The Girl, the Dog, and the Writer in Rome

by Katrina Nannestad

  ‘Urrà! Urrà! Urrà!’

  ‘It’s Rome’s beloved heroes!’

  ‘Buonasera! Good evening and welcome!’

  ‘Freja! Tobias! Come here! Come join us! Come tell us everything once more!’

  ‘Three cheers for the bella bambina who conquered the villains. Urrà! Urrà! Urrà!’

  Freja gasped. So many faces and all turned towards her!

  Her cheeks warmed a little, but her tummy did not turn to sludge. Her eyes didn’t dart about the room in search of a place to hide. She didn’t even clench her teeth. For once, she did not feel afraid.

  Because I’m with friends, she thought. Precious, beloved friends. And she realised that the tingles running up and down her spine were of the happy sort.

  Freja relaxed and gazed at the marvellous scene before her. A number of tables had been pushed together to make one great, long banquet table. There were red-and-white chequered tablecloths, red serviettes and dozens and dozens of large white candles. The flickering flames reflected off glasses, water jugs, wine bottles and sparkling eyes so that the room danced with a thousand gleaming lights. Along both sides of the table sat all of their friends: Vivi, wearing a pink dress that looked like it had been spun from silk and fairy floss; Boris and Nadia, wearing dinner suits; the four old men from the bar — Roberto, Sebastiano, Edmondo and Xaviero; Giuseppe and Pazzo; and, strangely, Samantha, the plump American tourist from the Trevi Fountain, accompanied by a rather handsome Italian man.

  Samantha waved. ‘Hi there!’ She pointed to her date and smiled, all teeth and gums. ‘This is Uberto. We met yesterday!’

  Freja and Tobias waved back at her. Samantha giggled like a little girl.

  ‘Sit! Sit!’ cried Nonna Rosa, waddling towards them. ‘We have saved two seats at the head of the table for our distinguished guests.’

  ‘Boof!’ said Finnegan. He jumped up so that his front paws rested on Nonna Rosa’s shoulders and his big, wet nose poked her cheek.

  The old woman rolled her eyes and pushed him away. ‘Sì! Sì! Everybody this side of the table move down one place so the dog can sit with the girl and the writer. It would seem that there are three distinguished guests, not two!’ She threw her hands in the air, then waddled away to the kitchen, grumbling and shaking her head.

  Enzo led Freja to her chair as though she was a queen. ‘Don’t worry about Nonna Rosa,’ he whispered. ‘She loves that big, hairy dog almost as much as she loves you.’

  At the far end of the table, Pazzo jumped up and down on Giuseppe’s shoulder. He screeched and tugged and bit Giuseppe’s ear, but the organ grinder held fast to his tail. ‘Calm down, you naughty monkey. You are scaring the big grey dog. Tonight, you behave.’

  Freja blew the monkey a kiss and he settled a little. His eyes, however, did not leave the wreath on Freja’s head.

  Nonna Rosa returned and slammed a basket of bread, a bowl of olives and a plate of pastrami in front of them. ‘Mangia, mangia! Eat, eat! You English are too skinny. Tear off some bread, pop some olives into your mouth, sink your teeth into a slice of pastrami. It will do you good.’ She leaned forward and grabbed Freja’s face in her soft, old hands. ‘It will make your pretty cheeks grow plump and rosy like Nonna Rosa’s.’

  Enzo set down two glasses of lemonade before Freja and Finnegan. ‘Pah!’ he cried. ‘Leave the poor child alone! She does not want to look like you. She is beautiful! A golden angel with fruit in her hair. Whereas you, Nonna Rosa, are an ugly old bat.’

  The trattoria fell silent.

  ‘Me?’ roared Nonna Rosa, trying to make herself tall, but not succeeding. ‘Me? Ugly? Have you looked in the mirror lately, old man? You have a face like the rear end of Xaviero’s donkey!’

  The old men all burst out laughing and slapped the table with their wrinkled hands.

  Enzo grabbed Nonna Rosa by the shoulders and stared at her, frowning. Then, suddenly, he pulled her towards him and planted a big, sloppy kiss on her lips.

  Nonna Rosa beat her hands against his shoulders until he let her go. ‘You stupid old man. Nobody wants to kiss a face like a donkey’s bottom!’

  ‘I know!’ cried Enzo. ‘But I did it anyway!’

  The entire gathering exploded into roars of delight. Enzo smiled and sang, ‘Grazie! Grazie!’ He bowed to his customers and his friends, one and all.

  Nonna Rosa sighed and waddled back to the kitchen.

  The dinner rolled on in a sea of laughter, pizza, pasta, salad, lemonade and wine. Vivi listened, rapt, as the story of the previous night’s adventures was retold, half in Italian, half in English.

  ‘But we still don’t know how the priests came to work at the church in the first place,’ said Freja. ‘It was a very important part of their plan.’

  ‘I know!’ cried Roberto. ‘I talked to my friend at the police station this afternoon. The fat thief, Nico, cracked under pressure! I think the police said he could not eat until he told them everything. So he blabbed!’

  Freja and Tobias leaned forward. Finnegan ate Freja’s pizza.

  ‘Eight weeks ago,’ explained Roberto, ‘Padre Paolo — the real Padre Paolo — was about to catch a train from Naples to Rome, where he would become the new priest at the Church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli. But then, at the last moment, he received a letter from the bishop asking him to travel to a monastery in the southernmost tip of Argentina. There, he was needed as a teacher to a group of orphans. How could a kind man say no? He left at once.’

  ‘Fantastico!’ shouted Vivi. ‘A forged letter from the bishop! It is very much like Bianca and Antonia in Rome’s Reward, sending their parents on a cruise!’ She reached across the table and squeezed Tobias’ hand.

  Tobias grinned and blinked, looking so much like Finnegan that Freja thought he might dribble on the tablecloth.

  ‘Of course,’ continued Roberto, ‘when the fake Padre Paolo turned up at the Church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli at the appointed time, nobody suspected a thing. They did not know that the real Padre Paolo was a small man with blond hair, not a hulking monster with dark hair and a scar running down his cheek. And they knew nothing of the orphanage in Argentina. They accepted their new priest with open arms and were delighted that his friends, Padre Flavio and Padre Nico, had come along to help him settle into his new home. Three priests for the price of one! What could possibly go wrong?’

  Giuseppe laughed. ‘It would seem that plenty went wrong for the three priests!’

  ‘But it might have gone better if Nico and Flavio had not been so stupid,’ said Roberto. ‘They were not meant to chase Freja and Tobias. Paolo simply ordered them to spy on the girl and the writer — to make sure they did not try to steal the diamonds for themselves! If they had not chased the girl and the writer all over Rome, they would not have aroused so much suspicion.’

  ‘Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!’ cried Nonna Rosa, slamming two more large pizzas down on the table.

  ‘Is she talking about the priests or Enzo?’ whispered Freja.

  Vivi shrugged. ‘Don’t ask.’

  At that moment, a strange and colourful bird flew through the door and swooped towards them. ‘Signore Appleby! My hero!’

  It was Delfina Eloisa Ventimiglia, the owner of Libri e Sogni. Eufemia, the Italian greyhound, quivered at her side.

  ‘Boof!’ Finnegan leapt from his chair. He towered over Eufemia, tail wagging, dribbling on her smooth black head. Eufemia wagged her own tail and, together, they trotted out the door and disappeared. Perhaps, thought Freja, they are going to find a romantic garbage bin full of food scraps for two.

  ‘We are all so thrilled about your successes,’ crooned Delfina Eloisa. She waved her arm as if to indicate the empty space between her and the bar. ‘You are both a crime writer and a crime solver! My store has been bustling all day. Your book, Rome’s Reward, has been selling like hot zeppole! And now we’re here to ask if you will be so kind as to autograph all of our books?’

  Tobias looked around at the empty space. He looked at Freja
and grimaced. He smiled up at Delfina Eloisa and said, ‘Of course!’

  Delfina Eloisa flashed a wide, orange-lipped smile, then floated to the door. ‘Come! Come! The writer is here!’ she called into the street, and a crowd spilt into Trattoria Famiglia, waving cameras and copies of Rome’s Reward in the air.

  Tobias pulled a pot of black ink from his pocket and a nib pen from behind his ear. For the next forty-five minutes he autographed one book after another. News of the captured diamond thieves had travelled quickly and it seemed that half of Rome wanted a signed copy of Tobias’ novel. He smiled, nodded, signed and even threw in a few Italian phrases to prove his love for Rome: ‘Spaghetti idiota gelati!’ he sang. ‘Colosseo panini buongiorno!’

  His fans adored him! They did not even mind when he grew weary and started to jumble his autographed messages.

  To Francesca, Best wishes from Apple Tobiasby.

  To Tobias Appleby, Best wishes from Sofia.

  To Rome, Best wishes from Rewards.

  To Ugo, Best Rewards from Rome.

  When the last of the fans had departed, Giuseppe let Pazzo free. The monkey scuttled along the back of the chairs and leapt up onto Freja’s shoulder. He grabbed the girl by two clumps of her curly hair and rubbed his little cheek against hers. Then, making himself comfortable on the back of her chair, he started to eat the wreath on her head, one piece of fruit at a time. He plucked and nibbled and made happy little ‘oo-oo-oo’ sounds.

  Vivi pulled her own copy of Rome’s Reward from her basket. Shyly, she placed it in front of Tobias and said, ‘I wondered, Signore Appleby, if you would autograph my book. Write something special, perhaps? Just for me.’ Her liquorice-thick eyelashes fluttered and her olive cheeks blushed to the colour of burnt toffee.

  ‘Oooh,’ sighed Tobias. ‘Special . . . special . . .’ He pulled a second bottle of ink from his pocket, opened the book and wrote in large, loopy red letters: ‘To Rome’s Reward, with much love from Tobias. X.’ He nodded, satisfied, and slid the book towards Vivi.

  Vivi stared at it, the smile falling from her raspberry-gelato lips. ‘But you have made a mistake!’

  ‘No,’ said Tobias. ‘No mistake.’ He pointed at the words and, for once, managed to say just the right thing. ‘You, Vivi, are the absolute best that this astonishing city has to offer. You are Rome’s Reward.’

  Freja watched, open mouthed, as Tobias took both of Vivi’s hands in his. ‘Raspberry gelato,’ he sighed. Closing his eyes, puckering his lips, he leaned in towards her.

  ‘Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo!’ cried Pazzo, and he pelted a chestnut at the writer’s head.

  ‘Ouch!’ groaned Tobias. His forehead bashed against Vivi’s and they both cried out in pain. Tobias flung his arms wide in surprise, toppling two bottles of wine and Freja’s lemonade. Wine poured from the table into Vivi’s lap.

  ‘Oh, bother and poo!’ Tobias sprang to his feet. ‘I’m ever so sorry! Let me help!’ He grabbed for a serviette, but took hold of the edge of the tablecloth by mistake and pulled it upward. Plates, bowls, glasses, bottles of ink, knives, forks, spoons and olives tumbled into their friends’ laps and onto the floor.

  Freja squealed.

  Pazzo jumped up and down on her shoulder, screeching with glee.

  Tobias stepped backward and tugged at his ears until Freja thought he would pull them off.

  And Vivi — beautiful, wonderful Vivi — clutched her belly and laughed until she snorted.

  Nonna Rosa shook her head, grumbled and cleaned away the mess. Enzo brought a new round of drinks. And finally, they locked the trattoria doors and sat down with their friends.

  Giuseppe brought out a small piano accordion and played one exuberant tune after another. Enzo and his friends sang along, laughing and burping between verses. Samantha and her true love danced. Finnegan and Eufemia dashed past the restaurant window in pursuit of a large tabby cat. Nadia and Vivi arm-wrestled. Boris, Nonna Rosa and Tobias had a long and serious talk about knives. Pazzo pulled all the nuts from Freja’s hair and sat on the floor, cracking them with Nonna Rosa’s rolling pin.

  Freja slouched at the head of the table, her tummy stretched, her eyes heavy. She looked from one happy face to the next and wondered how her life had become so full of people.

  It started, she realised, with Tobias Appleby.

  Crime writer. Daydreamer. Cheese Wheel extraordinaire.

  Uncle?

  Who knew?

  But as her head sank lower towards the table, she decided that, for now, it didn’t really matter. All she truly knew was that Tobias Appleby was a kind and caring man who had led her into a new life filled with many more kind and caring people. Friends. Lots of big-hearted friends. Like a large, happy family.

  She had always thought that love was quiet and small, something she and Clementine shared alone.

  But love was not just Freja and Clementine.

  It was not Freja and Clementine with Tobias and Finnegan thrown in for good measure.

  Love was a crowd.

  Love hung around where there was plenty.

  Plenty of laughter.

  Plenty of kindness.

  Plenty of cuddles, even when a mother was not there to offer her own arms.

  Plenty of music and singing and dancing and eyelash fluttering and food.

  And as if to prove the point, at that very moment, Nonna Rosa plonked another enormous bowl of tiramisù on the table.

  ‘Eat, Freja! Eat!’ she sang and planted a rough but affectionate kiss on top of the girl’s head.

  CHAPTER 38

  New beginnings

  Freja and Tobias ran along the cobbled street, hand in hand. Scraps of paper fell from a hole in Tobias’ cardigan pocket, leaving a merry paper trail in their wake. Freja’s golden curls bounced about, reflecting the sunlight as beautifully as a diamond chandelier reflects torchlight. She wore a bright white smock with cherry-red gumboots. Pinned all around the hem of her smock were dozens of green-and-grey pigeon feathers she had gathered from the balcony that morning. Finnegan dashed back and forth, one minute in front of them, chasing a cat, the next behind them, chasing one of Tobias’ stray notes.

  ‘Hurry, Tobby! Hurry!’ shouted Freja, dragging on his hand. ‘It was nearly an hour ago that Giuseppe saw it. I’m worried that someone will clean it out before we get there.’

  The air grew damp and filled with the sound of laughter, noisy conversations, music and gushing water. They skipped around the corner and found themselves staring at the Trevi Fountain.

  The girl, the dog and the writer paused for a moment to gaze up at the bright white palace, Oceanus, the Tritons, the seahorses, the rugged rocks and the gushing-sploshing-whooshing abundance of crystal-clear water. Tobias squeezed Freja’s hand. Finnegan licked Freja’s earhole.

  ‘Come on!’ Freja dragged them both through the crowd until they stood right at the edge of the wide blue pool.

  ‘There!’ she cried. ‘And there and there!’ She continued to point and shout, counting no less than seven socks floating in the water.

  Tobias tugged at his ear. ‘I say, old chap, is that …?’

  Freja followed his gaze and giggled. ‘Yes! It’s a roll of toilet paper. It’s all mushed up, but it’s definitely toilet paper.’

  A tall, dark-haired woman turned towards them, her mouth pulled down at the sides. ‘I know! It’s disgusting!’ she cried. ‘Socks and toilet paper in our glorious Trevi Fountain. And three days ago I saw a large woman, American I think, tossing in a tube of lipstick! Who would do such a thing? Why can’t they toss coins like we have done for many, many years? It’s terrible! Terribile!’ She shook her beautiful head and flounced away.

  The girl and the writer sat down on the steps and laughed. Finnegan stretched out beside them, resting his shaggy grey head in Freja’s lap.

  ‘This is my favourite place in Rome,’ sighed Freja.

  ‘Still?’ asked Tobias. ‘Even after being chased across the fountain by Nico?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sm
iled. ‘Because it all turned out okay in the end.’

  ‘Most things do, old chap.’

  Freja stroked Finnegan’s ears. He yawned — loudly, luxuriously — then fell asleep.

  Tobias, however, could not seem to settle. He took off his cardigan, then put it back on. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. He blushed. He took a pencil from behind his ear, scratched his head and tucked it away once more. As he reached for his ear, Freja asked, ‘What’s wrong, Tobby?’

  ‘Wrong?’ he cried. ‘There’s nothing wrong . . . well, not so very bad . . . then again, it’s not so jolly good . . . but we need to remember that things really do have a strange and mysterious way of turning out all right in the long run . . .’

  Freja stared at him, her mouth open, her nose scrunched. ‘Huh?’

  ‘The thing is,’ said Tobias, ‘I have received a letter, just this morning, from Clementine’s doctor in Switzerland.’

  Freja’s mouth felt suddenly dry.

  ‘Poor old Clem is having a spot of bother with her treatment,’ he said. ‘It happens sometimes, you know. She can’t see too well, which is why she hasn’t written. And, well, she can’t really have any visitors for a while.’

  ‘But it’s working?’ whispered Freja, not really knowing what ‘it’ was, or what it was working on.

  ‘Oh yes! Certainly . . . well, hopefully . . . It can take some time before they know, but one has to hope for the best.’

  ‘Hope for the best?’ Her eyes filled with tears, because even though the words ‘hope’ and ‘best’ had been mentioned, they were not put together in quite the right way.

  ‘She’s in good hands . . . brilliant hands,’ said Tobias. ‘And she’ll be glad to know that you are safe and sound and growing stronger and taller from all that gelato and pizza and sunshine!’

  Freja thought about this for a while. ‘Clementine should come to Rome! The gelato would do her good. And Finnegan could catch a cat and we could give it to Clementine and she could throw it into the Trevi Fountain.’

  ‘Why on earth would she do that?’ asked Tobias.