The Mermaid Garden(32)

So, that settled, Floriana grabbed some fruit from the kitchen and made her way back down the hill into town. The sun was now slowly sinking in the western sky, turning the light a melancholy amber color, throwing long shadows across her path for her to jump over. She chewed on a juicy fig and thought of Dante. It didn’t matter that he was supposed to marry a princess, because love was more important than titles. After all, Cinderella married a prince, and she was just a scullery maid. Floriana loved La Magdalena more than anything else. She belonged there, in that little mermaid garden, reading a book on the bench by the fountain. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t read very well, because she’d learn. She was clever: she could learn anything.

She skipped up the streets to the big archway in the yellow wall that had once meant home, but since her mother had gone it was now only a door that indicated the place where she lived. She gave it a firm push. It was heavy and large and opened into a courtyard. The ground was covered in cobbles, between which weeds grew and flourished until they were unceremoniously cut by Signora Bruno, whose late husband had left her the ramshackle building of small apartments to rent. Pretty iron balconies overlooked the courtyard, decorating the disintegrating walls with the occasional pot of flowers and, more commonly, lines of washing drying in the sun.

Signora Bruno stopped sweeping when she saw the little girl come in, and leaned on her broom. Any excuse to stop working. “Your father’s at Luigi’s, propping up the bar, no doubt.” She watched Floriana with suspicion as the little girl skipped over to the steps and sat down. “What are you up to? You look like a mouse that’s eaten all the cheese.”

“I’m in love, Signora Bruno.”

The woman looked at the child’s misty eyes and laughed, the mole on her cheek protruding. “Who’s been putting ideas in your head? Fancy a child of your age even thinking such a thing. Love!” She clicked her tongue. “You love when you’re young and know no better. Until your heart breaks and you realize you’re safer living without it.”

“That’s sad, Signora Bruno.” Floriana looked genuinely sympathetic.

“Who is this lucky man?”

“He’s called Dante Bonfanti.”

Signora Bruno looked at her in astonishment. “Dante Bonfanti? Where did you meet him?”

“I was peeping into his house from the gate, so he invited me in. Villa La Magdalena is the most beautiful palace in the whole wide world.”

“I’d stay well away from them, if I were you,” Signora Bruno said darkly. “They’re not good people.”

“Dante is,” Floriana protested.

“That may be so, but his father is a very dangerous man. You leave them well alone and stay down here where you belong.”

“But I love him.”

The old woman smiled at her indulgently. “You’re too young for love—not that you don’t deserve it, mind you. Out of all the children in Herba, you deserve to be loved most of all.”

Floriana looked at Signora Bruno’s thick ankles and skin-colored stockings that gathered in rings down her calves, and wondered what had become of Signor Bruno. “Where’s your husband?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. He was hard work.”

“Like my father.”

Signora Bruno chuckled like a hen. “Your father.” She shook her head. “A burden to you, he is. It’s not right. He should take some responsibility.”

“Do you think he’ll die soon?”

Signora Bruno’s face turned gray with pity. “No, cara, he won’t die soon.”

“Shame,” Floriana said with a shrug.

“You don’t want him to die, do you?” Signora Bruno looked shocked and a little confused. She put down her broom and came to sit beside Floriana on the step, squeezing her soft body into the small space between the child and the banister. “I know he’s not what you’d want for a father. He’s been in prison twice and drinks too much. It’s not really a surprise that your mother left him. But you? I don’t know why she left you—a little defenseless thing—and took your baby brother. I suppose he was too young to be left with a father who couldn’t take care of him.” She put her arm around Floriana, who winced. “She should have taken you with her as well, but she always was selfish, probably thought that Zita would look after you for her. But her sister’s as useless as she is. Where’s Zita when you need her, eh? She can’t even control her own children. A child is a blessing from God; your mother should know that.”