The Mermaid Garden(34)

“When I grow, I’ll get married and live in a palace.”

“We all dreamed of living in palaces when we were little. Look where I live now. Not quite the palace of my dreams.”

“But I’ve requested it.”

“God doesn’t always deliver, Floriana.”

“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 wardrobe 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 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.





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, stopping 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 everything is now that he’s shown me.”

“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.