Read Online Patricia and Malise by Susanna Johnston - Free Book Online

more. Andrea and I are both so busy.’
    â€˜What makes you busy?’
    He had her attention. Never, ever had he been close to such loveliness.
    She said ‘I work at the art school. Only part time. Otherwise I paint.’
    Her lips were thick and full. Her son put his arms around her and kissed both her cheeks. Lucky boy.
    At the start of the enterprise Andrea had suggested that his son call Malise ‘Sir.’
    On that day Antonio, after kissing his mother, leaned towards Malise and said ‘Sir. Why do you not come with us to our holiday house?’ Patricia smiled. Malise lived in purgatory as he waited for her reaction.
    â€˜That’s a nice idea darling.’ – talking to her boy – ‘but you know we can’t have guests there.’ She turned to Malise and smiled again – yet more warmly.
    â€˜We do have a little holiday house up in the Pisan hills. Not far from here. It’s heaven but not fit for visitors.’
    She went on, still smiling, to explain that it was really barely more than a ruin. No plumbing, no electricity, a cooker with need of a gas bombola. Just a small beauty spot with a stream. A wood. Kingfishers, wild boar, flowers, birds, bats and red squirrels. Cuckoos sang in spring and summer.
    It was one o’clock and Malise suggested ‘a spot of lunch in a
trattoria
perhaps?’
    â€˜Yes. Si. Si’ Antonio was overjoyed.
    At lunch in a dark
trattoria
, as Antonio tucked in to a heap of spaghetti, Patricia told Malise more. They each drank a glass of pale white wine. Pale, almost, as water.

 
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24
 
    After lunch, Malise suggested they walk (Patricia leaving her bicycle where it was parked) to the
piazza
below his apartment. He wanted Antonio to see his car for it had been half-hidden behind a van on the evening when he had visited with his parents.
    â€˜He’s called ‘Ruggles’ Malise explained as the boy fingered dark blue body work and asked for a ride.
    â€˜Another time’ he said. Good idea to ration out treats.
    â€˜The key is up all those stairs and I, for one, have had enough walking for today, my lad.’
    â€˜Why is he called ‘Ruggles’?’
    Malise looked mysteriously at Patricia and said ‘Thereby hangs a tale.’
    He found it fitting that she suspect he had some sort of a past.
    Antonio, entranced, wheeled towards his mother.
    â€˜Why can’t Sir drive it to the
Casetta
? It can stay at the bottom of the hill where Papa leaves his car.’
    Ruggles was muscelling in on the act. Bringing good fortune.
    â€˜Young man. Tell me where to find you and I’ll call by – ready with my hammock. Do you have a tree or two?’
    â€˜Lots and lots and lots of trees.’
    Fortunate he had thought to buy a hammock before setting out on his travels.
    By the time they parted, Malise had set out a scheme whereby, sometime during the family’s holiday in the hills, he would pay them a visit in ‘Ruggles’ – and looked forward to roping his hammock between two of their trees.
    He was not certain if Patricia entirely approved of the idea but Antonio was adamant.
    They were gone but, in a very few days, he planned to follow them. He planned, too, that the boy should call him ‘Captain.’ After all, he was one. It didn’t sound very glamorous in England but, in Italy – ‘Capitano.’

 
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25
 
    A visit to the public post office was horribly overdue and Malise walked there grudgingly, but at a smart pace.
    Sure enough a large and floppy envelope had waited there for many weeks. The letter came from Christian and was written on lined paper.
    â€˜Dear Malise. I write to ask after you (and Ruggles, too, of course)
    Daddy and Alyson were pleased with your cards but not much the wiser. Not too good here I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have to tell you that Daddy’s in poor shape. Angina they say.