The Girl With the Painted Face (15 page)

‘Shouldn’t it be me, Ago?’ Lidia says. ‘As the presiding Colombina?’

‘Of course it should, yes, and you’d do it beautifully,
cara
, but you’re going to have other things to do. I’d like you to concentrate straight away on working up this new character, with me. There’s a lot to learn. Once you’re confident, and once Sofia has made a start, then we can begin rehearsing new material. Now…’ Agostino frowns as he considers. ‘We need to carry on performing in the meantime. So, Lidia, if you would continue with Colombina, while Sofia starts to learn what she needs to know, and then we’ll try Sofia out after a week or so here in Malalbergo and then in San Giorgio; and Sofia, my dear, you will be properly ready when we do the big show at the Castello della Franceschina. One of our first truly
prestigious
venues. And that in itself is wonderful indeed – with more venues like Franceschina, we stand a chance of being perceived as being as successful as the Gelosi.’

Beppe is fighting to keep his face impassive, determined not to look too pleased. A knowing smirk is already spreading across Vico’s face which he has no wish to encourage. ‘Of course I’ll teach her, Ago,’ he says, deliberately ignoring his friend’s unspoken taunt.

Sofia and Lidia prepare the evening meal together. Sofia’s head is spinning, and she struggles to maintain her conversation with Lidia as the two of them sit on the wagon steps, peeling vegetables on flat wooden platters balanced on their knees.

‘The first performance you’ll be involved in will probably be in the main piazza in Malalbergo,’ Lidia says, flipping chunks of peeled and chopped turnip into a pot of water and rummaging for another in a bag at her feet. ‘We perform there every year about this time. It’s always towards the end of the season. Not too many people – just right for your first show. And the audiences have always been very friendly and enthusiastic in Malalbergo. They’ll love you.’

Sofia’s thoughts begin to jostle. What will Beppe need to teach her? How long will it take? Will she be ready in time? How difficult is it going to be to stand on a stage and remember everything she will have to remember? She has never learned to read – will this prove to be a stumbling block? Will she be the only one who can’t? The questions tumble over themselves in her mind until she feels quite breathless.

‘Will you be happy for… for Beppe to be teaching you?’ Lidia asks, looking sideways at Sofia. ‘You couldn’t have a better instructor. He’s good.’

A traitorous flush of colour rises in Sofia’s face. Hoping Lidia has not noticed, she nods.

Lidia smiles. Raising an eyebrow, she says quietly, ‘Vico says Beppe keeps mentioning you all the time, when the two of them rehearse together.’

‘Me?’ Her face prickling, Sofia drops the carrot she was about to begin chopping. ‘Mentioning me? What has he said?’

‘Nothing particular, Vico says. Just your name comes into what he says more often than not.’

Picking up the fallen carrot, and brushing the dust off it, Sofia starts slicing.

‘He’s been on his own a long time, Beppe has,’ Lidia says in a voice softened with affection. ‘It really is ages since I saw him with a girl.’

The prickling behind Sofia’s face intensifies. ‘Has he ever…?’

‘He was very much in love once, bless him, three or four years ago, with a girl from another troupe, but it didn’t last long. I don’t remember why. Don’t remember her name, even. She wasn’t good enough for him, in my opinion. I remember thinking that at the time.’

‘And nothing since then?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

Sofia tilts the wooden platter towards the pot and knife-scrapes the slices of carrot into the pot with Lidia’s turnips.

‘But… keep an eye out for Angelo,’ Lidia says quietly. ‘Just a bit of a warning.’

‘Angelo? What do you mean?’

‘Well, he’s got his eye on you, hasn’t he? And he and Beppe don’t care for each other very much. They never have.’

‘Got his eye on me?’

Lidia puffs out her amusement. ‘God, yes. With his looks, he’s bound to have an eye on any pretty girl that comes his way, isn’t he? But I reckon he is a mite more partial to you than he was bargaining on being.’

Not liking the idea of this at all, Sofia says, ‘Why do Angelo and Beppe not like each other?’

‘Do you know, I’m not sure. I think they knew each other when they were young – but neither of them has ever spoken to any of us about it. Beppe has dropped hints on occasions, but never given any details. There’s always a sort of crackling tension in the air between them, though – like a pair of bloody dogs with their hackles up.’

‘I’d noticed.’

‘Hard to miss it, to be honest.’

Lidia stands up, puts the wooden platter down on the step where she has been sitting, and crosses to where a small barrel, about the size of a melon, has been placed near the brazier. ‘Beans,’ she says, levering the lid off, drawing out a double handful and lifting them to her nose before she tips them into the pot with the vegetables. ‘They’ll take a couple of hours in the pot to soften, but they’ll fill your belly nicely.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘They’ll make Vico fart, too, but every pleasure has its price, I suppose.’

Sofia giggles.

Late the next morning, Beppe climbs out of the smallest wagon and suggests to Sofia that they make a start on her instruction. ‘We can go over to that flat place over by the trees, look, where the grass is greener,’ he says, pointing. They walk together to the little clearing, Ippo the dog trotting behind them. Sunlight is filtering through the leaf canopy overhead; it lies in dapples on the grass and, as they reach the far side of the clearing, some small creature skitters in the undergrowth, rustling away from them through the leaf litter. A fallen tree offers a suitable seat, and Sofia sits herself down upon it; the dog curls nose to tail at her feet, one eye on Beppe. Beppe, meanwhile, flips up onto his hands and turns a series of cartwheels around the clearing, over and over, around the perimeter of the flat space. The grass under his palms is cool and slightly damp and the ground is springy. Back once more on his feet, he stands in front of Sofia.

‘Right – come on. Up you get! You need to stretch your limbs before we start.’ As he speaks, a flood of unexpected images pours into his mind; he tries to ignore them, wishing he had expressed himself in other terms – the thought of Sofia’s limbs being ‘stretched’ is quickly threatening to distract him from his task. He swallows, and puffs out a short breath, fighting not to show his discomposure.

Sofia stands up and faces Beppe. ‘You’re not going to ask me to stand on my hands, are you?’ she says.

‘Would you not like to try?’

Sofia laughs. ‘No I wouldn’t! And I have a very good excuse, don’t I?’ She holds up the bandaged hand and waggles the fingers at Beppe.

‘Don’t worry, I shan’t ask you to do anything you won’t be able to do easily.’ He pauses. ‘But you do need to loosen up. Like this, look.’ He hunches and rolls his shoulders, and tilts his head from side to side.

Sofia tries to imitate him, realizing as she does so that Beppe’s fluid, easy movements are not going to be easy to copy. His head and neck and arms seem to move effortlessly, bonelessly, gracefully – she feels awkward and wooden in comparison.

But Beppe is smiling. ‘Just right,’ he says. ‘And now, like this.’ He lifts one leg and hugs his knee, then changes legs and hugs the other. Sofia does the same, wobbling wildly on her one foot each time.

Beppe shakes out his arms from shoulders to fingers, the way a wet dog will shake from tip to tail, and his rolled sleeves come loose and fall down over his wrists. ‘Now,’ he says, re-rolling them, ‘before we start, I’ll tell you something about Colombina. Some of it you’ll know, from having watched Lidia, but there are things you need to understand in a particular way to be able to play the character properly. Does that make sense?’

‘I think so.’

Beppe says, ‘First of all, you need to imagine Columbina as an animal. What sort of animal do you think she might be?’

‘Erm…’ Sofia’s face flames again as she flounders in ignorance.

Beppe waits. Then he says, ‘Think about the name: Colombina.’ He pauses. When Sofia did not reply, he says, ‘She’s usually seen as a dove – a little dove.’

‘Oh. Yes, I see. That would make sense.’

‘Arlecchino, on the other hand, is most often a cat or a monkey, or sometimes a fox.’

‘What, you actually play those animals on stage? I haven’t seen —’

‘No, not that. It’s just that you want to… to have them in your mind as you play the character, so you get a feel for the movements and the way they think.’

Sofia nods, picturing Beppe’s febrile on-stage agility, hoping that she is going to be able to remember everything he is telling her.

He says, ‘Colombina is gentle and sweet, like a dove – but she’s much more than that. She’s probably the only person in all the
commedia
casts who has nothing wrong with her. She’s clever and canny and pretty, and good with money. She
is
a bit of a flirt – she flirts with most of the men in all the plays, in fact, but she never really does anything about it. She’s only ever in love with… Arlecchino.’

Sofia’s mouth opens a little and she stares at him. They watch each other for several seconds; then, without taking his eyes from hers, Beppe shrugs and adds, ‘Mind you, she might be in love with him, but Colombina does think Arlecchino’s a bit of an idiot, and very annoying.’

‘Why? Why does she think that? Is he?’

‘What, annoying?’ Beppe grins. ‘Oh yes – he really is the fool that Colombina thinks he is, but somehow he always seems to win through, however many scrapes he gets himself into. Perhaps it’s because he’s so nimble; that why he thinks he’s cleverer than he is.’

Sofia finds that she cannot take her eyes from Beppe, who seems never to be still. Though his gaze remains fixed upon her face, his hands are constantly sketching out in vivid gestures the things he describes, and, more than this, it seems to her that he is somehow lighter on his feet than he ought to be – as though, in fact, he is all but weightless.

‘You’ll need to get how she stands and walks just right before you can think about saying her lines. Come and stand here with me, look, and I’ll show you.’

Tilting forward a little from his hips, Beppe bends one knee and extends the other foot forwards, toe pointed, like a dancer. ‘There – try it. See if you can stand like a real Colombina.’

Sofia comes to stand next to him. Looking sideways at him, she tries to copy his stance. As she points the toe of her leading foot, though, she stumbles, then rights herself awkwardly, her face hot.

‘Don’t worry. Try it again. I’ll hold you, look.’

He moves to stand close behind her and puts one hand lightly on each of her hips, fingers forward, thumbs behind. Sofia holds her breath for a moment, feeling her heartbeat quicken. He presses down with his fingers and up with his thumbs, and that pressure suddenly makes it clear to her just how she should bend; she tilts forward a fraction as she has seen Lidia do.

‘Perfect,’ Beppe says, letting go of her and coming round to stand in front of her. ‘Just perfect. Now point that front toe and you have it exactly.’

Sofia now wishes she had not succeeded so quickly – she liked the feeling of Beppe’s hands on her – but she does as he says, and this time feels secure in the stance.

‘Now, watch me walk like Colombina; watch me and copy me.’ Beppe walks across the little clearing, head held high, arms out in a curve in front of him as though he is carrying an invisible basket, pointing his toes on each step. Sofia tries to imitate him, expecting to stumble again, but it is easier than she feared.

‘Just right,’ Beppe says. ‘Well done. You’ll have to keep practising that, until it’s as easy for you as the way you walk normally.’

Sofia walks twice around the little clearing with Colombina’s dainty steps, then stops in front of Beppe, holds her skirts out sideways, and bobs a curtsy. ‘She’s much neater than I am,’ she says. ‘I feel quite different when I’m walking like that. As though I’m someone else entirely.’

‘Good. That’s just how it should be,’ he says. ‘And it’ll get easier and easier. Practise every day. We can practise together. But for now we should do some work as well on how Colombina speaks to Arlecchino. She loves him, like I said, but, most of the time, she really does think he’s a bloody nuisance.’ He pauses, then runs his fingers up into his hair, elbows out wide. ‘And he
is
a nuisance. I suppose he’s just
less
annoying to her than all the others, though, in the end. And that’s why she loves him.’

Sofia watches him, entranced.

‘Let’s try something together – a conversation. A typical conversation between Colombina and Arlecchino – the sort of thing that crops up quite often in the different scenarios. Why don’t we sit back down over there on the tree, look, and see if you can follow what I start?’

Beppe takes Sofia’s hand and leads her back to the fallen tree. Trying not to let him see how very much she is enjoying the sensation of his touch, Sofia sits down next to him. As they sit, the dog lifts its head, its tail scuffing the grass. Glancing down at it, Beppe fondles its ears and the tail thumps more quickly.

‘Now,’ Beppe says, turning to face Sofia and sitting himself cross-legged on the tree-trunk. ‘Colombina often wants to know if Arlecchino really loves her.’

Sofia fiddles a thumbnail between her front teeth. She looks at Beppe’s mouth and then back to his eyes, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his words.

Beppe says, ‘She’s going to ask him if he does, and he will answer by declaring just how much. Colombina will try to match it, Arlecchino will go one better and they’ll pile up their declarations, one on the other like a mountain of sweetmeats.’ He builds the pile in mid-air as he speaks.

Sucking in a breath, Sofia stares at Beppe’s hands.

‘So you need to start it off. Go on: ask me whether or not I love you.’

Her skin prickling with self-consciousness, Sofia says in a small voice, ‘Er… do you? Do you… love me?’