His phone rang again. He looked at the screen: “Mum.”
He stared at it for one second, the second of a man who was genuinely considering not answering and already knew he was going to and then picked up.
Before he could speak, her voice arrived like the weather.
“Dante, darling!”
He pulled the phone back from his ear by an inch. His mother had two volumes: loud and asleep, with very little in between.
“I heard you got married!” The delight in her voice was genuine and completely unstoppable, the enthusiasm of a woman who moved through the world as though it were mostly good news waiting to happen. “I leave you in peace for a few months, a few months, Dante and you become a husband without even a proper telephone call!”
“It was…”
“I saw the pictures,” she continued, rolling over his a
