The Wedding Officer

45

IT IS seventy miles—seventy miles of fought-over terrain, already picked bare by two armies. There is no food, but as they walk they conjure it out of the air.

“What are you making me for dinner today, Gems?”

“Today”—he screws up his face in thought, for this is a serious matter—“today I shall be making an antipasto of noci in camicia, walnuts in parmesan butter.”

“And are the walnuts from Sorrento?”

“Of course. Thin-shelled and absolutely fresh. None of this dried-walnut nonsense the British go in for.”

“And how are you making the butter?”

“In advance, clearly. Well in advance—probably a couple of hours before dinner, so that the flavors of the basil and the parmesan can mingle with the nuts.”

“Correct,” she says, “but unfortunately I’m hungry right now. It’s all this walking. Can’t you make me a bowl of pasta? Something quick?”

“Of course. How about fettuccine al limone?”

“Perfect.”

“So I’m just going to boil some water and drop in the fettuccine—”

She interrupts. “You mean you haven’t made this pasta yourself?”

“Hmm. Well, perhaps I have. And I’m grating the zest of about a dozen lemons—”

“Tell me about the lemons.”

“The lemons are from Amalfi, of course, very big, and so pale they’re almost white. And ugly. Ugly and thick-skinned, because the thicker the skin, the sweeter the juice.”

“Just so.”

“And now I’ll just combine the lemon zest with the butter and the cream—”

“How much cream?” she says. “How much butter?”

“Quanto basta. Just enough.”

She nods approvingly. “Good. Gems, one day you may actually become quite a competent cook.”

“Thank you,” he says, ridiculously pleased by the compliment. “And I’ll serve it straightaway, just as it comes, or perhaps with a little pepper. How is it?”

“It’s delicious,” she says. “The best I ever had. Really, I don’t know how I’ll make room for the next course.”

“L’appetito viene mangiando. Appetite comes from eating.”

They have reached the top of a ridge, and they sit down for a moment. “There are some woods down there,” she says, pointing. “We should go that way. We may be able to find some mushrooms, or perhaps some fruit.”

“Yes,” he agrees. He does not say, because there is no need to, that the woods will have been scoured by many thousands of soldiers and other refugees before them. “An apricot will be nice for dessert.”

“There are no nice apricots outside of Vesuvius.”

“I was forgetting. Let’s pass on the apricots, then. Some peaches instead, and perhaps a jug of wine.”

They lie back, the sun warm on their skin. Livia takes off her shoes and rubs her sore heels. “I bet the wedding officer is missing his motorbike.”

“I’ve no idea what the wedding officer misses.”

“What do you mean?”

“The wedding officer…that’ll be some other poor chump by now. He’s probably looking through my papers even as we speak, and thinking they’re the most appalling mess. Ashes in the filing cabinet…a biscuit tin full of bribes…and God knows what he’ll make of my reports, if he ever bothers to check up on them.”

There is silence for a while. Then she says carefully, “But if you’re not the wedding officer…”

“I can stay in the army, and still marry whom I like. Yes, that had occurred to me too. There’s just one problem—I’ll need my CO’s permission. But I think I can take care of that.”

“Oh?”

“Eric won’t be at all happy that we know what they’re doing to the communists. I reckon if I threaten to kick up a stink, he’ll make sure we get pretty much whatever we want. We might even be able to get your slippery camorrista friend put behind bars where he belongs.”

“What a devious mind you have, Gems.”

“I do, don’t I?” he agrees. He lies back. “But as Angelo says, a hungry stomach pardons no one. It’s your turn to cook.”

“What about…let’s see…Baked pancakes stuffed with mozzarella and green beans?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Well, first we need some good mozzarella,” she says. She gets to her feet, and offers him a hand. “Luckily I have some, from my own bufala, who is waiting for us just a little way ahead.” He gets up, and keeps hold of her hand as they begin to walk. “And then you need good eggs for the pancake. But luckily we have an excellent chicken. And you will need milk, as well, again from the bufala, and then garlic to coat the beans in flavor….”