The old man’s mistake on his flight to Milan was to watch The Book Club – The Next Chapter. It was about four glamorous women who decided to take a holiday to Italy after the pandemic lockdown was finally lifted. Jane Fonda was simply stunning, despite her age, outdoing the stunning Italian sceneries even! Having watched their glam-holiday, the old man felt his Italian getaway would be flat as a week-old spumante. Not so! Life does not have to be a box of chocolates for the ordinary man and neither does it have to be a bed of roses. One just has to make one’s own bed no matter the circumstances and lie in it the best one can. The key to unlock the secret to happiness is simple, he had often said to his centenarian mother. Just think of the good in everyone and forget the bad.

After a grinding thirty-six hour journey from Adelaide, the arse-end of the world to Italy, he and the Mrs finally arrived in Milan, his burning eyes weighed down heavy from jet-lag, his head spinning from the loud banging of conga drums inside his skull but spirits soaring so high the lazy and rude airport security people at Heathrow failed to wipe the grin off his face. The couple met their travelling companions, the Mrs’ sister and hubby from Kuala Lumpur, at Melpensa Airport, the old man exchanged long hearty hugs despite knowing how bad his breath would be after the tuna pasta he just had at the airport lounge and how his armpits would be reeking of garlic and onions. The Mrs’ sis and hubby looked as if they had just stepped out of a wellness resort, he, charming and disarming as if he just auditioned to be the next James Bond and she, regal with sophistication and brilliant like a pink diamond, as evergreen as Eva Green.

The four of them were not outdone at all by the movie’s fab four on their first day in Italy. Milan was superb! Their breakfast was as romantic as Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The best pizza the old man ever had was right there in Milano. Although the viewing time was restricted to only fifteen minutes, the chance to be in the same room as The Last Supper at Santa Maria delle Grazie and admire the brilliance of Leonardo Da Vinci up close felt like a private moment with God, the old man confided to me. James Bond had no intention of joining the rest of them at La Scala that night, but after the events of the previous night at their Airbnb apartment in downtown Milan, he felt compelled not to spend the night alone in the bedroom.

“What events on the previous night?” I asked.

James Bond yawned but said nothing.

Eva Green, her eyes glittering like a pair of pink diamonds, suggested that I made her a cup of tea before telling me the story.

“It was our first night in the apartment,” she began.

The building survived both world wars. The lift with its ornate timber doors and black iron scissor gates groaned and shuddered violently at each stop. Eva Green woke up thirsty at about 3 am and went into the kitchen for a cup of water. She was pleased there was a full cup of pre-boiled water left on the kitchen bench. How thoughtful, she thought her sister must have left it there for her. She picked up the cup and returned to her room to share the water with James. She did not notice the old man, who was sleeping on the spare bed in the sitting room. He was quite well awake, feeling chuffed at the Bitcoin price chart that showed a long green candle and although she was carefully quiet in her movements, he could hear the soft steps her high arched slippers made. He assumed she had just come out to check on her sister who had been quite noisy unzipping her bags and unpacking items from plastic bags. She must be jet-lagged to be up and about at that ungodly hour, he assumed. Plastic bags, notoriously noisy to handle, emit loud crinkling and rustling sounds no matter how careful one is in the middle of the night. As for zippers, no matter how you unzip, you can never do so without making a sound. She was zipping and unzipping as if she had a hundred bags to unpack that night. The old man was about to get up to ask the Mrs to stop the racket in case she woke up the other couple but Eva beat him to it. As soon as she got to the kitchen, adjacent to her sister’s bedroom, the noise stopped. Ah, not a single word needs to be exchanged between sisters. The old man marvelled at that thought. Had it been him, the Mrs would have ignored him lecturing her or worse, she would have given him a piece of her mind for trying to tell her what to do or not do.

“Did you simply stare at your sister to make her stop unpacking?” the old man asked Eva the next morning.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Eva asked.

It dawned on him she was not aware of the noises her sister was making and that it must have been just perfect timing that as Eva came out of her room, the Mrs had finished unpacking. Hours later, he went to check on the Mrs and was shocked to see none of their bags had been emptied out. If she didn’t make all that noise, who did?!

“I just went to the kitchen to get a drink,” Eva said. The next sentence she said made the old man freeze like a snowstorm had blown right at him.

“I was so pleased there was a full cup of water on the bench,” she continued.

“A full cup? One cup?” he asked.

“Yes, why?” she asked.

“I filled up three cups and lined them up in a straight line to indicate they are drinkable,” the old man replied, with the loud emphasis on the number of cups, before explaining to Eva that he thought she got up to see what her sister was doing, making such a racket at three in the morning.

“What noise? I didn’t hear anything!” Eva said, explaining again she got up because she was thirsty.

James Bond, upon hearing the story during breakfast, said with an unusual urgency in his voice, “Please buy me a ticket to La Scala tonight, I’m not staying alone in my room tonight!”

The following day, the party left Milan for Bellagio where James Bond and Eva Green planned to retrace the footsteps of their namesakes at the Villa del Balbianello.