something soft, skin or cloth.
‘Come!’ he finally wheezed. ‘Ragnatela! Join us. Let me take a look at you!’
Sibilla reluctantly slid off the bed, wrapping a sheet around herself, and lit a lamp. Their figures flickered to life. The Colonel was sitting on the chair. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his thick neck laced with greying curls. His eyes shifted back and forth between Sibilla and her mother, who was sitting on his knees. Adriana wore an unfamiliar dress that was either a stained white or a faded brown, and the bluegreen glass necklace Signora Lina had given her. Her hair was down and resembled an old mop. Sibilla realised she hadn’t seen them together since that morning a decade ago when she first went to the Signora’s. Neither had changed much – her mother a little thinner, the Colonel a little thicker – but things between them had clearly changed profoundly. Sibilla thought of Nonna Giovanna’s fables. The Colonel was the puppet Gianduja, Adriana the Giacometta on his knee.
‘Bring us water!’ Adriana demanded from her throne.
Sibilla’s hair bristled, but she complied. She walked over to the jug and poured water into two tin tumblers and handed them over, then sat back on her bed. Adriana kept licking her lips after every sip, an oddly sensual gesture though she was probably just trying not to make a mess.
‘We have not seen you in our grand salon for quite some time, ragnatela,’ the Colonel said. ‘Let me take a look at you. I will miss you when I’m gone.’
Sibilla’s eyes darted towards him. Gone where?
‘Why don’t you show us a trick?’ Adriana slurred knowingly. ‘Why don’t you spin for us?’
‘Yes, that would be jolly, wouldn’t it?’ the Colonel said, his eyes glinting in the lamplight.
Adriana laughed with relish, tipping her head back. Sibilla had never seen her mother’s neck curve like that, a sapling bent by the wind, her bead necklace glittering like dew.
‘Dance for us, ragnatela!’ The Colonel began a stentorian clap, stomping his foot in time. Adriana giggled awkwardly, struggling to stay upright on his bouncing knee. When she managed to adjust her balance, she added the thin slap of her palms to the percussion.
Sibilla stared at their bared teeth and expectant eyes as their advance applause began to speed up. It was set to trigger the whorl in her. She despaired. Would she always spin like this for others, like a record, their needling gaze slipping into her grooves? Sibilla turned from the riot in their eyes and walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind her.
She sat in the cool grass under the trees behind the cabin, her arms around her knees. Had Federico – his unhurried, unworried courtship – given her the will to leave? No. He had a thirst for her too, the same kind she had seen in their eyes, and that she could hear her mother and the Colonel slaking together now inside the cabin. By the time their last cries clashed with the first birdsong, dawn had uncorked the sky and spilled white gold over the valley.
When the Colonel came out and limped off down the hill, Sibilla went back inside. Her mother glowered at her from her tousled bed.
‘Just one night. After all this time.’ Adriana sat up and pulled a slip over her head. ‘A little pleasure…’ She turned to look out of the window. Her cheek was creased with lines, though from the years or the sheets, Sibilla couldn’t say.
* * *
Spring came. It darkened Federico’s skin and brightened his hair. It blanketed the valley with luminous green leaves and white blossoms. Sibilla vibrated with restlessness.
‘Take me somewhere,’ she begged.
Federico demurred. ‘You are the only journey I wish to take, my Giacometta.’
‘Don’t call me that.’ She gave him a sharp look. ‘Fine. Let me take you somewhere then.’
Despite the heat, Sibilla put on her mother’s old satin-lined coat. She took Federico’s hand and led him on the route she had taken as a child. Here were the peppery trees! Here was the root she had tripped over! Here was the Lanaro river!
‘This isn’t the Lanaro,’ Federico laughed. ‘It’s just a creek.’
She shrugged. It was still hers – but what a difference the weather made! This wasn’t a brown river under a stormy sky. Sunrays dove into the water and pulled twisted ropes of light out over the stones. The green trees overhead hushed fondly. Federico complained about the bites but even the mosche looked lovely in their glinting throngs.