2008 - Recipes for Cherubs (20 page)

“You’ve lost me.”

“Well, he says that if someone in a family is brilliant at music, say, one of their children, grandchildren or greatgrandchildren will probably have the same talent.”

“I don’t think any of the Grieves were geniuses,” Ella mused.

“There were some who were mad, though, weren’t there?”

“Oh yes, loads.” Ella laughed. “But I think you and I are pretty sane most of the time, don’t you?”

“I suppose. I can’t imagine my mother ever living in Kilvenny Castle, even though she is a Grieve.”

“Kizzy took after her mother more than the Grieves. Both Hester and Kizzy couldn’t wait to get out of Kilvenny. ‘I don’t want to spend my life moping about with ghosts in a freezing museum’ – that’s what Kizzy used to say.”

“Do you think this place really is haunted?”

“I don’t know. I don’t believe in ghosts, not as in things that flap about in white sheets, but I sort of feel that if people have been very happy or very sad, somehow their spirit seeps into a place.”

“In the bedroom where I’m sleeping I can smell lemons really strongly and at other times lavender as if someone was in there with me, but I’m not a bit afraid.”

“It’s the living one needs to be afraid of, not the dead.”

“I suppose so. I’d love to live here for ever and ever.”

“And not go back to school?”

Catrin was thoughtful for a moment. “I sort of like my school. I’d rather be there than at home because my mother’s always out and there’s no one to talk to.”

“What about your godfather? Do you see him much?”

Catrin turned her head away and Ella noted the colour rising in her face.

“I have to go there on Sunday afternoons in the holidays.”

“Do you have fun?”

“No. He ignores me most of the time now, but when I was younger he was interested in me and used to ask me questions all the time.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Oh, how was I doing at school? What was my mark in the art exam? Did I dream much? How well was I doing at Latin and mathematics? He thinks cleverness is the only thing that matters. He’s just a bore.”

“So you prefer to be at school?”

“I suppose. Some of the nuns are a bit drippy but there’s one I really like. She’s called Sister Matilde. She’s funny and knows loads of things, and she’s full of life even though she’s old and has been shut up in a convent. The older girls say she had a failed romance and that’s why she became a nun.”

“And do you think that’s what happened?”

“I don’t know. But just because something rotten happens, do you think it’s right to hide away?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, Catrin.”

Catrin realised what she’d said and could have kicked herself. Ella had shut herself away after Alice died, and living all alone at Shrimp’s was a bit like being a nun except for the prayers.

“Norma said you went away to school once. Did you like it?” she asked, changing the subject hastily.

“I loved it.”

“Oh.”

“You sound surprised.” Ella’s voice was wistful.

“I thought, well, the way Norma said it, it sounded like you would be glad to be back because Alice missed you.”

“Of course I missed Alice terribly, but it was a great freedom to be at school. I needed to be away from Alice for my own sanity.”

“So you weren’t happy when you were made to come back?”

“No. I was furious. Alice and I were twins but we were very different. I always had to be there for her, constantly looking out for her, and sometimes as a child that was too much to cope with.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. Catrin understood what Ella meant about being furious inside. She was furious most of the time, and when she wasn’t she was full of a simmering anger which every now and again threatened to bubble up and drown her. It was hard to know what made her so angry. Her mother, of course, was one of the reasons. She wasn’t like a grown-up at all and she didn’t do the things mothers were supposed to do. Catrin had found it easier to control her anger since she’d put herself on a diet, and she was so hungry most of the time that it pushed the anger to the back of her head.

“Were you sent away because you were always in trouble?”

“It was partly that. I was a bit hair-brained and drove my mother mad because I was such a tomboy. She wanted me to be a proper girl and I couldn’t be. My father was a very wise man and he realised that to send me away was the best thing for me, if not for Alice. But Alice pined for me, my mother couldn’t cope with her, and I was brought back. I hated it.”

“But you stayed at Shrimp’s with Alice for years after you’d grown up?”

“I did, but I didn’t plan to. I had my own dreams once but they were dashed. After that I never got round to leaving. You see, I felt responsible for Alice, more like a parent than a sister. I thought something would happen to her if I wasn’t around. And of course it usually did.”

“So you were afraid to leave her?”

“Yes. I was a coward, Catrin. I should have upped and left Shrimp’s years ago but instead I stayed, tried to make the best of it and cared for Alice, only not well enough, as it turned out.” Ella’s eyes were damp with tears, and her chin was wobbling with grief, like that of a child who could not be consoled.

Suddenly she stood up. “Look, the rain’s stopped at last. I’m going to set about the garden, see if there are any vegetables we could use. Why don’t you go over to the library and pick Dan Gwartney’s brains about that artist fellow, Piero di Bardi?”

Catrin watched her go, and for the first time in her life she felt enormous sympathy for someone else.

L
uca Roselli stepped angrily out into the Via Dante, slamming the door behind him. He scowled as he walked towards the piazza, kicking out at a loose cobblestone, muttering to himself
.

“
What’s up, Luca?” Bindo called from his perch on the window-ledge of a long-deserted house
.

Luca looked up, his face puce with fury, but on seeing Bindo he smiled. “Oh, it’s just him in there,” he muttered, nodding towards the house
.

“
What’s he done now?
”

“
He’s just so damned cheerful!
”

“
But for weeks you have been moaning that he is a misery. Is there no pleasing you, my friend?
”

“
He’s so changeable. One minute he has a face like he’s swallowed a rancid frog and does no work at all. Then suddenly he’s singing and laughing and working like a fiend
.”

“
Artists are like that; they have to be a bit mad
.”

“
He has worked hard all morning full of the joys of spring, but this afternoon he will become a misery again and then my life will be hell
”

“
How do you know he will be miserable?
”

“
Because the widow Zanelli and her daughters are coming for a sitting
.”

“
Why are they sitting for Piero? Can’t he find anything better to paint?
”

“
He has a commission for a painting of cherubs to hang in the church and those two are to be models for the cherubs
.”

Bindo chuckled. “I bet I could find better models to paint than them
.”

“
Maybe, but Signor Bisotti has paid my master well to paint them so that he can get in the widow’s good books
.”

“
Why would he want to get on her good side?
”

“
Haven’t you heard?” Luca said, lowering his voice. “All the talk is that Signor Bisotti wants to marry her
.”

Bindo stared open-mouthed at him
.

Luca grew flustered, blushed, put his hand to his mouth. “Me and my big mouth. I’m not supposed to have said a word about that. Bindo, you must promise not to repeat it. I overheard the widow Zanelli telling my mother, so if she knows I’ve opened my big mouth she’ll take a stick to me
.”

“
You can trust me, my friend.” Bindo winked and slapped Luca heartily on the arm. “If she marries Signor Bisotti, she’ll move into the Villa Rosso, won’t she?
”

“Si.
The sparks will fly then, eh? Maria already crosses the road to avoid her. Imagine those two living under the same roof
.”

“
They are so different. Maria will give you anything and the widow Zanelli is the opposite – she wouldn’t give you the skin of her shit. Say, Luca, have you been to the Villa Rosso this week?
”

“
No, I haven’t been able to slope off. He’s kept me busy with his ‘Do this, do that, fetch me this, fetch me that!”’ Luca said with rising anger. “Yesterday I had to go all the way to Terrini to buy dragon’s blood
.”

Bindo, his eyes alight with interest, said, “Dragon’s blood? Where would you find a dragon to slay around here? Is your master mad?
”

“
Mad as an overheated bull – you know what these artist types are like. They’re not like normal people. Don’t look so alarmed. Dragon’s blood is only red paint. Today I have to get some bristles from a white hog – not a wild hog, mind you, a domesticated one
.”

“
What for?
”

“
To make the paintbrushes for His Majesty back there. When I’ve done all that, I have to make the cheese glue that he uses for joining wood. Then, when all those jobs are done, I have to find some cat’s teeth
.”

“
Cat’s teeth? Why would anyone need cat’s teeth?
”

“
I have to grind them down and then they’re used for burnishing. The teeth of any meat-eating animal will do but his high-and-mighty prefers the teeth of cats
.”

A growing smile lit up Bindo’s small face. “I think I might be able to help you there. There’s plenty of cats in Santa Rosa
.”

“
You get me some cat’s teeth and I’ll teach you how to make the paintbrushes you’re always on about
.”

“
It’s a deal. Luca, do you think one day you’ll ever open that eating house Ismelda was talking about?
”

“
I doubt it, but sure as hell I won’t become the artist my mamma wants me to be
.”

“
That’s why she wants you to work with Piero, so that you can learn to paint?
”

Luca nodded and spat disconsolately. “She doesn’t realise that hard work isn’t enough. You have to have talent
.”

“
Did you see Ismelda when you were at the Bisotti house?” Bindo asked innocently
.

“
You’ve not got an interest in Ismelda?” Luca asked teasingly
.

Bindo coloured. “No! Well, maybe a little but I’m hoping they invite me again soon. Er, you don’t have an interest in her, do you, Luca?
”

“
No way. I don’t like girls, and anyway, nice as she is, that one isn’t quite right in the head
.”

“
How do you know?
”

“
Because once when I was helping Maria to bottle tomatoes she left Ismelda for a few minutes and when she came back she had tipped the tomatoes all over herself and then rolled about on the floor
.”

Bindo threw back his head and roared with laughter
.

“
Upon the Virgin’s nose, it is true. From head to toe she was covered in tomatoes. It was just before mass and she was wearing her best clothes
.”

“Mamma mia!
So you don’t have a glint in your eye for her, then?
”

Luca laughed, his dark curls bouncing. “No. If I get married I don’t want to come home and find my wife dressed up in the dinner, maybe wearing petticoats of pasta
.”

Bindo doubled up with laughter, holding on to his belly
.

“
That’s very fine
tagliatelli
you’re wearing, my darling,” Luca spluttered
.

“
My, what a beautiful pair of
gnocchi,”
Bindo said
.

Luca opened his eyes wide and roared and Bindo, realising what he’d said, joined him
.

An old woman stuck her head out of a nearby window. “Bugger off! There’s somebody trying to die in peace in here
.”

“Mi scusi.”
The boys moved away, whispering together
.

“
I think Ismelda has a soft spot for you, Bindo
.”

“
Has she?” he asked eagerly
.

“
Maria said she’s never stopped talking about you since you were there
.”

Bindo shivered with pleasure. “I am going to make her a present and give it to her when I go there next
.”

“
What will you give her?
”

“
Something she will never forget
.”

“
You have money for such a present?
”

“
The best things in life are free, my friend
.”

Then, seeing Signor Bisotti’s old cat slinking out of an alleyway, Bindo was off in pursuit, running as fast as his little legs would take him across the sun-soaked piazza
.

D
an Gwartney struck a match and Catrin heard a friendly pop as the gas mantle lit. A gentle glow illuminated the shadowy recesses of the reading room in the library.

A small fire was lit in the hearth, for the evening was chilly, and the smell of coal smoke filled the room, the flames flickering and throwing shadows across the walls and floor. An enormous white cat lay asleep on a threadbare rug, its pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. Catrin eyed the cat nervously.

“You don’t like cats?” Dan Gwartney asked, noticing her apprehension.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had a pet.”

“Pedro won’t bite you. He’s ancient and hardly has a tooth left in his head.”

On cue the cat yawned, and revealed his few remaining yellow teeth.

“It doesn’t stop him gallivanting, mind you. He’s a real Casanova.”

“Is that a type of cat?”

Dan Gwartney laughed loudly. “No, Casanova was an Italian lady-killer.”

“A murderer?”

“No. He liked the women. Had a lot of, er, lovers.”

Catrin blushed crimson.

“Pedro comes from a long line of feline Casanovas. There are plenty of his offspring around Kilvenny; his blood line will never die out.”

“A bit like the Grieves?” Catrin gave the cat a wide berth.