The Museum of Things Left Behind

by Seni Glaister

  ‘This is what I’m working on at the moment,’ said Pavel, and whisked away the dustsheet to reveal the clock beneath it.

  It was unfinished, uncased, just the intricate workings of a huge mechanism. It was balanced on a workbench designed to allow the pendulums to hang free. With a gentle touch, Pavel swung them and immediately the clock sprang to life.

  Both Lizzie and Feraguzzi started to speak, but Pavel silenced them with a finger to his lips.

  They listened. The dulcet tick filled the room, and the audience listened in admiration. The sound was pure and certain, yet left a hint of unfinished business in the air at each second.

  ‘I’m pleased with this one. The sound, at least, is very good. I have absolutely no idea what it might look like yet, but time will tell.’

  Feraguzzi stared at the clock in open admiration and looked closely at Pavel’s hands. They were strong, but the fingers were long, thin and straight. An artist’s hands.

  ‘Is this a full-time occupation, Pavel, or might you have some time in your schedule to take on some other work?’

  ‘Government business? Not interested.’

  ‘It’s a good contract.’

  ‘I don’t mind how good the contract is. I don’t want something that can be whisked away from me at the first sign of displeasure. I don’t want to be your servant the way my father was. I value my own craft more highly than you will and I’m not prepared to be destroyed. So no, but thank you.’

  He stopped the pendulum and, once he was sure it was completely steady, began to cover the clock again.

  ‘That is a very fine clock you’re building. You’re obviously very talented,’ offered Feraguzzi, suddenly more interested in this man than he had planned to be.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Pavel, a note of pride creeping into his voice.

  ‘But you got your skill from your father, there’s no doubt about it, and his finest work was the clock in the square. It must pain you a little to see it silenced. Surely, out of filial duty, you’d like to see it restored?’

  ‘It’s filial duty that allows me to keep it silent,’ Pavel countered, with a half-laugh. ‘You know, every day I pass it, I itch to get my hands on it. Anyway, you’re wrong, my father didn’t build it – his grandfather did. My father merely maintained it. So sentimentally it was very important to him but he and I both agreed that it was a good clock but never a great one. Of course, in my dreams I would very much like an opportunity to bring it to its full potential. The face is quite attractive and the bells and whistles are fun, although a little frivolous and rather a distraction from its true purpose. But the mechanism behind it is only adequate. I could fix it tomorrow but what I’d really like to do is to work on it properly. But, as I said, out of filial duty I shall never touch it. I owe that, at least, to my father.’

  ‘Do you know why his contract was cancelled, Pavel?’

  ‘Because our government is an autocracy prepared to put its own needs ahead of its people’s?’

  Feraguzzi, who had been polite and contrite until that moment, was not prepared to stand and listen to the slander of his government by this stubborn upstart. ‘That is an outrage! Autocracy had nothing to do with it. This was all about love!’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Yes. Rolando Posti was in love with your mother. Your mother chose your father. He was heartbroken. But once the heartbreak wore off he was angry and hurt. It took Posti a good twenty-five years to amass the power needed to revoke the contract. And once he had the power, that was what he did. He fired your father.’

  ‘Did my father know this?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  Pavel frowned and thought for a moment. ‘Did my mother know this?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  Pavel was silent, thinking of his mother all alone in the house and trying to imagine whether she would be horrified and insulted or amused to hear of this latest development. Or perhaps she had known all along. He was intrigued, though, to discover an explanation that made sense on a human level of his father’s sudden dismissal. His palms were tingling with excitement: there were so many different strands that this conversation might follow. Feeling that this was a moment to heed his heart, and ignore any of a dozen rational reasons against taking action, Pavel decided to defer his response. There was more at stake than the mere matter of a contract to fix the clock.

  ‘I’ll meet you in the piazza for breakfast tomorrow morning. But I want Signor Posti there too.’ He spoke with a level of decisiveness that Feraguzzi respected. He agreed with a nod and shook Pavel’s outstretched hand firmly.

  Lizzie wanted to linger and admire the clocks, but the meeting felt closed and Pavel’s expression was hard to read so instead she made her exit with Feraguzzi. As they walked back in the direction of the bars, she turned to the finance minister.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t a disaster, was it?’

  ‘No. I agree, that wasn’t a disaster at all.’ He smiled at her and together they headed into the evening. ‘But I think in order to avert any potential calamity, you’d better join the meeting tomorrow. Something tells me we’re in this together.’

  CHAPTER 26

  In Which a Deal Is Done

  The following morning Lizzie made the familiar journey across the piazza with her eye firmly on Piper’s bar. She could see Pavel and the woman she assumed to be his mother, and there was Feraguzzi with Rolando Posti. The ministers’ progress under the arches was a little slower than her own as the two men were deep in conversation and sometimes stopped walking altogether as they talked. It was difficult to tell from their body language whether they were arguing or discussing, or even debating and laughing, but their slow pace meant she had soon overtaken them and reached their shared destination first.

  Equally, it was difficult to tell from the expression on Pavel’s face whether he was happy, excited, nervous or vexed. But he was kind to Lizzie, standing up to pull out a chair for her and introducing her to his mother.

  Pavel’s mother nodded curtly. ‘Amalia Berlardi. Pleased to meet you.’ She looked less than pleased, however, as she appraised the young woman. ‘You are very tall.’

  Lizzie smiled and bowed her head in agreement.

  ‘And very pale.’

  ‘Mother!’ interjected Pavel, but with a suggestion of patience, which hinted that his mother’s direct approach wasn’t a surprise.

  ‘Well, it is true. Too pale and too tall to be good for you, I should think.’

  ‘Mother, please! You are going to behave, aren’t you?’

  ‘It is not my business to behave. It is the business of these young so-called women you waste your time with to behave. I see absolutely no point in you spending quite so much time with this so-called woman when you clearly have no interest in marrying her.’ Amalia brushed imaginary crumbs off her chest and pulled a little at her blouse and skirt to avoid having to look at Lizzie while she insulted her.

  ‘Mother, really, you’re embarrassing me!’ Pavel shook his head, but was still grinning broadly.

  ‘Well, really, wasting the best years of your life tinkering about with bits of metal when you should be settling down and starting a family.’ She frowned at Lizzie. ‘Not with the likes of this so-called young woman. Too tall, too pale for my taste.’

  Lizzie laughed loudly and reached out to squeeze Amalia’s hand. ‘Don’t you worry, Signora Berlardi. Sadly for me, I’m too tall and too pale for Pavel’s taste as well. But I do happen to know he has his eye on an extremely delightful young woman who is just about the right height and just about the right colouring to do justice to your handsome son.’ This she said in an exaggerated whisper, with the express purpose of allowing Pavel to hear.

  ‘You be careful what you tell my mother. She’ll be quizzing every young woman in Vallerosa and they’ll all be running for miles. You can see why I can’t take a woman home to meet her, can’t you? If I do ever find one to put up with me, I shan’t be letting her near my mothe
r until after the wedding day. She’ll never walk up the aisle with me if she’s met her first.’

  It became clear, as he chatted, that Signora Berlardi was no longer listening. Instead, she was scowling at Feraguzzi and Posti, who now stood half in the shadows, half in the sunlight, still in deep discourse but now only a few metres away, just at the far reach of Dario’s bar.

  Lizzie and Pavel turned their heads to follow the direction of Amalia’s glare.

  The men, too, felt its power as, in unison, they turned to face her. That they were steeling themselves was evident, and after a prolonged pause they emerged out of the shadows and walked, in step, across the corner of the piazza to join the rest of the party at the table.

  Both men attempted to shake Amalia’s hand, but she kept her arms folded firmly across her chest. She looked them each in the eye, in turn, but there was no softening in her expression.

  Pavel’s mouth twitched at the corners. He was delighted to see his mother’s fire restored, for perhaps the first time since her husband’s death. And restored it was.

  ‘So, Signor Posti, you look very much older. The years have been unkind to you.’

  Rolando Posti bowed his head and absorbed the insult with no discernible trace of hurt. ‘In contrast, you are every bit as beautiful as I remember.’ He allowed his eyes to travel across the face of Amalia Berlardi, luxuriating in the journey, taking in and evidently admiring every feature.

  Pavel squinted at his mother, and looked closely at Posti. Was he being facetious? He was not going to allow his mother to be insulted, regardless of any history between them. But Posti’s face bore no trace of derision. Instead, he gazed at her with such adoration that Pavel and Lizzie immediately felt superfluous. Feraguzzi seemed enchanted by the exchange.

  Pavel and Lizzie busied themselves ordering tea from Piper and tried hard not to appraise either Posti or the object of his affection too closely.

  ‘I am surprised an old man like you can go that far back in his memory.’

  ‘I remember every detail, as if it were yesterday.’

  ‘You remember it with the twisted recall of a senile man in that case.’

  ‘No, my mind has not let me down. And when I look at you now, it is still as though you are plunging a dagger through my heart.’

  ‘Well, clearly I didn’t plunge it deeply enough if you are still making moon eyes at me.’

  ‘The pain you inflicted could not have been greater. The wound could not have been more severe. That I lived at all was only so that I could see you again, and make you smile at me once more.’

  ‘Smile at you? Why should I ever do that? I made my choice when I married my Luciano. And there was never a better man in the whole of Vallerosa.’

  ‘You made your choice, and it nearly killed me. You chose a mechanic over a future government minister! Think what you missed out on! A life of power? Of luxury? My pension alone is a greater dowry than your clockmaker could ever have delivered.’

  ‘My Luciano could dance like a prince.’

  ‘But I was a man on the way up!’

  ‘My Luciano could recite poetry from his head. And he did, almost every night of our married lives.’

  ‘But I was to amount to something!’

  ‘My Luciano was very good with his hands.’

  Posti looked down at his own hands and paused, tracing the liver spots on his left hand with the thumb of his right. ‘I am still very good with my hands,’ he said softly.

  Lizzie could feel her colour rising. She was aghast at bearing witness to this exchange. Pavel was stirring spoonful after spoonful of honey into his tea, even though usually he drank it without. Feraguzzi, meanwhile, continued to enjoy the exchange, nodding and smiling with each insult and compliment.

  ‘You might be good with your hands. But your mind is rotten through and through.’

  ‘My mind is good and sharp.’

  ‘If your mind were good or sharp, you would not have fired my Luciano. That was very, very low.’

  ‘He had it coming! He had been sneering at me for too many years. That man! I despaired, eventually. You know, he would insist on coming to collect his contract from me personally each year, when he could easily have had my under-secretary deliver it. But, oh, no, he liked to see me squirm. And he would always mention you. He couldn’t just come, like a decent man, sign his contract and leave with dignity. No, no. It was “I must hurry, my wife is waiting for me”; “I must run, my wife doesn’t like me to be away from her for too long”; “I must be quick – it is siesta time and you know what that means for me and my wife.” I tell you, he was a cruel man.’

  ‘My Luciano was not a cruel man. He was probably just telling the truth. I didn’t like to wait for him. I never liked him to be away from me for too long. And siesta time always was our favourite time together.’

  ‘He was being sadistic. He knew it and I knew it. Anyway, he might have won you in the battle, but I won justice in the war.’

  ‘You fired him. That must have made you feel like a big man.’

  ‘No, I never fired him. This man fired him.’

  Feraguzzi, who had been smiling benevolently up until this moment, realized he had just been drawn into the argument. ‘I only fired him because you told me to. I was quite happy with the clocks and the way the contracts were handled. I fired him because you said it was a matter of honour, and I never question honour.’

  ‘Honour, pooh! It was a matter of spite!’ spat Amalia.

  ‘You are so incredibly beautiful, Amalia. You make my heart melt.’

  ‘You know, Posti, my Luciano has only been gone for two years.’

  ‘You still set the table for him at night?’

  ‘Of course. He must have somewhere to return if he feels lost. It is only two years.’

  ‘But you are still a beautiful young woman. You must have needs.’

  Amalia glowered. Her arms were still staunchly folded against her chest. Pavel stirred another spoonful of honey into his now cold tea, watching the whorls and patterns with increased concentration. Lizzie examined her fingernails in minute detail and wondered whether it might be considered rude to leave. Feraguzzi kept his eyes on Amalia, awaiting her response.

  ‘I expect my son here to work for the government once again. I expect him to have the contracts renewed in his favour. I expect him to earn enough money to employ an apprentice and I expect you to look after him as though he were gold dust.’

  ‘And what may I expect in return?’

  ‘You may expect to dance with me at midsummer.’

  Amalia scraped her chair back, stood up and beckoned to Pavel to accompany her. Pavel got to his feet, extended his arm for her to hold and, together, mother and son left the bar and walked slowly into the alley between the two bars.

  Rolando Posti never took his eyes off her until she had disappeared altogether.

  He sighed loudly and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘What a woman!’ he exclaimed, to nobody in particular.

  ‘What a woman indeed!’ echoed Feraguzzi, nodding enthusiastically.

  Lizzie was incredulous. ‘So that’s it? That’s the government in action? You take a contract away because you’re broken-hearted and you give it back on the promise of a dance?’

  ‘Not just a dance, a dance at midsummer – that is altogether more promising. I do believe I will win back the affection of the love of my life.’

  ‘But this is outrageous! You can’t act like that – you just can’t. Surely there must be some procurement process! How do you know that Pavel will charge the right amount? How do you know the government will get a fair deal? How do you know Pavel can even do it? I mean, he’s great, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you have a responsibility to the rest of the ministers and to the people of the country to be more thorough?’ Lizzie’s colour had risen and her eyes burned with anger. She looked from one minister to the other, unable to believe the exchange she had just witnessed.

  ‘And you,’ she splut
tered, ‘Roberto, you’re the finance minister! Is that how you work all the time? With absolutely no integrity whatsoever? I thought our politicians were bad, but this is completely atrocious!’

  Feraguzzi looked at her quizzically. ‘I have no idea what you’re getting upset about.’ He beckoned to Piper for a fresh round of tea.

  ‘Whatever I just sat through is what upset me. I thought you had more about you than that.’

  He took his time to answer, prepared his tea, loosened his collar, smiled at other people as they came and went, complimented Piper on the quality of the tea, commended him on the little sweet biscuits that had been sent out to accompany it and eventually looked Lizzie squarely in the face. ‘You wanted the clock fixed?’

  ‘Yes – I mean, we all did, didn’t we?’

  ‘And it seems to me that this is now very much more likely to happen than at any time in decades.’

  ‘But surely there must be a process.’

  ‘You wanted the clock fixed. The clock is going to be fixed. Posti wanted a second chance at courting the love of his life. It looks like he’s going to get it. And Amalia? All Amalia wants is to dance in the arms of a man who adores her.’ Feraguzzi nodded at Posti, who was still looking at the entrance to the alley into which Amalia had disappeared, as if her essence were still lingering there, awaiting his arms. His eyes held a dreamy, faraway look and it was clear that none of this talk of clocks was making an impression upon him at all.

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘It would appear so. And we should thank you.’

  ‘You should?’

  ‘Yes, you have brokered a peace deal that looked unlikely, if not impossible. I think, Miss Holmesworth, you have the makings of a great diplomat. But I don’t believe our work here is done. Perhaps we can extract just a little more fun from this clock business …’

  ‘Fun?’

  ‘I have the inkling of a rather fine idea, but we must find Angelo and enlist his help. And we must move to the other bar. The biscuits are pleasant, but drinking with the peasants is beginning to make me feel a little queasy.’