‘I say, old chap! There’s a window full of teapots! I might buy a new one — to replace the one I smashed this morning!’ Without looking to the left or the right, Tobias drifted across the road. A small cream Fiat swerved to miss him, skittled a rubbish bin and drove on. Tobias didn’t flinch. He hadn’t noticed a thing.
Freja and Finnegan waited until the road was clear, then crossed over.
‘Look!’ shouted Tobias. ‘I LOVE that pink teapot. The one with white polka dots.’
Freja giggled.
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ said Tobias. ‘I do normally like a teapot to be shaped like something fun — a turkey, a telephone, a caravan. But this one, well, I find it strangely appealing. Soothing. Shall we go in and buy it?’ And without waiting for Freja’s answer, he ducked inside the little shop.
While Tobias clattered amongst the teapots, Finnegan trotted about, licking a rolling pin here, a mixing bowl there, until his tongue got caught in a whisk.
‘Ooow!’ He threw back his head to howl, which made the whisk pinch even harder. ‘Ow-ow-ow-ooooow!’
Freja dashed to his aid. She pulled the whisk free and hugged the hound until he stopped shaking. When she looked up, Vivi was standing by her side.
‘Ciao! Ciao!’ Vivi leaned forward and kissed the girl on each cheek. ‘How good it is to see you! But where is Signore Appleby?’
‘Over there,’ said Freja, pointing towards the window display. ‘He’s getting a teapot.’
Vivi nodded.
‘A pink one,’ said Freja, slowly and deliberately, ‘with white polka dots.’
‘Aaah,’ said Vivi, a smile twitching around the corners of her eyes and mouth. She shifted her shopping basket from one hand to the other. It was overflowing with small pink bowls and pale green glasses.
‘Your shopping matches your clothes!’ said Freja.
Vivi curtseyed, then danced in a little circle to show off her outfit — her pink mohair sweater, her pale green skirt and her pink high-heeled shoes.
‘You look wonderful,’ whispered Freja. ‘Like fairy floss and spearmint.’
‘Like cherry blossoms and green tea,’ sighed Tobias, his head poking through a shelf full of pots and pans.
Freja looked from Vivi to Tobias and back again.
Vivi gasped. ‘Signore Appleby! You have pink lipstick on your cheek!’ She frowned. ‘And you have red lipstick on your other cheek!’
Tobias blushed. ‘It’s not what it looks like!’
‘It looks like you were caught in the middle of a greeting between two friends,’ said Vivi.
‘Oh!’ cried Tobias. ‘Then it is what it looks like!’ He leaned against the shelf and three saucepans clattered to the floor.
Vivi smiled, her raspberry-gelato lips stretching the full width of her face. Her chocolate eyes were soft and warm like ganache, and her liquorice-thick lashes seemed to flutter a little faster than usual.
Tobias stepped out from behind the shelving. He cradled a teapot in both hands, like a child protecting a precious kitten.
‘That is a very pretty teapot,’ said Vivi.
‘Yes,’ sighed Tobias. ‘It’s delightful! Pink with white polka dots. I simply must have it . . . although I don’t know why . . .’
‘Really?’ asked Freja. ‘You really don’t know why?’
Tobias shrugged.
Finnegan flopped to the floor and rested his chin on his paws.
Vivi threw back her head and laughed.
After an awkward pause, during which there was a great deal of sighing (Tobias), eyelash fluttering (Vivi) and loud, lusty yawning (Finnegan), Freja suggested they pay for their goods and carry on searching for the perfect hill.
‘You need a hill?’ asked Vivi as they stepped back out into the street. ‘The Spanish Steps are not so far away.’
‘Oh no!’ cried Freja. ‘If we tumbled down there, we’d hurt ourselves dreadfully.’
Vivi frowned. ‘But why are you tumbling?’
‘Cheese wheels,’ said Tobias, as if that explained everything.
‘I do not know this game called Cheese Wheels,’ said Vivi. ‘You need somewhere soft? With grass?’
Freja and Tobias nodded.
Vivi stopped walking and pointed back behind them. ‘Gianicolo! The English call it Janiculum Hill. It’s on the other side of the Tiber River, not so far from the Vatican. There’s a steep slope covered in thick green grass. No prickles. No rocks. Just clumps of trees and bushes here and there.’
‘Brilliant!’ cheered Tobias. ‘We’ll take the motorcycle for a spin.’
‘Come with us, Vivi!’ suggested Freja.
Tobias blushed. He tugged at his left ear. He shuffled his feet. ‘Jolly good idea. Come along. We’ll make an outing of it. We can pack a picnic, bring my new teapot.’
‘I would like that very much,’ said Vivi, ‘but, sadly, I must work today. My café awaits, and my mamma and papà cannot be left to do everything on their own. I am not free until Friday.’
‘Friday it is then!’ cried Tobias. ‘Couldn’t have picked a better day myself.’ He grinned and leaned back against a Vespa. It was the first of a long row of motor scooters parked at the edge of the street.
‘Tobias!’ gasped Freja, but it was too late. The Vespa toppled sideways against the next scooter, which then toppled against the next, going on and on until all twenty-seven motor scooters were lying on their sides.
Vivi’s eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead.
‘Friday then,’ sang Tobias. He waved up at her from where he lay strewn over a Vespa, his new teapot now scattered in little pieces at his side.
‘Friday,’ Vivi replied, her voice high and shaky. She bit her lip, turned on her heel and disappeared down the nearest alley. Her laughter, however, lingered in the air long after she was gone.
On returning to their apartment, Tobias settled down at the kitchen table. He pulled the spout and the handle of the teapot out of one pocket, then a dozen shards of pink-and-white china from the other. Placing them all on the table, he began to sort them and glue them back together. Finnegan sat in the chair beside him, eating a jar of jam.
Freja wandered into the living room and picked up one of the postcards she’d bought yesterday. It was a photo of the Spanish Steps and bore the words ‘Greetings from Rome’.
‘Greetings from Rome,’ muttered Freja. ‘I’ve sent so many greetings from Rome and haven’t had a word in reply. Oh, Clementine! What’s happening?’
Freja grabbed a pencil and forced herself to write another short but cheerful message on the back of the postcard to her mother. She stuck on a stamp, propped the card on the windowsill and looked about for a distraction. Something to shoo away the tears that were loitering in the corners of her eyes.
Freja flicked through the papers on Tobias’ desk. She realised that she had, in fact, read all of his current research. Even the book on cheese-making at high altitudes and the pamphlet on training goats. She swelled with pride as she realised how much she had learnt in the last few weeks — about frostbite, thermal underwear, altitude sickness, broken bones, knots, bandages, Swiss chocolate, eagle eyries . . . The list went on and on. She’d even learnt how to use a pair of bootlaces as a weapon!
But then her eyes fell on something she had not yet read — Rome’s Reward, the book that had brought them to Rome in the first place! She snuggled down on the sofa, pressed back the cover and began to read.
By the end of the first chapter, she was hooked. All thoughts of Clementine were pushed aside and she read greedily onward. She was fascinated to learn that many of the buildings in Rome were connected by underground passageways. Some of the tunnels were subterranean quarries from which the early Romans had dug stone to build their city. Others were the remains of ancient streets and buildings that had crumbled and been built over as the centuries passed. Tunnels connected churches, mansions, dungeons, wine cellars and secret treasure troves. Many had collapsed or been closed in. Others had been forgotten altogether.
Freja wondered if she might find a tunnel beneath their courtyard. She giggled. ‘I could sneak underground to Trattoria Famiglia! Imagine Enzo’s surprise when I popped up, unannounced, from his wine cellar!’
She read on, gasping in delight when twin sisters Bianca and Antonia Silvestro discovered a tunnel connecting their parents’ home to the bowels of the Vatican Museums. Her eyes grew wide as she read of the daring haul of giant rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds that they stole. And she laughed with glee at the sheer simplicity — but the incredible brilliance — of their plan to conceal the jewels when every policeman in Rome was trying to recover them.
‘Tobias! Tobias!’ She ran into the kitchen, waving the novel in the air. ‘Best book ever! I love it. How terribly clever. I’m up to the part where Bianca and Antonia have glued the jewels to the saddles and reins of the wooden horses on the merry-go-round. It’s ingenious! Everyone will think they’re bits of coloured glass, won’t they? Nobody will dream that the jewels are real. The merry-go-round is right in the middle of Rome! The police will be walking by all day long. Mammas and nonnas will be staring at the horses. Children will be riding them and touching the jewels! Actually touching the jewels! And yet nobody will suspect a thing. Oh, I do want to read on and find out what happens next, but the story is so delicious, I don’t want to finish it too soon. It’s like trying to make your raspberry gelato last a little bit longer!’
Tobias looked up from his reassembled teapot. ‘Did you say “raspberry gelato”, old chap? Good idea!’ He flung his arms wide with excitement and swept the teapot to the floor.
Crash!
He pushed back his chair and shrugged. ‘Oh well. No use crying over spilt milk. Or broken china. I dare say raspberry gelato will make us all feel a lot better.’
And he charged out of the apartment at such speed that Freja and Finnegan had to run to catch up.