Free Patricia and Malise by Susanna Johnston

concerning his desires prevented him from tasting the joys of total delight.
    The boys took it in turn to sit in the back. Windows down and waving. They insisted on stopping outside the village shop where there was always an audience on its doorstep. Then they drove up a long and winding track, but the young passengers soon began to tire for there were no people, on that deserted route, to admire them in Ruggles. They urged Malise to return. It was time for a swim. Malise had, he remembered, packed a pair of bathing trunks in among his bulging bags.
    Back at the barn where his stuff awaited him, Malise instructed Antonio and his friend – ‘Run up the hill boys. Tell Mamma that you have talked me into setting up a camp in her wood tonight. Tell her that you will all, your friend too of course, be welcome to come and sup with me tonight. To partake of a bosky meal.’
    â€˜By the way,’ he asked ‘does your Papa come home today? Just so that I have an idea of how many to provide for.’
    â€˜Papa never comes until Saturdays. He comes only for one or two nights and sometimes only in the day time.’
    It was a Monday.
    â€˜Supper for three then. In the wood on the other side of the stream from your house. Beside an old shed.’
    Off they scampered, bursting with delight, to take the news to Patricia who painted at the stone table.
    Three times Malise walked, each time carrying a heavy load, to the spot he had marked down for his camp – a small stretch of flat terrace beside a collapsing shed.
    He worried as he imagined Antonio breaking the news to his mother and hastened to sort out his belongings. He craved the sight of her in her muslin frock and pink bow.
    He had just dumped his last load, tent included, onto the grass when the boys reappeared. They were ready to swim and Antonio carried a note from his mother. First letter ever from Patricia. His hand trembled as he read the scrawled lines. ‘Antonio tells me that you are to camp here tonight – and that you have invited us to ‘sup’ with you. He was not sure what you meant by ‘sup’ but I guess that you are asking us to eat with you this evening? It is kind of you. Luigi, Antonio’s friend, can’t stop. His mother wants him back. So, the two of us will find your hideaway with no trouble. Early please as I don’t like to keep my boy up late. Andrea will not be back today I fear. Sometimes, though, in Antonio’s holidays, he can be flexible. Later I shall go down to the Posto Publico to find a message from him. Our only form of communication here. Meanwhile I gather you are going to supervise the boys as they swim. It is extremely kind of you.’
    He hid the letter in his sleeping bag. First memento.
    Malise shuddered at the likelihood of Andrea’s flexibility.

 
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    He stood tall, pectorals outstanding, in shallow water as the boys jumped and splashed. It was not deep enough to swim in. There was always a chance that Patricia might, at the very least, come to watch.
    He kept up an act of boyish playfulness – just in case. At one moment the children seemed to tire of paddling. Malise climbed out of the water and bade them watch him stand on his head. He told them to count to see if he was still upside down when they got to a hundred. He was. Just, although mauve in colour. But no Patricia to witness the feat. Not without effort, he kept up his pranks until he heard her summon the boys in for tea – as she called their afternoon snack. No more than her voice. No sight of the pink ribbon. The muslin dress. The body beneath it.
    Malise threw all his strength into preparation. He spread a length of tarpaulin on top of the stretch of flattened grass and balanced a bread board on a handy plank of wood. Setting out several candles in glass jars, he looked about for suitable places in which to place the quantity of spirales he had brought along with him.