Livia decided not to comment. If Mary wanted to believe Paolo was her toyboy, what of it? She deigned at last to speak to Paolo politely.
“Can you pour Mary a glass of wine please Paolo... and one for me and you? What kind of wine do you prefer, Mary? Red, white, fizz?”
“Irish!” replied Mary.
“Really? Do they make wine in Ireland, Mary? I’ve never heard of it.” Livia had been taken in.
“Course they feckin’ do... they pump it outa da River Liffey and call it Guinness. Only kidding... I’d like a glass of red if you please.