The Mermaid Garden (15 page)

“I know. But He owes me.”

Signora Bruno smiled at the child’s spirit. “In that case, He will turn you into a princess, for sure.”

“You’ll see,” Floriana replied brightly. “If you’re good, you can come

and work for me.”

“Well, thank you,
signorina
!” The old woman laughed all the way down the stairs into the courtyard. “It had better be soon, or I’ll be

dead.”

Floriana ate a chunk of bread and cheese and drank a glass of milk.

She could hear her father snoring through the wall and grimaced. He

sounded like a pig. After eating, she ran a bath. If she was going to see Dante in the morning, she had to look her very best. She scrubbed herself from top to toe in the warm water and washed her hair, spending a

long time laboriously combing it through until all the knots had gone.

She cut her toenails and filed the ones on her hands as her mother

used to do. She brushed her teeth until they shone. It was hard to find a dress that wasn’t dirty or too small, but she pulled out a white one

imprinted with red flowers that she never wore because it marked so

easily. She’d be careful not to climb trees. One day she’d have a ward-

robe full of pretty dresses—day dresses and evening dresses—all clean

and ironed and hanging on silk hangers in a room especially designed

for her clothes. She’d have a maid to look after her and keep everything in order.

She sat on the windowsill in her bedroom and lost her gaze among

the glittering stars. If she married Dante, perhaps her mother would

come back because she’d be proud that her daughter had married so

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well. She would sit in that little mermaid garden and tell her how very sorry she was that she had run away, and Floriana would forgive her

because she would understand.

The snores grew louder in the room next door. It must have been

intolerable to share her bed with a man who snored like a pig.

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8.

The following morning the two girls walked through the poppy field

towards Villa La Magdalena. Costanza had immediately noticed

her friend’s pretty dress and shiny hair, and was choked with jealousy.

In reality Floriana had so little, and yet, striding confidently through the field that morning, she appeared to have everything. Costanza followed grudgingly, dragging her feet.

“If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to,” said Floriana, stop-

ping a moment so that she could catch up.

“I
do
want to.”

“Then hurry up.”

“Why the rush? La Magdalena’s not going to go away.”

“But Dante might.”

“You needn’t have dressed up for him, you know. He’ll look on you

as a child whether you’re in your best dress or your usual grubby one.”

“I haven’t dressed up for him,” Floriana retorted.

“Then who have you dressed up for?”

“For me, silly. Signora Bruno told me that now I’m almost grown up

I should take better care of myself.”

“Mamma won’t let me out of the house unless she’s brushed my hair

and washed my face. She’s
so
annoying.”

Floriana glanced at Costanza. In her immaculately pressed blue

dress and clean sandals she looked infinitely more groomed than

Floriana did. Her long fair hair was scraped off her face and tied with blue ribbons. It really did make all the difference having a mother who cared. Floriana strode on, pushing the thought of her absent mother to

the back of her mind.

“What if he’s not there?” asked Costanza anxiously.

“We’ll snoop around the garden all the same. I know where every-

thing is now that he’s shown me.”

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“What if we bump into someone? There’s bound to be loads of staff.”

“I was seen with him yesterday. They all know me now.”

“They might call the police.”

“Of course they won’t. What can two girls possibly do to threaten

them? We hardly look like gypsies, do we?”

“We could get into trouble. Beppe is a very powerful man.”

“So what? He’s still a human being like the rest of us. Don’t be such

a scaredy-cat.”

“I’m just being sensible.”

“Well, don’t. Sensible isn’t fun.”

At last, they stood at the big black iron gates and gazed inside. The yellow villa peeped out coquettishly from between the avenue of cypress

trees.

“It’s certainly a fine-looking
palazzo
,” said Costanza admiringly.

“It’s more than that. It’s magical.”

“I’ve seen plenty of houses like this, you know.”

“I bet you have.”

“In fact, our home in Portofino was very similar.”

“Shame your father lost it.”

“It’s not really a shame at all. It’s hard work looking after a house

that size.”

“Not if you have people to look after it for you.”

“Well, of course we had staff. Lots of staff.”

“This is where I met Dante yesterday,” said Floriana dreamily.

“He’s clearly not coming.”

“Oh, he’ll come.”

“I think we should go home now.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not. I just don’t think it’s very cool hanging on to these gates

like a couple of stray dogs.”

“If he doesn’t come, we’ll scale the wall.”

“In our dresses?”

“Not a problem. We can take them off.”

Costanza was horrified. “Take them off!”

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“Yes, take them off and throw them over the wall, climb up and put

them on when we get to the other side. Simple.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Floriana skipped off carelessly, leading Costanza along the bound-

ary she knew so well, following the line of the wall until they reached the part where it had crumbled, making it low enough to climb. “If we

sit on top, we can see into the gardens. They’re really beautiful.”

“I don’t want to climb it. If I get a hole in my dress, Mamma will

kill me.”

“Take it off, then.” Costanza watched, appalled, as Floriana stepped

out of hers and stood naked but for a pair of white panties, worn

to a grim shade of gray. She still had the body of an eight-year-old.

Costanza, on the other hand, was more voluptuous and already had the

beginnings of breasts.

“I’m not doing that,” she protested as Floriana did a little dance to

torment her.

“I feel liberated not wearing any clothes. Come on, it’s fun!”

“You’re too old to be dancing around without anything on.”

“Fine. Don’t then.” Floriana stopped dancing and tossed the dress

over the wall with a whoop of laughter. “There it goes! Hope there’s not a dog on the other side!” She proceeded to climb up like a little monkey.

Once she was on the top she sat there proudly, smiling down at her

friend. “I’ll give you a hand. Come on!” Costanza reached up and took

it. “Put your foot in that hole to lever yourself up.”

She did as she was told, and slowly, with great care and anxiety, she

joined her friend.

“I can’t believe you did that,” said Costanza hotly, smoothing down

her dress. “If anyone sees you!”

“Who’s going to see me?”

“I am,” came a deep voice from the other side of the wall. Floriana

looked down to see Dante holding her dress up for her. “I’m not look-

ing,” he said, shielding his eyes with his other hand. With a hoot of

laughter, and not a bit embarrassed, she took the dress and stepped into it, pulling it up over her shoulders. “Can I look yet?”

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“Of course you can,” she replied, buttoning it up. “There’s nothing to

see anyway.”

Costanza was blushing to the roots of her hair, imagining the horror,

had she been foolish enough to copy her friend and toss
her
dress over the wall. It was bad enough being caught climbing into his property

uninvited.

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, settling his lofty gaze on Costanza.

“Costanza Aldorisio,” Floriana informed him.

“Don’t I know your parents?”

“Yes,” Costanza replied.

“Conte Carlo Aldorisio?”

“Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Well, don’t stand up there all morning. Let’s get you both down.”

He reached up his hands, which Floriana took without hesitation, and

helped her jump onto the grass.

Costanza was shy and took his hands with a rush of mortification.

He was so handsome, she didn’t blame Floriana at all for having fallen

in love with him. She had never seen anyone as good-looking in her

entire life. She jumped down, aware for the first time of how heavy she must be in comparison to Floriana.

“So
you’re
little Costanza Aldorisio,” he mused, grinning at her.

“We’ve met before, but you wouldn’t remember—you were too small.”

“Really?”

“You came here with your parents.” She nodded dumbly. “Do you

spy on us as well?”

Costanza’s blush intensified. “No. Not me. Just Floriana.”

“So, you’re the Lone Spy, are you?” he turned to Floriana.

“I don’t think anyone loves your garden more than I do.”

“I think you’re right about that.”

“Can we go into the colonnaded garden again? I’d love to show

Costanza.”

“Sure we can.”

At that moment Good-Night trotted out of the trees. Costanza

squealed with fear as the dog came rushing excitedly towards them.

“Good-Night!” exclaimed Floriana, bending down to greet her

friend with open arms.

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“Don’t be frightened, Costanza,” said Dante, placing a protective

hand on her shoulder. “He’s very friendly.” Costanza watched as the

dog fell into Floriana’s embrace, nearly knocking her over.

“Isn’t he adorable! Look, he’s licking me again!”

“Don’t you like animals?” Dante asked Costanza.

“No,” she replied.

“I love them,” Floriana gushed. “I wish I had a dog. A companion

who is always by my side and loves me without question. I’d like that.”

“You can borrow Good-Night whenever you like,” said Dante,

finding her delight infectious. “Come on, let’s go and sit in Mother’s

garden.”

He put his hands in his pockets and strode off in the direction of the

house. Good-Night sensed something moving in the bushes, pricked

up his ears, and stiffened his tail, then bounded over to have a look.

Floriana smiled at her friend, as if to say, “Didn’t I tell you he was handsome?” and Costanza smiled back nervously, feeling better now they

had been properly introduced.

They walked through the gardens, marveling at the marble stat-

ues and hedges cut into perfect spheres. A few gardeners worked in

the borders, watering before the sun got too hot, and weeding, toss-

ing the offending plants into wheelbarrows. When they saw Dante,

they stopped what they were doing and took off their hats, nodding

respectfully. Floriana noticed and felt proud to be walking beside such an important man.

Dante smiled indulgently as the two girls chatted away excitedly.

Costanza forgot her nervousness and let Floriana show her everything,

as if the place already belonged to her. When they reached the mer-

maid garden, she sat down and announced that this was her favorite

spot because she could hear the birds in the trees and the water trick-

ling in the fountain and feel the sun on her face.

“This is heaven,” she stated simply, leaning back and closing her eyes.

“A place as beautiful as this must be where God lives, mustn’t it? When He’s not in church.”

Dante laughed and joined her on the bench. “Perhaps church is

where He works, like going into the office, and here is where He comes

to get away from all those people making impossible requests.”

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“
My
requests aren’t impossible,” Floriana said. “I would never put Him under pressure.”

“What do
you
ask for,
piccolina
?”

She smiled secretively. “I can’t tell you. If I do, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Well, you had better not tell me, then.”

“She asks for her mother to come back,” volunteered Costanza,

feeling more confident now and a little jealous that he had just called Floriana “little one,” as if he had known her a long time and was fond

of her. She sat on one of the other benches.

“Where’s your mother?”

“She ran off with a man she met at the market,” said Floriana care-

lessly. Seeing as she was going to marry Dante, he might as well know

everything about her.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. I used to wish she had taken me with her, but I wouldn’t be

sitting here now in this lovely place if she had.”

He looked at her curiously. “You’d rather be here than with your

mother?”

“Of course. I don’t imagine my mother has a garden like this. She

might have a vine—after all, the man she ran off with sold tomatoes.”

She laughed as if nothing mattered.

“So, you live with your father?”