City of Stars

by Mary Hoffman

‘Are you seriously suggesting she should accept him?’ asked Rodolfo.

  ‘I’m suggesting she, and you, should think carefully before turning him down,’ replied Silvia. ‘The di Chimici never offered marriage to me. It might be an interesting route to explore.’

  On the Friday nearly two weeks after she had gone to Devon, Georgia took the train back to Paddington with Alice. She had a riding lesson booked at the stables the next day and didn’t want to miss it; she’d already had to rearrange it from the week before. It was the first day of August and only days remained before Falco’s proper stravagation.

  It felt weird being back at home. Maura and Ralph and Russell were all still at work and the girls had taken the tube back to Islington, hugging goodbye outside the station. They were going to meet up again on Sunday.

  Georgia let herself into the empty house. It felt terribly unfamiliar – not Devon and not Remora. Georgia felt like a visitor, so she went up to her room and gazed at her posters and her picture of the black and white horses till she felt normality returning. She decided she would fix a date for Falco’s stravagation with Luciano tonight.

  Niccolò di Chimici went to find Enrico in the palace stables at Santa Fina. He was usually to be found gossiping with Nello during the day.

  ‘How is the new horse?’ the Duke asked them both.

  ‘Picking up nicely,’ said Nello.

  ‘Much better since I’ve been flying her at night,’ said Enrico. ‘She’s off the lunge now. I just ride her. My, but that’s an experience.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt,’ said the Duke. ‘Perhaps I shall stay up here one night and try it myself.’

  ‘Er,’ said Enrico. ‘She can’t take much weight yet – she’s still growing. It’s all very well for a scrawny runt like me but a fine well-set-up man like your Grace might be a bit much for her yet.’

  ‘Never mind that now,’ said Niccolò. ‘I came to talk to you about something else. My son has been receiving visitors here almost every day. I want you to find out what they are doing here and why he is so attached to their company.’

  Enrico nodded. ‘I know who they are, my Lord. They are two of the Ram but one at least is really from Bellezza. He is Luciano, the Regent’s apprentice.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Niccolò. ‘I met him when my sons took me to the Ram to hear the Zinti play. His father is an elderly Anglian. The other is some stable-boy I think.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Enrico. ‘They give out that the Bellezzan is the old doctor’s son now. But he wasn’t when he first came to the city. He was a distant cousin of the Regent’s then. And I’ve had him in my hands and there is something odd about him, something your Grace’s nephew was very interested in.’

  ‘You know, that girl’s got a real gift,’ said Jean to her business partner Angela at the stables.

  They were watching Georgia ride bareback round one of the paddocks.

  ‘Where did she learn that?’ asked Angela.

  ‘She says she’s been practising in Devon for a couple of weeks,’ said Jean.

  ‘But she looks as if she’s been doing it a lot longer than that,’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jean. ‘She looks as if she’s flying.’

  *

  It was D-Day, Monday 4th August. Georgia was quite confident that it would be the same date in Talia; the gateway between the two worlds had remained steady for nearly three weeks, in spite of Luciano’s frequent warnings about its instability. Falco had had a visit from his father the day before and the Duke wasn’t likely to ride out to the palace two days in a row.

  Georgia had got the same clothes organised as before, this time with all the labels cut out. She was also lending Falco an old duffel bag and had bought him a pack of small-sized boxers from Marks and Spencer; she knew he had kept Russell’s from before, as if they were a significant relic, but they really were much too big for him.

  She had planned and planned and now she couldn’t plan any more; it was time to act. Besides, it was becoming a strain to spend so much of her time in Talia up at the summer palace. She was under no illusions about what it would be like once she had got Falco here but at least then she would be able to enjoy her time in Remora. Now she had to squeeze in her bareback riding practice, and all the time she had alone with Luciano was spent talking about Falco.

  Georgia couldn’t remember what it was like not to feel responsible for someone else all the time. Now she decided to go and visit Mr Goldsmith at the antique shop.

  He was pleased to see her but a little restrained.

  ‘I had an unexpected visitor while you were away,’ he said. ‘Your mother dropped in for a chat.’

  Georgia hid her face in her hands. She felt angry and embarrassed at the same time. ‘I can’t believe she did that!’ she mumbled.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Mr Goldsmith. ‘I think she was just checking up on me. She must have been reassured if you’re here again.’

  Georgia shook her head. ‘She didn’t say anything about it to me. I hope she wasn’t rude to you.’

  ‘Not at all – she was very pleasant. But she did say she’d like to know when you were planning to visit me. I take it she doesn’t know you’re here today then?’

  ‘No,’ said Georgia. ‘She can’t tell me who I can and can’t see – or when. It would mean I couldn’t just drop in on you on the spur of the moment, without telling her first.’

  ‘She’s just looking after you, Georgia,’ said Mr Goldsmith gently. ‘You have to be careful these days.’

  Suddenly, Georgia spotted something in the corner of the shop, behind Mr Goldsmith’s desk with the till.

  ‘Crutches!’ she exclaimed. ‘I knew I’d seen a pair somewhere! Are they yours?’

  ‘They were last year,’ said the old man. ‘I had to use them for six weeks, after my hip operation. ‘I keep meaning to take them back to the hospital. Thanks for reminding me.’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Georgia quickly. ‘I mean, could I borrow them for a short while? It’s for a school project; I’ve been trying to get hold of a pair. And I could take them back to the hospital for you afterwards.’

  ‘All right,’ said Mr Goldsmith. ‘It’s a deal. Barts Orthopaedic Department.’

  He handed them to Georgia, who now had all she needed for tonight’s plan.

  ‘Let me tell you about my visit to the British Museum,’ she said.

  Falco had been ready for hours. He had the mysterious undergarment on beneath his nightshirt, which he had changed into specially early. He had the bottle of poison which he had stolen from the gardener days before. He had carefully poured the contents away down a culvert but the bottle still smelled strongly and had a drop of liquid left in it.

  Mentally he had said goodbye to the palace at Santa Fina, the Casa di Chimici, trailing round all his favourite rooms and up and down the avenues of the vast gardens. He stopped in the courtyard with the statue of the dying bull. ‘Mithras,’ he murmured, remembering the name Georgia had read out in the museum in her world. A quick death, he thought. A knife to the throat – not like the slow uncertainty he would face. Would it hurt to die in this world if he was living in the other? He could not ask Luciano that.

  It seemed an age until the two Stravaganti arrived. They went through what he should do in great detail. Georgia was looking tired, the strain of what she was trying to pull off showing on her face. Luciano’s mood was sombre too. He had been thinking about the plans for so long that he no longer knew whether what they were going to do was wise.

  The servants came up with fresh candles and the three friends knew it was time. Falco arranged himself in the bed with the empty bottle in one hand and Georgia’s silver ring in the other. Again she curled around him and they waited for sleep to come.

  But sleep was a long time coming. Luciano sat beside the bed with his eyes closed, absorbed in his own thoughts. But it was late in the night before Falco closed his eyes on his bedroom for the last time. Something changed in the atmosphere and
Luciano looked up. Georgia had vanished. He went over to the bed and saw that Falco was asleep, the glass bottle fallen from his hand. That was how the servants must find him in the morning. Luciano retreated to his own room and thought he heard wings outside his window as he drifted off to sleep.

  ‘That’s it then,’ said Falco, as soon as he awoke in Georgia’s bedroom. She sat up and looked at him.

  ‘Here, take the ring back,’ he said, opening his hand. ‘And don’t give it back to me, even if I ask you for it.’

  Chapter 18

  Rivals

  In some ways it was easier than last time. It was the holidays and Georgia wasn’t really expected to come down to breakfast. When she did, everyone had gone to work and there was just a note asking her to start supper at six. She ran back upstairs and brought Falco down. He had added a baseball cap to his ensemble.

  ‘Very fetching,’ said Georgia. ‘But you must wear it the other way round.’

  They had a leisurely breakfast together. Falco was interested in all the machines in the kitchen and wanted Georgia to show him what they could all do. It was wonderful to be able to demonstrate microwave and kettle and toaster, rather than just explain them, though it did make for a larger breakfast than usual. Falco was fascinated by all the contents of the cupboards and wanted to taste as many as possible. He specially liked strawberry jam and orange juice and then he liked bacon and croissants.

  Georgia was able to demonstrate the dishwasher too.

  ‘Is this why you don’t have servants?’ asked Falco. ‘Because your machines cook and make drinks and then wash the dishes for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Georgia. ‘That’s one reason we don’t have servants. Also, we couldn’t afford to pay them. Machines are cheaper.’

  ‘You pay servants in your world?’ asked Falco.

  ‘You mean you don’t?’ asked Georgia.

  They stared at one another. It seemed incredible that they could be friends; their worlds were so different. But from now on they were to be the same.

  Luciano woke to the sound of scurrying footsteps and hushed voices. He struggled into his clothes and went out to find the servants who were in a great state of anxiety.

  ‘What is the matter?’ he asked, knowing perfectly well.

  ‘We cannot wake the young master,’ said the housekeeper. ‘He ... he has drunk some tincture – we are not sure what.’

  ‘Have you sent for the doctor?’ asked Luciano.

  ‘Yes,’ said the housekeeper. ‘And for the Duke.’

  ‘Let me see him,’ said Luciano.

  He went to sit by the bed where Falco was still lying as he had left him in the night. I wonder what he has been doing in England, he thought.

  When Falco had eaten his fill, Georgia showed him round the bathroom, explaining the shower, her electric toothbrush and even Ralph’s razor.

  ‘You’ll have to use something like that in a few years’ time, unless you grow a beard,’ she said.

  She gave him a quick tour of the rest of the house and showed him how the television worked and the computer. He was particularly fascinated by electric-light switches and taps, though he didn’t like fitted carpets, useful though they were for getting around on crutches.

  ‘Come on,’ said Georgia. ‘We must go out. You mustn’t get too attached to my house. You won’t be able to live here.’

  ‘Can we go to the hospital?’ asked Falco.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Georgia. ‘First we have to get you noticed. Now remember what I told you about having lost your memory?’

  They walked slowly through the Islington streets, this time taking plenty of time for Falco to accustom himself to the cars and the noise. Georgia was careful to explain the traffic lights and the zebra crossings to him, instead of just helping him to cross the roads.

  Falco was interested in everything, especially the people who passed them in the streets. He found it hard to tell which were male and which were female. ‘They all wear pantaloons!’ he whispered.

  By contrast, no one took any notice of him. From her own experience in Talia Georgia knew that most people paid no attention to shadows and it was even easier for a lack of one to pass unremarked on a grey English summer’s day than in the bright sunlight of Remora.

  As they got closer to their destination, Georgia hung back. She had thought often of this moment and now that it had come, she was very nervous.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Now you stay out here and I’ll go in and explain.’

  The Duke’s horse was dark with sweat when they arrived at the summer palace. He dismounted, flinging the reins at a groom, and took the steps of the main staircase two at a time.

  Luciano jumped from his chair as the distraught Duke threw open the door and swept over to the bed. He snatched his son up in his arms, but the boy’s body was slack and unresisting.

  ‘Where is the doctor?’ demanded Niccolò. It was terrible to see him so frantic and Luciano tried to slip out while the servant explained that the doctor was on his way.

  ‘Wait!’ roared the Duke. ‘You! Bellezzan boy! Stay where you are! What do you know about this?’

  ‘I heard a commotion this morning,’ said Luciano truthfully. ‘And the servants told me what had happened. I tried to wake your Grace’s son but found him as you see him. I have been watching over him since, waiting for the doctor.’

  ‘You were here last night?’ asked Niccolò.

  Luciano nodded.

  ‘And what about the other one, your servant?’

  ‘My friend,’ Luciano corrected him quietly. ‘Giorgio must have gone back to the Ram. I should like to do so too and let him know what has happened.’ He had arranged with Georgia that she would wait in Remora once she had stravagated back.

  Niccolò shook his head like a wounded bear.

  ‘Go for now,’ he said. ‘But I shall want to talk to you again. Especially if anything happens to my son.’

  Luciano took the carriage back to Remora with a heavy heart.

  ‘A boy has lost his memory?’ asked Vicky Mulholland, uncomprehending.

  Georgia went through it again patiently. ‘Yes. I told you, he just came up to me in the street as I was passing here. I rang your doorbell because you’re the only person I know round here. I don’t know what to do. He seems quite out of it – doesn’t know where he lives or who his parents are.’

  ‘And you don’t think it’s some trick?’

  ‘No. He seems a bit – strange. And he’s very handicapped. He has a pair of crutches and a twisted leg. He won’t last long on the street, the state he’s in. Should we phone the police?’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Vicky, running her fingers through her curly hair. ‘He’s still outside?’

  ‘I told him to wait while I asked for help.’

  ‘Well, perhaps we’d better get him in here before we do anything,’ said Vicky.

  Yes! thought Georgia. She had always banked on Falco to do the rest.

  She went with Vicky to the front door and beckoned to Falco. He was standing where she had left him at the gate, leaning his weight on the crutches, looking pale and weary. Georgia heard Vicky’s sharp intake of breath as she took in his black curls and his delicate, beautiful features.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ asked Vicky, and Falco smiled at her.

  The time had come for Arianna to set out from Bellezza. She was to reach Remora on the tenth of August, the day before the Campo in that city was turned into a racetrack. But a Duchessa had to travel in style, in a state carriage, at a gentle pace, with overnight stops at inns so that she should not arrive tired. She wanted to see other parts of Talia too. Rodolfo was to accompany her and Gaetano was going to ride beside her.

  It was the first time that Arianna had left the lagoon and her first important state visit since becoming Duchessa. Her maid Barbara was following in a second carriage laden with trunks of clothes for her week of ritual celebrations. The trunks alone had filled three mandolas as the Ducal party left for the l
anding stage to take the boat to the mainland.

  It was as well that Arianna was masked and hooded as she made the sea-journey to the mainland, or her face would have betrayed a most un-Ducal excitement about the trip. More new experiences awaited her on the shore. The Bellezzan state carriage was kept on the mainland and rarely used. Arianna had never seen horses before and was immediately overawed by their size and power.

  It did Gaetano’s suit no harm at all for her to see him mounted on the tall bay he had left in the Ducal stables on his way to Bellezza three weeks earlier. Arianna smiled up at him from her carriage window.

  ‘You seem used to horses, Principe,’ she said to him.

  ‘Indeed I am, your Grace,’ he answered her formally. ‘And beautiful as your city is, it is the one thing I have missed there.’

  ‘I’m glad to know that everything otherwise was to your satisfaction,’ said Arianna, drawing her curtain.

  ‘What is your name?’ asked Vicky, settling Falco in a kitchen chair. ‘Can you remember that?’

  ‘Nicholas Duke,’ said Falco, carefully reproducing the name he had agreed on with Georgia. It felt strange in his mouth, but there was no doubt that he would be able to remember it.

  ‘Nicholas,’ said Vicky. ‘Can you tell us anything about yourself?’

  Falco shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, untruthfully.

  ‘Your parents?’

  He shook his head again.

  ‘How did you hurt your leg?’ she persisted.

  ‘I think it was a riding accident,’ said Falco.

  ‘And how did you get here?’

  Falco looked pleadingly at Georgia. ‘I can’t explain,’ he said. He could feel tears welling up.

  Vicky looked distressed. She stopped asking questions and put the kettle on. ‘I think you’re right, Georgia,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We must call the police and trace his parents as soon as possible. But let’s have some coffee first – he looks worn out.’