appalling indifference on Miss Jameson’s part. She said in a slightly bitter tone:
‘Well, it will be nice for her to have some recognition of the day. Signora Beltoni is going to make her a birthday cake.’
‘I’ve already made a birthday cake for Amanda.’
‘What?’ Victoria gazed at Miss Jameson, wide-eyed.
‘But how did you know about it?’
‘The parcels came from your parents a week ago to Mr. Duncan, asking him to have them on the breakfast table on the big day. So I made the cake. You can see it if you like.’
‘But how kind of you,’ said Victoria,
‘Let’s take it down into the garden,’ suggested Victoria.
‘By the fountain,’ added Amanda.
Giorgio carried down the tray and set it on the stone edge of the basin. As usual, fresh lemonade was supplied for Amanda and Sebastien, but Giorgio and Victoria were accorded the courtesy of ‘grown-up’ drinks; while the canapes were so exotic that they all
hung over them, drawn by their picturesqueness and variety. ‘Miss Jameson does us awfully well,’ Amanda told Giorgio.
‘I can see that. But you must say it in Italian.’
‘Oh, I can’t,’ she protested.
‘We should all speak Italian,’ said Victoria.
‘Not me,’ declared Sebastien. ‘I’m not nearly good enough, I’d never say anything.’
The sisters tried, however, making many mistakes, which caused a good deal of correction and laughter. Sebastien, who would not even try, hooted with laughter at their mistakes. They were a happy little party, gathered round the fountain, Giorgio and Amanda perched on the stone edge, Victoria seated on a bench, Sebastien making himself responsible for passing round Miss Jameson’s delicacies; but it did occur to Victoria that they were making a good deal of noise and she glanced guiltily towards the house wondering if they were disturbing Charles. Immediately, she saw him at the open window in the end wall of his studio, drawn there no doubt by the outburst of laughter and conversation, to see what was happening. Her first reaction was to say: ‘Sh, we’re making too much noise,’ but she repressed this, for why shouldn’t they have a party?
At that point, Charles gave her a brief salute and turned away from the window. She was on the verge of calling out to him: ‘Come and join us in an aperitif,’ which would have been natural to her; but then she remembered her resolve not to be a nuisance to him. Besides, he was probably at work, up there in his studio; so she turned back to the others, trying to forget Charles, thinking he might even be relieved to know that they had their own friends. It certainly never occurred to her that he could be thinking: ‘So that’s what she wants, people of her own age. She is obviously bored by our stuffy, older society.’
Giorgio was full of plans for the party he would give for them. Music from his stereo for dancing on the terrace, the furniture there moved out of the way. His mother would probably insist on a sit-down supper— that was the way she did things—and it would probably be in the kitchen where there was so much room.
‘Oh, that will be fun,’ exclaimed Amanda. ‘I shall pretend it’s my birthday party. ’
‘What, you have a birthday?’ queried Giorgio. ‘But that’s marvellous, even more reason to have a party. We must have a birthday cake for you. ’
‘And I thought it was going to be such a dull birthday.’
‘Well, it will not be,’ he promised her. ‘We will have it this Saturday.’
Later in the day, Victoria went along to the kitchen to tell Miss Jameson about this party.
‘We shall all be out on Saturday evening, Miss Jameson, so won’t need dinner that evening. I thought I would let you know as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Giorgio is giving a party for us, to meet some of his friends and as a birthday party for Amanda.’
‘I see,’ said Miss Jameson.
Victoria was slightly stung by what seemed like appalling indifference on Miss Jameson’s part. She said in a slightly bitter tone:
‘Well, it will be nice for her to have some recognition of the day. Signora Beltoni is going to make her a birthday cake.’
‘I’ve already made a birthday cake for Amanda.’
‘What?’ Victoria gazed at Miss Jameson, wide-eyed.
‘But how did you know about it?’
‘The parcels came from your parents a week ago to Mr. Duncan, asking him to have them on the breakfast table on the big day. So I made the cake. You can see it if you like.’
‘But how kind of you,’ said Victoria,
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