Teresa looked at her rather curiously. ‘It is Thursday,’ she said.
So two days had passed in Remora, exactly the same as in her own world. The gateway had remained stable. Georgia had realised early on that the day she had in Remora was the same day of the week as she had just experienced in her own world. She had packed eight days into four since her first stravagation; no wonder she had been exhausted! But now she couldn’t wait to find out what had happened in Remora on Tuesday and Wednesday.
‘Where are all the others?’ she asked casually now.
‘Down at the racetrack,’ said Teresa, smiling. ‘You won’t find Cesare anywhere else much until the Stellata is over.’
Or Luciano? thought Georgia, but before she could ask, she heard horses returning.
‘There they are now,’ said Teresa, her eyes lighting up. ‘They’ll be hungry.’
Quickly she scattered the rest of the seed and began shepherding the little girls into the house. Georgia picked up Marta and held Emilia’s hand. Teresa gave her a grateful smile. But once indoors, she said, ‘Go to them, if you like. I can manage here.’
Georgia ran to the stable and bumped into Luciano coming out. He was flushed and laughing. Then he saw her and delight spread across his face. ‘Georgia!’ he cried, catching both her arms. ‘Thank goodness you’re back.’
Georgia jumped as if his touch had been red hot. Then she relaxed and smiled back. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t come before. The first night I was too tired and then my stepbrother broke the talisman. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get back.’
Suddenly she felt like dancing for joy in the cobbled stableyard. She was back in Remora, Russell hadn’t been able to spoil the most important thing in her life, and Luciano was pleased to see her. Then she saw the happiness drain from his face. The others, coming out of the stable, had the same expression. A quick smile at the sight of her, followed by some deep sadness waiting to be revealed.
‘What?’ said Georgia, alarmed.
‘Merla has gone,’ said Luciano quietly. ‘We think she’s been taken.’
*
Later that day Paolo asked Georgia if she was feeling less tired.
‘Yes thanks,’ she said. ‘But that wasn’t why I didn’t come sooner. My stepbrother stole the talisman and broke it.’
Paolo was shocked. ‘Does he know what it is for?’
‘No,’ said Georgia. ‘He’s just destructive for the sake of it. He knew the horse was precious to me so he did it to upset me.’
‘He is sick in the mind?’ asked Paolo.
‘You could say that,’ said Georgia. ‘He’s a pain to live with, whatever he is.’
Paolo was thoughtful. Georgia could see he was trying to understand how a family member could behave in such a way. She knew that Cesare would never be mean to his little half-siblings like that.
‘He makes you unhappy,’ said Paolo. ‘Perhaps that is why the talisman found you. Luciano was sick in body but you are unhappy in your mind. It makes you sensitive to our needs.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Georgia.
Paolo took her hand. ‘Remember that nothing lasts for ever,’ he said. ‘The bad things as well as the good.’
*
Falco had returned to the lonely life he had been leading before Gaetano had come whirling back into it. He had nothing to do but roam the palace alone, hoping for visits from Luciano and Georgia, the fascinating alien from another world. He would read in the library until his body became too stiff and then set off on his painful travels round the great palace. Several times he sensed that he was not entirely alone. He felt watched and sometimes if he turned quickly enough, he was sure he caught a glimpse of blue. He began to feel haunted.
And yet in another way, he felt that he himself was the ghost. Now that he had decided to leave Talia for ever, he felt like a phantom in his own home, drifting from room to room, invisible. If he spent many more days like this, he began to feel that he would become gradually more and more transparent until it would be too late to stravagate – he would already be too insubstantial to cast a shadow in either world.
His reverie was interrupted by the jangling of the doorbell and he was delighted to see that both young Stravaganti had come to visit him.
‘Falco!’ said Georgia, as soon as they were alone and she had explained why she hadn’t come sooner. ‘Luciano told me his idea. Are you willing to try a test-flight?’
‘Anything,’ said Falco. ‘I think I shall go mad if we don’t do something soon.’
‘Then let’s do it tonight,’ said Georgia. ‘Come back with me when I leave here.’
‘What about a talisman?’ asked Luciano.
‘I’ve thought about that,’ said Georgia. ‘What about my eyebrow ring?’
Both boys liked that idea. It was something from the other world but it wasn’t something extra for Georgia to bring, it was made of silver and it was small enough for Falco to hold it in his hand unnoticed.
‘But why tonight?’ asked Luciano. ‘You haven’t got anything prepared at the other end.’
‘I know,’ said Georgia. ‘But he doesn’t have to stay all day – I mean all night. If I can smuggle him out of my room, he can come to school with me for a few hours and see how he likes it.’
‘Go to school with you?’ said Luciano, his mind boggling at the image of pale, crippled Falco in the cheerful chaos of Barnsbury Comprehensive. ‘What will he wear? He won’t be able to get into any classes. And what if his sticks don’t travel with him? He won’t be able to walk.’
Georgia frowned. It was true; this needed more planning.
‘We could wait one more night. Then it would be Saturday when we get back. I’ll find him something to wear. And I could find some sticks. I think we’ve got some in our umbrella stand. But we can’t wait any longer than that for the trial. I’m going to Devon on Sunday and I can’t take him there. I’d never be able to explain him to my friend Alice.’
‘So when can we do the real thing?’ asked Falco anxiously.
‘Not till I get back,’ said Georgia firmly. ‘I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to stravagate from Devon. What do you think, Luciano?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Luciano. ‘Rodolfo thought I wouldn’t be able to stravagate from Venice to Bellezza, but I didn’t try. I think it was because I was out of England. Rodolfo thinks the gateway only works from England to Talia, because of Doctor Dethridge. But I don’t know if you have to be in London.’
‘Is Devon in another country?’ asked Falco and Georgia realised how much she was going to have to help him when he did eventually ‘translate’ to her world.
‘A Falco is not just for Christmas but for life,’ she said ruefully as she got into the carriage with Luciano to drive back to Remora.
‘You’re right there,’ said Luciano. ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? He’s going to be pretty dependent on you – maybe for years.’
‘It depends what the social services do with him, doesn’t it?’ said Georgia. ‘They’ll have to put him in foster care to start with – if we’re lucky, it’ll be my mum who deals with that. But they’ll try to get him adopted eventually. He’s only thirteen. Still, yes, I think unless he goes somewhere far away from London, Falco is going to need me for a long time.’
They looked at one another, taking in just how much what they were planning was going to involve. On the journey out, they had talked obsessively about Merla and Luciano had told Georgia every detail of the fruitless search. But now the problem of Falco dominated their thoughts and their words.
For the first time since she had come to Remora, Georgia was looking forward to getting back home; she had a lot to organise.
Chapter 16
First Flight
It was a good job that on the last day of term, Barnsbury Comprehensive finished at lunchtime. Not much work was done in the morning either, as students luxuriated in the prospect of seven weeks of freedom. About half had holidays in the sun to look
forward to; the others were just happy to anticipate days of idleness in an English summer, even those with long reading lists for their A-levels.
All the talk of summer plans made Georgia think about her own. She had the coming fortnight with Alice in Devon and immediately after that she had decided to help Falco ‘translate’. She was supposed to be going to France with Ralph and Maura in late August – without Russell, thank goodness. In fact the great bonus of the summer for her was that Russell would be working at Tesco’s for the first five weeks, then going to Greece with his mates for a fortnight.
Now she ticked off days on her fingers; the Stellata was going to be held on the fifteenth of August. That much she knew. ‘It is always then,’ Paolo had told her. ‘The Day of the Lady, though our friends the Manoush would say the Day of the Goddess.’ That was a Friday and she really wanted to see it, even though there could be problems, because it happened at about seven in the evening, as shadows began to fall.
The French holiday was due to start the weekend after the Stellata. Georgia was grateful to Ralph’s work; he was re-wiring an old house and there was no chance to get away till that was finished. The holiday details had been sorted out only recently, because Maura had nagged until Ralph had agreed a date and then she had booked a cancellation – one week in the Languedoc, because he said he couldn’t manage longer away. But if it had been a week earlier, Georgia wouldn’t have been able to get to the race.
Georgia spent the afternoon in her room preparing for the trial stravagation they were planning for that night. She tried hard to remember Falco’s size. He was slight for a thirteen-year-old, but she thought he could get away with an old T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms of hers. And his feet were small; he could fit into a pair of her trainers. He wouldn’t look very smart but at least he shouldn’t attract too much attention, apart from his walking, of course.
Georgia had snaffled two walking sticks from the umbrella-stand, spreading out the many umbrellas, bicycle pumps and even an old plastic sword of Russell’s to conceal their absence. But they didn’t look much like anything that would be given to a young boy. Crutches would be better, but Georgia had no idea how to get hold of a pair. She hid the sticks at the back of her cupboard.
That left the difficult question of underwear. Georgia had no idea what Talians wore under their day clothes and didn’t really want to ask. She always found herself wearing whatever she had on at night under her Remoran boy’s clothes – in fact she had taken to wearing very light tops and pants at night so that she shouldn’t be too hot in the Reman sunshine.
But she could hardly offer Falco a pair of her pants. There was nothing for it; she would have to steal a pair of Russell’s boxers. This was a difficult and delicate operation since Russell was at home. Twice, when she went to the airing cupboard, he was lolling about in his doorway and she had to pretend to be getting towels or underwear of her own.
He gazed at her in open contempt. ‘What are you faffing about with, now?’ he asked, the second time.
‘I’m packing for Devon,’ said Georgia icily. ‘As if it’s any of your business.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Russell. ‘The new friend. Another horse freak. You can both have fun spreading your legs across some stallion.’
Georgia just gave him a withering look. But later she heard him go out and she raced back to the airing cupboard. She had to choose a new pair, so that the elastic would be tight, because Russell was much chunkier than the slender Falco. Her heart was thumping hard as she whisked her choice out of the cupboard and went back to hide them with the sticks. What on earth would Russell say if he ever found her with a pair of his boxers?
Fortunately, she had no time to speculate since a glimpse of her clock told her that she was going to be late for her music lesson. She ran down the street with her violin and music case.
When she got near the Mulhollands’ house, she slowed. Such a lot had happened since her last lesson a week ago. It hadn’t occurred to her till now how awkward it was going to be facing Luciano’s mother. Vicky Mulholland opened the door to her with her usual friendly greeting, but this time Georgia scanned her face for evidence of sadness behind her smile.
When the lesson was over, to her surprise, Vicky offered her a cup of tea. ‘You’re my last lesson today,’ she said. ‘All my other Friday regulars are off on holiday as soon as their families can manage.’
Georgia was happy to stay; surely they would talk about Luciano? She was looking at his photo when Vicky brought in a tray of mugs and some shortbread.
‘You knew my son a bit, didn’t you?’ said Vicky.
‘Yes,’ said Georgia. ‘From orchestra.’ She sipped her tea gratefully, thinking how much older Luciano already looked than the Lucien of the photo. ‘I’m sorry about what happened.’
There was silence. Georgia thought about what Luciano had told her: that he sometimes managed to stravagate back to his old world for a few moments. He said his parents had seen him and Georgia wondered what on earth Vicky must have made of her dead son’s unexplained appearances; surely she must have thought she was going mad when she first saw him? Had it made it better or worse for the grieving mother? But Georgia knew she was unlikely ever to find out. It wasn’t the kind of thing her violin teacher was going to mention.
‘Do you think it’s silly of me to keep his picture out?’ Vicky suddenly asked.
‘No, of course not,’ said Georgia. ‘I think he’d like it.’
Vicky looked at her a little oddly. ‘I think so too,’ she said quietly. ‘I miss him so much.’
Luciano was progressing with his riding. He was learning to rise to the trot, though it left him aching and tired. Dondola was a gentle horse and Dethridge a patient teacher. But Luciano was nowhere near Cesare’s standard. The young Talian was riding bareback round the racetrack on Arcangelo and Luciano wasn’t the only one watching him with a mixture of admiration and misgiving. The Horsemasters of the other Twelfths were all down there watching their own likely jockeys and weighing up the opposition.
Luciano stayed down at the track watching for so long after his lesson that he was still there when Georgia came and found him.
‘He’s amazing, isn’t he?’ he said.
‘Fantastic,’ agreed Georgia. ‘And he makes a good pairing with Arcangelo. They’ll be hard to beat.’
Cesare dismounted and came over to them. He was sweating and smiling.
‘You want to try now, Georgia?’ he asked.
Luciano watched while Georgia took a turn on the big chestnut. She was good, no doubt about it. She didn’t go faster than a canter bareback, but her seat was secure and she got up a good speed. When she came back to Luciano, she was glowing and triumphant.
‘Let’s go somewhere and talk,’ he said.
They sat on a grassy bank overlooking the racetrack. Beyond, they could see the fields Cesare had told them were for growing the autumn crocuses that yielded up the saffron Remora was famous for. They were already beginning to show green with the shoots of the flowers. Cesare had told them that in a few weeks the city would be surrounded by a sea of gold and purple.
‘Do you want to go through with this test tonight?’ Luciano asked Georgia.
‘I think it’s the only way to find out if Falco’s “translation” is going to work,’ she said. ‘I’ve made some plans.’
‘It’ll be dangerous for you, won’t it?’ he asked. ‘I mean, what if someone finds him in your room?’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I can’t think of any other way, can you?’
Luciano shook his head. ‘I just can’t see Falco adapting to life as a twenty-first-century boy,’ he said.
‘You seem to have managed all right, turning yourself into a sixteenth-century one,’ said Georgia quietly.
Luciano thought for a bit, then said, ‘Can I ask you something?’
Georgia nodded.
‘Do you still go for violin lessons with, you know, my mum?’
‘Yes,’ said Georg
ia. ‘I had one there today.’
‘And ... does she ever talk about me?’ he asked.
‘Not usually,’ she said. ‘But she did today.’
Luciano could not say any more for a few minutes. He ran both hands through his hair. ‘Can we do this to Falco’s family?’ he asked after a while. ‘I mean, I had no choice, but he’s calmly planning to leave his father, sister, brothers. What’s it going to do to them? And to him? You know I’ve been back a few times to see my parents. And it’s really hard.’
‘I know,’ said Georgia. ‘In his place I don’t think I could go through with it. But he’s an extraordinary person. And it’s what he wants.’
*
For Falco, the hours till nightfall crawled by. He was expecting Luciano and Georgia to arrive just before dusk. In his highly excited state, he couldn’t settle to reading. He toiled out to the stables to talk to Nello, who was surprised and not a little alarmed to see the young noble.
But it calmed Falco now to be around horses. It was his dearest wish to be able to ride again, and not just as a useless passenger. He was willing to give up everything in Talia to achieve it.
He hobbled round the stalls, talking to each animal and stroking their muzzles. He still knew them all by name – Fiordiligi, Amato, Caramella – and they remembered him and whickered greetings as he passed by.
‘What’s that horse over there?’ he asked Nello, screwing his eyes up in the dark stable to see a black shape in the shadows he didn’t recognise. It had a blanket over it.
‘Oh, that’s just a new mare we’re breaking in for your father,’ said Nello nervously, trying to get Falco out of the stables. ‘I wouldn’t go near her. She’s very nervous.’
Falco let the groom guide him back out into the sunlight, but as he left he heard the strange mare whinny – a mournful and carrying note that stayed with him the rest of the day.
*
In the Twelfth of the Lioness the blind Manoush lifted his head as if listening to something far off.
‘What is it?’ asked Raffaella.