He had forgotten himself. He thought his name was Denny and that he was a computer repairman from Kentucky. He and my mum became friends, and he even became one of our homeschooling teachers.
He only remembered himself when Elliot appeared at his front door. It was the emotional surge of seeing his son for the first time in over a year that snapped him back.
Which makes me think that all these words are a waste of time. You don’t need a list of facts about yourself, you need something to shock you into yourself again.
I don’t have a shock for you. All I can really tell you is this: I didn’t believe in the Kingdom of Cello myself for a long time—even after I started writing to Elliot—but trust me, it’s real.
Talk soon,
Madeleine
P.S. So, are the tattoos a recent thing—I mean, did you get them in Berlin?—or have you had them for a while? Cause I’m thinking you might be in trouble when you get back and they find out Princess Jupiter is covered in tattoos . . . but could be just the sort of scandal the Cellian tabloids like to print about you. LOL. Mx
7
It was so cold that Belle was doing her presentation wearing her coat and scarf. She kept pausing to unwind the scarf, shake it out and then tie it more firmly around her neck. Now and then she cast hostile glances at the fireplace. It was failing to warm the room sufficiently.
Belle was talking about Leonardo da Vinci, but Madeleine’s mind was wandering. She was wondering if Princess Jupiter was cold in Berlin, and whether she would reply to Madeleine’s email.
She tuned back in.
‘So he painted the Mona Lisa,’ Belle was saying. ‘Which, I mean, go Leonardo. It’s totally famous. But how much praise should we really give him for that, is what I’m asking, cause he hardly did any other painting, and what’s quality without quantity? He only finished about fifteen, and the Mona Lisa might be great, but seriously, is it that great?’
‘Well . . .’ Federico began, but he let it go.
‘Anyhow, that psycho-dude, Freud, had this idea that Leonardo never finished his paintings because he had issues. To do with the tail feathers of a kite having once brushed his face when he was a baby in a pram. And I’m like, yeah, go for it, Freud, whatever does it for you. But seriously, what? And besides which, Leonardo needs to take responsibility for his own behaviour, and not hide behind Freud or tail feathers. Am I right?’
Jack and Madeleine nodded sagely. Federico sucked on his teeth.
‘As for the Mona Lisa, he totally forgot to label that, or, like, keep a record, so we don’t even know if it is the Mona Lisa. Cause there are so many others it could’ve been besides Lisa, or so many Lisas if it was Lisa, or maybe it’s an imaginary person, and what’s with the landscape behind her? Did he make that up as he went along? And how did he get that freakish expression on her face? So that’s too many questions, which is unfair to the historians. Some people say he got clowns to dance while he painted her, to make her do that little smile, which makes me think (a) what sort of model was she that she couldn’t just do her own smile, and (b) how useless were those clowns that they couldn’t get her to do a proper full-on laugh?’
Belle tugged hard on her scarf then looked startled.
‘Nearly strangled myself,’ she explained. She loosened the scarf.
‘Anyhow, so if we don’t know who the Mona Lisa is, then the painting doesn’t exist, in my theoretical opinion, which means Leonardo did practically nothing.’
Federico sighed deeply. ‘Belle. Go on.’
‘So that’s the negatives about Leonardo, but on the plus side, he was totally smart.’ She consulted her notes. ‘He made fine efforts towards inventing submarines, parachutes, three-speed gear shifts, snorkels, hydraulic jacks, canal locks, revolving stages, water-powered alarm clocks and helicopters. Here’s a picture of his helicopter. Not a very good one, but as he wasn’t a trained aeronautical engineer, I think a round of applause is on the cards.’
She handed a print-out to Federico who nodded his approval and then passed it on to Jack.
‘I have nothing to say about this,’ Jack said.
He handed it to Madeleine.
Her thoughts had strayed again so when the paper appeared in her hand, she was confused for a moment.
She glanced down, poised to return it to Belle. A wave of heat seemed to surge from her chin to her scalp.
‘I know this helicopter,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen this helicopter.’
It was the same odd conical shape. Cables linked the blades with the base.
‘Remember when I had that weird—episode—on the station?’ she breathed. ‘When I saw a boy being chased through a marketplace, and then he was in a high-rise office, and an old guy was at a desk, and strange things were flying by the window? It was this. These were flying by.’
‘Now she pays attention,’ Belle said. ‘Now that it’s about her.’
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I don’t really listen to a word you say either.’
Madeleine laughed, and then saw that Belle was serious. ‘You don’t?’
‘It’s not personal,’ Belle offered.
‘It’s not,’ Jack confirmed. ‘She never listens to me either.’
Madeleine glanced at Belle. There was that curious sense of a silence zinging back and forth between Belle and Jack.
She looked down at the sketch of the flying machine again. ‘Have you got a picture of Leonardo himself?’
‘Of course I have. What sort of a presentation do you think this is? But I was saving it for the end.’
‘Show me now?’
Belle leafed through her notes resentfully, then held up a black-and-white print-out. It was an aged face, a large nose, a grim expression. Swirls of hair poured from his head and chin.
‘Well, that’s him,’ Madeleine said. ‘The old guy sitting at the desk in the office. The one I saw when I hallucinated or whatever.’
Jack swung around and looked at her. ‘Get out of here.’
‘It is.’
Belle scowled. ‘You hallucinated my assignment. Hallucinate your own.’ She burst out laughing. ‘Ah, I don’t care. You can share if you want.’
At this point, Federico growled and told Belle to get on with it, or he would make her eat the educational syllabus. He had a copy here somewhere, he warned. Then he looked around the office, vaguely. ‘I think,’ he added.
‘That’s all right,’ Belle said. ‘I’m not hungry. But I wouldn’t mind a coffee.’ She looked at Federico’s coffee pot. ‘You never offer us your coffee, Federico, which, wouldn’t that be consistent with the egalitarian ideal of homeschooling if you did?’
Federico poured himself a coffee and sipped from it.
‘I do not know this egalitarian ideal,’ he said. ‘And I do not care. Because what I want to know, Belle, is how you get any place where you are going? You must always be going from the path and climbing into people’s houses through their windows and people must say: What? Who are you? Why are you here in my house?’
‘You’re sort of doing the same thing right now,’ Belle said.
‘Ha, you are the funny one. Completely wrong because I was continuing on my path exactly as I planned, but still you are funny. So. To continue.’
‘Oh, well.’ Belle flicked through her notes. ‘After this, I just wrote seven random facts, yeah? Cause there’s a lot around about this dude. You try to find out something these days and you get drowned in information.’
‘I blame the internet,’ Jack said.
Madeleine interjected. ‘Doesn’t anybody care that I saw Leonardo da Vinci and his flying machine on the platform at Cambridge Railway Station?’
‘No, they do not,’ Federico pronounced. ‘But the internet, about this I can speak for hours. It is to blame for everything. Do you know this Silk Road? You use it to buy drugs. That is an example. But you must not do that. I think it is closed now, but still, you must not. It is a deep, dark otherworld of the corruption and t
he wickedness, this internet. You must, all of you, stay away from it.’
Belle frowned. ‘Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far.’
‘Just ignore him,’ Jack advised.
‘I’ll carry on about Leonardo then, shall I? Okay. Here are my seven random facts:
1. He was left-handed.
2. He liked to draw cats. There’s this picture of his which is all cats with a single tiny lion.
3. Also, dragons. He said the best way to draw a dragon is to do this: give it the head of a mastiff, the eyes of a cat, the ears of a porcupine, the muzzle of a greyhound, the brow of a lion, the crest of an old rooster, and the neck of a tortoise.
4. That is bollocks. I tried it. It looked nothing like a dragon.
5. He loved animals. Whenever he passed places with birds for sale, he’d buy them, take them out of their cages and set them free.
6. That is awesome, and you should now take a moment to smile out of respect for the awesomeness of a guy who’d do a thing like that for the birds.’
Obediently, everyone smiled, including Belle herself, and then she continued.
‘And the final random fact about Leonardo is this:
7. One day, when he was a kid, he was out walking and found this cave. He’d been abandoned by his parents when he was a baby, and lived with his grandparents. Anyhow, here is what he wrote about this cave. It shows conclusively that he went on a bit, and that he wasn’t too sure how he felt about caves.’
She turned to another sheet of paper, and read:
‘I came to the entrance to a large cave and stopped for a moment, struck with amazement, for I had not suspected its existence. Stooping down, my left hand around my knee, while with the right I shaded my frowning eyes to peer in, I leaned this way and that, trying to see if there was anything inside, despite the darkness that reigned there; after I had remained thus for a moment, two emotions suddenly awoke in me: fear and desire—fear of the dark, threatening cave and desire to see if it contained some miraculous thing.’
Belle looked up. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘His notes stop there, so we never know if he went into the cave or not. And that is a beautiful, mysterious, thought-provoking place for my presentation to end. You can clap now.’
Federico and Jack applauded loudly.
Madeleine clapped too, but in a slow, significant, distant way, suggesting that her thoughts were being carried sideways, to a place that was far removed from here, and profound.
‘What?’ demanded Belle. ‘What now?’
A strange calm was descending on Madeleine, a calm that had the weight of syrup. She turned her head slowly, pushing through the syrup.
‘He went to the Kingdom of Cello,’ she said. ‘Leonardo da Vinci must have gone there.’
Automatically, Belle and Jack glanced towards Federico.
But Federico was relaxing, his hands clasped behind his head, eyes towards the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.
They returned their gaze to Madeleine, dubious.
She smiled.
‘The cave must have taken him there,’ she said. ‘Why else would he know how to draw dragons? Dragons don’t exist. Except in Cello.’
The calm grew thicker and heavier. Madeleine felt drowsy with it.
Belle dragged a chair from across the room, positioned it right in front of Madeleine and sat down. She clicked her fingers sharply just below Madeleine’s eyes.
Madeleine blinked then returned to her dreamy trance.
Belle clicked her fingers again.
‘Stop it,’ complained Madeleine.
‘Belle,’ Jack said. ‘Cut it out.’
Belle swung around so she was facing Jack. ‘Don’t,’ she spat, ‘get me started on you.’
Jack flinched.
Federico sat forward abruptly. ‘Where were we?’ he said.
8
Two weeks later, Madeleine heard from Princess Jupiter again.
She had started to wonder if she’d offended the Princess somehow. Or if something might have happened to her. Everything about Jupiter seemed precarious—the stories that Elliot had told about her, the fact that she was a teenager alone in a strange city. What if she had lost her job now and was living on the streets?
But late one night, another email arrived.
Hola!!
(Well, at least my Spanish is on fire. Too bad about my German. LOL.)
Tatsachlich mein Deutsch ist nicht so freakin bad.
Can’t be arsed doing an umlaut on that word. Can’t remember where it goes. Tatsachlich. I think it means ‘actually’. Could also mean I hope you die a long painful death of the injuries you got when the avalanche took out your horse and carriage. Ha ha. Nah. It doesn’t.
Don’t think so anyhow.
Anywayz, how are you? Thanks for your email.
I’m sorta stoked that I was the wild girl of the family. But I promise to reform and be supergood and always take my crown off at the breakfast table, and not make out with the peasants (only with hot visiting princes) if you can just get me home. I’m done with the wild life. I haven’t touched a drop of booze/taken, inhaled, snorted or injected a single Illicit Substance since you wrote (except a couple of Es, which don’t count, cos u can’t see Caljerlkj’s Men Temps without dropping an E & they were playing here), I swear on my latest tat (and yeah, I’ve got all of them since I’ve been in Berlin. You want to know what I’ve got? I have a dragon carrying a basket of eggs, with its own espresso machine, I have a big sort of balloon-shaped monster hanging around in the air over a patch of swamp (that one came to me in a dream) (it’s the only one i sorta regret actually) (swamp = not that pretty), SEVEN different butterflies in various states of undress (that’s a joke, it just came out of my typing fingers, the butterflies are all completely nude, which is what you’d expect in a butterfly) (unless you count their wings as clothing which I don’t think you can, that’d be like saying a naked person wasn’t naked because she had arms), and a teeny little cello, which I got yesterday, in honour of my Kingdom.
Tell me ANYTHING about my Kingdom. Anything to stop me scratching my freakin ankles! (Eczema)
Bye for now,
PRINCESS JUPITER
PS Cardamom Palace. Best. Name. Ever.
Madeleine replied right away.
Dear Princess Jupiter,
Okay, guess what? These are 3 things that Elliot told me about Cello in our late-night conversations.
1. There are dragons.
2. There is a terrible swamp where there are giant creatures, as big as whales, but gluggy like jellyfish, floating in the air.
3. There’s a teeny magical being called the ‘Butterfly Child’.
So, look, I’m not a psychiatrist but if you seriously have tattoos of dragons, monsters-over-swamps and butterflies, well, if that’s not repressed memories of the Kingdom of Cello, I don’t know what is. I will eat my mother’s sewing machine if I’m wrong. (Which would upset her. I’d cut it up very finely first.) See, your subconscious is going insane trying to get the message to you that you’re from the Kingdom of Cello.
Maybe write down a list of tattoos you’d LIKE to get and by the end of the list you’ll have the whole Kingdom of Cello mapped out for yourself. (Don’t actually get them done, you might regret that once you get home. It’ll be like your body’s turned into a shopping list of things you’ve already bought.)
Okay, hope Berlin’s fun and that your German’s on fire,
Madeleine xx
*
Bonjour Madeleine,
You’re funny. (::) (How do you do a smiley face on this keyboard?) I just realised something. I don’t know a single thing about you, which is sort of crazy cos you seem to know more about me than I know about me. Can you tell me about you?
Jupiter xx
*
Hiya Jupiter,
Thanks for asking about me. Well, I used to be selfish a lot of the time. I don’t like my previous self. I don’t even want to think about her—I was about
to tell you about some of the stuff I did, and the people I hurt, but then it was like these flames were coming out of the keyboard and running up my arms, into my face.
Anyhow, in the end, I ran away to Cambridge, and my mother came with me. She got sick with a brain tumour, but she’s okay now.
I really miss my dad.
I have friends here, Belle and Jack, and they’re great, but sometimes I feel lonely. They’ve been best friends since they were really young, so they’re sort of a complete unit. Jack once told me that sometimes they have huge fights—Belle suddenly gets furious about something and they end up nearly killing each other. I have this feeling that they’re on the verge of one of their fights now, and the strange thing is that this makes me feel even more separate than ever. There’s all this tension zinging between them. And the other day they both had bloodshot eyes and I asked them what was going on, and they acted like I hadn’t even spoken. It’s like this impending fight is a giant secret. Or it’s an electromagnetic field and I’m not allowed through the gate.
I told you that Elliot and I wrote notes to each other at a parking meter? And then he was just here for a couple of weeks? Well, this might sound stupid but I think he was my best friend. Like the other half of me. I’m so scared something might have happened to him when he went back. I miss him so much I sometimes look at windows and I want to just walk right through them—like press myself through the glass. I want their sharp edges to fragment me.
Best wishes,
Madeleine
9
Madeleine woke early with a bleeding nose. She felt around for the box of tissues, the floor surged towards her—and then vanished.
She was somewhere new, a different room.
A small window glared with the white light of a cold afternoon. Outside the window, she saw a frozen canal, a long narrow boat on its side. People moved about, slipping and sliding, catching at each other or the boat. She could hear them laughing and shouting. Opposite, buildings pressed together, their facades an elegance of arched windows, balconies and balustrades.
A Tangle of Gold Page 4