Spring in Trinacria
Chapter Four
When the pizzas were eaten, Lucy
was reluctant to depart, although she was eager to buy a few groceries for the
house. Marco, good to his word, promised to take her to the shop as the group
rose. Luis shook Lucy's hand, and disappeared into the back of the pizzeria.
Aldo gave her a friendly nod, and turned to Gianna, who dashed up from her seat
to give Lucy friendly kisses on her cheeks, and to embrace Marco swiftly, with
great cordiality. Aldo nodded again at his friend, before taking Gianna's arm,
and talking earnestly in rapid Italian to her. Marco steered Lucy from the
pizzeria, and out into the Corso Umberto I again.
"I have a good idea,"
he said. "I'll show you the shop, and then take you to the Greek theater.
It's the biggest tourist attraction, and you don't want to look like a tourist
while you are there."
"That would be lovely of
you, but surely I'm keeping you from some appointment or other?"
"None," he said,
smiling cheekily. "I'm afraid that I've rather abandoned the dig for the
day. We're starting what may be another room tomorrow, and everything in the
most recent room is being documented, although there are two other rooms being
worked upon even now. I left my assistant in charge, since I didn't take off Sunday,
yesterday, I decided to take off today. And as I dearly love the theater, but
hate the tourists, you are giving me an excuse to face them and visit the
lovely little place."
"All right," agreed
Lucy. She found Marco very agreeable, and preferred company to being alone, as
she would be all evening. The shopping went quickly. Apart from groceries,
which Marco generously strapped onto his motorcycle, Lucy picked up a plate
full of marzipan and a plastic bag of fresh oranges. They stopped briefly at a
cafe, drinking espresso as they lingered at the bar. An old man with a little
dog watched them and chuckled, and the dog yapped merrily, until his master set
him upon the ground, where he frisked after his own tail.
Finally, when siesta was fully
over, Marco escorted Lucy to the Greek theater, first leaving her parcels with
a friend of his who owned a statuary shop not far from the theater. The
proceeded up the Via Theatre Greci, and followed a small herd of tourists into
the theater area, after having purchased tickets. Lucy recognized the same
group of American classics students, one or two of whom waved at her, recalling
her from their hotel. She waved back, but then followed Marco up a flight of
stairs, into the first area of seating in the theater.
"Isn't the Roman backdrop
an abomination?" he asked, cheerfully, as soon as Lucy had recovered her
breath, gazing in admiration at the view before her.
"Wretched," she
agreed. "That view... how could anyone want to cover up that view?"
"The Romans found the prestige
of a fancy backdrop and the symmetry it added more appealing than that view.
Makes you wonder. I love the Romans, but I have to hand it to you, they didn't
know about the picturesque. Still, different sensibilities. What do you think
of the theater itself?""
Lucy gazed about her for a few
minutes before replying. "It's wonderful. I've read about this sort of
thing, and of course I saw the Colosseum in Rome, but this is so different. A
Greek theater, since it is built into the hill, and isn't in a semi circle, but
an extended one. The backdrop is an abomination, but I rather like the
brick edging on the back. What charming little niches! Look at my pet American
Classics students! I swear, that boy is attempting to look like a statue."
"Since the statues were
obviously plundered, he serves his purpose well enough. Come to the rail, and
look at these sunken areas."
"Whatever is that one about
the edge of the orchestra for? Oh! Look! The Classics students, or at least
four of them, have come into the orchestra, and seem to be doing a bit of a
play. Shall we watch?" Marco shrugged, and seated himself leisurely upon
the stone seats behind him. Lucy followed suit, intently listening as two high
school students comically read the part of the chorus from an English
translation of the Medea. Then, two other students, a tall boy and a
short girl began to play out a scene between Jason and Medea, to the delight of
the other students, who laughed merrily. At the end, the four students bowed,
and one of the boys from the chorus mysteriously produced a bagpipe, a Norman
pipe, Marco told her, and began to play a few simple melodies to the delight of
his fellows. Smiling to himself, Marco took Lucy's hand, and helped her up.
"Come look at the back
view," he said, "before the students are distracted from the music.
Do you know them?"
"They are Latin and Greek
students from America," said Lucy. "And they were at my hotel with
me. That is all." They had reached the top of the theater, and Lucy broke
off whatever else she had planned on adding. The view was extraordinary.
Marco led her along a narrow
rail, and she stopped, and pulled out a camera, she never traveled without one,
and took a few snapshots. "I'll want to come back with different
light," she said, "but it is a lovely view. I can't believe that you
can just live near a view like this, every day of the year."
"It does sometimes
rain," said Marco. "And you must remember, I'm from Syracuse, not
here."
"Still... it is so lovely.
So much nicer than Boston, I can assure you."
"Would you like to see the
orchestra?"
"I'd love it."
They climbed down between the
rows of stone seats, and Lucy stopped to take a few pictures of the view of Mt.
Etna, partially mangled by the ruin of a Roman backdrop. Marco led her on, and
they arrived in the orchestra, just as the classics student had finished his
piping, and was chatting to three girls and a boy who had joined him. Lucy
explored the fallen pillars and the interesting cavities in the ground, before
she became bored, and Marco led her to the exit. They passed a stone with Greek
writing on it, and Lucy wished that Peter were here, he spoke and read Greek so
well. When they arrived back at the gate of the park, Marco led Lucy to his
motorcycle, and they collected Lucy's parcels from the statuary shop. With Lucy
and the parcels securely on the bike, Marco jumped up, and started the motor,
taking Lucy back home up the steep mountain path. She was very grateful to him,
and thanked him very prettily for his kindness. He shrugged it off, saying,
"Anything for a friend, and
this is such a tiny favor."
Lucy smiled to think that he
considered her a friend. He deposited her at her door, helping to unload the
box from the back of the bike, and then saluted her, and turned his bike downhill.
The motor cut, he slid down the hill on his bike, back towards Taormina. Lucy
watched him until he was out of sight, then picking up her box, unlocked the
door to her house.
Turning on the lights and
finding her way into the kitchen, she deposited the box on the counter. The
groceries were stashed in the refrigerator and pantry. The oranges were put
into a clay bowl unpacked from one of the many boxes, and placed upon the table
in the other room. The marzipan found it's way onto a large plate, and was put
into the pantry beside a loaf of bread and a large bag of penne noodles. Her
purchases thus dealt with, Lucy wandered back into the large room, where she
lit a fire in the fireplace, and decided to study her travel guide again, to
find more interesting sights to photograph in the area.
Fetching the travel guide from
her airline bag, Lucy was happily surprised to see the light blinking on the
little answering machine she had bought in Rome and connected that morning. The
only people who had the number were the realtor, the Crispinis and her family,
so Lucy decided to check the message in case it was something important. She
was delighted to hear Peter's deep voice come from the machine.
"Lucy, you've arrived at
the house, but are out, I surmise. Hope everything is to your satisfaction,
don't hesitate to pester the realtor if any little thing is below your
expectations. I was calling mostly to see how you were doing, and to tell you
that I'll be in Taormina by the end of the week. I've had to look over some
paintings recovered from that yacht sinking, you heard about it, I should
think, I need to see how to best restore them. Wretched business, but it pays
so well. I'll bring you a present when I arrive. Until then, arrivederci,
I'm afraid of the tape cutting me off. Cheers!" The tape cut off into
silence, and Lucy reset the machine again. So Peter would be there soon. It was
Monday, and he would be there by Friday or Saturday. Only a few days more, and
Marco had been marvelous introducing her to locals. If she was lonely she could
find Gianna, who had been so friendly, and they could talk art together. And
then there was the purpose of the trip, the photography. Lucy wanted
desperately to return to the theater at sunrise, or other scenic periods of the
day, and supposed that she would need to arrange everything with some official
or other. Marco would know whom to ask.
Marco was her luckiest find so far. Though he would be working, he had been so friendly and attentive to her scenic wishes, her interest in the antiquities in the area, that she supposed that they would meet again. She didn't know where he lived, she didn't know where any of the Sicilians lived, not Gianna or Aldo or Luis, though she knew she could find Luis again at the pizzeria, if she wished. And, apart from these charming younger sorts, there were the Crispinis, eager to keep the Signorina Lucia around, who spoke such excellent Italian. Taormina, once a lonely place, full of beauty, had turned into a friendly place, full of beauty. She would consult the travel guide again, and busy herself in her work until Peter showed up, with his surprise, his good nature and his comfortable Britishness.
Chapter Five
Peter did not show up on
Tuesday, though Lucy had scarcely expected him to, so she decided to spend her
day exactly as she liked. Caterina Crispini invited Lucy to go out flower
collecting, and Lucy accepted the invitation willingly, enjoying taking
photographs of lovely flower covered hillsides, and of the sturdy Sicilian girl
gathering the beautiful blossoms about her. They feasted on a picnic lunch,
carried out by the eager Paulo. Lucy enjoyed herself very much, and requested
of Caterina and Paulo their advice on local places of beauty or interest. Paulo
pushed Lucy to visit construction sites up and down the hill, to see the large
crane that hovered on the mountainside. He suggested, too, that she look at the
cars climbing the steep road. She smiled, and thanked him for his advice, she
was reminded to include the modern and man-made to the elegant and ancient
landscape. Caterina had more scenic leanings, urging the Signorina to visit the
Norman forts, churches and castles in the area, to visit the seashore, to visit
the dig.
"The dig?" asked Lucy,
wondering if she had gotten the word right. Sometimes Caterina's rapid,
colloquial Italian was hard to follow.
"The dig. It is down the
mountain some ways, and off to the North, a little. Signore de Luca was
director, have you met the Signore? He is very handsome, and very intelligent.
He was from Syracuse, where I was born, where my father lives with his second
wife. I don't like her much, so I live with Zio and Zia Crispini. Zio Crispini
is my mother's brother. I like it better here than in Syracuse, it is prettier,
but there is less to do."
"She wants to spend her
time at the disco tech," interrupted Paulo, clearing the picnic lunch into
its hamper again.
"I do not," Caterina
replied. "And there is one in Castelmola, in the summer."
Lucy laughed at the pair. They
were three years apart in age, though Paulo's traveling father was Caterina's
first cousin. They got along splendidly, and it was a joy to be with them.
Paulo had just gotten around to teasing Caterina that she was in love with
Signore de Luca, when Lucy decided to steer the conversation again.
"Yes, I know Signore de
Luca. So he is the director of the dig? I remember hearing something of it. It
sounds like a wonderful thing to photograph, if I can get permission. Caterina,
do you know where Signore de Luca lives?"
Caterina did not. Her Zio and
Zia would, though. Lucy made note of this in her mind, determined to call on
Marco de Luca, and thank him for his kindness, again, and perhaps inquire where
she could contact Gianna again. When the three young people had finished their
picnic lunch, Caterina packed the dishes into the hamper, and handed it to the
ever-cheerful Paulo. They wandered back towards the Via di Leonardo da Vinci,
and their respective homes, before Caterina's flowers wilted. Lucy had a
sizable bouquet, partially of her own gathering, and partially a present from
Caterina, and she looked forward to setting the blooms in water, as part of her
continuing efforts to liven up the little yellow house more.
The blooms looked delightful
when split into two bouquets and set in the kitchen and large room
respectively. Lucy nodded in satisfaction, and on seeing that there was still
considerable time left in the day, took all the exposed rolls of film from her
camera bag, and worked to develop them.
The little scullery room worked
well as a darkroom. The one window was easily covered with a thick black cloth,
and the sink was wide, with room for the chemical trays. The enlarger perched
on a counter that fit snugly against the wall, ancient, but sturdy. Lucy had
stored her boxes of photographic paper under this counter, safely within thick
black bags. High above the counter she had stretched a line, where she could
hang the negatives once they were developed.
Developing the film was a
familiar process, and one that Lucy enjoyed in these strange surroundings. Her
glass cylinders for measuring gleamed now, but soon enough they would be caked
with chemicals again. She measured out the developer, and set it in the sink,
before gathering up her reels and a small light-proof container, which fit four
reels inside. Placing scissors carefully in front of her, and the reels in a
line, with the coil counterclockwise, she flicked off the light, and began to
open the film canisters. Each canister popped easily, and Lucy felt in the dark
as the film burst out in a spiral of smooth paper. Efficiently snipping off the
end of the film, Lucy wound the film around the reels, so that it fit neatly
into the coils, never touching itself. Mechanically she checked that everything
was smooth, to reduce the risk of chemical burn. The second canister of film
was opened, and then rolled, and then the third and the fourth. Still, in the
dark, Lucy opened the light-proof container, and slid the four reels in. She
fir the lid carefully on, and then felt along the wall for the light switch,
which she flicked on.
Lucy smiled at the container,
which held the first four rolls of film from her year in Sicily. Four rolls in
only a few days, things were going well. She ought to develop the Rome
pictures, too, but she was eager to see the Greek theater again, the snapshots
of Paulo and Caterina, and scenic landscapes.
The rest of the process went
quickly. Taking the temperature of the developer, she determined that she
needed five and a half minutes of developer, and set about pouring the chemical
into her container with the film. Shaking the container as she had been taught,
she inverted it and twisted it. When the time was up, she poured thirty two
ounces of water into the container, to replace the developer she had poured
out. When she had stopped the chemical reaction of the developer, she measured
the fix, and carefully agitated the container. When the fix was stored away to
be recycled, Lucy washed the film for some time, and applied two other
chemicals, before hanging the long strips to dry above her head, pinned to the
line. They had all come out well, and she was delighted to see the lovely views
she had captured, the smoke off Mt. Etna, and the view from the back of the
Greek theater. There was a charming one of Marco sitting against a stone wall,
smiling, and another of Caterina, her arms full of impossibly beautiful
flowers. This trip promised to be a success. Now, Lucy was eager to move on to
color film, to capture the amazing colors of this Mediterranean paradise.
Grabbing up a camera, and a case
filled with several neatly rolled canisters of color film, Lucy put on her
hiking boots, and took up a pair of sunglasses and a water bottle. She was off
to find some beautiful spectrum of color, and was determined to come home with
at least two rolls exposed.
Walking down towards the main
part of Taormina, Lucy decided to stop and photograph the crane Paulo had gone
on about. She found that the quickest way to the crane was to trot down some
crisscrossing staircases, and to then climb up on a little hill by someone's
garden, so as to get a lovely view of the crane, with the mountains behind it.
Admiring the contrast, Lucy set off towards the hill. She snapped a few
pictures, and turned to look for more subjects of interest.
Not far from the far end of the
garden was a large area surrounded by a fence. From inside there was a steady
babble of voices, the scraping of shovels, and laughter. Curious, Lucy wandered
towards the fence, wondering what lay behind it. The best way to reach the gate
of the fence was to walk along a little road nearby, so Lucy decided to walk on
the road. As she made her way through a patch of land, she was startled to see
a rather refined looking man sitting on a large boulder, eating an orange. She
nodded to him as she passed, and was surprised to see that he only scowled at
her. Deciding that she was trespassing, she apologized for herself, and asked
what was on the other side of the fence. The man answered briefly.
"The archeological dig,
Signorina." His accent was definitely Roman, and Lucy pondered that a
Roman should want to live in Sicily. Then, she remembered Luis and his father,
and shrugged the man from her mind. Marco's dig was just ahead of her, how
convenient!
She came to the gate, and called
out. A guard appeared, dressed in work clothes, but carrying an alarmingly
large gun.
Unnerved, but persistent, Lucy
asked, "Excuse me, I'm a photographer. Do you know who I should speak to
if I wanted to get permission to take pictures of the site?"
"Perche?" he
asked. "Si. I know. Who are you?"
"Signorina Mountjoy. Lucia
Mountjoy. I'm an American photographer who has come to stay in Taormina to take
photographs. I met Signore de Luca a few days ago, and he told me about the
dig."
"Bene. I will find Signore
il Direttore. Please wait while I call my assistant." He called over a
young man, who eagerly took the gun from the guard's arms, and stood
impressively at the gate, the perfect picture of a sentry. Then, he broke the
pose, and asked Lucy,
"Che sei lei?"
he asked, curious about who the pretty young woman was.
"Sono Signorina Mountjoy.
Lucia Mountjoy. I'm from America."
"Where in America?"
the youth asked.
"Near Boston," Lucy
answered.
"I have a second cousin in
Chicago," said the youth. "He's a bank manager, and comes to see us
every year."
"One of my best friends
went to school in Chicago," said Lucy, discovering yet again that those
who don't travel much don't realize how far places are from one another.
Fortunately, she was saved talking more about Chicago, which, although a lovely
city, she knew next to nothing about, by the guard coming back, and reclaiming
his gun.
"Il Direttore says that you
can come into the site. He is multo occupato just now, but he has
ordered Luigi to show you what we can." Another man appeared a moment
later, and Lucy decided that this must be Luigi. Introductions were managed,
and Lucy was pawned off to Luigi, to be taken on a tour of the site.
"Signorina Mountjoy, it is
delightful to meet you. Marco said that you had shown an interest in
photographing ancient ruins. He was curious when you would recall his offer to
let you see the site. He is rather busy, now, though, I am afraid, but he told
me to show you parts you might find interesting."
"Be sure to thank him for
me," said Lucy, smiling. She had never met anyone so agreeable as Marco in
her life.
"I will. Come. I'll take
you to the excavated rooms, and then to a few that we are in the process of
excavating. We just began a new room a few days ago, so Marco will be engaged
with that business. We need to record everything carefully, every detail."
"To record to
posterity?" asked Lucy, with a smile.
"Yes, but also... an
ancient site like this, the site of a villa, is sure to have items valuable to
museums in it. It is our duty to preserve as much as we can."
A light dawned in Lucy's head,
Marco's comments in the pub, and the presence of the armed guard at the gate.
"Do you have problems with
plunderers?" she asked.
"Sometimes," said
Luigi evasively, before reciting a speech it sounded as if he had memorized.
"But more pranks. Sicilian children love to play, and sometimes they find
it amusing to break into the site and mess about. They don't realize what they
do, so to make sure everything is learned, we record every detail faithfully.
We also have dogs, so do not be alarmed if they come up to you and bark."
"I see," said Lucy,
still curious about the evasiveness and the security. Surely it wasn't possible
to steal an ancient building??
Luigi showed her the rooms that
had been uncovered. A small triclinium, or dining room, had been uncovered, its
flower patterned with bright mosaics, laid out in a geometric pattern, with
medallions with scenes scattered throughout. Lucy instantly was reminded of the
books she had read about the famous Piazza Armerina.
"Amazing!" she
breathed.
"Lovely, isn't it? We are
planning to build a structure about it, to protect it and preserve it. We have
some scenes in the cubicula over there, should you care to look."
They wandered over to a series
of small rooms meant as bedrooms, two of which were entirely uncovered, and the
third and fourth which were covered with tarpaulins. In the two open rooms,
there were quaint scenes on the floor, one of two girls dancing, and the other
of a man leading a donkey. Lucy smiled at these, and asked if she could take
photographs. Luigi gave his permission, but asked that she talk to Marco before
printing or publishing any of them. Lucy promised faithfully, and scrambled
over a pile of debris to take pictures. Delighted, she let Luigi lead her to
what was an ancient furnace, and listened to his lecture on it.
The little tour continued for
another half hour of so, in which Lucy learned more about Romans and their
architecture than she had since an intensive lecture by Peter when he had
finished a course on mosaic history at graduate school. Her mind full of words
like tesserae, statumen and musearius, Lucy pondered this
villa, which was so removed from many of the more civilized parts of the Roman
Sicily. Still, there had been a small Roman theater nearby, as well as the
Greek one, so it could have scarcely been an uncivilized area. Lucy thanked
Luigi, and let him get back to his work, whatever that was. Walking back
towards the gate, Lucy was pondering what she should prepare for supper when
she heard her name called.
"Signorina Lucia,"
called a familiar voice. Lucy spun around in delight.
"Signore Marco!" she
exclaimed, smiling.
"I had to stop and say
hello before you wandered off again. What did you think of my site?"
"Lovely. I don't know as
much about all this as I should, but it is a lovely sort of place. I loved the
donkey mosaic. Luigi was an excellent guide. Thank you so much for letting me
wander around. I must have been in the way."
"Not particularly,"
said Marco, leaning against a bit of wall. "We started another room, and
that is always work, but it is beautiful out today, and we've been making good
progress. I feel perfectly happy now to go off on my little business vacation
in a week or so, now. I'm glad you liked the site. Luigi is at least as well
informed about Roman villas as I am." The light eyes were laughing.
"I appreciate your help in
my photography project. The pictures I took of the men digging were lovely, and
of the workers washing bits of pottery were rather good. I'm excited about my
book. Speaking of pictures, though, I have one or two of you from the theater.
If you like, I'll print them out for you, and send them to you."
"If you'd like to,"
said Marco. "But I don't want you to waste your time printing pictures for
me, when you could be seeing this lovely island."
"I need to start printing,
anyway. Where should I send the pictures? I'm sure I'll see you around."
"I have an apartment in
Taormina. Actually, it is on the Via di Leonardo da Vinci, like your little
house, but a good bit further down the mountain. I'm only just above the town.
A white building, with a red roof, and a palm by the door. If you mark
something with my name and put it into the mail bin by the door, my landlady
will make sure that it gets to me. But I'm sure I'll see you around. It's a
small town."
"I know," said Lucy.
"Just take all the times I've seen you already. Odd, isn't it?"
"Oh, very," said
Marco, his eyes laughing again. A motorcycle whizzed by the gate, and brought
Lucy back to the present.
"I'd better be off. You'll
have work to do."
"Yes. Unfortunately. I'll
see you somewhere, I'm sure."
"Yes. Arrivederci!"
"Arrivederci."
Marco gave a brief wave, and turned back into the site as Lucy exited, and made
her way back towards the little house. She had some printing to do.
The walk home was peaceful and
delightful. Birds flitted abut in the sky and in the trees, and bees hummed
merrily among the beautiful flowers along the road. In an utterly blissful
mood, Lucy wandered over to where she knew there was a staircase that cut
across the mountain, while the road wound around it. She stopped and snapped a
few pictures of the view towards the sea, trying to get the three little
islands that it is said are the three rocks Polyphemus threw into the sea after
Odysseus. Peter had read that bit in Greek to her when she had taken a
mythology seminar back in high school.
Peter would be here soon. Lucy
was delighted. Though he was older than she was, and had a different mother,
the distant first Mrs. Mountjoy, they had grown up brother and sister. Though
now Peter lived in England, not far from his mother, they had spent their
childhood together outside of Boston, with Susannah, always the baby, tagging
along. Peter was a highly educated person, the best to have around when you
wanted an obscure allusion for a paper, or to help with a tricky translation.
Fluent in several languages, he was always traveling, and seen the world and
liked it. He would be sure to love Taormina, the beautiful town.
Lucy trotted off the steps onto
a little dirt road, seeking the perfect angle of the three island-rocks. She
found it at last, some distance from the steps, and delightedly advanced the
film. She was on a dirt path, which lay along the edge of the mountainside.
Further behind her there was a small clearing, full of rocks of various colors.
It was extraordinary, it looked like a little quarry. She stopped, and, wishing
she had her tripod, took a few pictures. It wasn't a very old quarry, in fact,
it looked as if it had been used recently, though with very primitive tools.
Maybe children came to play here. In any case, the rocks were charming and warm
from the sun. Lucy picked up a few colored fragments, in red and yellow and
gray, and pocketed them. They'd be souvenirs, and they could be in the giant
still life she was planning to make at the end of her vacation, of bits and
pieces she had collected from the year.
Finding her way back to he
staircase, Lucy climbed until she reached the road, then crossed, then climbed
another stair case, then walked along the road, climbed another, and walked to
her front door. Turning the key, she entered, and whistled merrily to herself.
She deposited the cameras in a cabinet, and examined the contents of her
pantry. They were scarcely exciting, so Lucy decided to dine later, when
inspiration had visited her on what to eat. She rotted out into the garden,
where she found a broad wooden bench, on which she sat. Having collected one of
her old favorite novels, Mary Stewart's This Rough Magic, which,
although not about Sicily, was about a Mediterranean island, Corfu, and seemed
suitable enough. She sat and read under the shade of an orange tree.
Some time later, a call beckoned
her to the edge of the garden. Signora Crispini was standing there, a delighted
grin on her face.
"Signorina Mountjoy! It is
lovely to see you about. We were hoping that you would come to our home and
dine with us this evening, if you were not busy. I meant for Paulo and Caterina
to ask you, but they must have forgotten. Will you come? Can you come?"
"Yes. I can come. I'd be
delighted to. Thank you. What time?"
"Americans eat early, I
know, but is eight thirty all right?"
"Lovely," said Lucy. "I'm
getting used to your customs. You are so wonderful to invite me. When Peter
comes, I must invite you to dine with us."
"I should enjoy that,"
said Signora Crispini. "I shall see you at eight thirty, then? Very well.
I must go and make sure that we have a good wine."
Flattered, Lucy smiled, and left
the good woman to her planning. Delighted that she didn't have to face another
boring meal of pasta and whatever else had seemed easy to prepare, Lucy
returned to her book, and read for another hour, until the book was finished.
Then, she went inside to start some printing before the supper.
Lucy's enlarger was set up, and
the cabinet for the paper ready. Having prepared the trays of chemicals along
the side of the sink, Lucy began the process by selecting a negative. It was
one of the ones of Marco, for, as long as she had promised to print them, she
might as well do it soon.
It was a good picture, with
rather excellent contrast and sharp focus. In it Marco was cheerful, smiling,
and very attractive. Lucy gathered up the long strips of film, and cut them
into short strips, which she inserted into plastic sheets. Choosing a strip
with the picture she planned to print, she inserted it into a round frame with
a little rectangular hole in it. When the negative was lined up with the
rectangle, the frame was placed in the top of the enlarger, and Lucy switched
the light on. A picture, with black and white reversed, came into view on the
bottom of the enlarger. Lucy made the picture smaller, and then focused it. Checking
that it was as she wanted to be printed, she slid a frame onto the bottom,
where the print was, and adjusted the sliding rules so that a bit of the edge
was cut from either end. With this done, she smiled, and turned off the light.
She grabbed a narrow strip of photographic paper, and did a test strip,
exposing each part of the paper for a second longer than the last. She took up
the paper, and slid it into the developer, until it seemed to have an absolute
black, and then slid it into the stop and fix chemicals. She lifted it between
prongs, and dumped it onto a shallow tray, which she carried out into the
light. Having ascertained that three seconds would be needed to make the
picture come out properly, Lucy printed the picture, and developed the print.
Then she slid it onto a rack of screen shelves that she had contrived in a
corner. One beautiful print of a handsome Sicilian man, surrounded by an
attractive Sicilian bay. Beautiful.
She printed several more
pictures, several prints each, before cleaning up. Lucy stored everything away,
and went to take a shower before supper with the Crispinis. It would be
horrible to show up smelling of developer.
When Lucy arrived at the
Crispini house, she no longer smelled as if she had been in a small room with a
lot of chemicals. Smelling fresh and herbish, she was welcomed into the
comfortable house, and offered a seat by Signore Crispini. Caterina came in,
looking clean and happy, and Paulo showed up, a little messy, but in good
cheer. It was clear why, when Lucy sniffed the air. It seemed as if she would
be treated to a meal of Sicilian cuisine.
Signora Crispini soon entered
the small dining room, and ushered Lucy into a seat beside Caterina. The table
was set, and Signora Crispini set down a basket of bread on the table, along
with a bottle of olive oil. Lucy smiled, she had only been in Italy a short
time, but she had learned to love the taste of bread dipped in olive oil. The
meal began with a bean soup, cooked with fennel. Lucy enjoyed it, and emptied
her bowl quickly. A pause ensued while Caterina and Signora Crispini went back
into the kitchen to finish preparing the pasta dish. They came out of the
kitchen together some fifteen minutes later, carrying a large dish, which was
filled with pasta alla Norma, that ever present dish. Every hotel in Sicily
served it, every restaurant. Knowing that it was edible, Lucy allowed her plate
to be filled with steaming pasta, tomatoes, aubergines and salted ricotta.
While they ate, the family made
cheerful conversation. All had an excellent wine to drink, including Paulo, who
grinned cheekily over his glass.
"Have you been exploring
our city, Signorina Lucy?" asked Signora Crispini.
"Yes. I've taken loads of
pictures already. In fact, today I came across the archeological site that
Signore de Luca runs."
"It is an interesting
site," agreed Signore Crispini. "We've always had a nice town. One of
the beauties of Sicily, to be sure. This site will bring more tourists, you can
be sure. It is hard to have a perfect balance between the tourists and their
money and the qualities of a town. You have seen the Wunderbar in town? Film
stars have come there... Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton were fond of the
cocktails. An elegant place."
"It is a lovely town. I'm
delighted to be staying here, and I am sure that I shall tire of the tourists
quickly. Surely most people do not stay long? It is a small place, and there is
so much to see on the island."
"Yes, few stay very long.
That is why it is so nice to have you for the year. So much less coming and
going. But surely you shall see more of the island?"
"Of course. I'll need to
plan with Peter, though. But there is so much of interest to me. The site was
just a new thing, and I have yet to go to Mazzaro. I'm looking forward to it. I
love the sea here, so beautiful."
"Indeed. Are you interested
in ancient things, like the villa site?"
"Some. Peter is more. He's
interested in all sorts of art, but his concentration for his first degree was
in ancient stonework. Mosaics, temples and walls... he'll be delighted by his
surroundings."
"He should be. Signore de
Luca is a good man to talk to when it comes to ancient things. Though he is
from Syracuse, he knows this area well."
"He showed me the temple.
He's very nice."
"He's very
intelligent," said Signora Crispini, before getting up and clearing the
plates off the table. "And very personable." She went back into the
kitchen, to finish the next course. Caterina hopped up after her.
"I don't doubt that you'd
like him," said Signore Crispini. "He went to a British school.
Educated abroad, but, it sounds as if he is like your brother, running about
getting many degrees. Not much use here, really, but he seems happy enough with
his villa. He ought to be married, but I suppose that he is still young."
"He doesn't need a
wife," argued Paulo. "He has a splendid motorbike." Paulo was
illogical, his cheeks flushed with admiration of the machine. "He has
taken me to ride on it sometimes, and once Caterina and her friend, Giana's sister.
He is friends with Giana's man."
Lucy remembered her first
surprise in seeing men giving rides to men on motorbikes. In the United States
this would have been looked on as odd, but it was natural here. If a friend
needed a ride, they were given it, male or female. Motorbikes were also much
more common here than in the States.
"He's given me rides,
too," said Lucy. "It's a wonderful bike. Peter will have to get one,
unless he wants to tramp up and down all the time." Paulo smiled, and
burst forth with advice on the perfect motorbike. Signore Crispini smiled, and
asked more about Peter.
Signora Crispini came in with a
dish of pork chops, covered in oil, salt, pepper, vinegar and oregano.
"Braciole alla Siciliana,"
she announced proudly.
"Zia wants you to have a
Sicilian dish. The pork chops are grilled, and then the seasonings added the
second before serving. It is delicious." Lucy smiled, and accepted a pork
chop.
"Who have you met in
town?" asked Signora Crispini of Lucy, as she ate.
"Not too many people, in
truth. I've met you and your family, and the realtor, and Marco de Luca, and
his friends, Giana, Aldo and Luis. And the people at the hotel in Castelmola.
That's really it, apart from the man who showed me around Marco's site, Luigi.
I don't know many surnames."
"You'll learn them. That is
not so bad for only being here a few days. Giana has a sister, Francesca, who
is friendly with Caterina. Giana works making pottery, which she sells all over
the island. Another artist. It is lovely work. She and her friends are charming
people, not like most young people these days. So loud and running about! No,
Giana lives with her family like a good girl, and makes her pots. I shouldn't
be surprised if she marries her young man, Aldo, soon. He's a good man. I'm glad
you've met them, they will make sure you meet pleasant people. You will attend
church on Sunday?"
"I hadn't thought about
it," said Lucy, "but I think I might. My mother is Catholic, and had
us baptized and communicated. I think that I might attend. Is it an interesting
mass?"
"Very," said Paulo,
rolling his eyes. Lucy smiled, and allowed Caterina to take up her dish.
"We end with a splendid
dish," said Signora Crispini. "A crema di caramello.
Delicious." Lucy smiled again. Sicilian food was amazing.
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