The Girl, the Dog, and the Writer in Rome

by Katrina Nannestad

  Tobias nodded.

  Padre Paolo climbed to the bottom of the ladder and, together, the three thieves slid the chandelier into a large canvas bag. Padre Paolo grabbed his biretta from the altar and placed it at a jaunty angle on his head. He chuckled. Padre Nico and Padre Flavio smirked along with him and exchanged fist bumps.

  Padre Paolo lifted the canvas bag into his muscular arms and the three thieves swaggered down the centre of the church.

  ‘Boof!’ A large, dark beast flew from the shadows and flung itself at Padre Paolo. Priest, beast and canvas bag crashed to the floor. The sound of growling, snapping, snarling, yelling and ripping cut through the air.

  ‘It’s Finnegan,’ hissed Freja. ‘Finnegan is attacking the priest’s biretta.’

  Freeing the prized pompom, Finnegan shook it from side to side, then bolted from the church.

  ‘Hooray!’ cheered Freja, then clasped her hand across her mouth.

  The torchlight, which had waved about so wildly during the attack, now homed in on Freja’s face. She froze, blinded by the beam. Moments later, a hand grabbed her painfully by the arm and she was dragged into the middle of the church.

  Padre Paolo heaved himself up from the floor. His left sleeve was in tatters and his hair stuck out at strange angles. Anger twisted his face and puckered his scar.

  Padre Nico squeezed Freja’s arm. She yelped.

  ‘Hang on there!’ cried Tobias.

  Padre Flavio pinned Tobias’ arms behind his back.

  Padre Paolo smirked. ‘This little girl has been nothing but trouble. I think it is time we teach her a lesson.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Tobias. ‘Let her go. Don’t hurt her! She’s precious! She’s my —’

  The writer slumped to the floor.

  ‘Tobby?’ whimpered Freja. Then, turning to Padre Flavio, she cried, ‘What did you do to him?’

  Padre Flavio smacked the solid barrel of the torch into the palm of his hand. ‘It’s not as fancy as using a golden candlestick, but it does the job just as well.’

  ‘You beast! You’re nothing but a bully!’ shouted Freja.

  ‘Lock her in the cupboard!’ ordered Padre Paolo.

  Freja kicked and wriggled like a reindeer caught in a blackberry bush, but she was no match for fat Padre Nico. He dragged her across the church, shoved her into a cupboard full of musty, old robes and locked the door.

  She heard a shuffling sound, like a body being hauled across the floor. ‘Tobby,’ she whispered. ‘What are they doing to you?’

  Freja stood amongst the robes, paralysed by fear. Not for herself, but for Tobias. It was bad enough that Clementine had been taken rudely from her life for now. But at least she had gained Tobias. Beautiful, kind Tobias, who loved her exactly as she was. Tobias, who had done everything in his power to heal her lonely heart and make her happy once more — even bringing her to Rome. Tobias, who had told her how brilliant and spectacular she was, every single day, until she had started to believe it herself. What would she do if he, too, was ripped from her life? The hole in her heart would be far too big to fill.

  ‘Oh, Tobby,’ she whimpered. ‘I’m sorry.’ For it was completely and utterly her fault that they were here in the Church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli in the middle of this terrible mess.

  A deep sob shook her entire body and she slumped against the cupboard door.

  ‘Ouch!’ Something sharp stuck into her head.

  Freja ran her fingers across the door, but there was nothing there. She leaned forward and the sharp object jabbed her head once more.

  ‘A bobby pin!’ she gasped. ‘I must have left one in when I went to bed!’

  There was no time to lose. She reached up beneath her beanie and pulled out the bobby pin. ‘Thank you, Natasha Andronikov!’ she whispered, bending the wire into shape. She felt around for the keyhole, poked in the bobby pin, twiddled until it caught on the locking mechanism, then turned it to the side. The hours of practice on the apartment door had paid off! The lock clicked.

  Freja kicked open the door and tumbled out of the cupboard. She raced to the spot where Tobias had been, but he was gone! She dashed to the little door at the front of the church, flung it open and ran straight into Padre Nico’s fat, hairy arms.

  CHAPTER 36

  Friends and foes

  ‘Bambina terribile!’ Padre Paolo stamped his foot. He glared at Freja over his sack of diamonds. ‘Enough is enough! You have made more mischief than a school full of naughty children.’ Turning to Padre Nico, he said, ‘It is time we were going. She will have to come with us.’

  Padre Nico grabbed Freja by the scruff of her coat and her feet lifted from the ground. She felt like a puppet dangling from a string. So very helpless. So dreadfully alone. Tears that she thought had run dry now dribbled down her cheeks.

  Freja reached into the pocket of her duffel coat for her little felt hare. Instead, her fingers closed around a piece of crumpled card. She took it out and stared at the thick pencil letters she had written on a tag many weeks ago: ‘THIS CHILD BITES.’

  She sniffed and was about to put the card back into her pocket when she changed her mind. She held it out so that Padre Nico could see it.

  ‘What is this?’ With his free hand, he reached for the card. ‘This child bi—’

  Freja sank her teeth into the hairy hand.

  Padre Nico squealed like a baby and released her coat. He staggered backward, away from the church, until the ground beneath his heels disappeared. Freja watched, open mouthed, as he tottered on the edge of the terrace, fat hands grabbing at thin air, then toppled down the long, steep staircase in front of the church, all the way to the bottom.

  THUD!

  His body lay as still as a lump of lard.

  ‘Imbecille!’ snarled Padre Paolo. ‘I will deal with the girl myself!’

  He tossed the canvas sack to Padre Flavio, but it was too heavy for the tall, thin man and he fell flat on his back. The chandelier landed on his stomach and knocked the wind from him. He lay on the terrace, gasping like a fish out of water.

  Padre Paolo waved his fists in the air and bellowed across the rooftops of Rome, ‘MAMMA MIA!’

  A flock of pigeons awoke and flapped out from the eaves.

  Freja whimpered.

  Padre Paolo stepped forward, his nostrils flaring, his hands shaking with rage. ‘I will see that you cause me no more troubles, you stinking little sewer rat.’

  ‘I don’t think so!’ roared a deep Russian voice.

  ‘No, I don’t think so either!’ roared a second deep Russian voice.

  The priest froze.

  Freja beamed, her teeth flashing, her eyes sparkling in the lamplight.

  For strutting around the corner of the church were Boris and Nadia. And right behind them was a small crowd: Nonna Rosa and Enzo, Giuseppe and Pazzo with their pipe organ, and all of Enzo’s silly old friends from the bar — Roberto, Sebastiano, Edmondo and Xaviero. Edmondo and Xaviero were wearing their dressing gowns and slippers.

  Freja ran to Boris and threw herself into his big, friendly arms. Boris passed her to Nadia and stepped towards Padre Paolo. Nadia passed her to Nonna Rosa and stepped forward to join Boris.

  ‘Nobody harms one of Boris Sokolov’s friends and gets away with it!’ roared Boris.

  ‘And nobody harms one of Nadia Sokolov’s friends and gets away with it!’ roared Nadia.

  Boris folded his arms, looked at Nadia and nodded. ‘I suppose that means that this so-called priest is in double trouble.’

  Nadia folded her arms, looked at Boris and nodded. ‘Double Russian trouble, Boris. The worst kind of trouble you can get!’

  Padre Paolo’s left eye began to twitch above his scar. His gaze wandered to the canvas sack on Padre Flavio’s stomach, then back to Boris and Nadia. He snorted, dashed across the terrace, seized the canvas bag and started down the steep stairway.

  At the same time, Tobias staggered out of the little door at the front of the church. He frowned and rubbed the b
ack of his head.

  His eyes fell upon Freja, safe in Nonna Rosa’s arms, and his hand flew to his heart.

  His gaze darted to Padre Paolo running down the stairs with the diamonds. He blinked and stumbled to the edge of the steps.

  ‘I think,’ Tobias muttered, ‘it’s time for a game of Cheese Wheels.’

  And without further thought, he squatted down, wrapped his arms around his legs, tucked his chin into his chest and rocked forward. Freja winced as Tobias’ hips, shoulders and head smacked against the hard edge of one step after another. But there was no denying it — he made a wonderful cheese wheel. His path was straight and true, and he quickly gathered speed. By the time the priest was two-thirds of the way down the staircase, he was bowled off his feet. He took the rest of the journey tangled and toppling with a tall, gangly, slightly concussed writer.

  THUD!

  THUD!

  KERPLUMP!

  Freja broke free from Nonna Rosa and ran down the stairs. She threw herself on Tobias and sobbed, ‘Oh, Tobby, Tobby, Tobby!’

  Tobias propped himself up on his elbows and gave her a weak and wobbly smile. ‘I was right, old chap. A cheese wheel of a great enough size really can do a spot of damage to a grown man. I think I might have broken that fellow’s leg before we landed. The Cheese Wheel of Destruction is going straight into my novel.’

  Boris and Nadia marched down the stairs. Boris stood, hands on hips, one foot resting on Padre Nico’s fat belly. Nadia stood, hands on hips, one foot resting on Padre Paolo’s belly. They nodded at each other and allowed themselves small smiles of satisfaction.

  Giuseppe yawned loudly, operatically, and pushed his little wagon across the terrace at the front of the church. He parked it over Padre Flavio’s body so the wheels on either side pinned his robe to the ground. Pazzo sat by Padre Flavio’s head and poked his finger up the thief’s nostrils, making happy little ‘oo-oo-oo’ sounds.

  Nonna Rosa and Enzo hobbled slowly down the stairs, leaning on one another for support. Nonna Rosa bent over and stroked Freja’s cheek. ‘Bella bambina. I am glad that you are safe.’

  Roberto, Sebastiano, Edmondo and Xaviero doddered down from the terrace. Together with Enzo, they sat in a row along the bottom step. Roberto rested his feet on the bag containing the diamond chandelier. It clanked and clunked as the broken pieces shifted beneath his heels. Xaviero pulled a bottle of grappa from his dressing-gown pocket, took a sip and passed it along. Edmondo said something in rapid, melodic Italian. The old men nodded, cried, ‘Sì! Sì! Splendido! Magnifico!’ and slapped each other on the back.

  ‘Look at those stupid old men, Freja!’ cried Nonna Rosa. ‘They think they are heroes and they have done nothing, nothing to help!’

  ‘Pah!’ snorted Enzo. ‘Don’t listen to the cranky old bat. We are all here, aren’t we? We came to protect our precious Freja.’

  ‘You almost made us too late to protect our precious Freja!’ snapped Nonna Rosa.

  ‘But how did you even know we were here and that we needed help?’ asked Freja.

  ‘Boris and Nadia!’ said Nonna Rosa.

  Boris nodded. ‘Nadia and I . . . Ha! How can I say it? . . . We are a little bit suspicious. It is our training. We used to be spies, you know.’

  Nadia nodded. ‘Russian spies! Good spies! Very thorough!’

  ‘Spies!’ gasped Freja. ‘Tobby, did you hear that?’

  Tobias rubbed the back of his head and grinned.

  Boris continued. ‘We have been keeping a little eye on you, Freja, since the night at Nonna Rosa’s trattoria, when you told us the strange story of the grumpy priests. We say to ourselves, “Aha. This sounds fishy.”’

  ‘Fishy,’ agreed Nadia. ‘Like my earrings.’

  ‘And then,’ explained Boris, ‘we see the priests chasing you past the Colosseum two days ago. We think things might be getting a little bit dark, a little bit dangerous. We think it is time to get serious.’

  ‘Serious?’ asked Freja.

  ‘Boris and Nadia have been keeping watch over you and Tobias for the last two nights,’ said Nonna Rosa, ‘and the day in between.’

  ‘We had good help.’ Nadia pointed to the top of the stairs. ‘Giuseppe and Pazzo have shared the duties. And Nonna Rosa and Enzo have sent their friends out with food so we could stay at our post.’

  Boris turned to Nonna Rosa, rubbing his tummy. ‘Nonna Rosa’s pizza capricciosa is the best thing I have ever tasted!’

  Nadia continued. ‘When you and Tobias went out for a walk at two o’clock this morning, we followed. Just to make sure you stayed safe. Giuseppe was arriving to relieve us for a few hours’ sleep, so he and the monkey came too.’

  ‘I could not sleep,’ said Nonna Rosa. ‘I was down in the trattoria making bread and saw you all pass by. I woke Enzo and we followed.’

  ‘When we passed Roberto’s house, I threw a rock at his window,’ said Enzo. ‘He jumped into his little green truck, picked us all up and we followed at a distance.’

  Roberto nodded. ‘And when we saw you go into the church, I said, “Aha! Now they are safe in God’s house for a moment, we can zip around and pick up our old friends.”’

  ‘But they were not safe!’ shouted Nonna Rosa, waving her hands in the air. ‘By the time we had picked up Sebastiano, Edmondo and Xaviero and squashed them all into the back of that ridiculous little truck, anything might have happened.’

  ‘It did happen!’ cried Sebastiano. ‘Edmondo and I fell off and had to use our skinny, old legs to run along behind you!’

  The old men chuckled. Edmondo showed everyone the holes in the knees of his pyjama pants as proof of the disaster, and they laughed even harder, clutching at one another’s arms and knees.

  ‘I don’t care about you, you stupid old men!’ snapped Nonna Rosa. ‘I meant the girl and the writer!’

  ‘Pah!’ cried Enzo. ‘Nag! Nag! Nag! It has all worked out. The writer has a bruise or two. Perhaps his brain is battered. But Freja is as beautiful as ever and we have all had a little bit of adventure.’

  Edmondo said something in rapid Italian, and the silly old men laughed as though their faces would crack and their sides would split.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Freja.

  Nonna Rosa sighed heavily and frowned. ‘He’s a stupid old man like the rest of them! He left his apartment in such a rush to join us that he grabbed his wife’s false teeth instead of his own.’

  ‘Teeth?’ whimpered Padre Nico. He lifted his fat head, looked at the teeth marks on his hand, then passed out once more.

  The old men threw back their heads and howled. They rocked back and forth, stamping their feet, clutching their bellies, laughing, laughing, laughing, until the tears ran down their faces and Nonna Rosa, Boris, Nadia, Tobias and Freja all joined in.

  CHAPTER 37

  Plenty

  It was still dark when Roberto drove the girl and the writer home in his little green three-wheeled truck. Finnegan was waiting by the door to the courtyard, grinning and dribbling on the cobblestones. There was a piece of melted cheese stuck to his eyebrow, a sun-dried tomato wedged in his ear and small bits of cooked spaghetti tangled everywhere in his shaggy grey fur. He had, it seemed, had a wonderful time raiding Rome’s rubbish bins.

  Freja wrapped her arms around Finnegan’s grubby neck and closed her eyes. She leaned more and more heavily against his body.

  ‘Come along, old chap!’ Tobias hoisted Freja into his arms and carried her through the courtyard, up the stairs and into the apartment. He peeled off her coat, boots and beanie and helped her into bed. Finnegan stretched out at her side, licked her cheek and nuzzled his nose deep into her wild golden curls.

  Tobias plucked the sun-dried tomato from Finnegan’s ear. He pushed a stray curl from Freja’s face and hummed a little tune until her eyes closed and her breathing became slow and heavy. He leaned forward, kissed her softly on the forehead and whispered, ‘Precious little Freja. I love you.’

  Freja kept her eyes closed, but as
Tobias walked from the room and shut the door, she whispered, ‘I love you too.’ She pulled the quilt up over her head and murmured into the fuggy darkness, ‘Uncle Tobby.’

  When Freja awoke, it was late afternoon. The dog was gone, but a few pieces of spaghetti remained on the pillow.

  The little treasure chest was gone too. Sitting on the dressing table in its place was some sort of note. Freja felt a stab of panic as she wondered what it might say: ‘I have removed the treasure chest and you are never to speak of the things you have seen.’ Or simply: ‘Shame on you!’ She had, after all, stolen a key and poked her nose into Clementine’s and Tobias’ secrets. She had betrayed their trust.

  She crept towards the dressing table feeling small and ashamed. But when she picked up the note, the nasty feelings melted away.

  In large, loopy letters, written in cheerful red ink, it said: ‘You’re awake! Have a bath. Dress yourself in something truly special. There’s a party brewing and you are the guest of honour!’

  ‘My dear Freja! You look simply spiffing.’ Tobias stopped at the front door of Trattoria Famiglia and gazed down at her with real admiration. ‘That brown knitted vest of mine really does look rather good as a dress. Especially teamed with that pink shirt and those pink tights. And I do like the way you have decorated your head! Correct me if I’m wrong, but that magnificent wreath in your hair is made completely from fruit and nuts!’

  Freja nodded. ‘Strawberries, cumquats, walnuts, chestnuts and figs.’

  ‘Woof!’ said Finnegan.

  ‘That’s right!’ Freja giggled. ‘There were going to be grapes too, but Finnegan ate them.’

  The dog dribbled on Freja’s shoe.

  ‘Well, it looks sensational,’ cried the writer. ‘Colourful, delicious, nutritious, slightly feral and totally unique. You are an exceptional child, Freja Peachtree, and I would be honoured if you would escort me in to dinner.’ Bending his knees to make himself a little shorter, he offered Freja the crook of his arm.

  Freja smiled and hooked her arm through his. Then, together with the giant Irish wolfhound, they stepped into Trattoria Famiglia to the cheers of the waiting party.