Freja threw her hands wide and mimicked the writer pretending to be Donald Dawkings, the tour guide: ‘Toss in a cat and you will live for many, many years! The cat’s nine lives will become yours!’ She smiled through her tears at Tobias. ‘Remember?’
Tobias rubbed his chin and chuckled. ‘Did I really say that?’
‘Really!’ Freja wiped her eyes on one of Finnegan’s ears, then giggled in a gasping sort of way.
‘That’s the spirit, old chap! A cry, then a giggle. Now all we need is something delicious to fill our tummies and cheer us up completely. How about a gelato? Perhaps a raspberry gelato.’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Freja. ‘Macarons at Café Vivi!’
‘Perfect!’
The girl, the dog and the writer sat at the little pink table beneath the awning at the front of Café Vivi. Their knees were covered in warm rugs crocheted from pale pink and white wool. Tobias sipped an espresso and nibbled on a raspberry macaron. Freja sipped hot chocolate and nibbled on a lemon macaron. Finnegan had just gobbled a plate of sardines and three pork sausages and was eyeing off the remaining macarons in the centre of the table.
A crowd of pigeons muddled about at their feet, warbling and gossiping.
‘Have you heard the news?’ squawked Tobias in his best Italian pigeon accent. ‘Signora Voltilini was caught stealing cherries at the market yesterday.’
‘I heard it was Signora Palumba who was caught stealing strawberries!’ he sang in a deeper voice.
‘No! No! You are both stupid!’ he cried in a third voice, not unlike Nonna Rosa’s. ‘It was Signore Lazzari who was caught stealing a red Alfa Romeo.’
‘Cherries! Berries! Alfa Romeos! What difference does it make? They are all red!’
‘But you can’t eat an Alfa Romeo!’
‘Signore Lazzari could. My word, that man has an appetite like no other! He’d eat the shirt off your back if you gave him the chance.’
‘I don’t wear a shirt! I’m a pigeon!’
Laughter, light and sweet, floated through the air. It was Vivi. Tobias spun around, knocking his cup to the ground. The pigeons scattered. Coffee splashed up the leg of Vivi’s pale blue jeans and shards of pink china skittered across the cobblestones.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Freja. She dropped to her knees and crawled around, gathering the bits of broken cup. By the time she returned to the table, Vivi had pulled up a fourth seat and was sitting between Tobias and Finnegan.
‘I have some news,’ Vivi said. Her raspberry-gelato lips smiled, but the happiness didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I am going to do some more training, to become a better chef.’
‘But you’re perfect already,’ sighed Tobias.
‘Yes!’ cried Freja. ‘Nobody makes macarons like you, Vivi.’
‘Grazie! Grazie!’ Vivi reached forward and stroked Freja’s cheek. ‘You are both very kind to say these things.’
‘Not kind,’ said Freja. ‘Just honest.’
‘Boof!’ said Finnegan, and he snatched a blueberry macaron from the plate.
‘I have been made a very fine offer,’ said Vivi. ‘I am to work with one of the best pastry chefs in the world, Monsieur Diderot.’
‘Why, that’s marvellous!’ cried Tobias. ‘You’ll be able to teach him a thing or two, I’m sure.’
Vivi laughed. ‘I hope that he will be able to teach me a great deal. Then, one day, when I return to Rome, I will make Café Vivi a place that is famous throughout all Italy for its delicious pastries.’
Tobias held a pale pink macaron in the air and stared at it. ‘Return to Rome?’
‘You’re going away?’ whispered Freja.
‘Sì! To France, to a little town called Claviers in Provence, for that is where Monsieur Diderot has his pâtisserie.’
Tobias’ fingers closed around the macaron. A stream of fine pink crumbs fell from his hand to the table, like sand falling through an hourglass.
Vivi blushed.
Tobias dusted his hands, tugged at his ears, then fiddled with a teaspoon until he bent the handle out of shape. His shoulders drooped and his eyes looked suddenly dull, the colour of pond scum.
‘Provence, eh?’ he said softly. ‘A brilliant opportunity. Well done. Well done.’ He reached out and shook Vivi’s hand, but forgot to let it go.
A little tear slipped down Vivi’s face. ‘Sì! Sì! A brilliant opportunity, as you say.’ She pulled her hand free.
‘Provence!’ cried Freja, jumping to her feet. ‘In France! Huh!’
‘Boof!’ said Finnegan in surprise. A piece of blueberry macaron shot from his nostril.
The girl hooked her arm around the writer’s neck. ‘That’s a coincidence, isn’t it, Tobias?’
Tobias stared blankly at her. Freja moved her head up and down in large, exaggerated nods and Tobias, stunned, nodded back.
Freja smiled at Vivi. ‘It’s an astonishing coincidence, because Tobias and I are going to Provence too!’
Finnegan lurched forward across the table.
‘And Finnegan, of course!’
Vivi fluttered her liquorice-thick lashes. ‘To Provence? You?’ Her raspberry-gelato lips stretched wide across her face and, now, the smile reached her chocolatey eyes.
Freja nodded and Tobias joined in, this time with real enthusiasm.
‘Absolutely!’ he cried. ‘Brilliant idea! I mean . . . astonishing coincidence. Yes! We are definitely going to Provence. Time for a change. Rome has been an absolute hoot, but a rolling stone gathers no moss. Seize the day! Strike while the iron’s hot, I say. It’ll be good for young Freja’s education and for my work. Who knows, I might even write a love story next, and where better to set it than in France amidst the lavender fields, the vineyards, the olive groves, the hilltop villages?’
Vivi sprang up from the table. She smoothed her pink-and-white polka-dot apron, pushed in her chair, smiled and walked to the front door of Café Vivi. But then she stopped. Dashing back, she leaned forward and kissed Freja — twice on each cheek. She patted Finnegan and kissed him once on the top of his shaggy grey head. Then, taking a deep breath, she threw herself across the table and kissed Tobias, ever so quickly, smack-bang on the lips.
Stepping back, she smoothed her apron once more, then she was gone.
‘France!’ cried Freja.
‘Boof!’ said Finnegan, and he ate the remaining three macarons.
‘Raspberry-gelato lips,’ sighed Tobias, standing and staggering from the table.
And together, the girl, the dog and the writer wandered along the cobbled street, through Piazza di Spagna, past the pretty marble fountain and on towards their next great adventure.
Italiano!
Here is a list of the Italian words used in this story. You will notice that many words are similar to their English mate. It is always exciting to find these twin words, because they are easy to remember and they take some of the hard work out of understanding and learning a new language!
amore
love
angelo
angel
arrivederci
goodbye
attenzione
attention
bambina, bambino, bambini
child (female), child (male), children
bella
beautiful
bellissimo
very beautiful
bravo
bravo, good
buffone
buffoon, clown
buon appetito
enjoy your meal
buonanotte
goodnight
buonasera
good evening
buongiorno
good morning
ciao
hello (also goodbye)
cioccolato
chocolate
classico
classic
complimenti
congratulations
delizioso
delicious
drammatico
dramatic
/> famiglia
family
fantastico
fantastic
gelato, gelati
ice cream, ice creams
grazie
thank you
idiota
idiot, fool
imbecille
imbecile, stupid
incredibile
incredible
lampone
raspberry
lunatico
lunatic
magnifico
magnificent
mamma
mother, mum
Mamma mia!
My goodness!
Mangia, mangia!
Eat, eat!
momento
moment
no
no
nonna
grandmother
padre
father
panino, panini
sandwich, sandwiches
papà
dad
pazzo
crazy, wild
piazza
square, place
piccolo
small
prego
you’re welcome
scusa
sorry
sì
yes
signora
Mrs, madam
signore
Mr, sir
signorina
Miss, young lady
terribile
terrible
trattoria
restaurant
urrà
hooray
zeppole
deep-fried dough balls
Watch out for Freja Peachtree’s next adventure in
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Provence
COMING CHRISTMAS 2018
Acknowledgements
Travel broadens the mind. It also broadens plot options. Thank you to my mum and dad for being the first to take me travelling and for remaining the two most inspiring and enthusiastic adventurers I know.
Thank you to these three kind and clever women — Kate ‘Eddie’ Burnitt, my in-house editor; Chren Byng, my publisher; and Jane Novak, my literary agent. I am so very grateful that you continue to guide and support me.
Thank you to my hilarious friends. You know who you are. The love, laughter and chatter keep my heart singing, my mind whirring and the ideas flowing.
And thank you to the Great Dane. You are the hand that steers me around the mud puddles when I am daydreaming. You are the smile that welcomes me back into the real world at the end of my writing day. You are, to use Tobias Appleby’s love-struck words, everything.
About the Author
KATRINA NANNESTAD is an Australian author. She grew up in country NSW in a neighbourhood stuffed full of happy children. Her adult years have been spent raising boys, teaching, daydreaming and pursuing her love of stories.
Katrina celebrates family, friendship and belonging in her writing. She also loves writing stories that bring joy to other people’s lives
Katrina now lives near Bendigo in Victoria with her family and an exuberant black whippet called Olive. She dreams of one day living in Rome, where she will spend her days sitting on the edge of a fountain, gossiping with the pigeons and eating chocolate gelato.
www.katrinanannestad.com
Also by Katrina Nannestad
Bungaloo Creek
Red Dirt Diaries
Red Dirt Diaries: Blue about Love
Red Dirt Diaries: Blue’s News
The Girl Who Brought Mischief
Olive of Groves
Olive of Groves and the Great Slurp of Time
Olive of Groves and the Right Royal Romp
Copyright
The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used under licence by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia.
First published in Australia in 2017
by HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks
a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Text copyright © Katrina Nannestad 2017
Illustrations copyright © Cheryl Orsini 2017
The rights of Katrina Nannestad and Cheryl Orsini to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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2 Bloor Street East, 20th floor, Toronto, Ontario M4W 1A8, Canada
195 Broadway, New York NY 10007, USA
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Nannestad, Katrina, author.
The girl, the dog and the writer in Rome / Katrina Nannestad;
Cheryl Orsini, illustrator.
ISBN: 978 0 7333 3817 5 (paperback)
ISBN: 978 1 4607 0812 5 (ebook)
Nannestad, Katrina. Girl, the dog and the writer; 1.
For primary school age.
Friendship—Juvenile fiction.
Families—Juvenile fiction.
Rome (Italy)—Juvenile fiction.
Orsini, Cheryl, illustrator.
Cover design by Hazel Lam, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover illustration by Cheryl Orsini; all other images by shutterstock.com
Internal illustrations by Cheryl Orsini
The Girl, the Dog, and the Writer in Rome Page 23
