Roberto Cotroneo, When a Child on a Summer Morning
Meggie stayed in the hotel while Mo went to the rental agency to collect the car he had booked. She took a chair out onto the balcony, looked out over its white-painted railing to the sea shining like blue glass beyond the buildings, and tried to think of nothing, nothing at all. The sound of the traffic drifting up to her was so loud she almost didn't hear Elinor's knock.
Elinor was already on her way down the corridor when Meggie opened the door. "Oh, you are there, " Elinor said, coming back and looking rather embarrassed. She was hiding something behind her back.
"Yes, Mo's gone to get the rental car. "
"I've got something for you – a good-bye present." Elinor produced a flat parcel from behind her back. "It wasn't easy tofind a book without any unpleasant characters in it, but I absolutely had to find one your father could read aloud to youwithout doing any damage. I don't think anything can happen with this one."
Meggie undid the floral gift wrapping. The cover of the book showed two children and a dog. The children were kneeling on a narrow piece of rock or stone, looking anxiously down at the abyss yawning beneath them,
"They're poems, " explained Elinor. "I don't know if you like that kind of thing, but I thought that if your father read them aloud they'd sound wonderful. "
Meggie opened the book. She read:
Oh, if you're a bird, be an early bird And catch the worm for your breakfast plate. If you're a bird, be an early bird But if you're a worm, sleep late.
The words were like a little melody singing to her off the pages. She carefully closed the book. "Thank you, Elinor, " she said. "I – I'm sorry I don't have anything for you. "
"Oh, and here's something else you might like, " said Elinor, taking another little parcel out of her new handbag. "Someone who devours books like you should have this one, " she said. "But I think you'd better read it on your own. There are any number of villains in it. All the same, I think you'll enjoy it. After all, there's nothing like a few comforting pages of a book when you're away from home, right?"
Meggie nodded. "Mo's promised we'll join you the day after tomorrow, " she said. "But you'll say good-bye to him, too, before you leave, won't you?" She put Elinor's first present on the chest of drawers near the door and unwrapped the second. Meggie was pleased to see it was a thick book.
"Oh, never mind that. You do it for me!" said Elinor. "I'm not good at saying good-bye. Anyway, we'll be seeing each other again soon – and I've already told him to look after you. Oh, and never leave books lying around open, " she added, before turning around. "It breaks their spines. But I expect your father's told you that a thousand times already. "
"More often than that, " said Meggie, but Elinor had already gone. A little later Meggie heard someone dragging a suitcase to the elevator, but she didn't go out into the corridor to see if it was Elinor. She didn't like good-byes either.
Meggie was very quiet for the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon Mo took her out for a meal in a little restaurant nearby. Dusk was falling when they came out again, and there were a great many people in the darkening streets. In one square the crowds were particularly dense, and as Meggie pushed her way through them with Mo she saw they were standing around a fire-eater.
It was very quiet as Dustfinger let the burning torch lick his bare arms. But as soon as he bowed and the audience clapped, Farid went around with a little silver dish, which was the only thing that didn't quite seem to belong in these surroundings. Farid, however, looked much the same as the boys who lounged around on the beach nudging one another when girls passed by. His skin was a little darker, perhaps, and his hair a little blacker, but it would never have occurred to anyone looking at him that he had just slipped out of a storybook in which carpets could fly, mountains could open, and lamps granted wishes. He wore pants and a T-shirt instead of his blue, full-length robe. He looked older in them. Dustfinger must have bought the clothes for him, as well as the shoes in which he walked very carefully, as if his feet weren't quite used to them yet. When he saw Meggie in the crowd he gave her a shy nod and passed on quickly.
Dustfinger spat out one last fireball into the air its size made even the bravest in the audience step back then put down the torches and picked up his juggling balls. He threw them so high in the air the spectators had to tilt their heads right back to watch, then caught them and knocked them up in the air again with his knee. They rolled along his arms as if pulled by invisible threads, emerged from behind his back as if he had plucked them out of empty air, bounced off his fore head, his chin, such light, weightless, dancing little things… it would all have seemed easy, cheerful, just a pretty game, if it hadn't been for Dustfinger's face. That remained deadly serious behind the whirling balls, as if it had nothing to do with his dancing hands, nothing to do with their skill, nothing to do with their carefree lightness. Meggie wondered whether his fingers still hurt. They looked red, but perhaps that was just the firelight.
When Dustfinger bowed and put his balls back in the backpack the spectators were slow to disperse, but finally only Mo and Meggie were left. Farid was sitting on the paving stones counting the money he had collected. He looked happy – as if he had never done anything else in his life.
"So you're still here, " said Mo.
"Why not?" Dustfinger was collecting his props: the two bottles he had used in Elinor's garden, the burnt-out torches, the bowl into which he spat and whose contents he now tipped carelessly out on the pavement. He had gotten himself a new bag; the old one was probably still in Capricorn's village. Reggie went over to the pack, but Gwin wasn't in it.
"I'd hoped you'd be well away by now, going back north or somewhere else. Somewhere Basta can't find you. "
Dustfinger shrugged his shoulders. "I have to earn some money first. Anyway, I like the weather here better, and the people are more likely to stop and watch. They're generous, too. Right, Farid? How much did we make this time?"
The boy jumped when Dustfinger turned to him. Farid had put aside the dish with the money in it and was just about to place a burning matchstick in his mouth. He quickly pinched it out with his fingers. Dustfinger suppressed a smile. "He's dead set on learning to play with fire. I've shown him how to make little practice torches, but he's in too much of a hurry. He has blisters on his lips all the time. "
Meggie looked sideways at Farid. He seemed to be ignoring them as he packed Dustfinger's things back in the bag, but she felt sure he was listening to every word they said. She met his eyes twice, those dark eyes, and the second time he turned away so abruptly that he almost dropped one of Dustfinger's bottles.
"Hey, be careful with that, will you?" snapped Dustfinger impatiently.
"I hope there's no other reason why you're still here?" asked Mo as Dustfinger turned back to him.
"What do you mean?" Dustfinger avoided his gaze. "Oh, that. You think I might go back for the book. You overestimate me. I'm a coward. "
"Nonsense!" Mo sounded irritated. "Elinor will be home tomorrow, " he said.
"Nice for her," Dustfinger looked impassively at Mo's face. "So why aren't you with her?"
Mo looked at the buildings around them and shook his head. "There's someone I have to visit first."
"Here? Who is it?" Dustfinger put on a short-sleeved shirt, a bright garment with a pattern of large flowers. It didn't suit his scarred face.
"There's someone who might still have a copy. "
Dustfinger's face remained unmoved, but his fingers gave him away. They were suddenly having difficulty getting the buttons of his shirt through the buttonholes. "That's impossible!" he said hoarsely. "Capricorn would never have overlooked one."