by Ann Bryant
“Yes I know, and I’ve already started learning English at primary school and next year we carry on at secondary…” I interrupted. But he put a hand up to stop me gabbling on.
“To learn English properly you need to be in a country where English is the main language spoken.”
I remember how the tears had gathered in my eyes as I realized what was coming next and how I probably wouldn’t be able to stop it.
“And it’s not just for the sake of the language, it’s also about absorbing the whole culture.”
“But I don’t want—”
Again he put his hand up. “We have found a wonderful school in England that you will love, Toni. A school for girls, which looks like a very happy school. I thought we could have a look online together.”
“You want to send me away! I won’t see you for weeks and weeks. I’ll be miserable. How can you do this to me?” And with that I’d burst into tears and Mamma had tried to cuddle me and soothe me but I’d pushed her off and refused to look at the computer. So Papà printed off some pages and left them on the table for me and eventually, when both my parents had left the room, I looked at the pages. I saw lots of smiling girls and some beautiful buildings, especially one with twinkling panes of glass and tall spires that looked as though they were studded with diamonds. But so what? It was an English school with English girls, so no one would want to be my friend because they wouldn’t understand me and I wouldn’t understand them.
For days I felt a big weight of sadness on my shoulders and a hot fire of anger inside me that Papà could be so horrible. I asked why me, why not Paolo and Ricardo? But Papà said they’d be going away too when they were older. I cried and cried and kept looking at the printed pages all about Silver Spires. Sometimes I threw them down in disgust, but one time when I was looking at the sparkling spires I was tempted to look on the website and find out more. I couldn’t read the English very well and that made the fire inside me rage even more. But then I realized that if I went to this school I would actually become an English speaker. And there were other pictures that Papà hadn’t printed – a dormitory with laughing girls sitting on their beds, a grand theatre, a swimming pool, a place for little pets to live. And slowly, slowly I started to think I might manage. I couldn’t get so far as to think I might be happy, but I thought I might manage.
And I have. I’ve more than managed. I more than like it.
I love it.
Chapter Two
The days leading up to the bike ride were great fun. Those of us who had been nervous before felt only excitement at the thought of our big adventure. Every morning, the first one to wake up in our dorm (which is called Emerald dorm, by the way, because all the Year Seven dorms are named after precious stones), would jump out of bed and rush to the window to see what the weather was like. It’s nearly always Emily who wakes up first actually, and she often goes for a walk before breakfast, even when it’s cold.
“How can you bear it?” I always say to her as I hug my dressing gown around me tightly.
She looks at me as though I’m pazza – I mean crazy. “But it’s lovely and warm!”
And that’s when I realize I’m still Italian at heart, because I’ve never been lovely and warm in England.
When Sunday arrived I found myself singing a song Papà taught me when I was much younger, called “Cincirinella”. Cincirinella was a man who had a wagon, and a mule to pull it along, and together they went trotting hundreds of kilometres over mountains and hills, sometimes in wind and rain. But they were always happy together and Cincirinella sang his trotting song as he rode along. I used to love singing that song with Papà when we rode our bikes together.
“Someone’s happy!” said Miss Stevenson, the assistant housemistress, who was one of the staff coming with us on the bike ride. She’s only in her early twenties and I like her very much because we have something in common. She was new at the beginning of this year too, and she felt homesick and strange just like I did. She actually once told me that, and it helped me to know I wasn’t alone.
“Have a great day!” said Mrs. Pridham, who saw us off. (We were the only six going from Forest Ash.) “And take care, all of you!” she added.
“We will!” we called out brightly and I thought how like a mother she was, waving at us with her big smile, but with eyes that also held worry. I recognized that look, because it was the same one I’d often seen in Mamma’s eyes when my brothers and I were going off with Papà on a bike ride.
Miss Stevenson led our little procession to the meeting place near the main entrance of Silver Spires. There were three other teachers actually cycling with us on the trip, but I only knew one of them a little, who is called Miss Graham. Then there was Mrs. Truman and Mrs. Bradley, the matron of Beech house, who were both travelling in the school minibus with supplies of biscuits and water and plasters and towels and anything else we might need. But we’d been told that the main reason for the minibus was just in case anyone’s bike got a puncture or something else wrong with it, so then both the girl and the bike could have a lift.
Eventually when everyone was present and ready, with their helmets on and jackets zipped up, we set off, and I felt so happy because the sun came out at that very moment.
“Do you think it’s going to be fine all day?” I asked Miss Stevenson, who was just in front of me in our long snake.
“The forecast is for sunshine and showers,” she answered. “Antonia,” she added, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’s that song you were singing?”
“It’s called ‘Cincirinella’. Papà taught it to me when I was little. There are actions too – crazy actions!” I added, thinking of my whole family dancing and singing this song for fun last Christmas. Even Nonno and Nonna – sorry, Grandpa and Grandma – joined in.
“Hey, cool!” said Izzy from in front of Miss Stevenson. “You could teach us the actions for the Italian evening, Toni!”
“Yes, why not?” agreed Miss Stevenson, laughing. “Then we can all be crazy together!”
So after that, my five friends and Miss Stevenson all started joining in with me, trying to learn the song. The tune is simple but they had trouble with the Italian words, apart from “Trotta, trotta, Cincirinella!” which they sang high up – no, I mean, they sang at the tops of their voices. In English you pronounce “Cincirinella” like this: Chin-chiri-nella. Emily said she loved the sound of that word.
“You can teach us the actions when we have our first pit stop, Toni!” she added.
It still felt new and a bit strange to hear my friends calling me Toni, but I noticed that Nicole never used it.
After a while we found ourselves in a lovely quiet country road and because there was almost no traffic at all, we all started chatting, although Mrs. Truman said we must stay in single file and keep our wits about us. (I like that expression, it’s funny.) Emily kept wanting to sing the “Chin song” as she called it, so there we were, riding further and further through the lovely countryside, all singing away, and it felt so strange – as though I was back in my childhood with Papà, happily riding along. But then there was a long hill that seemed to go on for ever, so we were all silent apart from our puffing breathing.
Bryony soon got ahead and it looked as though she was at the front of the whole group, which shows how fit she is. Emily wasn’t far behind her, but the rest of us were much further back. When we were almost at the top, the Silver Spires minibus passed us and a smiling Mrs. Truman waved at everyone and gave us a thumbs up. It was a relief to have a downhill bit straight afterwards and then another kilometre or two of flat before the next hill. This one was not so long but it was very steep, and it was such a lovely feeling when we finally came to the top of that hill and saw the minibus parked up just ahead in a big lay-by, which had its own picnic area with two tables and benches. Mrs. Truman was standing at the entrance to the lay-by waving a bright flag over her head. “Well done!” she said as we each rode in. “Come and enjoy a nice break now. I�
�ve got biscuits and drinks here for you.”
So we all propped our bikes up or just laid them on the ground, and then helped ourselves to whatever we wanted to eat. Mrs. Truman demonstrated some leg stretches and said that everyone ought to do them at each pit stop, so that nobody would be stiff the next day. We had to stand on one leg and clasp the ankle of the other leg behind, keeping our knees level, and hold the stretch for about ten seconds.
When we’d finished the stretches, us six friends went off to the far end of the lay-by so I could show the others the “Chin dance”, as Emily continued to call it. I couldn’t help noticing people staring at us from car windows as they drove past and it’s true we must have looked quite a funny sight in our cycling gear, clapping our hands and then linking arms to spin each other round – especially Emily, because she hadn’t even taken her helmet off. Bryony had brought her camera in her bike bag and she got Miss Stevenson to take a picture of us.
“It’s all about timing, isn’t it?” said Nicole, really getting into the dance.
“No, it’s all about cycling,” laughed Mrs. Truman, coming over to us at that moment. “Back on your bikes now, girls. I’ll clear up here while you lot follow Miss Graham. It’s about eight kilometres to the next stop, all right?”
I don’t know if we got stronger as we got more used to biking a long distance, but I felt more comfortable during the second stretch, and I was almost keeping up with Bryony as we went down a lovely long hill. We were singing our hearts out, because we knew we were just coming to the barn where we would be having lunch.
“Cincirinella l’aveva una mula…” I sang as it started to rain very lightly.
“Didn’t you say there’s a bit of the song about the wind and the rain?” Nicole asked me.
I was enjoying myself so much that I sang her the bit about the weather as I tilted my face towards the raindrops.
“…non temeva ne pioggia ne vento…”
I heard Nicole call out something from behind me, but I was too far ahead of her and her words got lost in the wind as I sailed down the hill at top speed.
“Trotta, trotta cantava contento!” I carried on happily.
There was Nicole’s voice again, but I didn’t hear what she was saying, because I was so far in front now. And my wheels turned faster and faster as a picture of Mamma and Papà dancing with big smiles on their faces rushed through my mind.
“Antonia!”
Something was happening to me. One second I was sailing happily along, and the next it just felt too fast, but when I put the brakes on I wobbled. The words of my song seemed so far away. That terrible cry of Nicole’s was the last thing I heard before… Bang!
There were gasps and shouts and the whirring of my front wheel, but I couldn’t see it. In fact, I couldn’t see anything.
“Antonia! Oh no! Antonia! Say something.” It was Nicole’s voice, softer now and full of crying.
But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t open my eyes. I could only screw up my face as a searing pain shot down my leg, and then another and another, until the pain was constant. And my shoulder hurt too, and my arm and my hand. They were stinging. I kept my eyes closed as though it might block out the pain, but then I felt another kind of pain. The pain of the realization that I’d ruined the day for everyone, because I could hear Miss Stevenson and Miss Graham and the other teachers all shouting out instructions to the rest of the girls to get off the road and stay with their bikes.
“I know it’s a very quiet road, but just in case there happens to be any traffic.”
I wondered then whether I was off the road. I wasn’t sure exactly where I’d fallen, but I didn’t want to open my eyes to see. The next thing I heard was Miss Graham saying that she’d call an ambulance and a second later Miss Stevenson’s voice was right beside me.
“Keep perfectly still, Antonia,” she said. “Can you hear me all right?”
I licked my lips and swallowed. “I…”
“What’s hurting?”
I felt her press something on my hand and raised my head just enough to catch a glimpse of a screwed-up tissue.
“Stay still, Antonia, it’s only a bit of blood. Now keep talking to me. Tell me what’s hurting most. Is it your leg?”
I wondered why she wanted me to keep talking, but I thought I ought to do as I was told. “Yes, my leg…sorry…” I couldn’t help starting to cry.
“No need to say sorry. No need at all. Look, here’s Mrs. Truman.”
“I’ve got a pillow and a blanket from the van,” said Mrs. Truman, crouching down beside Miss Stevenson and sounding puffed out, as though she’d been running.
“She’s moved her head already, so that’s good,” Miss Stevenson said quietly.
“You don’t feel any pain in your neck?” asked Mrs. Truman.
“No.” I could hardly speak, my leg was hurting so much.
“The ambulance should be here at any moment.”
“I need an ambulance?” I opened my eyes and saw the worry on Mrs. Truman’s face, then saw her try to hide it.
“Just to be on the safe side.”
On the safe side. I closed my eyes again and felt myself break into shivers.
“Thank goodness it’s stopped raining,” murmured Miss Stevenson.
“But her clothes must be damp,” said Mrs. Truman, reaching for my hand as I winced with the pain from my leg. “Oh dear, hang on, more tissues needed here.” She turned to Miss Stevenson. “Emma, can you get me cotton wool and the bandage with the antiseptic wound pad on it from the first aid kit.”
I was wondering what Mrs. Truman wanted it for until I looked at my hand and saw that the tissue she’d pressed onto the bottom of my thumb was soaked with blood, and that blood was running down my wrist too. At the same time I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned my head slightly to see Nicole’s wide eyes, and behind her everyone else standing like statues with their bikes and their anxious faces. “You were going really fast and you hit a bit of a pothole or something,” said Nicole. “You’ve grazed yourself quite badly on your shoulder and your arm…and your hand.”
“Grazed?” I didn’t think I’d ever heard that word before.
“Cut the skin… And…” I saw her glance towards Mrs. Truman before she said the next few words. “…You might have broken something. Are you…feeling…okay, though?”
Poor Nicole was crying too. I had to quickly reassure her I was fine, even though I wasn’t really, as the pain in the lower part of my leg was the worst pain I’d ever felt. “I’m in…” What was the word? “…agony.” Maybe if I sat up a bit I’d feel better. I was really careful not to jolt my leg even the smallest amount, but still there were pains that shot up and down from my knee to my foot, and Mrs. Truman told me again to stay still.
“I’ve got my coat in the van if you’d like a bit of extra warmth.”
“It’s okay, it’s just my leg…”
But it wasn’t just my leg. I realized my shoulder and my arm were stinging and I knew they’d probably be bleeding, because I must have scraped them when I’d fallen.
Miss Graham suddenly stepped forwards and spoke gently. “Shall we get out of the way if the ambulance is coming, Mrs. Truman?”
Mrs. Truman had got the bandage in place over my thumb and around my wrist and the bottom of my hand, and was just tying the knot. She stood up and I could hear her talking quietly with Miss Graham, about who would stay with me, and all the arrangements for the rest of the day. It seemed that Mrs. Truman herself was needed to drive the minibus, but Miss Stevenson would stay with me. Then Miss Graham turned and called out instructions to the girls, but her voice seemed too loud because everyone was already silent.
A moment later she leaned over to talk to me. “We didn’t want to move on until we were sure you were definitely all right, Antonia.” She smiled at me and the smile carried on around the rest of the girls. “Right, the ambulance will be here any moment so I think we’ll make tracks. Follow me, girls. Let’s go and find t
his barn, shall we?” She was trying to sound all bright, but I felt terrible because I really felt sure now that I’d ruined everyone’s day. Miss Graham’s voice turned gentle one last time as she spoke to me. “Next time we see you, you’ll be feeling a million times better, you know!”
The girls were moving off with their bikes but Nicole didn’t move a muscle. “I’m staying with you, Antonia.”
“No, it’s okay, you don’t want to miss the barn and the lunch and everything,” I said in a gabble, because she’d get left behind if she didn’t go quickly.
“I want to stay with you,” she answered simply, just before a great swishing surge of bicycle tyres and voices started up all around me.
“Glad you’re okay, Toni,” said Emily, holding her bike awkwardly and trying to bob down in front of me. “We’ll be thinking about you.”
“And Nicole will tell us how you’re getting on,” said Bryony.
Then Sasha and Izzy both blew me kisses.
“See you soon, Antonia.”
“You’ll be better in no time.”
And as they cycled off behind the others, from somewhere in the distance I heard the ambulance siren wailing.
The lovely ambulance people gave me a painkiller but it didn’t take effect straight away. It hurt when they examined my leg.
“Looks like it’s definitely a fracture,” said the kind man in a green uniform.
Miss Stevenson and Nicole travelled in the back of the ambulance. Nicole was closest to my head and kept whispering things to me as though it might hurt me if she spoke any louder. “They’re worried you might have concussion,” she explained after the ambulance man shone a tiny torch light into my eye.
“Just checking your pupil response to light,” he told me. It was strange because he was quite the opposite to Nicole and spoke in a loud voice, as though I might not be able to hear properly as well as everything else that seemed to be wrong with me.