Page 16

‘My friend Gina was very good at drawing, and we used to draw together. But I’m interested in Malta’s history as well – actually, the history of the whole world interests me – and I don’t have friends who share this interest. My teacher encourages me, but she also believes I’ll be helping myself more if I do what my parents want rather than fight what life has in store for me.’ She sighed. ‘She does say I should keep up my languages.’

She had moved to lean against the wall by the window, the shaft of light now cutting across her oval-shaped face, lighting one half of it, the other remaining in shadow, like a Caravaggio study. Fancifully he imagined it spoke to her double life – the fact that she held these aspirations but perhaps felt she couldn’t pursue them. The inward dreamer and the outward realist, who knew a life of waitressing and marriage lay ahead. He felt a deep pang of sadness for this bright youngster who dared to wish for a different life, breaking the chains that held her to the old ways.

He realised she was waiting for him to say something and backtracked quickly to her last words.

‘You’ll never regret learning languages, Valentina. But I admire your interest in history. I feel it myself too when I’m reading about the lives of people who lived a long time ago.’

‘The history of the Knights here in Malta is marvellous. Do you know about them?’ she asked.

‘Yes, they came from all over Europe, so Valletta was quite the centre of nations for these pious warriors.’

‘Pious? What does that mean?’

‘It means devout – er, deeply mindful of their spiritual life and obligations.’

‘Religious,’ she said confidently.

‘Good word,’ he said, although hers was a more generalised term than his own; he was once again reminded of how complex and nuanced language could be, and how words in one language might not translate to others. He was increasingly impressed by the teenager. She had everything going for her – intelligence, ambition, beauty – and yet he feared none of it would be enough to give her a shot at anything more than what her family considered appropriate for her.

‘Do you have some friends with whom you can at least talk about the future?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Gina was my closest friend, but she moved to the other side of the island after her family was killed in a bombing raid.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful.’

‘I have Robertu. But he’s very obedient – just tells me to follow the rules. To be honest, it’s hard to have friends when you live underground, or when everyone’s running to the tunnels at the sound of the siren. We all end up in different places, and families don’t like their children being anywhere but where they can see them. I make my mother cross because I don’t behave like the other girls or Robertu. Mama is happy for me to be with Robertu, because he tries to get to the right tunnel where his family will be.’

‘While you’re always running to the most convenient tunnel,’ he said, catching on. ‘Or none at all.’ He caught her eye, and she blushed.

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘I’m always too late, so there’s always strangers staring back at me.’

‘But what about schoolfriends?’

She shrugged. ‘There are the pupils that everyone wants to be friends with…’ Her mouth twisted.

‘And then there’s people like you and myself, who are loners, right?’ He gave a wry smile.

‘Loners?’

‘Someone who is quite comfortable being alone, in their own thoughts, their own company. That’s me.’ He grinned. ‘I realise that sounds very selfish. But while I used to enjoy dancing, I’m no longer very good at it, you see, so I don’t need a lot of friends.’

She laughed, and he was pleased she’d understood.

‘Then I am a loner too,’ she said, seeming to like the word. ‘I am happy in my private thoughts.’

‘No boys interest you?’

She gave a snort. ‘They’re all so childish, or just not interested in the things I am.’

He chuckled; he remembered feeling like girls were another species at that age. ‘Later they will be. Boys need time to grow up. Then I suspect you’ll find them extremely interesting.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Are you married?’

He wasn’t ready for the question. It was perfectly reasonable, but she was staring at him and he felt immediately awkward. ‘Er, yes, I am.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Her name is Delia.’