“But aren’t you their legal guardian?” Ida continued. “I understand. Yes, the children have told me a similar story. That is sad, Signora, very sad. Of course we will look after your nephews, that is our mission, after all. But we still need you to come in to settle all the formalities … Yes, I’m afraid that it is absolutely necessary, Signora.”
Ida put on a stern face, as if Esther could see her. “Yes, absolutely, I’m afraid. When did you say you were leaving? … So soon? Well, then I will arrange an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon. Hold on, let me just check my diary.” Ida rustled with the newspaper on the sofa. “Hello, Signora?” she said into the receiver. “I could see you at three o’clock … No, I’m afraid your presence is required. I will meet you in our town office, in the Casa Spavento, Campo Santa Margherita, number eleven. Ask for Sister Ida. Yes. Thank you, Signora Hartlieb. Until tomorrow.”
Ida took a deep breath as she put down the phone.
“Excellent!” Victor said to her. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“And I didn’t laugh,” Bo said, pushing away Hornet’s arm.
“She’s really coming?” Prosper looked at Ida in disbelief.
Ida nodded.
“Incredible!” Barbarossa pushed away one of Bo’s kittens that had tried to climb on his lap. “Some people are really incredibly gullible.”
Ida took a cigarette and shrugged. “I’ve laid out the bait,” she said, “and now it’s up to you whether Signora Hartlieb goes for it.”
Barbarossa stroked his thick curls. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I don’t want to be here when Esther comes,” Bo muttered, rubbing his nose uneasily.
Prosper got up and walked to the window. “Me neither,” he said.
“There’s no need for you to be.” Victor went and stood next to him. “You see that café over there? I suggest you all go there tomorrow and have yourselves some nice helpings of ice cream, while Sister Ida talks to Signora Hartlieb. I’ll give you some money, so you don’t have to pay with your fake bills.”
“I hope you do well tomorrow, Barbarino!” Mosca told him. “So we can finally be rid of you.”
“Little redhead, Barbarino — I strongly object to these names!” Barbarossa complained. He had trouble getting out of the big chair. “I just hope your aunt really has as much money as you say. Otherwise I’ll tell her about the tricks you have been playing on her.”
“At least Esther is always perfectly groomed,” Prosper answered sarcastically.
“Very funny!” Barbarossa said, and with a look of disgust picked a cat hair off the pants Bo had given him. “What if she’s really stingy? Her money won’t be of any use. And she definitely won’t be allowed to send me to school. Ernesto Barbarossa is not going to sit among a bunch of screaming, snotty-nosed brats who can’t tell A from B. What if Aunt Esther doesn’t understand that?”
“Then,” Hornet said, with a sweet-as-honey smile, “we will have to find a bed for you with the Merciful Sisters.”
“You can go and ask them,” said Ida, “because I would like you and Prosper to pick something up for me from the sisters.”
“Pick something up? What?” Barbarossa asked, now deeply suspicious.
But Ida put a finger to her lips. “That is a secret,” she said. “But you’ll find out soon enough, Barbarino.”
51
Esther came alone. She walked straight past the café where Prosper was sitting with the others, and had no idea who was watching her through the window. Victor had chased all the children out of the house as soon as the hand on Ida’s kitchen clock had struck three. All except for Barbarossa.
“Who are you looking at?” Hornet asked Prosper when she noticed him staring through the window.
“She really came,” Prosper answered without taking his eyes off Esther.
“Your aunt?” Full of curiosity, Hornet leaned over Prosper’s shoulder. “That’s her?” Prosper nodded.
“Who?” asked Bo, his mouth full of ice cream. He was having the same sundae as Riccio, only he was already finishing his second.
“Nobody,” Prosper muttered. He watched Esther walk toward Ida’s house. She was wearing rubber boots and her umbrella dripped with rain.
“I imagined her to be completely different,” Hornet whispered into Prosper’s ear. “Taller — and sort of more sinister.”
“Hey, don’t you like your ice cream, Prop?” Riccio asked. He licked some chocolate ice cream from his nose. “Can I eat it?”
“Leave him alone, Riccio,” Hornet answered for him.
When Esther rang the bell to Ida’s house, a round, surly-looking nun opened the door and silently signaled Esther to follow her. Ida had begged Lucia for nearly an hour until her housekeeper finally put on the nun’s habit, and now she looked very impressive. Lucia marched the visitor toward what was usually the pantry and laundry room. Lucia’s ironing board, the water bottles, and the large stock of flour had all vanished. Instead, there was now a desk — which Victor had dragged down from the attic with a great deal of cursing and swearing — together with a few simple chairs and a large candelabra. The whitewashed walls were adorned with a picture of the Madonna and Child that usually hung in Ida’s kitchen.
“Signora Hartlieb, I presume?” Ida rose from behind her desk as Lucia showed Esther into the room.
Next to Ida stood Victor, no beard, no disguise, simply the Victor Esther knew. Ida, however, was wearing the dark habit of the Merciful Sisters like Lucia. “Please tell Signora Spavento that the habits have to be back before tonight,” the nun had whispered to Prosper after she had passed the clothes through a hatch in the orphanage’s gate. She had looked guilty, as if she was committing a serious crime. But she would do anything for the kind and generous Signora Spavento.
“Please have a seat, Signora Hartlieb,” Ida said, pointing sternly at the dusty chairs as Esther came in. “Your husband couldn’t come?”
“No, he is unavoidably detained on business. After all, we are leaving the day after tomorrow.”
Victor watched Esther sit down. She straightened her skirt over her knees, and looked uneasily around the bare room. When she noticed him, Victor gave a polite nod.
“You already know Signor Getz,” Ida said after sitting down behind her desk again. “I asked him to come since the police informed me that he had been in charge of the search for your nephews. He has also been a loyal friend to the convent for quite some time.”
Esther looked at Victor as if she wasn’t sure whether his being there was good or bad for her. Then she turned back toward Ida.
“Why did you ask me here?” she asked, straightening her skirt again.
“Well, that should be perfectly obvious,” Ida answered with exaggerated patience. “We have to look after many children, whereas the money at our disposal is limited, very limited. So if, as in the case of your nephews, we do find out that there are relatives …”
“I am not prepared to look after them again!” Esther interrupted her brusquely. “I was prepared to, but the little one …” She fiddled nervously with her earlobes, “… I’m sure Signor Getz has already told you what we’ve been through with Bo. He might have fooled you with his angelic face, but I’ve been cured — thoroughly. He is stubborn, moody, and bites like a little dog. Anyway …” she took a deep breath, “… I am sorry, but not even for the sake of my late sister would I be ready to take him in again. And there is nobody else in our family who would take one of the boys. So if you could keep them both here … after all, they so desperately wanted to come to this city … the family would agree to give what little money their mother left behind to the orphanage.”
Ida nodded. With a deep breath she folded her hands on the desk. “This is all very unfortunate, Signora Hartlieb.” Suddenly, Ida glanced at the door.
Victor had of course also heard it: steps approaching down the corridor, perfectly according to plan. There was a knock. Esther Hartlieb turned around.
/> “Yes?” Ida called.
The door opened, and Lucia pushed Barbarossa into the room.
“The new boy is having problems again, Sister!” Lucia announced. She looked at the redhead as if she were handling a hairy spider or some other distasteful animal.
“I will deal with it,” Ida answered, and Lucia gruffly left the room.
Barbarossa stood by the door, looking very small and forlorn. Noticing Esther’s curious look, he gave her a timid smile.
“Please excuse me, Signora Hartlieb,” said Ida, “but this boy has only come to us recently and he is having a lot of trouble with the other children. So they teased you again, Ernesto?”
Barbarossa nodded, casting a quick sideways glance at Esther. Then he started to sob, quietly at first, and then more and more violently. “Do you have a handkerchief for me, Mother Ida?” he sniveled. “They took my books away from me.”
“Oh no!” Ida reached into her black habit, but Esther was quicker. Smiling shyly, she handed Barbarossa her lace-embroidered handkerchief.
“Grazie, Signora,” he replied, dabbing the tears from his long lashes.
Victor looked sideways at Esther, noticing that she couldn’t take her eyes off the little redhead.
“Go and see Sister Caterina, Ernesto,” Ida instructed him, “and tell her from me to take the books back from the boys. She should also send them to their rooms as a punishment.”
Barbarossa nodded and sniffed delicately into Esther’s handkerchief. Then he walked hesitantly toward the door.
“Mother Ida?” he queried as he put his hand on the doorknob. “May I ask when we will finally go on that excursion to the Accademia Museum? I would so much like to see Titian’s paintings again.”
My god, Victor thought. The redbeard is really laying it on rather thick. Esther’s enraptured look, however, quickly set him straight.
“Titian?” Esther asked, smiling at the little one. “You like Titian’s paintings?”
Barbarossa nodded.
“I like them a great deal myself,” Esther continued. Her voice was suddenly very soft, completely different from the way Victor had heard her shout before. “Titian is my favorite painter.”
“Oh really, Signora?” Barbarossa pushed the red locks from his face. “Then you have probably seen his grave in the Frari Church. I like his self-portrait best, where he pleads with the Madonna to spare his favorite son from the plague. Have you seen it?”
Esther shook her head.
“His son still died of the Black Death,” Barbarossa went on. “And Titian died of it as well. If I may say so, Signora, you look a bit like the Madonna in that painting. I would love to show it to you sometime.”
By all the winged lions in Venice, Victor thought, now he’s got honey literally dripping from his mouth, the little flatterer. However, if Victor remembered right, the Madonna in the painting did look rather stern; maybe she did resemble Esther Hartlieb a little. In any case, the compliment had its desired effect.
Pointy-nosed Esther had turned as red as a poppy. She sat on the edge of her chair and looked at the tips of her shoes like a little girl. Suddenly, she turned to Ida.
“Would that be possible?” she stammered. “I mean, you know, my husband and I will only be in the city until tomorrow, so could I maybe take the little one here …”
“Ernesto,” Ida interrupted her with a dry smile, “his name is Ernesto.”
“Ernesto.” Esther repeated the name as if she were sucking on a candy. “I know that this request may be a little unusual, but would it be possible for me to take Ernesto on a little excursion? He could show me the Frari Church, we could have some ice cream, or go on a boat … I would carefully bring him back on time tonight.”
Sister Ida raised her eyebrows. To Victor her surprise looked convincingly real.
“This is indeed an unusual request,” Ida said, turning to Barbarossa. The redhead was still standing there with the most innocent expression, his hands folded neatly behind his back. He had brushed his hair himself until it shined. “What do you say to Signora Hartlieb’s offer, Ernesto?” Ida asked. “Would you like to have an excursion with the Signora?”
Go on, say yes, redhead, Victor prayed. Think about those beds in the orphanage. Barbarossa glared at Victor as if he had guessed his thoughts. Then he looked at Esther again. Not even a dog could have managed such a trusting look.
“An excursion like that would be wonderful, Signora!” he said, giving Esther a smile that was as sweet as one of Lucia’s puddings.
“That is really very nice of you, Signora Hartlieb,” Ida said. She rang the little silver bell on the desk in front of her. “Ernesto is not having an easy time settling in here. Concerning your nephews, however,” she added as Lucia entered the room, “I regret to have to tell you that they don’t want to see you. Shall I ask Sister Lucia to bring them here nevertheless?”
The smile on Esther’s lips disappeared in an instant.
“No, no,” she answered quickly. “I will visit them later, sometime, when I come back to Venice.”
“As you wish,” Ida replied. She turned to Lucia, who was waiting by the door. “Please get Ernesto ready to go out, Sister. Signora Hartlieb has invited him on an excursion.”
“How charming,” Lucia grumbled. She grabbed Barbarossa’s hand. “So let’s quickly wash the little one’s ears and neck.”
“They’re clean!” Barbarossa hissed at her. For a moment his voice sounded neither very nice nor very shy. But Esther hadn’t noticed anything. She sat, lost in thought, on the hard chair in front of Ida’s desk, and looked up at the picture of the Madonna. Victor would have happily given three of his favorite false beards to read her thoughts.
“Has the boy got any parents?” Esther asked after Barbarossa had left with Lucia.
Ida shook her head and shrugged. “No. Ernesto is the son of a wealthy antiques dealer who vanished last week under mysterious circumstances. The police suspect a boat accident at night on the lagoon, maybe during a fishing trip. The boy has been with us since then. His mother left his father years ago and she is not willing to take the boy in. Quite astonishing, isn’t it? He’s such a delightful little child.”
“Indeed.” Esther looked at the door as if Barbarossa was still there. “He’s so — different from my nephews.”
“Being related is not a guarantee of love,” Victor reminded her. “Even though we would all like it to be that way.”
“How true, how true!” Esther laughed a tiny, cheerless laugh. “I would really like to have a child, you know, but …” she looked up at the ceiling before looking at them both, “… I haven’t yet found one who would like me as a mother. My nephews, for example, seem to think I’m some sort of witch.” She looked at the ceiling again. “No, they probably consider me too boring even for that,” she said. And again she laughed her small, sad laugh. “I really wish there was a child somewhere that I was suited to.”
Ida and Victor looked at each other conspiratorially.
Esther returned Barbarossa quite late that evening. Prosper and Bo watched from the living room window as they walked across the square. Barbarossa was licking a huge cone of ice cream without getting a single drop on himself. Bo would really have loved to know how he did that. Esther was laden with big overstuffed shopping bags, but her left hand held onto Barbarossa’s and on her lips was a blissful smile.
“Just look how she worships him!” Riccio leaned over Bo’s shoulder. “And all those packages! I bet they’re all for him. And you’re still not sorry you put her off so badly that she doesn’t want you back?”
Bo shook his head vigorously. Prosper, meanwhile, was thinking of someone else, someone who had looked a little like Esther. He was glad when Victor startled him out of his thoughts.
“Well? Aren’t those two the perfect match?” he whispered into Prosper’s ear. “They were made for each other, don’t you think?”
Prosper nodded.
“Go on, put away that worrie
d face for a bit,” Victor said, giving him a gentle nudge in his back. “Two more days, and your aunt is flying home. And Bo won’t be sitting next to her on the plane.”
“I’ll believe that once she’s in the air,” Prosper grumbled back.
And as he watched Esther wipe the ice cream off Barbarossa’s mouth he asked himself for the hundredth time where Scipio was. He wanted to tell him that his crazy idea was working.
52
Esther Hartlieb did not fly home as scheduled. Her husband boarded the plane alone, while she was visiting the Doge’s Palace with Barbarossa. The day after that she picked up Ernesto again — for a trip to the glassblowers on Murano. First, however, she took him shopping, and when Barbarossa returned to the Casa Spavento that evening, he was wearing the most expensive clothes one could buy in Venice for a child of his age.
He strutted into the living room, as proud as a peacock. The others were all squatting on the carpet and playing cards with Ida. “You really are a pair of extraordinary idiots,” Barbarossa said to Prosper and Bo. “You have the amazing luck to have such a rich aunt and you run away from her as if the devil himself was after you. Your brains must be the size of a pea.”
“And you, Ernesto,” Ida replied, “probably have a wallet where other people have a heart.”
Barbarossa just shrugged impassively and reached into his elegant new jacket. “Speaking of wallets,” he said, producing a well-filled billfold, “I would like to ask one of you to regularly check on my shop over the next few months, in return for an appropriate fee, of course. You know, keep an eye on it, and clean it — that sort of thing. And I also urgently need a saleswoman who knows her job and hasn’t got her fingers in the till all the time. That won’t be easy, but I have complete confidence in you.”