Free The Girl With the Painted Face by Gabrielle Kimm Page A

‘Signore?’

‘Ahem,’ the man says. ‘I need to ascertain that everything is set and ready to begin at the time we specified.’

‘Indeed it is, signore. Only the last few bits and pieces to place in position, and then all we have to do is to put on our costumes and masks.’

‘Beppe! Beppe!’

Everyone starts as Agostino hurries out onto the stage and, crouching at the front edge, bends down towards Beppe. ‘Beppe, caro , we have a problem!’

‘What? What’s the matter?’

‘Signore,’ says the white-haired servant. ‘If there is a problem, may I be of any assistance?’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Signor… Signor…?’

‘Guarniero, signore – Franco Guarniero.’

‘Signor Guarniero,’ Agostino repeats politely. ‘Thank you, you are most kind, signore. We have… er… a slight issue with a costume, and are in urgent need of some strips of buckram with which to repair it. Do you know of anywhere in the vicinity we might be able to find some?’

Guarniero frowns for a second, then says, ‘Yes indeed. I will send one of the servants straight away. There is a row of little covered shops along the far side wall of the cathedral. One of them I know sells silks and linens and threads – and I hope very much that they will have the buckram you require.’

‘That’s marvellous! I think though that we should perhaps make the trip ourselves, signore, to be sure the stuff is exactly what we need. Is the place hard to find?’ Agostino says.

‘Not in the least. If you are quite certain you wish to go yourselves…’

Agostino assures him that this is the case.

‘… then I shall take you to the door in person, and point you in the right direction. It is very close, and you simply cannot miss it.’

Agostino beams at him, then turns to Beppe. ‘Beppe, caro , will you go, and take Sofia with you?’

‘Of course. What’s the problem – what do we need the buckram for?’

‘So silly – Giovanni Battista’s belly padding is about to fall to pieces. It was just holding together, but pulling it out of the box just now, I fear its hours are numbered. It would be too dreadful if it collapsed during the performance. We’re just going to need a few yards of those stiffened buckram strips to give it a bit of solidity. Sofia, if we find some, will you be able to mend the thing for us in time?’

Together, Beppe and Sofia reassure Agostino that both the trip and the mend can easily be accomplished and he hands them a little drawstring purse filled with clinking coins. They follow the still-anxious-looking Guarniero down through the castello to one of the four main entrances, from where he explains the route, leaning out into the snow, pointing towards the cathedral and jabbing a finger around to the left as he details the directions.
     
    It is a matter of a moment’s walk from the Castello Estense to the great cathedral, whose façade today is shrouded in white. Walking quickly, hand in hand, with snow crunching underfoot at each step, Beppe and Sofia round the front of the cathedral and turn left, where, along the long side wall there is, as Signor Guarniero described, a row of tiny shops, nestling under the sheltering bulk of the massive church.

The first shop proves to be a purveyor of leather goods: belts and shoes, jerkins and boots, scabbards, purses and bags. The second sells glass. The third is empty; the door is ajar and the interior of the little room, when Beppe and Sofia tentatively push it open and peer inside, is dank and musty-smelling. A dirty flurry of snow has swept in from outside and scattered across the first few feet of floor. The fourth shop, however, is lantern-lit and glows in jewelled colours.

Sofia’s mouth opens in astonishment as they push open the door and step inside.

The room is tiny – perhaps no more than twelve feet square – but despite its size, dozens of bolts of silks and velvets, lawns and damasks and cypress-gauzes of all colours have been stacked