Chapter 4

Flowers for a Queen

I wandered at the station waiting for the arrival of Antonio del B., alias Toto or "Texas-Boy" as Mister Papa called him because he was tall, blond, slouchy and spoke English with a slight American accent - before starting work in Milan he had trained in Hudson. In truth, he was nothing like an American: he was a very pure Neapolitan. Of Norman origin, like many of my friends there, blond and blue-eyed.

He had met him four years earlier in Capri, when he came to visit his aunt Fernanda, a guest of my aunt Emma. The two aunts looked at us, smiling tenderly and often left us alone, hoping - we later found out - that the beloved nephew would end up at the altar.

Since starting work in Milan, Toto came frequently to Venice for weekends. He was a weekend workaholic. Which occurred in this manner: after the office on Saturday, suitcase with pajamas and tuxedo for any eventuality, rushed off to take the tram to the station - in the afternoon by train, often on the coal locomotive, where he often remained standing because the third class was always crowded - in Venice he immediately followed an intense evening-night program - he made himself wake up early in order to make the most of the joys of Sunday - just before midnight, like Cinderella, disappeared to take a vaporetto...