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Natoli Stefan & Oliva sas
12, corso Plebisciti - 20129 Milano
tel. 02.70001645 - fax 02.741277
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For further informations, don't hesitate to contact |
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PATRIZIA ROSSI
An Italian writer of adventure stories for children, who lives in Milan, where she grew up, and graduated in philosophy prior to obtaining a diploma in Stage Directing at the 'Piccolo Teatro di Milano’. After working in Theatre, she started writing children's literature. Her creative interests not only include imaginative and original cartoon strips but also cinema and theatre; her reportage on Italian avant-garde theatrical works of the 1970s can be found in the Moma archives in New York.
Her first publication "Giallo di Natale" 1992 (A Christmas Mystery), was followed by other children's stories including "L'Albero degli Smemorati" 1994 (The Absent Minded People's Tree), a humorous detective story involving outlandish characters; "Un Fantasma in Sala Professori" 1995 (A Ghost in the Staff Room); "Che fine ha fatto Mariella-san?" 1995 (Whatever Happened to Mariella-san?) also translated into Spanish in the same year; "Brividi d'estate" 1995 (A Spooky Summer) which was awarded the Italian 'Bancerellino' Prize in 1996; "Il Gioco delle Perle di Drago" 1996 (Penelope and the Dragon's Wrath) an exciting adventure story involving the Chinese Triad; "Robin dei Boschi" 1999 (Robin the Eco Warrior); "Il bambino della valigia verde" 1999 (The Green Suitcase) a fantastic adventure which is set in Holland and involves a house boat, diamonds, a detective and a famous painting; "Il ritorno degli umanoidi" 2000 (The Return of the Humanoids) a Disney adventure, with Mickey Mouse as the protagonist, a famous detective on the heels of the humanoids set around Stonehenge; "Un cucciolo a Pompei" 2001 (Pompei Puppy) from the famous archeological site to London and back, published by Young Edition (Switzerland); "I biscotti del coraggio" 2003 (The Plucky biscuits, a detective story), an adventure set among the chic hotels of the Côte d'Azur in pursuit of a very mysterious old lady; "Mi chiamo Druw" 2003 (My name is Druw), the surprising adventures of an adorable alien on Earth. In September 2005 her latest novel from the series Contrasti, Fabbri Edition, "Chris prima della guerra" (Chris before the war), reflection on a world of unrest. And together with her husband Roberto Agostini: "Goldoni Racconta" 2000 (Goldoni's Story) an revealing book about the dramatist, his life, his most famous works; 99 Films. "Il cinema raccontato ai giovani" 2001 (99 greatest hits for young viewers), films dating from 1930 to 1990; "Ridere con Shakespeare" 2002 (Laughing with Shakespeare ); "Come sarò"… 2005 (The way we will be…) a group of teenagers in search of a future.
2007 "Non serve andare lontano" (Seeking Nirvana)
2008 "il carillon di Ludwig" (Ludwig's Music Box) FANUCCI
Antonio Faeti: “There a mean writers and there are caring ones and Patrizia Rossi is a very loving one, lavishing her visitors with pages of emotion, exciting journeys, full of adventures, opening doors to worlds unknown. Passionate writers love the world, love life and love their readers too, they absolutely hate monotony and boredom. |
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BOOKS |
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IL CARILLON DI LUDWIG
Ludwig's Music Box
Plot: After his grandmother's death, fifteen-year old Armin Lichtblau is spending his Summer in a Benedictine monastery located in a picturesque village in Bavaria, not too far from Linderhof Castle, one of the dream castles built by King Ludwig II (known as the Swan King), while his father is working as a volunteer surgeon in Africa. Inspired by such a way of living, Armin begins to entertain the idea of becoming a monk himself. Yet Fate has something different in store for him. In fact, when thirteen-year old Claudia Moroder turns up at the monastery with a group of young musicians from all over the world to attend a music seminar, Armin starts to realise what it is like to be in love. Then, the arrival of another mysterious guest and the search for the enchanted World of the Shadows will change the boy's life forever.
Pages: 250 Age: over 13 |
CHRIS PRIMA DELLA GUERRA
Chris before the war
Plot: Set in the months leading up to the war in Iraq this book charts the life of a young Italian university student studying music at Southampton University. This rather timid but very determined young lady has left behind her a difficult family situation and soon finds herself faced with another. Presenting herself as Chris, to avoid an obvious and obnoxious pet name and trying very hard to fit in, and cope with an ill assorted bunch of flatmates and their hang ups, she takes refuge and comfort in her music and long, lonely walks in the New Forest. Struggling to find her identity in a world facing increasing uncertainty, a chance meeting with Seamus turns her life upside-down. Attracted to this young Irish ardent pacifist her life takes on a new direction, and she finds herself caught up in a world of anti-globalization, rallies and pacifist demonstrations. As Seamus encourages Chris to stand up for what she believes in and teaches her the importance of having an independent voice, a very special friendship is formed between them. She understands that Seamus too, has had to fight his own personal battles, abandoning a life of pretence and accepting his homosexuality. They spend weekends at his Uncle Patrick’s cottage on the edge of the New Forest. An active hunt saboteur and member of SABS who has flung open his doors not only to a multitude of rescued rabbits but to musicians, friends of Seamus, Eliah a Jewish conductor and Samir a young Palestinian. In her letters to her cousin and childhood friend Martino, Chris lays bear her newfound emotions and friendships. She tells him of the sad household where she gives piano lessons to Muriel; she tells him of Muriel’s older brother Ben - who has literally ‘dropped out’ and has taken refuge within the four walls of his bedroom, shunning university life and his music, after his father’s untimely death in Afghanistan - and their involvement in Ben’s mission for the truth about his father’s mysterious hushed up death. As a pacifist is killed in Palestine, the first bombs are dropped on Baghdad. Seamus finds himself increasingly drawn to Ben and Ben to Chris. The three find emotional release in music, expressing their feelings, fears but above all their hopes for a world that in their eyes has changed for ever.
Music is often used to convey disquieting messages that are too difficult to express with words. It isn’t by chance that a novel dedicated to ‘uncomfortable messages’ revolves around the theme of music. Music is the means of communication and its various strains and intensities are played out in the different strengths of the characters, expressing and interpreting it to their own ends. The underlying message remains loud and clear even when whispered, murmured, shouted in anger, or in an outburst of tears. It is the younger generation that speaks out, as cynicism is a reality that surrounds them, they must take a firm stand, as Chris in the novel learns to, and to believe that things can change in this very uncertain, and at times very hostile world. Plus: * A novel that deals with the present day problems of a new generation, their ideals, their worries and their dreams. Written from first hand knowledge of the location and situation, the novel interlaces the performing arts, history and geography of the setting.
........** Dedicated to Rachel Corrie (1979–2003) the young activist killed in Palestine with the opening lines of Roger Waters’ poignant song ‘The Tide is Turning’ and ending with an English pacifist message.
Target: With this her 14th novel the author, a leading children’s writer and winner of numerous awards, has written a book not only for her very own public, but for a wider range of young adults. Chris before the war with its adventurous storyline has been written to make its young and not so young readers reflect upon this world full of ‘contrasts’, (Contrasts too, being the very name of titles that Fabbri, the Italian publishing house successfully markets) crucial thinking in this time of unrest between war and peace, in both a broad and narrow-minded society, and of course not forgetting altruism and egoism, hope and toleration. |
I BISCOTTI DEL CORAGGIO
The Plucky biscuits, a detective story
Four characters around the mysterious theft of a magic recipe: Guido, the drawn out detective from the Detective Society R&R; his apprentice Lorenzo; Noah, Guido?s nephew and the astonishing Clara.
A trip to Côte d'Azur, among chic hotels, searching for a mysterious old lady, escaped from the nursing home Villa Serena with a precious and risky black notepad.
What if the black notepad falls into the hands of Viviana Morigi, unscrupolous marketing manager of Dolcezze & Carezze inc?
What may the incautious consumers of the "bravery biscuits" be ending up with? All the elements for a spy-story in four voices are there, perhaps all at sea, but certainly extremely amusing!
Pages: 87 Format: 13x20 Age: 9/11 |
MI CHIAMO DRUW Disavventure di un piccolo alieno
I come from Dywxrhjkung / An Alien among Angels
Dywxrhjkung: this unpronounceable planet is the motherland of a very adorable alien, Druw (this is, of course, an abbreviated name, his full name would be even more unpronounceable!) Druw starts his adventures on Earth in a claustrophobic reformatory, which leads to a wealthy man’s huge austere villa on to a travelling circus and then into the clutches of a band of criminals.
Some wish to keep him prisoner, some lead him to believe in false morals, and others exploit his extraterrestrial gifts, among which include remarkable sight and hearing; they all manipulating Druw to their own advantage.
Soon his terrestrial adventures provoke intense homesickness; and this feeling is so strong it enables him to discover extraordinary sights and phenomena; talking animals with halos, guardian angels, ghosts of the past and exchanged identities. Druw is ‘a child of the stars’ a symbol of boundless freedom; he befriends the animal Angels that look after him and guide Druw safely back home.
The moral of the story is self-evident: only the genuine and innocent eye of the alien can see through deceptive appearances and not only detect sad hypocrisy but also dreams and illusions of life’s outsiders’
*The philosophy of life brought across to the readers by the author is that all animals can speak but not everyone can understand them; a great spirit takes good care of every living thing.
Pages: 192 Format: 12x19 Age: 10/13
IL GIOCO DELLE PERLE DI DRAGO
Penelope and the Dragon’s Wrath
Penelope was to spend her summer holiday with her parents in Amazonia, but due to her unruly behaviour, as punishment, her parents leave her with her rather unpleasant Grandmother in a rather boring old village. Penelope dreams of an exciting holiday in some far off place and decides to run away to visit her uncle in Australia. Unfortunately she has to change her plans and she finds herself in Milan; it’s August and the city is deserted. Walking around, Penelope stumbles into the city’s dark streets where drop-outs and outcasts live and gang members roam. There, she meets and befriends a Chinese boy, Zu, who is being threatened by the Yellow Triad.
Penelope and Zu decide to set off to Paris. They soon find themselves lost in the Parisian back streets trying to escape from the Triad that has followed them to Paris. Penelope discovers that her friend has somehow become mixed up in the world of drug trafficking, and they want to stop him from telling his story. As the situation becomes more dire, Penelope and Zu are helped by the down and outs from the Belleville area, young students from the Latin Quarter and an influential centenarian, Madame Fong, who has a score to settle with the old leader of the Triad, ‘The Head of the Dragon’.
Penelope’s life becomes more adventurous as she races round a maze of streets, between Parisian slums and sumptuous palaces encountering vengeful criminal organisations.However, justice prevails, Zu is able to tell the police his secret about the Triad and Penelope returns home a very different person, and also very sad having to leave behind hermany new friends and perhaps her first love.
Pages: 222 Format: 12x19 Age: under 14
BRIVIDI D'ESTATE A Spooky Summer / The Mysterious Valley / The Devil’s Mill
Every summer the twins, Silvia and Teo spend their holiday with their younger sister Zoe and their Springer Spaniel William Tell in the care of their Austrian grandmother. They always stay at Mimi’s a small Italian hotel situated in a picturesque valley, high up in the mountains. Mimi and their grandmother have been friends for many years but have opposing personalities. The twins have nicknamed Mimi the ‘Old Shrew’ because of her busy-body nature and unpleasant behaviour; however they adore their grandmother who is charming and leaves the children to their own devices. When they stay at Mimi’s Silvia and Teo always meet up with Enrico and Clara; compared with their own lively and inquisitive personalities, Enrico and Clara make for very boring friends and the holidays pass without much excitement. This year, however, they meet Willi who transforms Silvia and Teo’s holiday into a great adventure. Silvia is intrigued by Willi as his loutish behaviour contrasts with the fact that he is the heir to the Mullerdynasty – a local family whose history is linked with the valley which is steeped in mystery including a story about treasure buried in an abandoned cave. Silvia and Willi set out to solve the mystery of the buried treasure together with the help of an enthusiastic Zoe, Willi’s many adoptive brothers and sisters, Teo, who is very suspicious of the whole adventure but does not want to miss out on any of the fun and, of course, William Tell.
The group of friends not only have to face the valley’s hidden secrets, but also a number of shady characters including a group of dubious motor cyclists, a meddlesome Professor and a hoax gypsy.
The crooked business dealings of a local criminal, a man who is not only known to Mimi, but thought to be beyond suspicion tries to thwart the friends’ progress by laying a succession of unsuccessful traps to endanger their lives.
The friends are helped along their way by Inspector Gionchetta from the local police force who has been busy on the trail of local forgers for some time.
However it is the group of friends that solve the mystery of the buried treasure and uncover a ring of international forgers and illegal dealings.
Pages: 264 Format: 12x19 Age: 10/13
ROBIN DEI BOSCHI
Robin The Eco Warrior
Great preparations are underway for Verena Redolfi and her classmates of the “IV Ginnasio” who are about to go on a school trip to England, organised by their English teacher, Giulia Brambilla an active and dynamic type, who has also managed to persuade the fusty Greek and Latin teacher, who wears the most horrendous ties, Gino Cazzaniga to accompany them.
Verena lives with her grandmother and brother Davide in an old villa in Milan. Her parents have divorced, and are now remarried, so she has two mothers and two fathers who are all eager to give their last words of advice on the eve of her departure. ‘Pathetic!’ is a word she uses rather a lot to describe family, school and adults.
Varena strongly believes in reincarnation (thinking that she in part derives from an Irish rebel and a Dakota Indian). That she will become a rock star and die young and at the very least is destined for an adventure!
When the students arrive in England, they are placed with host families and Verena goes to the Tylers’. Mr and Mrs Tyler are both intellectuals and they have two children, Daisy who astonishingly looks rather like Verena, and Robin a member of the Eco Warriors, a local gang, who are deeply committed to stopping the construction of a motorway that would destroy a nearby wood. One day Verena and her classmates, by chance, turn up at their camp where to their surprise they find the Eco Warriors living in the trees that they are protecting and in underground shelters, in protest against the new road and to hide from what they call “The Black Men”. The very worst thing that could have happened, of course, happens. The students join forces with the Eco Warriors and like them sleep in the trees, hide out in the shelters and face ‘The Black Men’ together. Verena at last lives out the adventure she has always dreamed of and longed for. And the teachers? Well Gino and Giulia become so involved with each other that they somehow find themselves tied up with the law! And what about love? Yes, well Robin and Verena end up at the seaside town that echoes the past holidays of that incurable romantic Jane Austen. And yes that is where he kissed her, her very first kiss, and it was by no means pathetic!
The school trip comes to an end, and worried parents flock to the airport to greet them, but little do they know that their children are no longer the same. For Varena life becomes boring and ‘pathetic’ once again, even though she decides to put together a band, throwing her heart and soul into it, well what is left of her heart, as she had definitely left a part of it behind in England. Then low and behold one boring afternoon the doorbell rings and we can all guess who it is!
Pages: 186 Format: 13x19 Age: under 14
UN FANTASMA IN SALA PROFESSORI
A Ghost in the Staff Room
Clelia Melanconia Webster-Mari is a teenager with a problem. She has seen a ghost at her school and tries to convince her teachers and classmates that she sees it during her lessons even though nobody believes her. The Webster-Mari’s are an imaginative intellectual family and noted for their flamboyant lifestyle; the mother a pianist, the uncle an artist, and grandmother, a sort of surrogate mother for waifs and strays, ranging from cats, dogs to tortoises and blackbirds. Clelia’s family have an important and significant role in the story which takes us as far as the northern icy waters of Greenland, a place close to Clelia’s heart where wildness and ancient magical legends abound! Clelia discovers that the school-caretaker is none other than the ghost of Arnanajuk, who belonged to the ancient Inuit population, and was condemned to spend a thousand years on earth. Arnanajuk is now being persecuted by Isia Bossi, an odious, arrogant lad who has resorted to bribery in order to pass his exams.
Clelia is determined to find the answer to this mysterious situation with the help of her best friends, Ale and Valeria, family, teachers and even the headmaster the culprit is exposed and the ghost finds solace with her warm and cuddly, blue haired Gran. But Clelia’s adventures are not over yet! Even though the sad looking ghost is well looked after by Gran. Arnanajuk misses his homeland and the only to cheer him up is to take him back there. Once there he rids himself of his dreadful curse. Grand finds a new husband and Clelia enjoys visiting the land of her dreams!
Pages: 186 Format: 13x19 Age: under 14
CHE FINE HA FATTO MARIELLA-SAN'
Whatever Happened to Mariella-San?
Rebecca is a cocky ten year old who believes that being at school is a complete waste of time – what is the point of being there for eight months when you can learn the same things in half that time? But, what annoys Rebecca most is her ill-tempered strict teacher who makes her life hell! However, one day, a new boy arrives at school, Hiroshi, who comes from Japan. Hiroshi brings to school many stories from his native country together with a mysterious secret. Rebecca and Hiroshi rename their teacher Mariella-San after a Japanese cartoon character and Rebecca becomes involved in not only trying to get rid of her teacher but also in trying to uncover the secret of Hiroshi’s true identity. Rebecca is also intrigued to discover who Hiroshi’s twin brother and two beautiful identical sisters really are. While trying to find the truth, Rebecca encounters a number of bizarre characters including a kind-hearted taxi driver, a crazy cousin and her rather eccentric family and of course everyone will want to know what happens to Mariella-San?
Pages: 100 Format: 11x17 Age: 8/11
IL BAMBINO DELLA VALIGIA VERDE
The Green Suitcase
He's worried, disappointed and angry. If after so many years his parents have longed for a second child, "this means that the first one was faulty". And poor Michi tells everything to his best friend, Pietro, who volunteers to help him. What could they do? Pietro has an e-mail friend, Dan Dick, living together with his odd and sporty granny, Fyn, on a houseboat on a canal in Amsterdam. And so what? You might wonder. Michi will hide in a green suitcase aboard a plane: destination Holland. Finally one day aunt Patti, an absent-minded twenty-year old, helps Pietro to pack his precious comics collection in the big and old green suitcase in order to send it to the Netherlands. Everything seems all right but when the green suitcase, alias Michi, gets to the Amsterdam airport, something unexpected happens. By mistake, a lady, or better a woman looking like a modern witch, gets hold of the suitcase.
Who's she? The "big boss" of an international gang of notorious art dealers. Meanwhile, Dan comes across an ancient picture on board his houseboat. The portrait of "a fool", he says. Although he really makes a blunder... and his grandma discovers the truth: it is no less than Leonardo's masterpiece, "La Gioconda". Erasmo, a twenty-year old musician and composer, will be Michi's saviour, suggesting his gaolers to free the child in exchange for the famous picture. But the story has not come to an end yet.
Our lively grandmother is pretty determined to checkmate the gang and... she dresses up as a millionaire and pretends to be deeply interested in purchasing "La Gioconda".
Our wicked witch is enticed by the old lady's exceptional offer, even though she's already promised the picture to a Japanese telecommunication boss, boasting a huge collection of stolen well-known paintings. And surprise! Our "full of beans" granny is a real millionaire: the last heir of a diamond mine. But no-one is aware of that, since she prefers to lead a simple life on the canal and to give everything to a charity. In the end, the baddies, meaning the criminals and the witch, are arrested by Interpol and you art lovers don't worry because you will be allowed to see again "La Gioconda" hanging on the wall of the Louvre but... is it the original or a copy? Dan and Michi are now famous in the press and on TV but it is high time for them to go back home. Heroes, by definition, are able to accept and bear even noisy little sisters... and all the worse for them!
Pages: 100 Format: 11x17 Age: 8/11
GIALLO DI NATALE
A Christmas Mystery
Olivero Varenna is a likeable but eccentric journalist who lives in Milan with his wife, children and their pet cat, Honey. His wife is a photographer who is continually distracted from her work by their teenage daughter, obsessed by fashion. Their son is a great body building fan who loves reading horror stories; and last but not least their youngest daughter, Camille. The story starts one very hot day in August when Olivera receives a cryptic message from Helsinki; he does not know anyone who lives in Finland and is intrigued to find out what the message could possibly mean and why it has been sent to him.
The reader is then caught up in an entertaining tale that is part fairy story, part detective as Olivero tries to decipher the message. Throughout his quest he has the help and hindrance of his family who often send him off in the wrong direction. He also has to cope with the interruption from his nosy neighbours and Giacomo, a friend of Camille’s who fancies himself as a young budding detective and who has the irritating habit of meticulously writing down all that happens, but in the end all this serves its purpose.The story ends on Christmas Eve when Olivero finally decodes the message and discovers that it is from Father Christmas. The message reveals that Father Christmas has decided it is time for him to retire and that he has chosen Olivero to carry on his work. To help him Olivero will have Father Christmas’s fairy reindeer (Sophia, Esther and Pernilla) and the magic computer that makes toys which are then delivered to children all over the world. Olivero will ensure that the legend of Father Christmas will live on, but in the hands of this eccentric journalist can we be sure it will remain as we know it?
Pages: 86 Format: 11x17 Age: 8/11
L'ALBERO DEGLI SMEMORATI
The Absent Minded People’s Tree
Philip Spade works as a detective at the Durrel & Spade Detective Agency in Chicago and he’s doing his very best to recover his lost memory. Cosima Viganò a plucky teenager who is in a perpetual daydream is waiting to live out the greatest adventure of her life. The two meet, quite by chance, in a small public park in Milan, Italy, amongst some ghastly shaped trees, and it is here that their adventure begins. The setting is rather strange but also our two intrepid adventurers are not what we would consider ordinary people! To give you an idea: Philip loves disguising himself when he investigates and Cosima, who dreams of becoming a real detective, just like the protagonist of her favourite TV series, does not want to miss out on the chance of working with Philip on a certain mysterious and rather dangerous case.
Dorrie, Philip's pretty detective partner, later joins them on the case. They delve into secrets and come up with startling truths as well as meeting up with clumsy killers, talking dogs, bewitching ladies,disgusting old hags and sworn enemies as well as friendly and intriguing characters and forgetful and absent minded people who all in the end recover their memory and everything seems to be back to normal, but is it?
Pages: 86 Format: 11x17 Age: 8/11
IL RITORNO DEGLI UMANOIDI
The Return of the Humanoids A Disney adventure, with Mickey Mouse as the protagonist; the famous detective on the heels of the humanoids situated in land around Stonehenge
Pages:142 Format: 11x17 Age: 8/11 |
…………….and together with her husband Roberto Agostini:
GOLDONI RACCONTA
Goldoni’s Story an informative book about the dramatist, his life, his most famous works and the period in which he lived.
Under 14
99 FILM IL CINEMA RACCONTA AI GIOVANI
99 film narrated to young people
The best way to enjoy the masterpieces of cinema, 1930 to 1990. A precise and passionate work to replay to a demand that’s coming to light in the best type of school. This book wants to satisfy the growing curiosity of kids and young people for this fascinating form of art that’s been capable of giving emotions and entertainment. All the most important directors, actresses, actors, who made the history of cinema, from Hollywood to Cinecittà, from Paris to London and Moscow.
Pages: 205 - Illustrated Paperback Age 12 +
Translations by Penny Bristow
The Green Suitcase translated by Lucia Bonfanti |
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FIRST PART: A Mountain Legend
The Boy from the Woods
'Watch out!'
The warning came too late. As she tumbled down the grassy slope, the blue sky came and went in an ever increasing whirling motion. She decided to close her eyes, and wrapped her arms about her head to protect herself from the stones as she drifted towards the bottom.
She came to a halt face downwards, her mouth full of earth. She had aches and pains all over and was unable to move from the shock. Nearby she could hear the murmuring of water.
'Silvia! Silvia! Are you all right? Say something!' Safely anchored to the path above, her brother carried on shouting but she couldn't understand what he was saying. 'I don't know,' she murmured in a feeble voice which wouldn't have travelled any further than the blueberry bush her head had come to rest on.
She tried moving one foot, then the other, and at last she managed to free her arms. Leaning on her elbows she heaved herself up. She could feel the earth vibrating slightly: it was her brother who had finally decided to come to her aid. At that very moment her gaze met with two laughing eyes. They were long and narrow, the colour of the undergrowth. Silvia thought them odd at first, but then she understood: the effect was due to the total absence of eyebrows and eyelashes. On closer inspection the eyes became visible, but were so clear as to almost defy the imagination. Whatever, those eyes were laughing, and they were laughing at her.
Despite the aches and pains, she sprang to her feet and stood stoically with her legs apart before the intruder.
'Oi!' shouted her brother aggressively as he arrived on the scene. 'You totally stupid or what? You could've at least grunted or mumbled...' His words faded in the air as he too stopped to take in the stranger.
His hair was blonde, almost pure white. He'd never seen anything like it before. And such a free and easy way air about him. He was sitting on a tree trunk in his underpants. His chin was resting on one of his legs while the other, outstretched beyond proportion, seemed to belong to another body. Teo was beginning to fear he might have stumbled upon an ancient wood dweller, but the deep seated rationality for which he was renowned held sway over any such idle notions. He got stuck into the boy with all the impulsiveness he could muster.
'And you? Who the hell are you?!'
The boy moved and, as if in a spell, his arms appeared and his body recovered its composure. He was even thinner to look at when standing up. 'Me? I'm the Lord of the Woods. But what about you, you vile mediocrity, from whence do you come, and what's your name?'
Teo stood stock still while Silvia, who was better versed in irony, simply burst out laughing.
'We're from Milan, in northern Italy. We're staying at the Laurin Pension. I'm Silvia and he's...Teo...He's my twin brother, even though we don't resemble each other very much.'
Her voice was deep and powerful. She went off to a nearby stream and started bathing her cuts. Taking her shoes and socks off, she dipped her feet in the water. It was freezing, and the pain which shot right through her soon had her jumping up and down in a kind of primitive dance. The two boys stood before one another like enemies. Teo, dark, a black knight; the other white, without a blemish, stood thinking.
'So,' went on Silvia in an effort to ease the tension, 'what's your name then?'
'Willi,' replied the boy at length. 'I live here.'
'In the woods?'
'No, in the valley.'
'And what are you doing with just your underpants on?'
'I was fishing.'
'Do you mean there are still trout around these parts? Yippee! I'd better phone dad right away and tell him to come down here...'
'No, I was fishing for tadpoles. Trout don't exist anywhere unless they are put there in the first place.'
'Tadpoles? Don't you mean frogs?'
'No, tadpoles! Look.'
The boy showed her a jar full of round shapes with little tails darting around rapidly. In an effort to see them better, Silvia placed her nose right next to the jar. She was astigmatic and should have worn glasses, but she didn't like herself in them. And anyway, to be at the mercy of a pair of spectacles was abhorrent to her. Her world was, then, a misty one.
Seen at close range, those tadpole things looked quite pretty, and she wondered if Willi caught them with his hands...
'Aren't you cold?' asked Teo, breaking the silence and drawing near with an air of indifference to look at the contents of the jar. Side by side, the two twins didn't seem to have very much in common at all. Not even the colour of their hair. His was as black as pitch while she was chestnut, verging on red. Only their speckled blue eyes bore a resemblance: Teo's were darker while those of his sister were transparent like water in sunlight.
Willi stared at them and thought they looked about thirteen years old. He felt an undeniable liking for the girl, a spontaneous dislike for the boy. He would have liked to punch him into next week, and made no attempt to hide his antipathy. When Silvia and Teo turned to look at him, they felt for the second time the same sense of unease.
'Come on, get dressed and come with us to do a bit of exploration. We're free till lunchtime, then Grandma will be waiting for us at the Pension. They say there's a waterfall around here, I'd love to take a look at it...'
'I know where it is. Half an hour's steady walk and we're there.' Squirming around in his clothes, the mysterious youngster was getting dressed. A shapeless long sleeved T-shirt, Tyrolese-style leather shorts, dirty and threadbare, and a pair of heavy old walking shoes laced up around his rolled up socks. A coarse looking jumper was tied around his waist.
Without really wanting to, Silvia found herself comparing the boy's clothes to those of her brother: multicoloured shoes, designer jeans cut off at the knees, a gaudy T-shirt, and a pullover thrown over the shoulders with a knowing nonchalance. Sighing, she set off behind Willi in silence, not wishing to upset things by saying anything silly.
They started making their way through the undergrowth. The ferns had become gigantic and their huge damp leaves surrounded them on every side. The boy didn't follow a path as such, but thrashed a path out for himself with a stick. Now the vegetation was changing and they were walking on a carpet of pine needles, one behind the other. Rays of sunlight were filtering through the trees, casting a golden glow over everything.
'There it is!' exclaimed Willi.
Silvia moved in the direction of the noise, and a tiny waterfall appeared out of thin air. Gushing out of a rock, it tumbled some feet in mid-air and then lost itself in the midst of a clear water brook which vanished among some stones. It reappeared further on only to be swallowed up into the nothingness once again. The spray fell on her hair and her thoughts turned to her auntie's stories about the Victoria Falls. She wouldn't have been surprised to meet a crocodile, albeit a small one of course!
'Is that it?' complained Teo unimaginatively, and without wasting any further time he started going back.
'I'm hungry,' he told them. 'I'm going home...'
'Mind you don't get lost...' his sister shouted after him. 'I'm not stupid you know!'
Willi's eyes seemed to be smiling but his mouth wore a hard expression. Silvia diverted her attention from him and approached the rock in an effort to touch the water.
'It's a bit of a quagmire around here...'
Too late. One of her feet had already sunk into the ground. They laughed. Then he gave her a hand up and they walked side by side, balancing on the rocks as they went. Of course, it wasn't long before they were splashing each other and they might even have taken a shower beneath the waterfall had it not been so cold. Shivering, they searched for some sunshine.
'I'll take you to a place where we can really go swimming if you like...'
Silvia opened her eyes wide. 'Oh yes, that would be lovely. But...tomorrow, I really have to be getting back now.'
'I'll take you back to the path where you fell over. Then I'll make my own way.' They walked back without saying a word. Silvia watched him from behind, amazed. On leaving, they fixed a meeting for the day after at eight o'clock.
'Where do you live?' she asked inquisitively. 'Over there' he replied evasively. Then he vanished in among the trees.
In the Shadow of the Mill
'I must say this is a crazy time to eat,' grumbled Teo, his plate laden with meat balls and potatoes. 'I just want to go to sleep!'
'This time around I'm going to tell everybody your name if you don't pack it in...' replied Silvia, spoiling for a fight.
'You just dare and I'll...'
'Children, children,' interrupted Grandma. 'There's no need for all this fuss. Anyway Teodoro, you're not still ashamed of your name surely?' Even though she had tactfully lowered her voice and spoken the name with great nonchalance, Teo was blushing deeply. 'And what of Zoe then?' she asked, turning to a child about ten years old who had practically disappeared beneath a mass of honey blonde hair while bending over her plate.
'Me?' replied Zoe, raising her head to reveal a pair of eyes identical to those of her brother and sister. 'I love my name,' she added with her mouth full of food. 'Silvia's the one who should worry - such a commonplace name to call anyone,' she concluded, burying her head once again in the food.
Their grandmother, whose name was Sylvia, mumbled something.
'And you, dear granny? You've got a 'y' in your name! Don't ever forget it.' Young Zoe always wanted to have the last word.
The four of them ate in silence for a few minutes. The dining room in the Pension wasn't very full. Just the odd mother with child in tow and they themselves. The hotel keeper, a kind of caretaker figure, referred to them collectively as the 'Villa family'. Even at that very moment he was keeping his eye on everything from his observation post, or at least he was trying to. They really were an odd family. The grandmother, Sylvia Fuchs, a sprightly old lady with an icy stare, white hair tied up in a bun and a large, old fashioned bag about her all the time. As for Teo and Silvia, you'd have a job trying to find a more unlikely looking pair of twins. And then there was Zoe, half-devil, half-angel: left to her own devices one morning, she actually managed to flood out the Pension basement, and then had the gall to deny everything when it came to sorting out who was responsible. Lifting his eyes to the sky, the hotel keeper had decided to forget that little episode, as indeed he had done on other occasions, the reason being that this funny little family regularly took out two rooms at the hotel for a good two months each year. Apart from that, the grandmother was Viennese and a cousin of the cousins of his mother-in-law, Mimì, less affectionately known by everyone as the Grand Old Lady.
'I'm coming as well tomorrow,' said Zoe.
'Huh, as far as I'm concerned you can both go on your own,' commented Teo as he struggled to peel a peach. The last time he'd set about a peach, he'd seen it fly into the plate of the person sitting next to him, who just happened to be an important guest of his father's. 'I don't think that's on,' interrupted Grandma. 'I would like to think you are ready to take on more responsibilities now. After all, you are the man of the family here.' She was teasing him and winked at Silvia who was daydreaming about something else.
'I wonder where he lives,' she let slip.
'Who?' asked her grandmother.
'Troglodytes live in caves!' offered Teo.
'Oh stop it,' intervened Zoe.
'I suppose you think that's funny Teo?' groaned Silvia.
The Grand Old Lady, who dealt with kitchen matters at the Pension, and was in fact the owner, drew herself slowly up to their table. 'My dearest Sylvia, how's things? Everything to your satisfaction?' 'Mimì, everything is perfect. Why don't you join us for coffee?' 'Ernesto, two coffees here please,' and she plumped herself down on the bench next to Grandma. One was as thin as the other was abundant, yet both of them bore a crafty looking smile which hinted at an intimate, long standing friendship. They cut themselves off from the rest by chatting non stop in German.
'Dearest granny, if you happen to say something interesting, would you please speak in Italian?'
The Grand Old Lady fixed her with her enormous, bag-swollen eyes, and demanded:
'You ghastly little toad, you may have the most wonderful long ringlets, but you don't understand German do you? Right? Well then, I shall now tell you a pretty tale. Do you all know that old dilapidated house down in the valley? Many, many years ago it used to be a Mill, inhabited by a family of rascals. That's the right word isn't it?' she asked Grandma. Seeing as there was no reply she went on: 'Well, scoundrels, you know what I mean. They used to give shelter to wayfarers and feed their horses, but while the guests were sleeping they would rob them and sometimes even murder them.'
'Tell the story properly please,' implored Zoe, in a state of awe. Stories of misdeeds and horrific murders were her favourites. Pity no-one ever told her stories of that kind. She wasn't even allowed to watch violent films on television, so she had to invent stories and tell them to herself. She took her cue from what she managed to watch on TV and the snippets of news she occasionally read in the papers.
The Grand Old Lady observed her attentively. Then she looked long and hard at her friend, almost as if she was asking for approval to go on. Grandma nodded and she continued her story.
'It was 1901, and the miller, Hans Müller, who had bought the Mill some years earlier, had just completed extension work on it. It had been an ordinary wooden building before, like mills usually are. The house, which was further upstream, was later knocked down. He'd used it as a post-stage - you know the kind of thing - a stopping off place for travellers and change of horses. His wife, a tiny woman all skin and bone, worked in the kitchen; his brother was a bit retarded and looked after the animals. The Miller had no fewer than fourteen children! All alive and kicking and all boys. The older boys had gone to work in the mines in the valleys nearby while the youngest among them pastured the cattle. Such was the terrible reputation of the Mill that no-one among us here would ever have dreamed of spending a night there, and even before the Müller family arrived on the scene...' Mimì here paused for effect: '...One night, a wealthy Merchant with half a dozen overburdened mules happened upon the place. It was raining, my word how it rained...Over the previous few days the river had already overflowed its banks several times, and people were more than half expecting a massive flood. My husband's grandfather used to say that that night was remembered by many as the Night of the Devil. The lightning came down in flashing bolts and exploded near our houses. Some of them caught fire.'
The Grand Old Lady interrupted her story again so as to see the effect it was having on her audience. Silvia, unflappable, was lost in thought but Teo and Zoe paid her back with interest by sitting there expectantly with their mouths wide open.
'Go on! Go on!' said Grandma excitedly, eager to hear the rest.
'It'll probably be the same old lost treasure kind of thing,' commented Silvia tartly whilst staring at something right in front of her. The Grand Old Lady gave a start and rose to her feet with great difficulty. It looked like she was in a huff. 'I've got to go now, it's getting late. Have a nice day now, children.' And with that, she turned her back on them and took her leave.
'Mimì!' begged Grandma, all too aware that she was speaking on behalf of her grandchildren. 'You can't just...'
'Oh can't I? You just watch,' she replied, dragging herself away from the table on her heavy legs. An embarrassed silence swept over the table.
'Don't fret now children,' cooed Grandma reassuringly. 'I'm positively certain Mimì will be unable to hold herself back from telling the rest of the story tomorrow.' Glancing at Teo and Zoe, she urged: 'Don't take it out on your sister. You know what she's like.' They felt hard done by.
Too furious with her sister for words, Zoe decided to go for a relaxing stroll around the Pension with William Tell. She pulled him out from under the table where he had been resting quietly, and stomped off outside.
Blast my sister and her ideas, she thought, and off she went in the direction of the Mill. She felt that a quick look at the place would help her soak in the atmosphere of the story more easily if and when the Grand Old Lady decided to carry on with her tale tomorrow.
Tell, a small springer spaniel, trotted off reluctantly behind her. He seemed intent on slowing things down and flew off down every side path they came across, forcing Zoe to call him back.
'Oh come on, you cowardy custard. It's only a story, almost a hundred years old! You shouldn't listen if you don't feel up to it,' she scolded him after he'd taken yet another side track.
With his ears skimming the ground, Tell finally fell into line and followed Zoe like a shadow. Jumping from stone to stone in a fit of athletic activity, Zoe tried out the elasticity of her knees and failed to notice how the path had changed in appearance. Instead she breathed in the perfume of the flowery meadows and gazed admiringly at the wooden fences which marked the boundary of the peasant houses which lay silent in the distance.
When she got to the steep gravel slope hidden among the trees, she felt cold. The sun couldn't filter through the branches and darkness had fallen all around. The dog trotted around behind her and was a welcome source of comfort.
'Here Tell, heel, there's a good boy.'
She stroked his head and he slowed down. Not a sound could be heard. It was almost uncanny. Suddenly she heard the gushing of water and found it even more unnerving than the silence. The noise became more and more deafening, and the air was becoming damper. Zoe stopped to put on her jumper. A few more bends in the track and she would see the Mill. Puffed out, she inadvertently slowed down once again, and grabbed Tell by his collar.
The path led inescapably down to where the river met with their valley stream. With her arms on her hips, Zoe breathed in deeply to try and drive out that inexplicable sense of fear which had taken hold of her. Over the other side of the river, the Mill - or rather what was left of it - rose up against the sky. One side of it had been submerged by water, and eyed the surrounding landscape mysteriously, keeping its secret to itself.
Maybe, she thought, everything really had happened on that night many years before, the Night of the Devil. Zoe tried to stop fantasising and made an effort to analyse only what she could see: a building with branches coming out of its ramshackle windows and roof, and a rotting wooden wheel almost underwater. To the side, a bridge linked up the two banks. Holding the dog firmly by the collar, she bravely made her way towards the footbridge.
'It's all so frighteningly gloomy,' she said to her companion. 'The sun probably never shines down here. I can't work out how it could once have been an inn.' The sound of her voice made her feel less lonely, and she would have gone on talking quite happily. But at the very moment she was about to put her foot on the rickety bridge, she was blocked by a slight noise. Out of the corner of her eye she could see shadows moving, and instinctively hid behind a bush.
Two men had appeared from nowhere and were standing in the clearing before the Mill. Their excited talk and suspicious manner struck her as rather sinister. The tallest of the two was very elegant in his blue jacket and tie. While he was speaking, he took off his jacket to reveal a flat bottom held up by two long legs contained inside a pair of grey chalkstripe trousers. At first Zoe thought of a crane, but then she was reminded of a certain Sanpiero, her father's accountant. She imagined him with a pot belly and a false teeth smile, with maybe just one golden tooth. The other man looked like a gypsy with his orange head scarf tied at the neck, a gaudy looking waistcoat and a ring which must have been enormous because even if there was no sunlight it still sent out flashes of light.
Remembering in good time that curiosity killed the cat, Zoe took to her heels and ran until she reached a spot where she was sure she couldn't be seen or, what was worse, followed. Then she started running again and unwittingly established a world record: from the Mill to the Pension, a steady uphill run totalling five kilometres, in just over an hour. Tell was absolutely worn to a frazzle. The hotel keeper put a brave face on things as he watched the dog leap into the fountain at the centre of the garden. Sweating and panting for breath, Zoe collapsed on the lawn near the table tennis table where her brother and sister were fighting it out to the bitter end.
'You daft beggar! It was net!' was just about the politest comment she overheard while trying to control the wild beatings of her heart.
After a short while, Grandma called them all in for dinner. Faces were pulled on seeing the usual watery mix which went under the name of soup, this time made with millet seed. Teo started cheep-cheeping under his breath. Silvia stopped her sulking and smiled at last. Zoe burst out laughing and forgot all about her frightful experiences at the Mill.
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San Rocco at Midnight
You want some impartial advice?
Don't ever go into a graveyard at night. Not even if the challenge is mouth-wateringly tempting. And if it's a mountain cemetery you're talking about, you'd better be extra careful! It would pay you to keep your distance, even in the middle of the day, if you don't want what happened to me to happen to you.
I'd just had the plaster cast removed from around my neck, and as a prize my parents sent me on holiday to stay with the most loathsome grandmother you could ever imagine. Grandma Olga.
The mountain village was located at the very end of the road, buried somewhere in among the winding bends. The sky above seemed so near you could almost touch it. And that was about as far as the romantic side of the situation went.
Grandma had decided to give the house an airing. It belonged to her son, my uncle, who had emigrated to Australia years ago and had long stopped writing home. My father insisted that my uncle's having put all the waters of the oceans between him and his mother was the best thing he had ever done. But then he contradicted himself by sending me, his very own first born, to stay with his mother-in-law. Even my mother had received no news from her brother, something that was hardly to his credit. My uncle was actually the best person I'd met during my first five years of life. Mum was the second best.
Before disappearing, my uncle, his wife and their four boys had spent a holiday in their mountain home. Their house was one big muddle. It was indescribable, quite funny really. Each and every room was on a different level from the others. You went in through a kind of terracotta entrance which then rose in higgledy piggledy fashion to the upper floors. It was a sort of vertical labyrinth. There were two bathrooms: the one without windows and a fan came complete with a bidet, while the one which had a window didn't. I was still carrying my suitcase when I walked in and banged my head against the low ceiling of the landing which led to my bedroom. That was the first impact the house made on me. It had been given a strange name: Forget-me-not. It was painted light blue both inside and out. Or at least it had been once.
Only one window had green shutters, and that was mine. I chose to take the bed standing opposite the outside wall. It was piled up high with mattresses, Princess and the Pea style, and it had a damp, antiquated feel about it. Although the bedroom was used as a guest room, there was nothing impersonal about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was filled with nice little bits and pieces. I noticed a jointed bear which you could bend this way and that, sitting with its head bowed. I straightened its legs and stood it up with its head held high.
Book in hand, I sprawled out on the bed with my shoes on. I propped my feet up on the high, reddish wood footboard, and through the small square window I could see a mountain rising between two corrugated iron roofs. Atop the mountain was an enormous cross which I really fancied clambering my way up to one day. I cast the book aside on the chest of drawers. The harrowing misadventures of David Copperfield were breaking my heart, and the noises coming from outside were making it difficult to concentrate.
'Whereya gon?' enquired a deep voice.
'T' pigs,' replied a boy who must have been the village idiot.
I'd never seen one before. Leaning against the wall opposite my house, he had acknowledged me with an idiotic smile and a distant stare. Our comings and goings were like an adventure film for him.
I rushed down the stairs, bending my head so as not to bump it. When I opened the door at the bottom, the idiot stared at me in a mixture of fright and curiosity.
'Can I come with you?' I asked, spurred on by an invisible force. 'No...yes...noyes...' he stuttered. Then he set off with a strange kind of skipping motion, his hands behind his back.
I followed him and he turned round to check what I was doing. There wasn't a soul in sight. It was as if everyone had disappeared, swallowed up by the houses. They all looked uninhabited and many had broken shutters. Even the recently painted houses or those whose window boxes had been filled to overflowing with geraniums stood out menacingly against the intense blue sky. Enough to put you in a cold sweat. A thin wisp of smoke coming out of a chimney pot made me feel less uptight.
'Cum...' beckoned the shy boy. And he entered a farmstead.
Inside, two massive pink pigs were waiting for someone to clean up their excrement. The stink was diabolical. The boy spoke softly to the pigs and they seemed happy to hear his voice. I went outside because I couldn't breathe.
'What do you want off my uncle?' asked a boy with large gapped teeth aggressively. He was slightly taller than me and was wearing a pair of trousers which didn't quite come down to his ankles. 'Nothing,' I replied.
'He's not a clown, you know.' He was angry.
'Why is he so...different?' I asked. I felt like the sophisticated city dweller asking questions of a country boy. It was a bit embarrassing. 'When he was small he got meningitis, or something like that. But he's a fine person,' griped the boy, staring at me with hate in his eyes.
'My name's Penelope, and you?' I was trying to get on the right side of him.
'Constant,' came the steely reply.
For the first time in my life I wasn't ashamed of my name. I didn't have to defend it in any way. This boy's name was much worse. He issued a challenge: 'Would you stay in a graveyard on your own for ten minutes at night?'
'Of course,' I answered, without giving it a second thought. I hated being taken for a silly little girl.
'Right then. See you at San Rocco's at midnight tonight,' and off he went.
As usual, the boy's uncle was leaning against a wall and he was staring at me. He made a gesture for me to follow him, and led me down a small road to a ramshackle farmstead. Its roof had almost entirely collapsed and all the parts in wood were mouldy and dilapidated. Inside, beneath a small stack of straw, a female dog was suckling a kitten. It was ugly, a kind of patchwork mix of white, grey and red, but it was so sweet. Completely still, the dog looked at me with her languid eyes. It was one of those mongrels whose exact thoroughbred had disappeared down the ages, and it was so dirty I couldn't say what colour it was.
I was alone because the uncle had walked off. I returned home to get some milk and meat for my two new friends. It was all done on the sly because my grandmother really hated animals. At least that was what she had me believe at the time. Having fed them I took them down to the cellar.
'That dog's nothing but trouble. She's always getting pregnant and tries to make all the male dogs quarrel,' announced a strange looking chap who had appeared out of nowhere inside a nearby building. A stutter meant that he wasn't all that quick in opening his heart to me. In fact he took at least five minutes to get out all he had to say. He was small and fat and was wearing a hat.
'Where are all its puppies?' I asked.
'Drowned,' he said, staring at me with an evil look in his eye. He had a kind of squint which made it difficult to make out the pitch black colour of his eyes. 'Talking of which,' he continued, 'if you need any sacks just ask,' and he pointed to an enormous black sack which looked as if it was full of other smaller sacks. 'They throw them away...' He noticed my confused glance: what did they throw away? The sacks? And then he collected them? Or was he talking about the puppies?
Grumbling away, he turned about and closed the door once more. Appalled, I turned on my tracks and locked the dog and kitten safely inside the cellar.
'Penelope...food's on the table,' shouted Grandma from somewhere on high.
I rushed up the stairs in the dark. The kitchen gave out onto the mountains and was bathed in light. Outside was an immense sky cordoned off by jagged peaks. I might even have enjoyed myself.
'I've found a dog and cat. Can I keep them?' I blurted out, without even paving the way beforehand.
'Here, no way. In Rome you can do whatever you want. That's your mother's business. I neither want to them nor hear them, understood?'
'But I wanted to take them to my room...'
'And who'll tidy up after them on the stairs or in your room? All those hairs. Of course, if you apply yourself....But remember, I'm not going to set foot inside your room again,' she said with one of those playful yet irksome smiles on her lips. 'Eat up now, else it'll get cold. I'll wash the dishes,' she concluded, fixing me with one of her icy stares. She had grey eyes and snow white hair. But she didn't resemble the grannies of fairy stories. She looked more like a wolf, if anything. Poor old mum, I thought to myself, and for the first time I felt homesick for my family. Even for my sister, Lara, who was a right pain in the neck.
I was in such a rush to get down and see my two favourites that I didn't even wait for Grandma to polish off her two potatoes and charred steak. Constant's uncle was outside again, leaning against the wall. It looked as if he was waiting for me. Passing in front of him, he held out a paper bag containing dry bread. 'For dog,' he muttered, and on touching my hand he withdrew. He was afraid. I felt silly for having called him the village idiot. He was an innocent soul, vulnerable and generous.
'Thankyou,' I replied smiling.
'Cum,' he said, making a sign for me to follow him.
He led me high up the small road until we got to an old door and pointed to some straw sticking out from behind it.
'For dog...' He wanted me to make a bed up for the animal. I picked up an armful of straw and with the help of an old cardboard packing box, prepared the bed. It was big enough for both dog and kitten.
On opening the cellar door, the dog wagged its tail and looked up at me in gratitude. Then she rushed outside to do her business. The kitten, which must have been about twenty days old, was left to her own devices. I picked him up and he set about meowing long and shrill, the typical cry of a kitten in need. The dog came charging back in and looked really worried. She laid her eyes on me and quietened down immediately.
'I'll call you Peggotty,' I said, stroking her. 'And as for you,' I continued, looking hard to try and establish whether the kitten was male or female, 'I think Jip will suit you nicely.'
The closed book on my bedside table was a perpetual source of inspiration. Eight hundred pages of misadventures with a happy ending, a person's life settled by the fates...David Copperfield was born on a Friday when the bells wee chiming midnight, exactly like me. The only difference being that nothing really bad had happened to me yet. Of course, that wasn't counting the holiday with Grandma which had been inflicted upon me.
My father had taken my mother and sister on a working holiday and left me behind as a punishment for all my outbursts of temper. 'A hot tempered girl like you is no company at all,' he said as he kissed me goodbye. Grandma was already gripping me by the wrist and dragging me towards the little red car which would take me to a life of disintoxication in the mountains of Trentino, in north-eastern Italy. All this while Lara was flying over Brasil. Blast her! It was the first time I'd been left on my own. I'd never even wanted to join the girl guides. My recollections of those events get increasingly confused. I seem to remember taking the makeshift bed to my room while I was in one of my tempers. Mum, dad and Lara were away so there was no chance of me letting off steam.
'Goodnight,' shouted Grandma from one of the rooms above. 'Night,' I mumbled back.
I started thinking I could have vented all my anger on her, but there wouldn't have been any satisfaction in that. My father had been right. I was going to go through hell for twenty days. But they would all pay for it when they got back because I certainly wasn't going to give in. Meanwhile, I waited for midnight and my date with fear.
At five-to-midnight I set off for the cemetery, which was located just around the bend from where the houses were. A wall and tiny chapel made it easy to recognise. Under an unlit streetlamp, in the dark, Constant was waiting.
'You brought some help, I see?' he said, gesturing to Peggotty, who was swishing about from right to left at my side. Luckily he didn't see Jip, who had nodded off in my shirt and was hidden beneath a loose sweater. 'So what's doing?' I enquired.
'Walk in, the gate's got a chain round it but there's no padlock. Go to the last tombstone on the right, sit down and hang about for ten minutes. You got a watch?' he asked considerately. When I showed him my watch, he whistled in appreciation.
'Great,' he commented. 'Do you want to swap?' and he showed me the kind of worthless object you would expect to find given away in a box of washing powder.
'No thanks.'
'The dog waits here.' 'Lie down Peggotty.' I'd never ordered her around before, but she seemed to understand and she crouched down obediently.
'Good girl.' 'I opened the gate with some difficulty. It creaked and groaned in the best horror film tradition. There was no lamplight inside the graveyard, just the dim illumination of a streetlamp which lightened up a patch of sky in the distance. The moon was due to brighten things up again some days later. I got to the tombstone and sat down. I couldn't even make out the names on the graves. I would have got really bored had it not been for Jip, who distracted me with her scuffling movements underneath my sweater. I'm not ashamed to admit that I fell asleep.
Constant shook me back into the land of the living.
'Very good. You even managed to fall asleep! You're really quite something, aren't you? Do you want to be my friend?
'Tomorrow...' I replied yawning. 'I'm off to bed now,' and I turned for home, swaying this way and that. I'm sure his admiring eyes followed me all the way to my bed. Which I jumped into fully dressed.
In the middle of the night, I was awoken by Grandma's heart rending cries.
'Crashed in the forest!...Missing!...My God!...No survivors! And Penelope?' was all I could catch. So it was that my destiny now seemed to resemble that of David: I was a poor orphan. A guest in the house of a harpy who wanted neither animals nor me.
I felt no sorrow. And I set about organising my escape. |
Translations by Derek Rex Allen |
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