Victor looked shiftily at his shoes. “I had some trouble with the Merciful Sisters once,” he mumbled. “I was looking for a burglar who liked to dress up as a nun and, unfortunately, I caught a real one instead. We’ve never been on good terms since then.”
Mosca and Riccio nudged each other, grinning. Ida, however, just gave Victor a long look.
“We could disguise ourselves,” she suggested. “I have a wardrobe with some props I sometimes use for my photographs. There are also some suits in there. A couple of them are even from the nineteenth century — old enough for you?”
“I’d prefer the twenty-first,” Victor said with a grin.
Ida smiled. “I even have some false beards!” she said. “A whole collection.”
“Really?” Victor looked at Riccio. “Mine were stolen recently, but luckily I recovered them today.”
Riccio blushed and turned to the window.
Victor followed Ida to a small room on the ground floor that contained nothing but two enormous walk-in wardrobes. While he chose a suit, he thought to himself: Quite astounding that she should also have a collection of false beards.
37
Hornet was sitting on her allotted bed. She looked at the bare white walls that surrounded her. For the hundredth time, she closed her eyes so she could see another room in her mind’s eye, one with a curtain full of stars, and a mattress surrounded by books that whispered their stories to her at night. She recalled the voices: Mosca’s, Riccio’s — always a bit excited, Scipio’s, Prosper’s — and Bo’s voice, the only one higher than hers. Hornet felt the cold white sheets and imagined that she was holding Bo’s little hand, so warm …
It probably wasn’t colder in the orphanage than it had been in the movie theater, it was warmer more likely, but Hornet felt chilled to her bones. And to her heart. Was Bo better off with his aunt? And what about the others?
Hornet felt her stomach grumble. She hadn’t eaten anything since the police had brought her here. Neither the breakfast the sisters had brought her, nor the lunch. Lunch was quite early here. The other children were still down in the dining hall. The smell of food wafted right up to the bedrooms. How much better it had smelled when Mosca made spaghetti, even if he always put too much salt in the water and let the sauce burn.
Hornet stood up and crossed to the window, so she could look down into the courtyard. A couple of pigeons were pecking between the stones. They could fly away anytime, just like that. Then Hornet saw two adults walk through the gate: a woman with a black hat and a bearded man. The sister with the loud voice was leading them toward the main building. Had they come here to adopt a child? They probably wanted a small one, a baby if possible. The little ones had a good chance of finding new parents. The others would have to wait, year by year, days, weeks, months, until they were grown-up. It took so long to grow up.
Hornet pressed her cheek against the cold glass. Although the sisters had kept asking her, she hadn’t told them her real name. She definitely didn’t want to stay here, but she also didn’t want to go home. If, like Riccio, you didn’t have parents, it was easy to imagine how wonderful they might have been. But what if you had parents and they weren’t wonderful at all? No, she wouldn’t tell them her name. Ever.
The door opened. The sister with the loud voice poked her head into the room. “Caterina?”
Hornet jumped. How did she know her name?
“Ah, so that really seems to be your name. Fine, come with me. There’s someone who wants to see you!”
“Who is it?” Hornet asked. She wasn’t sure whether she should be happy or afraid.
“Why didn’t you tell us who your godmother is?” the sister scolded as she walked Hornet down the bare corridor. “Such a famous lady. You probably don’t know how much she has done for the orphanage.”
Famous? Godmother? Hornet was now completely confused. She had a godmother? The sister seemed to be very excited. She kept fiddling with her glasses — they had thick lenses that made her eyes look enormous.
“Come on now, Caterina!” The sister impatiently pulled Hornet along. “How much longer do you want to make her wait?”
Hornet wanted to shout out, Who? What’s going on? But she swallowed the words as soon as she saw Ida. She almost didn’t recognize her at all in that hat. And who was the man next to her?
“It seems that you were right, Signora Spavento!” the sister boomed loudly. “The name of our anonymous girl really is Caterina. So this is your goddaughter?”
Hornet suddenly felt as light as air. She wanted to run to Ida and hug her, hide underneath her wide coat and never come out. But she was afraid to spoil it, and so she just smiled shyly and walked hesitantly toward Ida and her strange companion.
“Yes, that’s her. Cara! Sweetheart!” Ida spread her arms and held her so tightly that Hornet felt all the warmth return to her heart.
“Hello, Hornet,” the strange man at Ida’s side whispered. Hornet looked up into his face with surprise — and now she recognized him too: Victor, the snoop, with a new beard! Bo’s friend Victor. Her friend now too.
“This is my lawyer, cara,” Ida explained after she had let go of Hornet.
Hornet mumbled “Buongiorno” and smiled at Victor.
“Why do you always take your parents’ little quarrels so seriously, cara?” Ida asked. She sighed deeply, as if she had already had to talk to Hornet too often about her silly parents. “She’s run away three times already because of their little tiffs,” Ida explained to the nun, who was looking at Hornet with deep sympathy. “Her mother, who is my cousin, will get divorced soon, and until then I will take the girl in. Otherwise she’ll probably run away again, and who knows where the police might find her then. Last time, they found her hiding somewhere in Burano. Imagine!”
Hornet was in seventh heaven as she listened to these lies. All the time she held on to Ida’s hand as if she would never let it go. Ida’s story sounded so true that, for a moment, Hornet herself almost believed in these quarreling parents.
The sister with the loud voice had tears in her eyes.
“Can I take Caterina with me right away?” Ida asked, as if it was the most natural question in the world.
“But of course, Signora Spavento,” the sister answered. “We are so happy we could, for once, be of service to you. After all your generous donations. And the photographs you took of the children — I tell you they all treasure them.”
“Don’t mention it.” Ida avoided Hornet’s curious looks. “Please give my regards to Sister Angela and Sister Lucia and also the Mother Superior. Just send any papers that need signing.”
“Of course!” the sister hurried to the door and held it for Ida. “Have a nice day, Mr. Lawyer.”
“Thank you,” said Victor, trying to look dignified.
Hornet’s heart was beating wildly as they crossed the courtyard. Countless windows looked down at the pavement. Gray windows, empty except for a few Christmas stars stuck to the panes on the ground floor.
“So many windows,” Victor muttered sadly. “So many windows, and so many children.”
“Yes, and nobody to take them in their arms and be grateful for them every day,” said Ida. “What a waste.”
“Arrivederci, Signora Spavento — until next time!” called the sister who had run out of the porter’s lodge to open the gate for them.
“Heavens!” Victor grunted as they passed through the gate. “They treat you like a saint!”
Hornet tore herself away from him. Suddenly, she was in a great hurry. She ran to the nearest canal, spat into the water, looked at the boats cruising on the Grand Canal, and took a deep breath. For a moment she just stood there, her lungs filled with the fresh, damp air.
Then she breathed out slowly, very slowly, and all the fear and the desperation that had crept into her since the police had brought her to the orphanage left her. But then she remembered Bo.
She turned around and looked at Victor and Ida. “What about Bo?” she asked.
“And what about the others?”
Victor tugged the false beard from his chin. “Mosca and Riccio are at Ida’s,” he said. “But Bo is still with his aunt.”
Hornet hung her head and kicked a cigarette butt angrily into the canal. “And Prosper?” she asked.
“Riccio is looking for him,” Victor answered. “Don’t look so worried. He’ll find him.’
38
Riccio found Prosper in front of the Hotel Sandwirth. He was standing on the promenade as if frozen solid, oblivious to the crowds passing him by. There was always quite a crush on the Riva degli Schiavoni, even on a biting-cold day like this, since this was where some of the city’s best hotels were to be found. Hundreds of boats docked at the moorings along the canal and there were constant comings and goings. Prosper heard the wind pushing the boats against the piers; he heard the dull thud as they bumped against the wood. He was aware, somewhere, of people laughing and talking in many languages. But he just stood there, his collar turned up against the chill, and looked up at the windows of the Sandwirth. When Riccio put his hand on his shoulder, Prosper spun around.
“Hey, Prop, there you are!” Riccio said greatly relieved. “I’ve been looking for you all day. I came here a few times, but I didn’t see you.”
“I’m sorry,” Prosper apologized. He turned around again. “I followed them the whole day, without being seen. I think Bo nearly spotted me a few times, but I quickly ducked out of the way. I was afraid he’d flip if he saw me.” Prosper pushed the hair from his forehead. “I followed them everywhere. They bought clothes for Bo. Esther even wanted to put a bow tie on him, but he chucked it into the garbage when they weren’t looking. You probably wouldn’t recognize him anymore. He looks completely different now that he’s not in those huge sweaters Scipio used to bring back. They even insisted on taking him to a hairdresser’s. There’s not a trace of black left now. And then they took him from one café to another, but he never touched anything they ordered for him. He just kept staring past them. I think he saw me once through a window because he tried to run away. But my uncle quickly caught him again like a naughty puppy.
“They’re in there now,” Prosper said, pointing up at the brightly lit windows. “I even went and asked the porter which room Esther is in, but he just told me the Hartliebs won’t see anybody.”
For a few moments the two boys just stood next to each other, gazing up at the windows. They were beautiful windows, glowing behind shimmering curtains. Which one was Bo behind?
“Come on!” Riccio said finally. He caught sight of a man swinging his camera around rather carelessly. “You can’t stand here all night. Don’t you want to know where we’re staying now? Ida took us in without batting an eyelid! We’ve even got our own room, in the attic. We couldn’t take our old mattresses, but Ida had two old beds and so we’ve pushed them together for now. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s definitely better than sleeping outside. It’s great! Come on, dinner will be ready soon. I tell you, that housekeeper can cook!” He took hold of Prosper’s arm, but Prosper just shook his head.
“No!” he said, breaking free. “I’m staying here.”
Riccio looked up at the sky and sighed with frustration. “Prop!” he said pleadingly. “What do you think the porter will do when he finds you skulking around here in the middle of the night? He’ll call the Carabinieri. And what are you going to tell them? That your aunt has kidnapped your brother?”
Prosper ignored him. “Go away, Riccio,” he said without taking his eyes off the windows. “It’s all over. We haven’t got a hideout, Hornet’s gone, and Bo is with Esther.”
“Hornet isn’t gone!” Riccio called out so loud that people turned their heads. He quickly lowered his voice again. “She isn’t gone!” he whispered. “Ida and the snoop got her out of the orphanage!”
“Ida and Victor?” Prosper looked at him in wonder.
“Yes, and they had a real laugh doing it! You should have seen them when they left, they had their arms linked like an old couple.” Riccio chuckled. “The snoop’s been behaving like a real gentleman. He opens doors for Ida and helps her into her coat. Only he won’t light her cigarettes and keeps moaning about her smoking so much.”
“But how did they do it?”
To his satisfaction, Riccio noticed that Prosper had obviously forgotten about the hotel for a moment. “Hornet was taken to the orphanage of the Merciful Sisters. Apparently that’s where Ida was brought up,” he explained quietly. “Anyway, she now gives them money every now and then. She collects toys, that sort of stuff as well … Victor said the nuns treated her like the Madonna herself. They believed everything she said!”
“That’s great news.” Prosper turned his attention back to the windows. “Say hello to Hornet for me. Is she OK?”
“No, she isn’t!” Riccio planted himself in front of Prosper so he would have to look at him. “She’s worried about you. And about Bo, although he’s probably not thinking about jumping into the lagoon like you!”
“She thinks I’m going to do that?” Prosper angrily pushed Riccio away. “That’s stupid. I hate water.”
“That’s fine then! But could you tell her that yourself?” Riccio held out his hands imploringly. “I just saw her for a couple of minutes when I went back to get something to eat. But she would hardly let me touch my food.” He altered his voice. “Get out there, Riccio!” he twittered, imitating Hornet. “You’ve had enough to eat, Riccio! Go and find Prosper! Please! He might have thrown himself into some canal! She even wanted to come with me, but Ida said she’d better stay in the house for a while, so she doesn’t end up in the orphanage again. That was fine by me. Her nagging would have driven me crazy. And I knew you’d turn up here sooner or later.”
Riccio could make out a smile on Prosper’s face, just a tiny one, but it was definitely there. “Anyway,” he said, “I’ve talked enough now. You can come back here tomorrow morning, but right now you’re coming with me.”
Prosper didn’t reply, but let himself be hustled along by Riccio, past the souvenir stands that lined the Riva degli Schiavoni. Most of the hawkers were already closing down their stalls, but you could still buy a few things at some of them: the plastic fans Bo liked so much — with black lace and the Rialto Bridge printed on them, golden gondolas, coral necklaces, city guides, dried sea horses.
Prosper followed Riccio through the crowd, but kept looking back toward the Sandwirth.
“Come on! If Ida and Victor managed to get Hornet back,” Riccio said, “then they’ll work something out for getting Bo back too. You’ll see.”
“They’re flying home next week,” said Prosper. “What can anyone do then?”
“That’s plenty of time,” Riccio answered. He turned up his collar. He was shivering. “And anyway, Bo’s not in prison, or in the orphanage. Man, that’s the Sandwirth. It’s a really fancy hotel.”
Prosper just nodded. He felt so empty. As empty as the big mussel shells lying in those large baskets in front of the market.
Riccio stopped. “Hang on, Prop.”
The sky above the lagoon had turned red. It was growing dark, although it was only four o’clock. A few tourists stood in wonder by the quay and saw how the setting sun glazed the dirty water with gold.
“What an opportunity,” Riccio whispered to Prosper. “They wouldn’t even notice if I stole their shoes. I only need a few seconds. You can check out the mussels until I get back.”
He turned around, already wearing his “I am just a skinny boy who couldn’t hurt a fly” expression. But Prosper grabbed him by the collar.
“Forget it, Riccio,” he said angrily, “or do you think Ida Spavento will let you sleep in her house once the Carabinieri have caught you?”
“You don’t understand!” Riccio, pretending to be outraged, tried to free himself from Prosper’s grip. “I just don’t want to get out of practice.”
But Prosper wouldn’t let go, and so Riccio gave a shrug before walking on. The tourists continu
ed to be enchanted by the sunset, without having to pay for it with their wallets.
39
That evening Ida threw a party. Lucia, the housekeeper, had cooked, fried, and baked all afternoon. She had whipped cream, scooped tiny cakes from the baking tin, made ravioli, and stirred sauces. Different smells kept luring Victor into the kitchen, but every time he tried to sneak a taste he got his fingers rapped with a wooden spoon. Hornet and Prosper set the table together in the dining room while Mosca and Riccio chased each other from one floor to the other, always followed by Lucia’s yapping dogs.
The two of them were so happy and boisterous that they didn’t even seem to mind anymore that the Conte had duped them. When Victor asked them what they intended to do with all those wads of fake cash, Riccio said, quite openly, “We can still spend it.” Victor told them off soundly and demanded that Riccio hand over the bag right away. But Riccio, grinning broadly, just shook his head and declared that he and Mosca had hidden it. In a safe place, he’d said. Not even Prosper and Hornet knew about it — not that they seemed to care particularly.
So Victor decided he’d better forget about the fake money too. He sat down on Ida’s sofa and started munching chocolates, telling himself he ought to go home. But each time he got up, with a big sigh, to say good-bye, Ida had brought him a glass of grappa, or a caffè, or asked him to put the toothpicks on the table. So Victor stayed.
While the sky outside darkened, Ida made her house glow as brightly as a thousand stars. She lit countless candles and the crystal shimmered so beautifully that Hornet could hardly take her eyes off it.
“Pinch me!” she said to Prosper. “This can’t be real.”
Prosper obeyed. He very gently pinched her arm.
“It’s real!” Hornet cried, laughing and dancing around him.
But not even her happiness could chase the sadness from Prosper’s face. They had all tried in their own way: Riccio with his jokes, Mosca by showing Prosper all the strange things hidden behind the dark doors in Ida’s house. Nothing helped: Not even Ida’s candy nor Victor’s reassurances that he would think of something to help Bo. Because if Bo wasn’t there, Prosper missed him like a lost arm or leg. He felt sorry for spoiling the others’ fun with his gloomy face. He began to notice that Riccio had started to avoid him and even Mosca busied himself with something or other whenever Prosper moped by. But Hornet stuck by him, even though whenever she tried to put her arm around him consolingly, he pushed her away and adjusted the forks on the table, or sat in front of a window and stared outside.
The Thief Lord Page 19
