Читать книгу The Long Shadow Of A Dream - Roberta Mezzabarba - Страница 11

Giacomo was on his doorstep when Greta came back from her tour to the Bisentina island.

A look was enough for the old fisherman to understand that for the girl that day meant more than a simple job appointment: she was strolling, sniffing a rose that she had in her hand, as if she was getting rid of all the energy given to her by her thoughts.

As a matter of fact, she was thinking: she was thinking about Ernesto and about the words he had used to say goodbye to her:

«If you like, I can take you to the Martana island one of these days. We won’t be able to have the speedboat for the day but I am sure that you won’t regret it.»

She did not give an answer to that invitation nor did he expect to have one.

He was an intelligent young man. Greta felt strange emotions inside, locked in the darkest corner of her soul for years now, however the strangest thing in all these feelings was that she did not feel any dislike for Ernesto, as she usually would feel for all the other boys who showed some interest in her, after Alberto.

Looking in Giacomo’s direction, Greta quickly waved at him, as if to say that she did not feel like getting into any conversation that evening. She went into her house, walking listessly. Time went slowly during the pitch dark night and the dawn when Greta kept asking herself so many questions. She was tossing and turning in her bed haunted by many questions: “Was it fair to let a stranger get so close to her? What was happening to her? Was it dangerous if she let herself go?”

All she could feel, as a matter of fact, was a strong desire to see that fisherman again.

The sun was already high in the sky when Greta got up tired from her bed. The dark boats of the fishermen were already sailing on the silver lake, Ernesto was probably with them.

The bus Greta used every morning to go to work, that morning, was lit up by the dazzling sunlight, on and off, while riding fast the deserted streets and still half asleep from the night before. Greta was slowly getting back to reality, but she was left with a burden on her heart. Touring the island reawakened in her the desire to go back to her beloved Sicily, a thorny desire which scared her a little, but she could not repress it. Such a long time had gone by since she left, and too many times she had pretended to have no connections with that island and its inhabitants. How could she even think that her grandmother, the only person left of his family, could accept her after six years?

After all, over that period of time, none of the two bothered to look for the one other, apart from a couple of times, but with such a coldness which made them two strangers more than gradmother and granddaughter.

Probably that longing would disappear, as it happened before. Greta loned to feel that quiver which she felt when walking on an islnd, she strongly felt that urge.

She was going to visit Isola Martana with Ernesto.

She had made her decision.

* * *

The Notary De Fusco was enthousiastic about the job that Greta did. Although he managed to conceal the sense of satisfaction he felt to have closed that business deal in such a splendid manner, he had words of praise for Greta.

«Greta, you are really a worthy colleague. You know how to do your job and above all you are very good at dealing with people. I am really happy to have you by my side. Now we can treat ourselves to a toast for the success of our work; in the meantime, if you don’t mind, I’d love to hear something about the Bisentina island. I heard it’s an enchanting place.»

Off they went to the most prestigious Coffee shop in the small town, where the entire upper class from Viterbo goes there. They sat at a table with a long yellow tablecloth. She thought that the Notary looked really different, almost cheerful. With great pleasure, Greta told the man who was sitting in front of her, in great detail, about her short time on that island that looked so wild compared to mainland but it kept , virtually hidden from prying eyes by the thick vegetation, a suggestiveness and a beauty which are both quite rare. She told him about the monastery which was turned into a villa, about the church housing the Farnese family tombs, about the Prince’s sincere nobility, about his kindness. She recounted about the tour to find out the seven small oratory’s, spread out in the roughness of that small piece of land, about the daunting cliffs overhanging the water and the centuries-old trees. Greta was speaking with great emphasis about her impressions on the island to the notary who was listening with great interest. While she was talking, she was thinking that that man should go to the island himself because it is not possible to fully recount some things. Greta was told by Prince Giovanni that the island is owned by his family since 1912, when the wife of Duke Enzo Fieschi Ravaschieri of Roccapidemonte, Princess Beatrice Spada Potenziani, bought it. The Duke Enzo, who inspired the character of Andrea Sperelli in “Il Piacere” written by D’Annunzio, as soon as he had purchased the island, he got two sentences engraved on the monuments already existant, in memory of the great poet. The first one is on the door of the former monastery, which was turned then into a villa, says “Maybe one day I will bring my spirit there away from the storm to find peace” the second one was placed on the boundary wall of the seclusion area “Oh longed green solitude far from bustling mankind”.

On her part, the princess Beatrice, looked after the island so much that it was restored to its former splendors of the years where the Farnese family considered it the most precious jewel of their dukedom. It is said that in order to eradicate the annoying mosquitoes that proliferated on the Bisentina island, he got the coregone¹⁰ imported from northern Europe, which is a species of fish that settled down very well in the Bolsena Lake.

«What about the sailing? How did it go? Did the fisherman who took you behave well?» asked the notary, considering that Greta had not said a word about him.

«It went well, very well…» Greta gave her answer visibly embarrassed.

«We need to drop over to him the money we owe him for ferrying you to the island… if it is not a problem for you. You looked upset when I mentioned his name. Did he by any chance behave improperly with you?»

At times, in some expressions, he was like the father she never had.

«Of course not! I will be delighted to give him the due compensation for his work.»

It was just impossible to hide the slightest thing from that man, he was so sensitive and sharp in grasping other people’s feelings.

Yet he was not married. Who knows why?

* * *

Back home in the afternoon, Greta went to the lakefront where the fishermen were fixing the nets and chatting away in small groups, in the cool shade of the big elm trees.

Ernesto was away from the others fixing a big net in the shape of a cone: he was turning his thoughts over in his mind, his hair dishevelled, he was looking down and at times would look up as if looking for something beyond the shade that was protecting him, looking towards the lake.

The water was flowing in the heat and blinding light of the month of July which made him shine like a giant pool of a blue colour. Only some bluish stripes were rippling its surface, stretching as far as the two islands which were standing on the clear surface like weightless multicoloured clouds. The water was flowing calmly while the bells in Capodimonte were striking slowing and gently, the bells from Marta, were striking clearly and loud and you could hear other far away bells echoing in the still air.

Greta’s arrival caused some commotion among the fishermen which abruptely stirred Ernesto.

At the very same moment when he looked up to see what was going on, Greta was looking at him.

Their looks were so passionate.

He could not move while she walked past the fishermen who were looking at her.

«I brought you the money for your work. Notary De Fusco is very grateful to you to have taken me to the Bisentina island, and I am very grateful to you for the patience you showed in waiting for me when I went on the tour of the island in the afternoon.»

Greta was talking slowly, her voice was soft and deep. Everyone there was listening to her.

Ernesto took the envelope that Greta was handing over to him, without saying a word, almost frozen with the unexpected emotion rather unhoped for to see her again.

The girl was leaving and had already turned around. All the fishermen, disappointed with how trivial their conversation was, had already got back to their activities.

It was then that Greta, following her wishes, turned around and looked right into Ernesto’s eyes and said:

«I’ll go with you to the Martana island tomorrow.»