“Sure. You can buy now and pay when the money comes through. Your credit is good here.”
It was good to be outside, with the eucalyptus-scented breeze wafting up from the sea. “It’s beautiful here,” she said. “It pulls at the soul, doesn’t it?”
“I would never live anywhere else. It’s a quiet life, but I don’t hanker after anything more.” He grinned at his daughter. “It’s a good place for a child to grow up. You have lots of friends, don’t you, Cosima?”
“Costanza is my best friend,” she said in a serious voice. “Eugenia wants to be my best friend, but I told her she couldn’t be, because Costanza is.” She sighed heavily. “Costanza doesn’t like Eugenia.” She screwed up her nose then forgot her train of thought as Cucciolo trotted out of the house with Falco. Falco smiled, but his eyes remained as hard as stone; there was something about them that reminded Alba of her father.
“I’m going into town with Cosima and Toto,” she said as her uncle sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Perhaps you can show me the chapel of San Pasquale,” she said. “It would be nice to see where my parents got married.” Falco put down the coffee pot and stared as if she had struck him on the face. “Immacolata told me about the festa di Santa Benedetta. It all happened in the chapel, didn’t it?” she continued, oblivious.
“That miracle ground to a halt years ago,” said Toto with a grin. It was clear that he didn’t think much of the medieval ritual either.
“Is my mother buried there?” she asked, directing her question at Falco, who had turned pale.
“No,” he replied flatly. “She is buried on the hill overlooking the sea. It is a secluded spot where she can rest in peace. There is no headstone.”
“No headstone?”
“We didn’t want her disturbed,” he said. “I’ll take you there this afternoon.”
As Toto drove Alba and his daughter down the winding lane to the town, she couldn’t help but reflect on the mystery that surrounded her mother’s death. She wanted to ask Toto about it, but she felt it wasn’t right to speak of such things in front of Cosima. Instead she asked the child about her animals, the real ones as well as the imaginary ones. Cosima leaned through the gap in the seats and chirped with the enthusiasm of a spring bird at dawn.
In town Toto took Alba to the bank and helped her set up an account with the manager, whom he had known since his school days. They were happy to give her credit, having gotten through to her manager in London. Cosima was thrilled to accompany her into the boutique to buy clothes. Having no mother, she was unaccustomed to watching a woman try on dresses and shoes; her great-grandmother only ever wore black. Inspired by the child’s enthusiasm, Alba tried on everything, asking her to classify her opinion on each item with a number between one and ten. Cosima squealed with delight, giggling at the ones that looked awful, shouting out “zero” with exuberance. Toto left them alone to browse while he had coffee in the trattoria. Everyone knew Cosima and there were few who hadn’t heard of Alba’s dramatic arrival the day before. Together they walked hand in hand up the pavement, stopping at each shop, laughing at their reflections in the glass. It hadn’t escaped Alba that Cosima could be her daughter. They were very much alike.
“Now I’m going to introduce you to the dwarfs,” Cosima announced merrily.
“The dwarfs?” Alba repeated, not sure she had understood correctly.
“Si, i nani!” said Cosima, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She led her cousin into the dark interior of a cavernous shop that seemed to contain everything, from mops and food to clothes and toys. The woman behind the counter smiled affectionately at Cosima. She didn’t look like a dwarf at all. It was only when she stepped out that Alba realized she had been standing on a specially built box, so that she appeared higher. Without her pedestal she was no taller than four feet.
“I am Maria. You are Valentina’s daughter,” said the woman eagerly. “They say you look just like her.”
Before Alba could reply, the rest of Maria’s family appeared like mice out of doors hidden among the goods. There must have been about six of them, all four feet tall, with shiny red faces and merry smiles. Alba thought they’d all look wonderful in a garden with fishing rods and funny hats, then curbed her wicked thought, remembering that she was trying to be a good person.
“Do you sell children’s clothes?” she asked.
“Oooh! They do!” exclaimed Cosima, disappearing down one of the aisles, her lustrous curls bouncing about her head like springs. Alba, followed by an entire entourage of dwarfs, chased after her. The child was pulling out pretty dresses and holding them up for Alba to see. Her brown eyes were ablaze with hope.