No, Papa!

by David Elvar

  The top was first. I scanned the magnet slowly back and forth, back and forth, working my way down its width. At one point, it snatched for a moment before dragging on, and I thought that maybe I’d hit the sweet spot, but I needed to make sure. The top done, I turned the thing over and started on the other side.

  As before, I dragged it slowly across and down. It was on the third sweep that I felt something, the magnet again dragging suddenly but this time more earnestly, like something was trying to hold it there. I stopped. Had I found it? Maybe. By way of experiment, I let go and picked up the laptop to turn it over again. But nothing happened, the magnet remaining firmly stuck to the case. Okay, that’s where I would concentrate on.

  I set it back down again and dragged the magnet in a slow circle round that one spot. This would be my only shot at this and I wanted to be certain. When I was satisfied, I covered the rest of the thing, but nowhere else did I get that same response. Only then did I stop and set his precious laptop back exactly as I’d found it. But I wasn’t finished.

  Like he’d said back at the restaurant, he’d have backed everything up, wouldn’t trust to luck where his work and a possible hard-drive crash were concerned. I needed to find the USB sticks I knew he used for that. They weren’t on his desk so would have to be in one of the drawers, and it was here that my plan could fall apart. Since I’d obviously raided his desk and found out about Allegato 4, he might have taken to locking it. But he hadn’t, and I was sure my sigh of relief was almost as loud as my door clicking open.

  They were there in the top drawer. Number One priority, you see. Not like me, consigned to the bottom of the list and therefore the bottom drawer. There are times when my father’s predictability works against him. This was one of them.

  I scooped them up, six in number, and eased the drawer shut again. He would notice them missing, sure, but by then it would be too late. Whatever. I was finished here. I slipped back out of his study, closing the door softly behind me. Then to the kitchen to put the fridge magnet back in its rightful place and I was creeping up the stairs. But not to my room.

  It didn’t matter if I made any noise now. If I disturbed anyone, I was just going to the bathroom. All that water I drank at the restaurant, you see. But recycled mineral water wasn’t what got dumped into the loo. I dropped them into the water, USB by USB. And when I got to the last, I stopped.

  ‘This is for mum and all the birthdays she never knew,’ I whispered before letting it fall. It hit the water with a satisfying splash, and I watched it sink to join the others. That done, I pulled the flush.

  A quick check to see that they were all gone and I was on my way back to my room. But as I slipped back into bed, the full magnitude of what I’d done hit home. I had destroyed his work. If he didn’t have it backed up somewhere else like at the university, it was gone. Irretrievable. Irrecoverable. Totally, utterly gone. And yeah, I felt a little guilty about that.

  I finally drifted off into sleep about half an hour later, consoling myself with the fact that he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

  THIRTY THREE

  This time, I didn’t have to wait two days for a result. This time, I didn’t even wait two hours.

  Breakfast came and went in an unusually cheerful tone, my father’s mood a carry-over from the night before, and he left with his precious laptop tucked under one arm. For some reason, he hadn’t already started it up, and I was almost sorry about that, sorry that he didn’t immediately discover what I’d done. But as it turned out, it was better that things happened the way they did.

  Anyway, he was gone, and the U-boat and I settled into the day-long yawn that was school. The second lesson wasn’t even half-finished when we heard it, a car screeching to a stop outside, the front door slamming open almost immediately and he racing past the classroom, panting heavily. Like the last time, we looked up. And like the last time, the U-boat noticed I wasn’t paying attention.

  ‘Get on with your work!’ she barked.

  ‘Shove it,’ I muttered as I got up and made for the door.

  ‘A further fifteen minutes will be added to this lesson for this disrespect!’ she shrilled. ‘Sit down this instant!’

  —but I was already out the door and heading for the kitchen. I needed something from the refrigerator, some incriminating evidence that I was only too happy to share with my father. I pulled it off the door, slipped it into a pocket and headed back to his study. At the doorway, I stopped, leaning against the wooden frame. He was at his desk, yanking drawers open-shut-open-shut in quick succession, checking and rechecking, whimpering with every empty discovery. On his desk was his laptop, closed but still glaring baleful accusation at me. I ignored it.

  ‘Something wrong?’ I asked cheerfully. Only then did he seem to notice me. He looked up, squinted at me like he didn’t recognise me.

  ‘My computer!’ He almost wailed the words. ‘I cannot start my computer!’

  ‘And?’ I shrugged.

  ‘DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND!’ he screamed. ‘ALL MY PRECIOUS WORK IS ON IT!’

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t realise it was so important.’

  He didn’t seem to hear me, just swung his laptop round and opened it, stabbing at the On switch like a man possessed. He was shaking, sweating and shaking like the end of the world in three minutes had just been announced and he wanted to google up places to hide from it.

  ‘I cannot understand it,’ he was breathing wildly. ‘The hard-drive, it is not so old. I fit a new one every six months to ensure security. It cannot have crashed.’

  Time to help him out, I thought. I stepped forward, reaching into my pocket as I did so. This was it, the moment of truth, and I knew it. I pulled out the fridge magnet and tossed it onto the desk. It landed with a guilty clatter on the wood. My father? He blinked at it, stopped stabbing all at once. And he understood.

  ‘You…you cannot,’ he breathed. ‘Not even you would do such a thing.’

  I didn’t answer. He looked up at me, looked about ready to kill me. I stepped back, retreated to the safety of the doorway again. Still he was looking at me, gazing at me in rank disbelief.

  ‘Why?’ he was breathing now. ‘What have I ever done to deserve this?’

  I knew what to say, had been rehearsing the words for this very moment, and I silently thanked my wonderful aunt for giving them to me.

  ‘You took away what’s important to me,’ I said quietly, ‘I take away what’s important to you. Now we’re even.’

  I don’t think it sank in at first. First, he looked puzzled, like he didn’t understand something. Then he looked astonished, like some hard lesson had finally forced its way into his thick skull. Then he looked angry, like he didn’t like what he’d been taught. That last, I could understand.

  ‘Do you realise what you have done?’ he said coldly.

  ‘Probably,’ I said back, ‘but tell me anyway.’

  ‘I was at the university, in the director’s office—the director’s office, for God’s sake! He was there, as was the client who had commissioned my work, a man of the highest standing in a major multinational company. I had the result of two years’ work to show them, two years’ work, and you…YOU had destroyed it, had made it impossible to see what had been paid for, had made me look a complete fool in front of the two most important people in the world.’

  ‘Even more important than beloved nonna and beloved nonno?’ I asked dryly.

  ‘THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER, ELISA!’ he screamed. ‘IF I DO NOT PRESENT MY RESULTS WITHIN THE HOUR, I AM FINISHED!’

  I didn’t answer, thought it better not to. He went on more quietly, more coldly.

  ‘I suppose I do not need to ask where my memory sticks are. I suppose as well as destroying my hard-drive, you have also hidden them.’

  ‘Er…yeah,’ I said carefully. ‘I guess you could say that.’

  ‘Then go and fetch them. This instant!’

  I shook my head. ‘No. No, this I cannot do.’

&nb
sp; ‘Then you will tell me where they are so that I may get them myself. And when my presentation at the university is over, you may expect some suitable and very severe punishment for your misguided actions. Where are they?’

  I didn’t answer, just looked at him, daring him to ask me again. And he did.

  ‘I AM NOT JOKING, ELISA!’ he screamed. ‘TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!’

  So I did. I stood up straight, spoke in a low voice.

  ‘Halfway through the Catania sewer system by now, I should think. Did you know memory sticks don’t float when you drop them in the toilet?’

  Silence. Total, shocked silence. I don’t think he wanted to believe it. Like when I told him I wanted to go back to England, I don’t think he wanted to believe it.

  ‘Two years’ work,’ he whispered vaguely. ‘Two years’ work…gone!’

  ‘Yeah, well, like I said: now we’re even.’

  He seemed to come to, like he was waking from a dream. His face twisted in fury. He snatched up his laptop, raised it above his head and threw it at me. I sidestepped it just in time, it smashing into the wall beside me. It spun off onto the floor, scattering keys and bits of plastic casing all around. I glanced back at him, couldn’t believe he’d just done that. His face was bright red, was full of rage and anger and everything possible in between.

  ‘GET OUT!’ he screamed. ‘GET OUT! GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE!’

  Without a word, I swung round and walked upright out the door. The U-boat was standing there, looking at me, looking puzzled and terrified all at once. I shot her a withering glance then passed on to climb the stairs. Slowly. Proudly.

  Whatever happened now didn’t matter. I’d made my point and in a way that even my father could understand. All I had to do now was wait and see what came of it.

  THIRTY FOUR

  The U-boat was gone. Just like that. No drama, no phone calls from a neighbour’s house telling me to get rid of her, I just got up next morning to find she simply wasn’t there any more. Slipped away in the night, obviously. She hadn’t rapped her usual wake up call on my door, and when I passed by her room on my way to the bathroom, I noticed her door open and stole a quick glance inside. Her walls were stripped of their pictures, those and her other belongings piled neatly in the middle of the floor ready to be forwarded on. I couldn’t find it in myself to care; I just shrugged and carried on with what was my longest journey for the past twelve hours and more.

  I’d been confined to my room for the rest of the day, my meals brought up on a tray that was left outside my door, their arrival announced by a sharp rap and the sound of angry footsteps receding down the stairs. I gave like for like and left the empty tray outside my door, signalling I’d finished by stamping my foot on the floor. I guessed from all this that my presence would not be required at breakfast, so when I was finished in the bathroom, I went back to my room and stayed there. I was right, the tray appearing a little after eight, and it was toast, which I thought was a little weird. You’d think after what I’d done to his precious work, my father would have cracked down on me even further, maybe even to the point of holding me down while forcing his traditional espresso-and-fatty-biscuit puke down my throat. Whatever. I was more concerned with what would happen next. And you know, for the first time since all this started, I couldn’t begin to guess.

  My father was giving no clues. He wasn’t speaking to me and the one time I asked him about maybe leaving my room, he just ignored me. You’d have to have seen that one to believe it.

  I’d heard him coming up the stairs with my lunch, his footfalls as furious as always, and I swung off my bed and flew to the door before he could knock. I yanked it open and we were suddenly facing each other, facing each other for the first time since he and his laptop went ballistic. There wasn’t much love between us, I can tell you. We just stood there, glaring at each other, the silence fraught with all that had happened. He wasn’t going to do any speaking so I had to do it.

  ‘So how long are you going to keep this up?’ I asked.

  No reply.

  ‘You’re going to have to let me out sooner or later,’ I went on. ‘As you once told a certain headmaster in a certain school, I have to be educated.’

  No reply. I folded my arms and leaned against the door frame, let a faint smile break across my lips.

  ‘You knew it would come to this, don’t deny it,’ I said. ‘You knew I would hit you harder and harder until one of us broke, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.’

  No reply.

  ‘And is this your only answer?’ I went on. ‘Silence and these four walls until I’m eighteen and old enough to decide for myself where I’m going to live and who I’m going to live with? Well, I’m up for that. Because on that day, I am out of here and back to England and mum. And you’d better believe it, I will stay with her, I will love her even more than I do now and I will forget you ever existed.’

  That brought a reaction, no words but a reaction. His face grimaced, his eyes narrowing, his lips tightening. Then he was thrusting the tray into my hands and turning away, hustling down the stairs like he wanted to be away from me. I let him go without another word, just went back into my room and ate. I figured I’d hit him hard enough for one round, and it showed: when I stamped on the floor to show I’d finished, it was some while before he came to retrieve the tray.

  And so it went on for the next three days. I wasn’t exactly locked in my room but I might as well have been. I could have pushed it but thought it better not to. In doing what I’d done, I’d destroyed not only my father’s work but also him. His reputation, his professional credibility. In fact, just about everything he was and valued most highly. So yeah, it probably was better I stayed out of the way and waited for his next move. And like I say, he wasn’t giving anything away on that score.

  I got the first clue on the fourth morning. Not having much to do, I’d listen to music or thumb through some old magazines I’d found in the bottom of my wardrobe and forgotten about, and sometimes, I’d just lie on my bed and think, just idle away the time thinking about mum and John and England and what else I might need to do to get back to them. And let’s face it, topping the destruction of two years’ work was going to take some doing. I was going through my third Plan B of the morning when I heard a voice. I pricked up my ears, wondering what class of warship he had lined up as the next governess. I eased myself off my bed and tiptoed to the door, opened it quietly and listened.

  It was my father, of course it was. But who was he speaking to? He was on the phone, that much I could tell, the conversation following the same pattern as before of speech and silence, speech and silence, but what was being said, I couldn’t hear. He was speaking in a low voice, but not like he was trying to hide what he was saying, more like he was trying to explain something. But the words, those I couldn’t hear, and I figured he’d made up his mind at last what to do with me. I closed my door again and went back to my bed. Well, whatever it was he was planning, no doubt I’d find out about it soon enough.

  But even so, I began to wonder big time. I was curious, wanted to know who he’d been speaking to and what about. So I listened out for more phone calls. No more burying myself in my I-pod, I was alert and ready 24/7. I did not have to wait long.

  This time, I don’t think it would have mattered if I’d had hi-fi speakers strapped to my ears, the shouting was so loud. I must have missed the start of the call because he was well into the conversation. At first, I thought he was talking to mum, and I was just getting ready to fly down the stairs and snatch the phone from his hand when I heard the word mama, and that could only mean one thing: he was talking to beloved nonna. But—and I was suddenly listening very hard—he never shouted at beloved nonna. Beloved nonna was his precious mummy, the one he reported his doings to every Sunday over lunch, the one he obeyed to the last letter, the one he set up on a pedestal as the centre of the entire universe. No way would he ever shout at her. I needed to hear this. I slipped quickly
to the door and clicked it open.

  He wouldn’t have heard anything, so intent was he intent on shouting. He was speaking so fast that I could make out only half of what he was saying, but the gist of it was clear: there was no alternative, she had caused too much damage, she had to be sent away. She, of course, was me. And I was to be…to be sent away? I listened harder.

  No, he had given the matter all the consideration it deserved and this was the only answer. She was to be sent away before she dragged the whole family into disgrace…He was aware of the costs he had put beloved nonna to and he would do his utmost to repay her but his mind was made up…Yes…No…Yes, as soon as possible…Well, he was sorry she felt that way but he was her father and the final decision was his!

  —and he hung up. Without the usual syrupy expressions of familial affection, without even a simple goodbye, he hung up. I slipped out of my room and crept along the landing to peer down the stairs. He was standing there at the bottom, gazing down at the phone like he was lost in thought. I didn’t often see him like that, I have to tell you. He seemed resigned, like he had to do something he found distasteful. Like I say, I’d never seen him like that before. He’d always got his way in the past, whether through gentle persuasion, oblique threatening or downright bullying but he’d always got his way. This was a first for him, I could tell.

  He sighed heavily and turned to go. I ducked down, hoped he hadn’t seen me, and he clearly hadn’t because his footsteps led back to his study and not up the stairs. Whatever. I’d heard enough. I went back to my room, closed the door on him again and lay down on my bed. I had a lot to think about.

  Punishment I’d expected, punishment had now been decided for me. I was to be sent away, sent to where I could no longer do him any harm. It would be a boarding-school, that was for sure, and that was not good. The staff would be like the U-boat, only more of them. The lessons would be like the U-boat’s, only stricter. All told, it would be like the past couple of months but worse. Much worse. I had to hand it to him, he knew where to hit me where it would hurt most. Like I had with him, really. But like I said towards the beginning of this tale, he learns fast.