Part 26 (2/2)

'No, I didn't.'

'I have an English translation.'

Mitch.e.l.l's phone vibrated in his pocket. 'So sorry, I really must take this call. But thanks, anyway, for the information.' He backed away across the spotless floor; the tiniest crumb or speck of grit would show up instantly, loom out of proportion. He pressed the phone to his ear. 'Sash? h.e.l.lo, sweetheart, are you done?'

Reception in the gallery was poor, as if it had been soundproofed to aid visual concentration. He was glad to get out of it, escape from its hushed environment back into noisy street life. 'I can't hear you... Yes, I've already eaten. Shall we meet in half an hour, under the obelisk in Piazza del Popolo? You know where I mean? I'm on foot, but it will be quicker for you to catch a bus. Anything that goes from the Vatican down Via Cola di Rienzo and crosses the river. Should be easy enough.'

Piazza del Popolo wasn't as teeming as Piazza Navona and Piazza di Spagna. It was free from traffic these days, unsullied by exhaust fumes, and its s.p.a.cious oval allowed for a stately flow of pedestrians. Mitch.e.l.l knew as he settled beneath the obelisk that he would be in for a wait, but there was plenty to look at. It was like sitting in the world's most rococo theme park: marble arches and statues, copper domes and cupolas, and filigree-fine streets spinning from the central hub like threads from a spider's web.

A living statue was poised below the Pincio, dwarfed by the monumental effigies adorning the fountain beside him. Pa.s.sers-by didn't take much notice and Mitch.e.l.l thought it an odd place to stand. As a breed they'd become irritatingly ubiquitous and he usually avoided them, but because he had nothing else to do he kept his sights fixed on the man: a Roman Emperor, he guessed from his robes. He hoped to catch him out and regretted he wouldn't be able to spot any tic or twitch without moving closer. However, he did see a rapid change when two carabinieri, all braids, b.u.t.tons and boots, materialised through the archway leading to the Via Flaminia. In an instant the statue had divested himself of toga and wreath and was sitting on the lip of the fountain, packing them into a box. Afterwards, casually, as if to deflect attention, he began to walk in the opposite direction, towards Via Babuino.

Thereafter Mitch.e.l.l was taken aback by the speed with which things happened. The carabinieri were no longer to be seen, but the statue managed to collide with a woman who wasn't looking where she was going (spiky heels, dark gla.s.ses, total absorption in her phone call). There was a slight hiatus, then the woman was screeching and scrabbling for the components of the mobile she had dropped and shattered. Had she also been robbed? Two young girls were running in pursuit of the statue as if they were trying to rescue her purse. When he recognised them as Sasha and Ruby he was confused because they'd emerged from an unexpected direction, but he did what seemed perfectly natural at the time and joined in the chase. He gained on the fellow and brought him down in a rugby tackle.

'Dad!' exclaimed Sasha in horror. 'What are you doing?' She knelt to help the man gather his spilled possessions and return them to his box. 'Stai bene?' she asked. 'Sicuro?' Then the two of them rose to their feet and moved a few paces away, deep in conversation.

Mitch.e.l.l hadn't played rugby for thirty years and was feeling the impact of the cobbles on his elbows. 'What the...?'

Ruby attached herself to him and started to prattle. 'The sightlines from here are amazing, aren't they? So straight. Like the way you can see the Victor Emmanuel monument at the far end of the Corso. I read it used to be a racetrack right up until the nineteenth century. The Romans had so many race courses, didn't they? Or do you call them arenas? There's Piazza Navona and the Colosseum...'

Still winded, Mitch.e.l.l gasped, 'Does Sash know that b.l.o.o.d.y bloke?'

'...And the Circus Maximus.' Ruby was ticking the list off her fingers. Eventually she added, 'Guess she must.'

'You've not met him before?'

'No. But I think she did last summer. I think he might be a friend of Gina's.'

'Ah.' As if that explained everything. He narrowed his eyes and thought he saw something pa.s.s between them, hand to hand, though he couldn't make out what the object was or which direction it had travelled in. Sasha had the strap of her messenger bag across her front, the bag itself bounced on her hip, zipped shut. Probably he was imagining things. 'Sas.h.!.+' he called and she turned her head guiltily.

'Just coming.' The statue moved off, cradling his box of possessions. Her gaze lingered a moment on his retreating back and then she joined them.

'What was all that about? Who was he?'

'Sami. I met him a few times last year. I was only saying hi. But hey, Dad, you didn't have to be so rough.'

'I thought he'd stolen something. There are pickpockets everywhere. I didn't want to let him get away with it.'

'Well, you picked the wrong guy. He hadn't nicked anything.'

'He was running away. It made him look suspicious. Anyway, let's start again, shall we? Have you had a good day so far?' The girls exchanged looks, shrugged in reply. 'Well then, do you fancy an ice cream in Rosati's?'

'What's Rosati's?'

They had faced each other for almost a century, Canova and Rosati, the two lavish cafes at the entrance to the square, both wildly overpriced but fitted with such opulent elegance and offering such tempting displays of fancy pastries, the girls were sure to be impressed. Of the two he preferred Rosati's. The walnut panelling, parquet flooring and linen napery spoke of a different, more glamorous era.

They chose a central table beneath a dazzling chandelier so they could ogle the pasticceria: the glossy fruit tarts, dainty macaroons, confections of chocolate and cream. Mitch.e.l.l ordered another beer to dull the pain in his elbow and Sasha an apricot frullata. Ruby settled for ice cream: scoops of pistachio and strawberry served in a tall-stemmed gla.s.s. They couldn't make up their minds about the cakes.

When he asked them again to tell him about their morning they were evasive, possibly they'd overdosed on Renaissance painting. 'My day hasn't been so great either,' he admitted. 'Though I've just remembered where I've seen that living statue of yours before.'

'He's usually in Piazza Navona,' said Sasha. 'Perhaps he thought there'd be less compet.i.tion here. But he's not really a mate. I only came across him a couple of times.'

'Through Gina?'

'Yes.'

'She took his photo, didn't she?'

'Um... Maybe.'

'I saw it,' he said. 'She's got an exhibition on, did you know?'

Ruby said, 'What? You went to see her exhibition?'

'Yes,' he said, mildly annoyed by the implication. Did they think him such a philistine? 'And he's in it, all dressed up in his toga. A bit freaky if you ask me.'

Sasha was sucking up her milkshake through a straw; she began to choke as if she'd inhaled some by accident and Ruby thumped her on the back.

'Did you... did you like her stuff?'

'Yeah. Some of it was a bit contrived, but on the whole I was impressed.'

A long silence followed, though it may have seemed drawn out because most of the other tables were occupied by vivacious gesticulating Italians. Sasha blew her nose. Ruby carefully sc.r.a.ped every morsel of ice cream from her gla.s.s and licked the spoon clean. These feisty young women, he thought fondly, were little girls at heart. Sugar and spice and all things nice. Sasha had braided her hair, exposing the childish curves of her face, the clear soft complexion with its scattering of freckles.

'I was at a loose end,' he said. 'I should have gone along with you two. I didn't get much joy from the agency.'

'They didn't have anything else, you mean? Nothing to swap?'

'That's what they claimed.' He couldn't tell whether Sasha was relieved or disappointed. He pulled the money from his pocket. 'This was the pay-off.'

'Does that mean you're going to stay with us then?'

'D'you want me to move out?'

''Course not.'

'I might look at some hotel rooms... But this...' He flapped the notes. 'This is pathetic. I'm going to blow it.'

'Can we help you?' said Sasha with a sudden urgency.

'Sure you can. What d'you reckon? We hire scooters for the day, pig-out at a top restaurant, buy an audience with the Pope?'

Ruby giggled, seemed about to break in with a novel idea of her own, but Sasha said, 'Um, we could go shopping.'

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