The Girl With the Painted Face (17 page)

12

Later that afternoon

Agostino spends a few moments scraping a thick line in the earth with a stick to create the rough outline of a stage. ‘Beppe, fetch a couple of the poles from under the yellow cart, will you?’ he calls. ‘Sofia,
cara
, imagine they’re what would be the back hangings. Audience is out that way.’ He points. Vico, who is standing in what would be the audience, pulls a face at Sofia and bows.

Nodding at Agostino, Sofia pokes her tongue out at Vico.

Beppe lays two long poles along one of the edges Agostino has drawn in the dust, then, as he goes to step across them, makes everyone laugh by appearing to smack straight into an invisible wall, reeling backwards and rubbing his head, quickly becoming confused by his inability to move forwards. Frowning in anxious consternation, he ‘feels’ his way along the back edge of the ‘stage’, palming hand over hand along the non-existent wall until he finds a narrow ‘gap’, which he then proceeds to squeeze through, sucking in his stomach, pulling himself up onto the tips of his toes and holding his breath extravagantly, puffing it out again in exaggerated relief once he has eased his way ‘through’ onto the stage area.

Agostino grins at him for a second, shaking his head as though in disbelief, then he snaps his fingers and points over to the far side of the stage. ‘Just wait over there, will you, you big idiot? I want to start from
canovaccio
seven, and you need to be in hiding for that one, don’t you?’

Beppe crosses to the far side of the stage and crouches like a frog near the front, pulling a large red cloth over himself, fashioning a small peephole from folds of the fabric.

Agostino continues. ‘Sofia,
cara
, it’s at this point that you need to tell Federico all about Cosima being in love with Angelo – and make it clear to him that he is not going to be able to marry her… remember?’

Sofia nods again.

‘Remember: voice from down here.’ He pats his belly. Bending slightly, he points to a thicket some fifty yards away. ‘Speak to the trees over there, look.’

Another nod.

‘Right. Federico, are you ready?’

‘Aye, I am.’

‘Good.’ Agostino snaps his fingers and Sofia tilts at the waist and slightly points the toe of her right foot. ‘
I’m sorry, sir,
’
she says stoutly, hands on hips, chin tilted upwards. ‘
But I know it for certain. She’s in love with Signor Oratio, and there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do about it.
’ She shakes her head. ‘
She won’t marry you. Whatever you say to her.
’

‘
Pah! You’re nothing but a chit of a girl and don’t know your arse from your elbow,
’
Federico says, waving a dismissive arm in her direction.

‘A bit more volume, now, Sofia,
cara
,’ Agostino hisses.

Sofia flicks him a glance and sucking in her belly muscles, pushes her voice a little harder. ‘
Hmm. Forgive me if I’m being impolite, signore, but I think you’ll find that I’m very well acquainted with both my arse
and
my elbow, and I know that they are as unlike to be joined in matrimony as are your good self and my mistress.
’

‘Good, good, good!’ Agostino mutters from the side of the stage. ‘Better. Just what I wanted. Marvellous!’

As Federico begins to splutter, a loud sneeze is heard from Beppe’s hiding place. Federico stops dead. ‘
What was that? WHO was that?
’

And, as Beppe creeps tentatively out from under his cloth, trembling extravagantly, Federico begins to harangue him, hurling insults at him and shaking his fist. ‘
You? Here? Again! How dare you! It’s all your fault, you blithering idiot,
’ he shouts, ‘
and if you’re not out of my sight in the next couple of seconds, I’m going to —
’

‘
Creep away now, Sofia,’ hisses Agostino, and Sofia tiptoes backwards, step by careful step, as Beppe, arms over his head in counterfeit terror, abandons the red cloth and scuttles away in the opposite direction.

‘Lovely!’ Agostino calls out, and everyone stops. Cosima, who has been sitting on an upturned barrel, claps softly, and Lidia gives Sofia a quick hug. Giovanni Battista bustles up and pats her on the back, and Federico, from his position on the ‘stage’, raises his hands above his head and claps twice, grinning broadly. Sofia’s face glows with pleased pride and she bites down a smile so wide she can feel it stretching her cheeks.

Angelo, who has been watching the rehearsal from the back steps of the smallest wagon, says nothing. Glancing across at him, Sofia meets his gaze for a moment and, at the expression on his face, her face burns and her smile fades. He raises an eyebrow, then looks away.

‘Well done,’ Beppe says quietly, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers. She turns to him. ‘That was perfect,’ he says. ‘You remembered everything. ‘Now we have to work on the reconciliation between me and you – between Arlecchino and Colombina – that’s the last bit Ago wanted to do today.’

Sofia swallows uncomfortably. ‘Oh no – that’s the piece I messed up earlier.’

‘God, we all mess things up a thousand times before we get them right. It’s just how it is.’

‘Beppe, Sofia, can I have you both, please?’ Agostino calls. ‘Cosima, Lidia and the rest of you, take a break. Cosima,
cara
, could you possibly find me something to drink?’

Sofia watches as the others wander away. She and Beppe wait together, watching Agostino, who is consulting a small wood-backed book. Frowning, he flips over a few pages. ‘Yes, here we are: the reconciliation. It still needs a little polishing, I feel, don’t you?’

Sofia clears her throat, and a prickle of embarrassment sends more colour up into her face as she remembers the repeated mistakes of the previous rehearsal. Seeing her discomfiture, Agostino crosses to stand in front of her and puts a hand on each of her upper arms. Shaking her very slightly on each important word, he says, ‘Sofia,
cara
, you are doing so very, very well – I am proud of you. You’ve proved a hundred times already that we have made an excellent decision in asking you to act for us, so you are simply
forbidden
to be downhearted that I want to work further on this scene. Is that understood?’ He runs a hand over her hair and strokes along her cheekbone with the edge of his thumb.

His face is close to hers; his expression is so fierce and yet so very kind that Sofia is moved in an instant almost to tears. Unable to answer, she nods, and Beppe leans forward and kisses her cheek.

‘There you are, chick, I told you,’ he says.

Cosima reappears with a pewter mug. ‘Last night’s ale,’ she says. ‘All I could find.’

Leaning towards her and cupping a hand behind her head, Agostino kisses his wife enthusiastically, then drains several long mouthfuls from the mug before handing it back to her. Cosima smiles her slow smile, finishes what is left in the mug and returns to the wagons.

‘So,’ Agostino says, wiping his face with the back of his wrist. ‘Off we go. From
I am truly a fool,
I think, Beppe.’

Cracking his knuckles, Beppe crosses to sit on an upturned barrel and puts his head in his hands in a droop-shouldered attitude of utter dejection. ‘
Oh my word, but I am truly a fool,
’ he says, gazing up at Sofia and shaking his head sadly. ‘
And you will never forgive me, will you?
’

‘
No, now that you mention it, I’m not sure that I shall.
’

‘Turn away now, Sofia,’ Agostino says. ‘You need to be facing out
that
way.’

Sofia flicks what she hopes is a disdainful glance at the miserable Beppe and spins on her heel, folding her arms in front of her.

‘Good. Stay that way until he comes up to you, then spin around and walk across away from him.’

Beppe appears, hands clasped in entreaty, but she turns again and takes half a dozen quick paces in the opposite direction.

‘And again. Beppe, be quick – get there before she does.’

Before Sofia has reached the designated spot, Beppe is there and he drops to one knee. ‘
Just one more chance?
’

‘Make him wait, Sofia. Make him wait. Just stare at him. Take as long as you want – the audience will wait with you.’

Sofia looks at Beppe, kneeling in front of her, staring up at her imploringly. Her gaze flicks to his mouth, then back to his eyes. Her heartbeat quickens.

‘Now your hand.’

Sofia holds out her hand. Beppe takes it in both of his own, very gently, and plants a kiss on the tip of each finger, looking up at her after each kiss. ‘
Just one more?
’ he says. ‘
One more very small
’ – kiss – ‘
extremely insignificant
’ – kiss – ‘
little chance?
’
–
kiss.

Sofia pulls her hand from his and pauses for a moment; then, holding it out to him once more, she says, ‘
Very well. Just one
.’ Another pause. ‘
One last
.’ And she allows him to kiss her knuckles before turning away from him again. Behind her, she hears a quiet scuffling sound and knows that Beppe will be dancing from foot to foot in silent celebration. As she has been told to, she flicks a glance over one shoulder and, seeing the dance, she smiles at him indulgently.

‘Good… and go back now, Sofia – you’ve decided. You’re going to let him kiss you properly.’

Sofia holds her breath. She steps back towards Beppe. ‘
Perhaps I might let you have just one… proper… kiss…’
she says, raising an eyebrow. Beppe looks out towards the ‘audience’ and grins, rubbing his hands together in glee, before turning back to her and nodding enthusiastically.

Arms held slightly backwards, Sofia tilts from the waist and leans towards Beppe, presenting him with a puckered mouth. He does the same. Their feet are perhaps a yard apart, but, leaning in towards each other, their lips are almost touching. Almost.

Their faces are an inch apart. They both close their eyes tightly. Their kiss – still with air between the two of them – is vocal and theatrical and Agostino claps.

Sofia’s pulse races as Beppe’s gaze remains fixed upon hers for several seconds.

‘Much, much better. Well done, Sofia, well done both of you.’

‘Was that good enough?’ Sofia says anxiously, looking from Beppe to Agostino and back again.

‘Oh,
cara,
it was indeed. It was perfect. We’ll run through the whole show again – twice – tomorrow, then we perform in Malalbergo the following afternoon, and you will triumph,
cara
, you will triumph indeed!’ He beams at her. ‘But first, you must go and find Lidia, and sort out your costume.’

13

There is no doubt about it: Columbina’s pretty grey dress is far too big for Sofia. Standing behind her, Lidia pulls the laces as tightly as they will go, until the fabric between the eyelets begins to pucker, but the bodice still hangs loose and shapeless.

‘I knew you were small, but I didn’t realize firstly how very tiny you really are, and secondly how fat
I
must be,’ Lidia says grumpily. ‘Look at it – you could fit three of you in there.’ She scowls. ‘And it was beginning to feel tight on me.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Sofia says. ‘You’re just lovely. It’s me that’s stupidly little.’

Lidia huffs a disbelieving breath. ‘Well, whichever of us is oddly sized, that dress is going to need unpicking and remaking if you’re to be seen in it on stage in a couple of days’ time.’

‘I can do it right away. It’s only the bodice that’ll need taking in; we can just lace the skirts more tightly at the waist. It won’t take me long. Can you pin it in place for me?’

‘Where are the pins?’

Sofia points to a small painted chest on the ground near the back steps of the smallest wagon. ‘There’s a paper of pins in there,’ she says. ‘I found them in the wagon the other day and put them in that little box with the red flowers on it.’

Lidia retrieves the said box and pulls from it a piece of stiff, waxed paper about three inches by five, folded several times. As she holds it up, it flaps down revealing parallel rows of shining pins, neatly in-and-outed through the paper.