They did not say a word. After a few minutes, she sighed and rose to her feet. Leaving the room, she glanced back at her father briefly and shook her head, as if in judgement. For a moment his heart stopped from fear at the thought of losing her, but then he said to himself, I shall fight back, because if you don’t fight for what you have, for what you’ve worked for, then some Southerner is going to come along and take it away from you. The thought gave him comfort, and he stared at her defiantly as she left the room. All right! Marry him, and see what it’s like.

Both father and daughter made an effort at the wedding. Alessio hired a hotel in the hills and paid for a lavish meal. He sat through the ceremony with a fixed smile, and kept this smile in place at the reception. He was seated between two of Salvatore’s aunts, both of whom conformed to his vision of Southern middle-aged women. They were widows who had been married to men who had no doubt worn ill-fitting dark suits and old-fashioned black felt hats. There were many of these widows in the south, he reflected, because the men died young. Why did they die? It was because of violence and bad driving and impatience. 44

At the end of the reception, when the couple was due to go away, he stood awkwardly by the door of the hotel while the aunts fussed round and friends said goodbye to Fabrizia, girls he had known as his daughter’s childhood friends, adults now, themselves married or destined for marriage. He looked at these young women with a fond eye and remembered them as girls all those years ago, when they came to the house to see Fabrizia. Childhood was so brief, so fleeting: we have our children for so short a time. He felt the tears in his eyes and he fought them back. His fixed smile returned.

Then, just before they left, Alessio’s new sonin-law Salvatore came up to him and stood before him, holding out his hand. Alessio took the younger man’s hand, but avoided his gaze.

‘I know you don’t approve of me,’ Salvatore said to him, his voice lowered. ‘I can tell that. But I promise you I’ll look after your daughter. I give you my word as …’ He stopped, and although Alessio waited for him to finish the sentence, he did not.

He looked at the young man. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You can tell how a father feels, can’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Salvatore. ‘That is why I’m asking you to trust me.’ 45

Alessio closed his eyes. ‘I shall try,’ he said. Salvatore pressed his hand, and then dropped it. There was laughter from a group of Fabrizia’s friends – a final joke before the couple moved through the door, beneath the flashing of cameras, and into the car which had been brought up to the front of the hotel and which Salvatore’s brothers were now showering with confetti.