Read Online The Sense of an Elephant by Marco Missiroli - Free Book Online Page B

the counter stood a platter of macaroons protected by a glass dome. Pietro raised it and ate the coffee-flavoured one. Beside the platter he saw the deck of tarot cards buried under balls of wool. ‘How’s it going with the shirt?’
    â€˜It fits perfectly.’ Luca emerged from the changing room. The red lent courage to his bewildered face. He smoothed his hair down.
    â€˜Suits you to a T.’ Anita threw open her heavy arms and turned to Pietro. ‘And what do you think?’
    The concierge swallowed the macaroon. ‘To a T.’
    â€˜Viola will think I’m mad.’
    â€˜This Viola will think you’re handsome.’
    â€˜You don’t know my wife.’
    Anita plucked at the flower pinned to her jacket. ‘Blonde or brunette?’
    â€˜Blonde.’
    â€˜If you don’t mind my asking … How did you meet her?’
    The doctor smiled. ‘From a window.’
    â€˜Our Juliet will go crazy for the shirt …’ She fished out a pair of polka-dot gloves from a drawer. ‘And our Romeo here will seduce her for the second time with these …’ She held out the gloves. ‘Polka dots will go perfectly with a wife like yours.’
    â€˜And how do you know this?’
    She pronounced the word with effort: ‘Instinct.’
    The doctor returned to the fitting room. Pietro chose a scarf at random from a wicker basket. Anita went over andwrapped it around his throat, whispering, ‘You look fine, fine, fine. Come and see me tonight.’
    Luca re-emerged. ‘You found your scarf.’ He took it from him and headed for the register.
    She went round to the other side of the counter. ‘Man in red, woman in polka dots. For life.’
    â€˜Better than a session with an analyst.’
    â€˜Would you like a discount?’
    â€˜As well?’
    Pietro drew out his wallet. The doctor told him not to even try it.
    Anita placed the tarot cards before him. ‘With your left hand, cut the deck wherever you wish. The card underneath will determine the discount.’
    He looked at her. ‘Seriously?’ He cut the deck three-quarters of the way down.
    She turned over the card underneath: ‘The emperor.’
    â€˜Which means?’
    â€˜Forty per cent.’
    The doctor smiled. ‘You should be a fortune-teller.’ He paid. She gave him his change and wrapped the polka-dot gloves in tissue paper and two lengths of ribbon. Then lifted the dome over the macaroons.
    â€˜Would you like a fortune-teller’s counsel?’
    He nodded.
    â€˜Give this Viola of yours a surprise. Take her the gloves right away.’
    â€˜The cards say this?’
    â€˜A woman says this.’
    Dr Martini chose a cinnamon-flavoured macaroon. ‘Goodbye.’ As they went out he turned one last time to say goodbye, waving a hand like his daughter.
    Anita waved back, and as soon as she was alone she laid out the cards for the doctor’s future.
    â€˜Viola hates surprises.’ The doctor laid the gloves on the dashboard. ‘Which is a good reason to give her one. Do you feel like coming along?’ He set the car in motion.
    Pietro grabbed the inside roof handle. ‘I do.’
    Martini accelerated and pulled onto the ring road, humming a low song. ‘That shop put me in a good mood. How did you find it?’
    â€˜I spent a lifetime dressing in black.’
    The doctor laughed, passed under a triple-arch flyover and took the road towards the airport, stopped at a light. ‘The woman working there reminded me of my mother.’
    Pietro let go of the handle. ‘Impertinent?’
    â€˜Prophetic.’
    They travelled along a boulevard flanked by terraced houses and slowed down beside a tennis court. Just beyond stood a former factory turned fashionable events venue. They pulled over just short of it.
    â€˜Did you really meet your wife from a window, Doctor?’
    Martini put a piece of chewing gum in his