It was her father’s turn to respond: “She’ll tell us about it later.”

So they all kept quiet, a little embarrassed.

“Is everyone well at home?” Vanna asked after awhile.

“Great. Mama especially wanted to come, but then it wasn’t possible. The whole caravan wanted to come with her,” remarked Antonio.

“You’re going to see some new faces,” added Nenè.

“That’s right, Viola and Remigia. You wrote to me saying you’re all living together now.”

“Almost together. We bought the apartment attached to our house. It seems to me we wrote you about it.”

“No, I don’t know anything.”

“No?! But I’m sure…. Well, we bought it. It has eleven rooms: five for Luigi and six for Nenè, the moneymakers of the house. I’m with Papa. Each family lives separately doing what they want, but we take our meals together. Everyone gives a little money each month to Viola, who manages everything.”

“So you’re all boarders now?”

“Yes, except that we’ve stayed together as a family,” explained Nenè, raising his voice because the noise of the wheels against the gravel drowned out his words. “It’s convenient, you know. It costs you half.”

“Is that right?” said Vanna, distractedly. And they fell silent again.

Vanna was looking at the road that ran alongside the sea, the crescent-shaped port that was quickly disappearing, the sleepy market with its collapsing tents and overturned stalls; she recognized a few flowered terraces, the point on the beach where she once used to swim. In her discouraged face, in her sweet eyes full of sadness, a light passed that seemed feverish. She was impatient to arrive; restless and on the verge of tears, she gave a start every time the carriage hit a bump.

You could already see the pink wall with the green shutters, the terrace with its arbor of yellow roses. The coachman whipped the air happily, and the horses slowed their trot.

Maria, her mother, and Ninetta were at the door. Her two sisters-in-law, the new faces, introduced themselves in the dining room. Vanna had not yet met them. They were both tall and sturdy, Viola very blond and Remigia dark haired, beautiful young women with full breasts and pale complexions that made her feel immediately ill at ease because she was dark and slender.

Her mother and Maria smothered her with kisses. They looked at her and spoke to her with obvious concern. It pained them to see her so dejected, so changed after three long years; they were almost afraid to question her, fearing she would only have sad things to tell them.

Taking special care, her mother accompanied her to the “cat’s room” an immense space that had always been empty and that they called the cat’s room because a tabby, who died of old age, always went in there to sleep on the windowsill.