too busy to think at all – she found Don Alfio frivolous and lacking in character. Although she could see how a lot of women might find him attractive, she didn’t. Of course she couldn’t say this to Alfio, there really was no point in unduly hurting his feelings. But some explanation was needed. One day, while Donna Rosamunda slept on a chair by the fireplace, Alfio came back from Agneddu with a pannier of early figs. ‘Figs already!’ cried Sara, who had a real weakness for them. Alfio held out the basket to her and she took a fig, smiling. He was encouraged by her obvious relish. He watched Sara squeeze the top of the fig with her thumbs and forefingers, then split it down the middle and pop the two halves in her mouth. As she savoured the flavour, making appreciative noises, she licked her lower lip. On seeing the flesh smeared over with sweet fig juice, Alfio could not hold back and he made a clumsy attempt to kiss her. Instinctively Sara recoiled and gave a muffled shriek. Luckily the old woman slept through it. ‘Don Alfio…’ ‘Please, call me Alfio.’ ‘Don Alfio,’ Sara insisted, ‘I am hired to look after your mother. Please don’t take advantage.’ Don Alfio went red with outrage; that his intentions should be grossly misjudged offended his dignity. ‘I assure, Sara, I have the greatest respect for you.’ ‘You don’t know anything about me.’ ‘Only that I am in love with you. I don’t wish to know anything else.’ She grabbed him by the wrists – her skinny fingers hardly reached halfway around their thickness – and held him at arms’ length. She looked straight into his eyes. ‘Don Alfio, I’m going to have a baby.’ ‘I know.’ ‘You do?’ ‘Yes, I knew it from the first day,’ he lied. ‘I am sure there is a story. But frankly I’m not into stories. All I want is to be allowed to stay by you, in the same way as you have sat by the bed of my poor mother.’ ‘Well!’ She gave such a burst of laughter it made her look her age, for the first time since her arrival. ‘You are not an invalid,
Page 94