Maeve Binchy - Evening Class

Bill and Lizzie went out to the bus stop.

' Ti amo ,' she said to him suddenly.

'What's that?' he asked.

'Oh go on, you're the one with the brains,' Lizzie said. She was smiling fit to break his heart. 'Go on guess. Ti … what's that?'

'It's "you", I think,' said Bill.

'And what's " amo" ?'

'Is it love?'

'It means I love you't'

'How do you know?' He was amazed.

'I asked her just before we left. She said they were the most beautiful two words in the world.'

'They are, they are,' said Bill.

Perhaps the Italian classes might work after all.

'It was really and truly great,' Bill told Grania next day.

'My father came home high as a kite, thank God,' Grania said.

'And she's really good, you know, she makes you think you can speak the language in five minutes.'

'So you're off to run the Italian section then,' Grania teased.

'Even Lizzie liked it, she was really interested. She kept saying the sentences over and over on the bus, everyone was joining in.'

'I'm sure they were.' Grania was clipped.

'No, stop being like that. She took much more notice of it than I thought she would. She calls herself Elizabetta now.' Bill was proud.

'I bet she does,' Crania said grimly. I'd also like to bet she'll have dropped out by lesson three.'

As it happened Grania was right, but not because Lizzie wasn't interested. It was because her mother came to Dublin.

'She hasn't been for ages and I have to meet her off the train,' she said to Bill apologetically.

'But can't you tell her you'll be back at half past nine?' Bill begged. He felt sure that if Signorina Elizabetta were to miss out on one lesson that would be it. She would claim that she was far too far behind to catch up.

'No honestly Bill, she doesn't come to Dublin very often. I have to be there.' He was silent. 'You care about your mother enough to live with her for heaven's sake, why shouldn't I meet mine at Heuston Station? It's not much to ask.'

Bill was very reasonable. 'No,' he agreed. 'It's not.'

'And Bill, could you lend me the money for a taxi? My mother hates travelling on a bus.'

'Won't she pay for the taxi?'

'Oh don't be so mean, you're mean and tight-fisted and penny-pinching.'

'That's not fair, Lizzie . It's not true and it's not fair.'

'Okay,' she shrugged.

'What do you mean, "Okay"?'

'Just that. Enjoy the lesson, give my love to Signora.'

'Have the money for the taxi.'

'No, not like that, not with a bad grace.'

'I'd love you and your mother to travel by taxi, I'd love it. It would make you feel happy and generous and welcoming. Please take it, Lizzie, please.'

'Well, if you're sure.'

He kissed her on the forehead. 'Will I meet your mother this time?'

'I hope so, Bill, you know we wanted you to last time but she had so many friends around. They took all her time. She knows so many people, you see.'

Bill thought to himself that Lizzie's mother might know a lot of people but none of them well enough to meet her at the railway station with a car or taxi. But he didn't say it.

' Dov'e la bella Elizabetta' ?' Signora asked.

' La bella Elizabetta e andata alia stazione ,' Bill heard himself say. ' La madre di Elizabetta arriva stasera .'

Signora was overwhelmed. ' Benissimo, Guglielmo. Bravo, bravo .'

'You've been cramming, you little sneak,' said an angry-faced thickset fellow with Luigi on his blue name tag. His real name was Lou.

'We did andato last week, it was on the list, and we did stasera the first day. They're all words we know. I didn't cram.'

'Oh Jesus, keep your shirt on,' said Lou, who frowned more than ever and joined with the class shouting that in this piazza there were many beautiful buildings. 'There's a lie for a start,' he muttered, looking out the window at the barrack-like school yard.

'It's getting better, they are painting it up,' Bill said.

'You're a real cheerful Charlie, aren't you?' Lou said. 'Everything's always bloody marvellous as far as you're concerned.'

Bill longed to tell him that everything was far from cheerful, he was trapped in a house where everyone depended on him, he had a girlfriend who didn't love him enough to introduce him to her mother, he had no idea how he was going to pay his term loan next month.

But of course he said none of these things. Instead he joined in the chorus chanting that in questa piazza ci sono molti belli edifici . He wondered where Lizzie and her mother had gone. He hoped beyond reason that she hadn't taken her mother to a restaurant and cashed a cheque. This time there would be real trouble in the bank.

They had little bits of bread with topping of some sort on them. Signora said they were crostini . 'What about the vino ? someone asked.

'I wanted to have vino, vino rosso, vino bianco . But it's a school you see, they don't want any alcohol on the premises. Not to give a bad example to the children.'

'A bit late for that round here,' Lou said.

Bill looked at him with interest. It was impossible to know why a man like that was learning Italian. Although it was difficult to see why any of them were there, and he felt sure that a lot of them must puzzle about Lizzie, there seemed to be no reason that anyone could fathom why Lou, now transformed to Luigi, should come to something that he obviously despised, two nights a week, and glower at everyone from beginning to end. Bill decided he would have to regard it as part of the rich tapestry of life.

One of the paper flowers was broken and on the floor.

'Can I have this, Signora?' Bill asked.

' Certo, Guglielmo , is it for la bellissima Elizabettat'

'No, it's for my sister.'

' Mia sorella, mia sorella , my sister,' Signora said. 'You are a kind, good man, Guglielmo.'

'Yeah, but where does that get you these days?' Bill asked as he went out to the bus stop.

Olive was waiting for him at the door. 'Speak in Italian,' she cried. ' Ciao, sorella ,' he said. 'Have a garofano . I brought it for you.' The look of pleasure on her face made him feel worse than he had been feeling already, which had been pretty bad.

Bill was taking sandwiches to work this week. There was no way he could afford even the canteen.

'Are you okay?' Grania asked him concerned. 'You look tired.'

'Oh, we international linguists have to learn to take the strain,' he said with a weak smile.

Grania looked as if she were about to ask him about Lizzie but changed her mind. Lizzie? Where was she today? With her mother's friends maybe, having cocktails in one of the big hotels. Or somewhere down in Temple Bar discovering some new place that she would tell him about, eyes shining. He wished she would ring and speak to him, ask about last night at the class. He would tell her how she had been missed and called beautiful. He would tell her about the sentence he had made up, saying she had gone to the station to meet her mother. She would tell him what she did. Why this silence?

The afternoon seemed long and tedious. After work he began to worry. A whole day never passed like this without any contact. Should he go round to her flat? But then if she were entertaining her mother, might she not regard this as intrusive? She had said she hoped they would meet. He mustn't force it.

Grania was working late too. 'Waiting for Lizzie?' she asked.

'No, her mother's in town, she's probably tied up. Just wondering what to do.'

'I was wondering what to do too. Great fun being in the bank, isn't it? When the day ends you're such a zombie you can't think what to do next.' Grania laughed at the whole notion of it.