Water Theatre Page 15

  More than a year had passed since we had seen each other, and she had not expected to run into me that day. When I tried to approach her, she rejected my offer of help with cold disdain. Then Allegra began to howl from her basket in the van. Having fed and winded her, Marina brought her into the house, where she was still unsettled. So, without consultation or thanks, merely using me as a convenience that freed her to return to the work of clearance, Marina handed Allegra over into my arms. I must have stared at the baby then with something of the same awe that I stared at this young woman now, wondering if the child was mine.

  When I first learnt that Marina was pregnant, I had sent a message asking that question, but no answer came. I knew there were a number of artists and musicians hanging about London and the West Country whose claims were as strong as mine, for in what had been a bad time for her, Marina had taken many lovers. My message had said that I was there for her and the child whether or not I was the father, but she had long since decided to have nothing to do with me.

  That afternoon I asked again whether the child I was holding was mine. Marina merely said, “Even if I knew, do you think I’d tell you?” and then turned away.

  Now I stared at Allegra once more, looking for signs that this striking young woman was my daughter. I saw only her mother’s features mirrored there.

  In the meantime, Larry Stromberg had been introducing me as an old friend of the family. “Though I’m not at all sure,” I heard him sighing, “that Marina would want you to have anything to do with him.”

  “Really?” Allegra asked, intrigued rather than deterred. “Why not?”

  I mumbled vaguely about a rift. We gazed at one another in mutual curiosity. Allegra was already a year or two older than her mother had been the last time I saw her, that uneasy day at High Sugden, and the more closely I looked the more I noticed other differences. Marina’s hair had never been as blonde and finely spun, and she lacked the relaxed, sensual grace of this young woman, who had been nurtured in a warmer culture and a different, less inhibited age.

  “It all feels like a long time ago,” I said, as though in explanation.

  “I’m sure it must,” Allegra replied without malice or mercy. In that moment I felt sure that what she saw across from her was a man some way past his best, shabby with dust and heat, his hair much greyer than black these days – the kind of figure she would have passed without a glance had he not emerged unannounced from her own prehistory.

  Her gaze shifted away. “So where’s Adam got to?” she asked Larry.

  “He’s been on retreat in the mountains, but…” Then he broke into Italian, not for the benefit of Giovanni, who sat on the wall sulky and impatient, but for my exclusion. I picked out names – Adam’s, Gabriella’s, Marina’s – and little else. Allegra’s eyes darted my way every now and then as he spoke. Eventually she turned to me and said, “I understand that my grandfather isn’t well?”

  “He’s had a stroke. A bad one, I’m afraid. He can hardly move or speak.”

  A frown of dismay shadowed her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But the sad truth is I’ve never given him much thought. He simply wasn’t part of our life… of my life.”

  “You’re right,” I said, “it is very sad.”

  She glanced away towards Larry. “Is there any more of that wine, Lorenzo? I think I could use a glass.”

  “I’m not sure this is wise,” he replied. “I really think you should talk to Marina before you…”

  “Just bring me some wine please. I need to sit down.”

  Allegra placed her helmet on the blue table and pulled out one of the chairs. As I sat across from her, she looked away in thoughtful silence to where the late sunlight burnished the poor soil of the olive groves with its glow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “this must be confusing for you.”

  She answered with no more than an uncertain shrug as Larry brought out my glass along with hers. “If your mother kicks up about this,” he fussed, “I absolutely insist it’s not my responsibility.”

  “I’m not a child, Lorenzo,” Allegra sighed.

  “No, my darling, but you’ve been off the scene. You’ve no idea what a muddle we’re in. And Adam should be here. I can’t imagine what he thinks he’s doing. We expected him back last night.”

  “Well, he’s not about to let us down, is he? Do relax.”

  Again the restrained asperity of her tone seemed disturbingly familiar.

  “Your hair’s much fairer than your mother’s,” I said, “but everything else about you makes me think of her.”

  “Mine’s been lightened.” Vaguely she fingered a strand that dangled by her ear. “You know I can’t even picture my grandfather. I used to imagine him as a lonely giant living in a gloomy cave.”

  “That’s not so far away from the truth right now,” I said, “though he wasn’t always like that.” I began to see how this unexpected encounter might be used to some advantage. “Listen, I know your mother’s had a very hard time with him, but Hal’s a good man. He may have made mistakes, but his whole life has been about building a better world. Your generation is the future he was building it for. It broke his heart being cut off from you and your mother.”

  “But then after what happened he can hardly have imagined that…” Allegra stopped herself there. “The trouble is, I don’t really know what happened. Just that my grandmother died before I was born and that there was a rift in the family. It must have been very bad to make Marina and Adam break with him as completely as they did.”

  “If you really want to know, you should ask your mother. She’s going to have to think it all through again anyway… if I ever get to talk to her myself, that is.”

  Sensing that much had been withheld, Allegra said, “Are there reasons why you shouldn’t?”

  “Gabriella seems to think so. I’m afraid there’s a lot of history.”

  “Between you and Marina?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bad history, you mean?”

  “Mostly, by the end, yes.”

  Allegra shook her head. “This is so weird,” she exclaimed. “It’s like coming back and finding myself in the dark.” There was exasperation in the way she frowned at me. “As if the darkness had leaked out of the past,” she said, “out of the time before I even existed. Yet I’m caught up in it, not understanding.”

  “That sounds like a pretty good description of history,” I smiled back at her. “Hal would enjoy talking to you about that.”

  Another frown, then, “I’ve just remembered,” she said after a moment, “I almost did get to see him once. I must have been fourteen or fifteen I suppose, and I’d had a furious row with Marina…This really is weird! I’m not even sure what the whole thing was about now, but I told her I was leaving home and going back to England to look for my grandfather – to see if he would have me. I said it because it felt like just about the worst thing I could say to her.” Allegra gritted her teeth in a wince of contrition. “Oh God, I can still see the expression on her face! And if I’d been a year or two older I might have done it, just for the hell of it. But it blew over, of course, the moment passed… I’d forgotten all about it till now.”

  “It’s almost a pity you didn’t go,” I said. “It might have mended the breach.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to do?”

  “Yes, but it’s beginning to feel like a waste of time.”

  “Then go home, old thing.” I turned my head and saw Larry Stromberg leaning against the cottage doorway. “I mean, what’s to gain from hanging on here? We’re well apprised of the situation. Marina must make up her mind what she wants to do, and I fail to see the point of risking further bitterness. Why not join me for a meal tonight in a rather good place I know and then hop back on a plane tomorrow? Let old Lorenzo spoil you a little.”

  In that conclusive moment, Larry commanded all the logic in the situation. His smile said as much, and I had no answer. I looked at Allegra. “Will you come with
us? There must be hundreds of things Hal will want to know about you – what you do for a living, what kind of education you’ve had, how you feel about the big questions, what gives you pleasure. He’ll want to know everything about you.” But there were other reasons why I was reluctant to let go of her company. “Anyway,” I smiled, “having caught up with you again after all this time, I don’t want to let you slip away. And there must be things you want to ask me too,” I added in flagrant contradiction to my earlier reticence. “About the past, I mean.”

  Allegra stared thoughtfully at her wineglass. For a moment I thought I’d hooked her. Then she sighed and shook her head. “Thanks, but there are things I have to do. However I will take your advice and talk to my mother.” She drank the last of her wine, pushed back her chair and got up to go. “I think it’s been good to meet you,” she smiled, “though I’m not entirely sure.”

  I got to my feet, saying, “I can’t tempt you?” But for the moment it was clear that I couldn’t. “Well, at least I can tell Hal he’s got a beautiful granddaughter, one I’m sure he’d be proud of.” She reached for her helmet. Watching her tuck her hair under the strap, I decided to risk a last push. “You know he’d love to see you.”

  “If there’s love enough,” she replied, “it might happen. You never know.” She pulled the buckle tight under her chin but, even as she turned away, all three of us became aware of someone approaching the house on foot through the dusk. Taking a half-smoked cheroot from between his lips, the figure called, “Buonasera, Allegra, I saw your Vespa by the road and felt sure you must be here.”

  Allegra smiled with delight. “Fra Pietro, how lovely!”

  Stromberg leant in through the doorway to switch on the outside light. Its glare heightened the yellowish cast to the newcomer’s skin, which shone like vellum. Dark eyes glimmered within its wrinkles. He was in his late sixties, Iguessed, hisgrey hair tonsured, his thin body robed in a brown habit.

  “If you’re looking for Adam,” Allegra said, “I’m afraid he’s not here. In fact…”

  “No, it was you I wanted. I have been working on the canzone since I saw you last. I wondered if you would care to sing tonight? The air is soft. It promises to be a beautiful evening.” With a shy nod he acknowledged my presence, then his smile broadened as he said, “Buonasera, Lorenzo.”

  “Perhaps later,” Allegra said. “Maybe I could ring you?”

  “Of course.” As the newcomer stubbed his cheroot against the wall, he studied her mildly flustered face. “Something has discomposed you?”

  “No, not really,” she answered uncertainly. “It’s just that there were a couple of surprises waiting for me when I got back.”

  Allegra glanced my way, introduced me briefly and explained why I had come to Fontanalba. Fra Pietro listened gravely as she answered his tactful, concerned questions. “This is distressing news,” he said. “Perhaps the time has come for reconciliations?”

  “I was hoping so,” I said.

  “And Marina? She too must be concerned.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet,” Allegra said. It’s part of what I want to sort out tonight.”

  “Then of course the singing must wait for another time.”

  “The other thing,” Allegra frowned, “is that Adam has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Well, nobody seems to know where he’s gone or what he’s doing. I was sure he’d be here when I got back, and the more I think about it…”

  At that moment every one was startled by the trilling of my mobile phone on the round table. Even as I drew in my breath and answered “Yes?” I realized it was unlikely to be Gail – there had been no prospect of swift contrition in her voice – but I was thrown into further confusion when a voice asked, “Is that Guerino il Meschino?” Then I remembered the story.

  “Contessa?”

  “I have spoken with Marina.”

  “What did she say? Is she there with you now?”

  “You are in too much of a hurry still. She is here but…”

  “Let me speak to her please.”

  “One moment.”

  As I looked up from the telephone, all the others glanced away except Allegra. I waited until Gabriella said, “Marina says you have either nothing further to say to one another or a great deal. In any case, she would prefer not to speak by telephone.”

  “So what does she propose?”

  “She will eat with me at the villa tonight. If it is truly important for you to see her at this time, then you may join us.”

  “You will be present?”

  “If that is what Marina wishes.”

  “I see. What time would you like me to come?”

  “Shall we say in about two hours?”

  At that moment Allegra stepped closer to me and said, “Do you think I could have a quick word with my mother?”

  “I’ll be there,” I said into the phone. “Can you tell Marina that Allegra wants to speak to her?”

  “Allegra? She is with you?”

  I handed over the phone and turned to where Larry Stromberg studied me through dubious eyes. “I confess I’m amazed,” he murmured. “I doubt I’ll ever begin to understand Marina! You’re quite sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “I’m sure I don’t,” I said, “but it has to be done.”

  I was less preoccupied with his question, however, than with my efforts to eavesdrop on Allegra, who was quietly saying, “No, of course I didn’t, not a word.”

  Fra Pietro favoured me again with his long, donkey-headed smile. “Will you be staying with us in Fontanalba for some time, Mr Crowther?”

  “I’m afraid not. I have to get back.”

  “He thinks I should talk to you about all that,” Allegra was saying. “Now I come to think about it, I’m astonished I haven’t done so sooner. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was…” But Allegra was halted by an interruption there.

  “A pity!” Fra Pietro smiled. “I myself have not been to your country for many years. Tell me, are there Beefeaters at the Tower of London still?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “But I fear they will soon be quite mad, alas,” he mourned, “like your English cows!” He took in my briefly puzzled frown. “The beef – is very diseased, yes?”

  “Yes, all right, if you say so,” Allegra said, then returned the conversation to her own priorities. “But Lorenzo tells me Adam’s not back yet. Yes, he’s here – with Giovanni. Adam was on retreat, wasn’t he – in the mountains?” As she listened, her blue eyes shifted restlessly – to me, to Stromberg and back down the darkening valley.

  “So sad!” Fra Pietro lamented confusingly. “I admired their bright clothings very much.”

  Marina must have overheard his voice because Allegra said, “Yes, he’s here too. He was hoping to make music tonight… I’ll ask him if you like. But are you sure you want us there? I mean, if you’re going to do some serious talking… Okay, if you’d rather. I’ll see you soon.”

  Allegra snapped my phone shut and returned it. “It looks like we’re going to have the chance to interrogate one another after all.” Then she smiled at Fra Pietro. “You’re invited to dinner at the villa. And you’re to bring your lute.”

  The Franciscan reached for one of Allegra’s hands and held it gently in his own. “Now I am so happy,” he said, “You see, all is for the best.”

  “Except,” Allegra said, “I get the feeling that Marina’s more concerned about Adam than she’s letting on.”

  “Oh you shouldn’t worry your head too much,” Larry said with unconvincing nonchalance as he crossed to speak to Giovanni, “Adam was always one for the enigmatic gesture.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not worrying,” Allegra replied. “He should be here, and we’ve no idea where he is. Anything might have happened to him.”

  “I am sure Lorenzo is right,” Fra Pietro said reassuringly. “I think you will understand me if I say that your uncle is one
of God’s fools.” His sallow face was gentle with affection. “So wherever he is, and whatever he is doing, you may rest assured he is safe in God’s hands.” His smile looked to me for agreement, but as a confirmed atheist I was not the likeliest source of assent, and amazement must have shown plain on my face at this improbable description of the friend who had long ago taught me to share his disdain for God-botherers everywhere.

  Adam might certainly have been a fool in his time. But one of God’s fools?

  Surely not in a million years?

  Not long afterwards the others dispersed, leaving me alone in the cottage. From its arid rock on the sitting-room wall the painted lion glared down at me. The wild woman stood gowned and wimpled in her long white hair.

  I thought about ringing Gail, but decided it was too soon. Better to wait until she’d had time to cool down. Meanwhile there were other calls I could make, but they felt arbitrary and futile, so I picked up Larry’s little book again and took another look at his essay on the oracular springs at Clitumnus. Citing lines from Virgil it told how the hides of oxen were reputed to turn white when they were bathed in those waters, and went on to relate this legend to the myth of the Apis Bull, which was born from a cow impregnated by moonbeams. According to Larry, all this had something to do with the lunar nature of prophetic insight. I was fast losing patience when I saw a heading that caught my attention:

  THE REVENANT OF FONTANALBA

  Beneath it Larry had recorded a local folk legend that he’d heard from the lips of Angelina Tavenari, the wife of the village barber. According to the story, a young shepherd once took his flock up into the mountains to the high pastures, and during the lonely summer weeks he became obsessed with the mystery of where the sun goes at midnight. Determined to find the answer, he climbed onto a high ridge through the late evening light, lost his balance as he strained to peer down into the dark gulf where the midnight sun was vanishing, and fell to his death on the rocks below. A year later he returned to his homestead at dawn, radiantly transfigured into a woman. When this magical creature struck the ground with a shepherd’s crook, a fresh fountain of spring water bubbled from the barren rock. Hence the name of the town that grew near that place: Fontanalba – the Fountain of Dawn.