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‘Ragno already told me that.’ Alicia shrugged again. ‘They go there to play cards.’
But then she recalled the slightly sarcastic edge to his voice when he had said that, and the accompanying roll of his navy eyes.
Alicia turned to Beatrice. ‘What does it mean to give away honey?’
‘I don’t actually know,’ Beatrice admitted.
‘Ah, so therearesome things that the genius doesn’t know!’
‘Shh...’ Beatrice warned, for Sister Angelique seemed to be beckoning them to come into the office.
But as they duly stood and stepped forward, the nun put a hand up to stop Alicia. The signal was clear—Alicia was to remain outside.
She sat on the bench, trying to rack her brains as to what she might have done now! It had been weeks ago that Dante had handed her that bag from his mother, and she hadn’t been down by the river, nor lied to any tourists of late.
Whatever it was must be terrible, though, for the door opened and Beatrice came out, her face pale, her eyes wide. Gosh, it must have been a terribly big lie she’d told, as all Beatrice did was shake her head and mouth the wordno.
And now Sister Angelique was pointing for Alicia to come in and see Reverend Mother...
Not a minute later Alicia shouted the very word that Beatrice had mouthed.
‘No!’
She was urgent as she raved on.
‘Reverend Mother, you can’t split us up. No, no,no. Beatrice would never agree.’
Reverend Mother sighed at the perpetual drama of Alicia.
‘You can’t separate twins,’ Alicia pleaded. ‘It’s not right, it’s cru—’
She was halted.
‘Alicia, you are to stop this nonsense,’ Reverend Mother warned. ‘You don’t even share the same birthday. This is an incredible opportunity for Beatrice—a full scholarship in Milan!’
‘It’s so far away that it’s almost Switzerland.’
‘Alicia, you stand here weeping, saying that you love Beatrice,’ Reverend Mother said reasonably.
‘Ido.’
‘So surely you want what’s best for her?’
Of course she did. But the absolute truth was that Alicia thoughtshewas what was best for Beatrice. Everybody considered Beatrice cold. She had heard the nuns say that her emotions had been cut with the umbilical cord, and even that she—Alicia—must have got Beatrice’s share. Yet Alicia knew otherwise. Each year in September, when the festival came to town, poor Beatrice would climb out of the window at night and go looking for her mother. And in the weeks afterwards, when the festival had long gone, she would cry herself to sleep and then wake screaming after the most dreadful nightmares.
Alicia’s answer came from the heart. ‘She needs me.’
‘Are you sure it’s not the other way around?’ Reverend Mother checked, planting a little seed of doubt. ‘Alicia, Beatrice is very gifted...’
It was true. Another thing that set them apart was the fact that Alicia struggled to read, let alone write, whereas Beatrice always had her head in books. She excelled in French and was intently studying Latin.
‘There is a reason I have told you separately,’ Reverend Mother explained gravely. ‘Your reaction to this outstanding offer for Beatrice matters very much. If you carry on like this—crying and sobbing—then she won’t go. Is that really what you want?’
Alicia was the silent one now, as Reverend Mother watered that little seed and watched it sprout.
‘Beatrice has a real opportunity to further herself. Would you prefer her future to be working in the shop on the grounds, selling our produce? Or in the nursery when we have a baby arrive? Perhaps she could get a job one of the village cafés...’
‘She could get a job in town!’ Alicia shivered. ‘In the library. She loves it there!’
