When safely inside our coach, I turned to Papa and announced I would like to compose her a song or two to sing in my new opera.
‘Basta!,' he shouted to the walls. 'Over my ...’ and left the words unfinished.
“Clunk, clunk,’ I replied in tune with the wheels and we laughed so much that he wept as he kissed my hands and whispered into my ear, ‘I wish Jack Pudding were here.’ We were silent for the rest of the way home and did not have to mention Mama for us to think about her too. N.