Lizzie was blushing furiously at the allegorical reference to both her implied virginal status and to her pseudo-royal one, but the intensity of her embarrassment surged as Sergio stumbled over the reference. Realizing he was himself flying into very dangerous territory, he simply threw his hands into the air and altered his course.
‘That is why my minister of agriculture, under the guidance of some of Vallerosa’s finest minds but taking his own counsel too, has been persuaded to allow large swathes of land to be set aside for you to preserve the varied crops that give your country its colours, its flavours and its smells. So the bees are happy and they’ll continue to pollinate your tea. So the bees make honey and the visiting foreigners, with less refined palates than our own, may add some to their tea.’ Here, he turned to smile with warmth at Lizzie, now visibly at ease, relieved by his change in direction.
‘If I had continued to trust our American consultant, before long we would have destroyed not only our tea crop but everything else that is associated with it. Fortunately, however, the women of this country are far too intelligent to allow that to happen. They ensured that the right steps were taken to keep the balance of nature in harmony.
‘Speaking of balance, I think the men are finding the number of hours the women spend tending the farmland just a bit too taxing and are hoping they’ll come down from the hills to dance a little more often. It’s not all about tea and honey, is it?’
As a ripple of laughter spread through the audience, Angelo whispered to Lizzie, ‘I think the people need to hear from you.’
‘You want me to speak?’
‘It feels right.’
Lizzie swallowed, licked her lips and stood up a little unsteadily. Sergio frowned for a second, wondering if she might be leaving the stage, but when he saw she was moving towards him, he smiled broadly and took her hand, drawing her to his side and making room for her at the podium.
Lizzie wrestled with the microphone, raising it several inches until she could speak comfortably into it. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your president did indeed let me off the hook, because he knew I was dreading standing up on stage and talking to such a big crowd. But I don’t intend to let anyone down, not after you have shown me such warmth and kindness.
‘And I’m not sure your American consultant was right about many things. But he was right about something,’ she said. ‘I am an imposter.’ Sergio slumped a little, accentuating their difference in height even further. ‘I am here under completely false pretences.’ She allowed this to sink in, then continued bravely, ‘Your president wanted me to address you because he thought that a visitor from the United Kingdom might have something to offer you that he couldn’t offer you himself. He thought that my addressing you might deliver something above and beyond his reach. But he’s wrong. There is nothing, nothing at all, I can teach you or your country. I arrived here with no knowledge at all of Vallerosa and will leave with my heart full of it. But I am simply not who you think I am. I am not qualified to lecture you, to teach you, to influence you, because everything you do here, you do so well. Here, I have learned about community – something I think my own country has long forgotten. Here I have learned about taking responsibility for your own life, rather than relying upon and then blaming the state. Here, I have learned valuable lessons about life that will help me as I decide what I want to do with the rest of mine. Here I have met real warmth and real love and I feel very honoured to have been part of it.
‘While here I have learned some incredibly important things …’ She paused to gather her thoughts and to ensure her next words would not be swallowed by the emotion that was close to the surface. ‘Leading a country with honesty and integrity is harder and harder the bigger your country becomes, the more successful it becomes, so I would urge you now to follow your hearts. Don’t try to introduce hordes of visitors with marketing gimmicks and bargain flights. They’ll come, of course they will, but they’ll come for the cheap beer and the wrong reasons. Let them discover Vallerosa the hard way, like I did. Let them find it for themselves and, like me, I’m sure they’ll leave a bit of themselves here when they go.
‘I stand before you, your humble servant. Nothing more, nothing less. And I am proud to be at your service. I think, I hope, I have met people here who will be my friends for life. And I hope I will meet even more people who will be my friends for life before my stay is finished.
‘So I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your warmth and generosity. And long may you live peacefully.’
She would have liked to say more but tears were forming in her eyes and a lump in her throat was threatening to stop her speaking. She hugged her arms tightly around her and looked at Sergio, who had resumed his position in front of the microphone. Sergio put his arm tightly around her, squeezing her, then releasing her. She returned to her seat, her colour rising.
Sergio looked out at the sea of faces in front of him and found nothing but warmth in the eyes shining back. Unburdened now, and feeling stronger than he had for years, he continued swiftly, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my business tonight is not yet concluded. I have some important announcements to make.
‘I was saved, on this occasion, by the women of this country who ensured the safety of our tea crop. And I’ve been saved too, by my young friend here.
‘Miss Holmesworth does herself a great injustice by referring to herself as an imposter. Never a wiser woman have I encountered, or a more honest one. It gives me great satisfaction to award her the freedom of the city and to bestow upon her the title of “Grand Duchess of Vallerosa”, a new title specially coined to recognize the contribution that visitors can make to our country, providing their motive is to further our country’s standing rather than to erode it. She uniquely fits the bill, and I would ask that you continue to respect her as a most venerable visitor.’
The crowd cheered, Pavel beamed and Lizzie blushed as she accepted the medal that Sergio was now draping around her neck.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, in my pursuit for honest leadership I seek much counsel, and I look for it in the most unlikely places – some places that I know I should leave well alone. Particularly as the counsel I have at my side is of the very highest order. Signor Angelo Bianconi is my most special adviser, and is loyal to the nation and loyal to me. If you should decide to replace me at the next election, then you could do no better than to seek the highest office for Angelo, but in the meantime I shall be asking the Presidium, when it next convenes, to promote Angelo to deputy president, a position he holds in everything but name. In this new post he will be even better positioned to act as my moral and political guide.’
As Sergio spoke, Signor Mosconi, who had been growing increasingly anxious, politely pushed his way from the edge of the stage into the midst of the crowd, excusing himself as he passed, apologizing for his intrusion and making himself as small as he could. He ducked between the members of the enraptured throng and on one occasion crouched low beneath the held hands of a couple who seemed unaware of the minister for tourism’s urgent need to pass. He had a clear idea of the direction in which he needed to travel and, after a few nervous moments, by peering low and looking for the glint of light on glass, he spied his prize, swallowing his mounting excitement. As he reached down to grasp the empty Budweiser bottle, so recently abandoned by the American consultant, he recoiled in shock, his hand meeting another’s. From his stooped position he raised his head angrily, defiance in his eyes, ready to defend his trophy with force if necessary.
Nose to nose with his adversary who appeared equally determined to hang on to the empty bottle, he found himself staring into the eyes of the curator of the Museum of Things Left Behind. ‘Mine, I think,’ the curator said, extracting the bottle from Signor Mosconi’s hand. They unfurled themselves to a standing position and the minister kissed the curator loudly on the cheek.
‘But of course it’s yours!’ he cried, to the irritation of the crowd around him, who were straining to hear every word spoken by
their president. ‘I knew this would be an extremely important exhibit – I didn’t want to risk such a treasure being broken underfoot. But you were vigilant as always. Excellent work.’
The minister and the curator were loudly shushed by their neighbours and, satisfied with their work, they turned their attention back to the president, as the curator slipped the bottle into the safe haven of an inside pocket.
Even though he was drawing his speech to its conclusion, the president showed no sign of slowing down. ‘So, you are spared my prepared speech tonight, but I would like to mark this historic day by adding it permanently to our calendar of holidays so that we can celebrate it for ever, and so that our children and our children’s children can, too.’
The bell chimed the half-hour, drowning the sound of Sergio’s voice and ending his speech just as he had gained enough confidence perhaps to deliver a further twenty minutes or so of rhetoric. There was so much he wanted to share – his thoughts on leadership, on education, on reform – but it could wait until the next occasion, because now the band was striking up, chairs were being cast aside and the dancing was already beginning.
Acknowledgements
My love and thanks go to my very earliest readers, Eoin and Poppy, whose unenviable job it was to let me down gently if they thought this book should go no further. Thank you to you both – not just for this but for everything else, too.
My love and eternal indebtedness also go to Jon Stefani who not only read the book but has taken charge of it (and me) ever since.
Thank you to my Great Aunt CC Rendel whose name I borrowed when I sent the manuscript out. I think she would have liked to know that all those hours I spent at her beautiful little typewriter using up her carbon paper were not entirely wasted. While thanking the deceased, I must also acknowledge the many names I’ve appropriated from the notices that appear around villages in Italy to announce a death and to celebrate a life. I was at pains to mix and match the first and second names to ensure I didn’t reference any real people but by interlinking their names in this way I hope I haven’t invoked any old wounds or caused any offence in perpetuity.
Thank you, Doctor Hogg, for the Latin. Not just for the Latin within this book but for bringing alive a couple of dead languages that I suspect will stand my daughters in very good stead.
My thanks to Clare Reihill and to the formidable team at Fourth Estate who combine all the right elements of fierceness, kindness, gentleness and prowess. They really are fabulous and I feel very fortunate to be in such safe hands. They’re an elegant bunch, too.
Thank you Faye Brewster and thank you Becky Hardie for your unbridled enthusiasm which, if nothing else, gave me the impetus to take the next step. And thank you, too, to the very inspirational Gail Rebuck, not just for the breakfast, but for making the world a much better place, both behind the scenes and on centre stage.
And finally, to Millicent Divine and Sonny Solomon. I know you’re busy scanning the dedication and these acknowledgements to see if you get a mention. You are thanked here not just because I am a fair and just parent, but because you have improved my life immeasurably. Thank you.
About the Author
Seni Glaister is the CEO of The Book People, and has worked in bookselling since 1988. The mother of four children, she uses her spare time (when she is not working or reading) to raise pigs, confide in her cattle, climb mountains, make wine and write. The Museum of Things Left Behind is her first novel.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
The Museum of Things Left Behind Page 33