by Babs Horton
“It’s a bit early for callers,” she said sharply. “The sisters are having their breakfast.”
“I need to talk to Sister Isabella. It’s very urgent.”
She closed the grille, opened the door and let him in, glancing curiously at this funny little boy with his wide blue eyes and peculiar clothes.
Leading him along the cool corridor past candles flickering in red-glass pots at the feet of silent saints, the nun showed him into the same dim parlour he’d been in the last time he’d been here.
He sat down in a chair and folded his arms. The nun glanced back at him, suppressing a chuckle, and then she was gone, the sound of her crepe-soled shoes squeaking away into the distance.
It was cool in the room and Archie shivered. He waited impatiently. Soon he heard the approach of footsteps along the corridor. His heart beat wildly as the door opened and he got to his feet quickly.
Sister Isabella stepped into the room and peered at him.
“Who is it?” she asked but he didn’t answer.
Impatiently she took out her spectacles from a pocket in her black habit and put them on.
A small scream escaped from her mouth and she made the sign of the cross, jabbing at her chest with a gnarled old finger. Then she slumped down into a chair, her hand pressed against her heart.
“Mother of God, you want to give me heart attack! For a moment I thought…”
Archie stood before her dressed in the old-fashioned sailor suit that he had found carefully folded in the shoe box at the Casa delle Stelle.
“For a moment you couldn’t believe your eyes, could you? It was like someone had turned the clock back over fifty years, wasn’t it?”
She nodded silently and stared at Archie Grimble in amazement. He was an incredible child. No wonder Lena and Alfredo had taken such a shine to him. How could such a little boy find out all these things?
“You thought that I was Thomas Gasparini Greswode?” he said.
She nodded again, unable to take her eyes off him.
“The first time he came back to Santa Caterina he was wearing these clothes, wasn’t he?”
“He was.”
The bells began to toll slowly in Santa Caterina and sunlight edged in through the high slit of a window casting a luminous glow over the ancient walls.
“Someone once said to me that there are no secrets locked away in this world that the curious can’t find a key to open up,” he said. “And they were right.”
The old nun nodded and smiled weakly.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Thomas hadn’t died but had got back here?” he said.
“Like I say, maybe it is safer for everyone if the past is buried.”
He fell silent then and remembered Benjamin’s words:
The tide washes over some secrets and covers them up but it throws up others, like flotsam and jetsam.
The truth is always the best option, I believe, however painful. So be sure to search for it and know what it is when you find it.
“Come,” Sister Isabella said, “we go sit outside, I needs some air after the fright you gave me, some sun to warm my old bones.”
Archie and Sister Isabella sat together in the convent courtyard in the shade of the lemon trees. A weary-looking Sister Angelica brought Archie a bowl of steaming coffee, some freshly baked bread and honey, and while he ate Sister Isabella spoke.
“I couldn’t believe it when I seen him that day. We thought he was dead, you see. The uncle had written to Father Benneto the priest to tell us here in Santa Caterina of his death. I was still mourning for David and the news of Thomas’ death was such a shock. I loved him you see, like a little brother. He was the child of my best friend, Rosa, and of the man I loved.”
“Where were you when you saw him?”
“I had gone down to the Casa delle Stelle. There’s a path that leads from the convent down into the garden. I used to go there a lot, I find it peaceful there.”
“And he turned up just like that?”
“It was in the October. I was sitting there quietly when suddenly I hear the swearing.”
“Swearing?” Archie exclaimed.
“Oh yes, he had a dirty mouth on him. Every word was a filthy one with that, what you call him, how you say in English? Pumpkin.”
Archie tilted his head on one side. “Sister Isabella, what does a pumpkin have to do with anything?”
She laughed, “Pumpkin was the bird. The talking bird. How you say in English?”
“A parrot. He had a parrot with him?”
“Si, he arrive here with parrot. First thing I hear is parrot, then I see Thomas coming up the path. I think at first he was a ghost like I think when I see you today. He filthy and half-starved and very sick.”
“So, he didn’t drown after all? He must have left Killivray in the August like he’d planned and it took him almost three months to get back here?”
“Si, and he have very bad time on his journey. He very afraid all the time and get sick. And when he get here he don’t know nothing about his father’s death. Like you said, nobody had told him and it break my heart to have to tell him this news. I take him to the grave because he get hysterical and he don’t believe me.”
“But why didn’t they tell him?”
“Like you, I think Thomas thinks that maybe his uncle responsible for his father’s death. I think maybe he right but there no proof. And Thomas tell me later, his cousin try to kill him.”
“He did,” Archie said, “I read all that in his diary. What happened to him then?”
“I bring him back here to the convent and we look after him, we keep him here for nearly a year while he get strong again. We can’t understand why the Greswodes had told us he was dead.”
“Because they thought he was dead! They had a funeral for him and his grave is in the wobbly chapel with his name on…but Thomas wouldn’t have known that, would he? He would have thought that the Greswodes thought he’d run away and would be looking for him and that when they found him they would kill him!”
“He very surprised when I tell him that the Greswodes had written to say he was dead,” Sister Isabella said.
“Where did he go when he left here?”
“One day the circus come to San Donate. We tell them that Thomas is here with us and they come visit him. And then he go away with them.”
“He went off with the circus!” Archie said incredulously.
“Si, like his mama done before him. They like a family to him from days he live with them when his mama is alive.”
“Of course!”
“Then for many years I don’t see him much but he write me many times from many different places. He clever boy, he get rich and have houses here and in Paris and London. Then after the war he stop writing and I not seen him since.”
“So you don’t know what happened to him?”
She shook her head and looked down at her hands clasped firmly around her rosary.
“And the family back in Killivray, did anyone ever tell them that Thomas was alive?”
“No! He happy that they think him dead. He have a new passport from Sister Angelica, many passports, so he have many names. He don’t want nothing to do with his family in England.”
“And Thomas never ever went back to Killivray?”
“Ah! I don’t think Thomas go back to Killivray but I knows that he write to friend of his to tell him that he alive.”
“Who was that?”
“Just a boy who he like very much.”
“Benjamin Tregantle!”
Sister Isabella looked quizzically at Archie.
“You know him?”
“I did but he died a few months ago.”
“I see.”
“He’s buried back at Rhoskilly. Did Benjamin write back?”
“St. And boy get awful shock because he been to Thomas’ funeral. And in war he come here once to Santa Caterina.”
Archie smiled, he’d bet that Benjamin had loved it here.
“Did he ever come again?”
“No, just the once. But many years later Thomas did see his cousin Charles in London and give the man a big fright.”
Archie squealed with delight.
“Because he thought he was dead and they’d buried him. That must have been a real shock!”
“Si.”
Archie would have loved to have seen the look on Charles Greswode’s face. Imagine that he thought that their luck was in and then up pops Thomas! He must have almost had a heart attack when he bumped into someone he thought was dead and buried.
“I wonder who’s buried in the grave in the Skallies that has Thomas Greswode’s name on it,” Archie said.
“I don’t know. Maybe no one ever know. But is strange because they would have known if the body wasn’t Thomas,” Sister Isabella said.
“The thing is, sometimes when a body has been in the sea a long time it gets eaten by fish and might not be recognized. And you see they would have wanted the body to be Thomas! And, and it was Charles Greswode who found the body washed up on the beach.”
“So?”
“I remember Miss Fanthorpe saying that the Greswodes were powerful people, that they could make the doctor give them a death certificate if they wanted one!”
Sister Isabella shook her head, she was finding it hard to keep up with this little English boy.
“I have something of Thomas Greswode’s,” Archie said, pulling out the silver bird necklace to show Sister Isabella.
“That’s the necklace that I give to Rosa Gasparini and when she die it given to Thomas. The silver bird I buy from man in Naples,” she uttered, looking at the silver bird in astonishment.
“Where you get this from?”
“Thomas had lost it and he was really upset about it Well, I think that his horrid cousin had stolen it because Romilly found it hidden behind the skirting boards at Killivray House.”
“Mother of God! He used to talk about losing this—it was precious to him, the only memento of his mother.”
“Why did you lie to me and tell me that the Casa delle Stelle had burned down?” Archie asked.
Sister Isabella sighed and said, “Because we use the casa sometimes for people we helping to stay in. Is very secluded there and easy to hide them. I don’t want you involve in any trouble.”
“The other night, when the candles were all put out, I saw some men arrive in a boat…”
Sister Isabella threw back her head and laughed and Archie stared at her.
“You don’t see any men, Archie Grimble!” she said.
He bristled indignantly and his face grew red with anger. “I know what I saw and I’m not stupid! I saw two men climbing out of a boat!”
“Those not two men! The two you see is two sisters from the convent of Santa Maria in Naples.”
“And why would two nuns be dressed up like burglars and creeping about in the dark?”
“They come to pick up people who was staying here in Santa Caterina, people we move here when you starts being nosy parker.”
“So I was right. There were people staying there. Once when I was there the door to a room was locked but I knew there was someone in there, someone as afraid as me.”
“Oh, yes, that’s why I watching you. Why we move them out”
“So I messed it up a bit for you?”
“It was okay. We bring them here and they get away safely. I don’t want you involved in anything dangerous.”
“I see,” he said, thinking of the gun in the desk.
“Anyway now you have solve mystery you must be very happy boy?”
“I am but I feel funny now that I know the truth, that my mystery is solved. I’m really glad that I know that Thomas Greswode didn’t die, that he got back here to Santa Caterina and I’m glad that he had a good life but I’m sad because there’s somebody I’d love to tell and I know that I’ll never be able to.”
“Who is it you want to tell?”
“It’s the girl, Romilly, the one who gave me the necklace. We were trying to find out everything we could about Thomas together. I said he was dead and she said he wasn’t We were both right and both wrong in a way. It’s sad that she’ll never know the truth.”
“Maybe one day you meets again and you can tell her your story,” Sister Isabella said kindly.
“I doubt it,” he said sadly.
“No one knows what future holds.”
“Who owns the Casa delle Stelle now?” Archie asked.
She coughed. “So many questions. Don’t you ever stop! It still belongs to Thomas Greswode,” she said with a smile. “But soon new owners will be moving in.”
“They’re dead lucky, it’s a lovely house,” he said wistfully.
Sister Isabella straightened up and said matter-of-factly, “Well, I must go now, there much work to do.”
“Are you forging passports today or curling your hair?”
“Curling my hair? I have no hair! Today I have to peel onions and skin tomatoes.”
“Oh,” Archie blushed.
Suddenly he thought back to when he was standing in the Casa delle Stelle looking at the map on the wall. Every flag pinpointing a journey. And the names in the address book…
Adler, Abrahams, Goldberg. They were the names of some of the children who had been saved in the war…
“Sister Isabella. There’s something that you’re not telling me.”
The nun looked flustered, played absently with her crucifix.
“I tell you too many things already.”
“I can keep a secret,” he said. “Thomas Greswode was ‘Il Camaleonte, wasn’t he?”
She shook her head and Archie could not conceal his disappointment. He looked down at his shoes.
Sister Isabella saw how hugely disappointed he was. If mere was a child who deserved to know the truth it was this one.
“Thomas Greswode wasn’t Il Camaleonte. He is Il Camaleonte.”
Archie looked up at her suddenly, his blue eyes wide with incredulity.
“He’s alive?” he whispered.
The old nun nodded and put out her hand and brushed a tear from his cheek.
The summer tipped slowly towards autumn and cooler winds skirted Santa Caterina, blowing a few stray leaves from the trees in the tiny piazza.
White-capped waves hurried towards the beach and rattled the pebbles impatiently. The metal curtains over the doors clinked playfully and the wind ruffled the fur of baleful-eyed cats who scurried for cover.
It made the habits of the monks billow as they toiled in the fields and snatched at the veils of the nuns as they crossed the courtyard in the convent. The coloured flags that hung above the Ristorante Skilly danced wildly and the shutters on the windows clattered noisily at night.
Alfredo brought the tables inside and the old men took up their seats closer to the stove along with the three-legged dog who had taken up permanent residence.
In a few days’ time Archie, Martha and Lissia were leaving for England. They were going back to Bag End and he would be sent back to school and all the misery that meant The teasing and hair pulling, stone throwing and kicking. His mammy was very quiet and he’d heard her tell Lena that she was worried about how they would manage for money, especially as now she had Lissia to look after and she needed watching all the time.
A letter came from Cissie Abelson that made him want to laugh and cry. She told him how a man had come for Gwennie and she had gone off with him because he was her son and she’d gone all the way to America. She’d drawn a picture of Skilly Beach with a giant silver moon in the sky and in the window of the Boathouse two figures, one black, one white, were hugging.
Archie felt the tears fill his eyes. So Gwennie had had a son. Bo’s son. And he’d bet that Dom Bradly, the man who’d frightened the life out of him that night in the woods, was her son! He was so pleased for Gwennie. And how pleased Thomas Greswode would have been to know this news!
Cissie told him that she was going to go
to Nanskelly School and do loads of painting and other nice things. He was happy for her but it meant that he’d have to walk to the school in Rhoskilly on his own each day. He’d be even lonelier than before.
He looked down at the other pictures that she’d drawn. She was a good drawer all right. There was a picture of Heep’s parrot perched on the grandfather chair near the fire in the bar of the Pilchard. A speech bubble came out of his beak. In it was written, Eat shit and die! Archie smiled, then his eyes moved down to the PS written at the bottom of the letter. Nan had written something that made Archie sit up with a jolt.
PS Gwennie said to tell you to look in the collecting box for your mystery!
Archie clenched his fists. What a fool he’d been! He closed his eyes and tried to picture the inside of the wobbly chapel. He could recall the stone receptacle for holy water and next to it, set into the wall, was a metal-fronted collection box with a rusted-up keyhole and some Latin words on the front.
Tell him to look in the collecting box! Of course. He still had the bunch of keys that Benjamin had left him.
Youll find a bunch of keys in the porch of my house, on the third hook along from the door; take them and keep them safe. After I’m gone they’ll belong to you. And anything they open, Arch, will be yours.
One key had opened the door of the wobbly chapel and one must be meant to open the collecting box!
When he got back he’d get in there and Open it up. It was the only thing he had to look forward to in the Skallies.
Folding up Cissie’s letter, he put it in his pocket and went out for a walk around Santa Caterina.
There was a buzz about the village, a frisson of whispered excitement in the air. The old men on the harbour spoke conspiratorially as they mended their fishing nets and blew smoke like question marks into the air. In the piazza the dog with the scarf around its neck ran round and round in ever diminishing circles.
A group of chattering monks trailed up the steep hill towards the convent, their heads bowed, sandals slapping against the cobbles, crucifixes jingling gaily.
In the Silver Bird Cafe the candle beneath the photograph of Rosa Gasparini glowed brightly and the tiny man with the enormous moustache sang to himself as he worked. Old women swept the cobbles in front of their houses and threw buckets of water to damp the dust. The streets and alleyways were fragrant with the perfume of freshly watered flowers.