There wasn’t much on it, just a bowl of thin broth and a single slice of bread. Alfredo was still hungry, but he spun it out, sipping the broth and nibbling the bread, and was only just finishing as Uncle Giorgio arrived. “Well, I trust you feel better,” he snapped. “You slept well?” “Yes, thank you, Uncle Giorgio. I feel almost all right. Just a bit feeble. And, er, empty.” “No more vomiting? No looseness of the bowels?” “I don’t think so. I haven’t tried yet. There isn’t, er…” “No doubt. Toni, apparently, has the same sickness, so it will have been the plums that caused it. In an hour’s time you may eat a little more, and again an hour after that. If any sign of the sickness returns, do not eat. Annetta will leave food for you in the breakfast room. Eat nothing else. You understand?” “Yes, of course. …Can I get up?” “Yes, but stay in the house, out of the sun. I will see you on my return from Mass.” He marched out of the room without another word.
