City of Stars (41 page)

‘You mean the one with the black curls who was supposed to be such a dish? Most of our year had a crush on him, didn't they? What about him?'

‘Nothing,' said Georgia. ‘I used to see him at orchestra. I really liked him.'

‘Oh,' said Alice surprised. ‘You never said.'

‘Not much point was there?' said Georgia. ‘Nothing to be done about it. I'm never going to see him again.' And she realised it was true. She was going to have to mourn Lucien all over again.

Alice looked really concerned. But at that moment the bell rang for lunch and their chance to talk was over. Students from all years streamed out into the sunshine, glad to catch a last fragment of summer.

‘Does your friend Nicholas look anything like him?' asked Alice unexpectedly. A group of Year 9s was spilling out into the yard. A willowy figure, with curly hair, detached himself from the group and strolled over to where they were sitting on the grassy bank.

Georgia shielded her eyes against the sun and looked up at Nicholas; it was good to see his shadow stretched out behind him on the asphalt.

Luciano was working with Rodolfo and Dethridge in his master's laboratory in Bellezza. Ever since their return from Remora, the Stravaganti had been worried about the consequences of Falco's death. First because of fear of reprisals against them by the Duke. But also because Rodolfo had been convinced that there had been a shift in the gateway that allowed them access to the other world.

After William Dethridge's translation, the world that Luciano had come from had moved much further on in time than sixteenth-century Talia, but the difference had slowed by the time of Luciano's first visit. The gateway had stayed stable for months and then time slewed again when Luciano became stranded in Talia. It was only by a few weeks and the efforts of all three Stravaganti working together had stabilised it again, clawing back those weeks a day at a time, until the dates in the two worlds matched again even though still separated by over four centuries.

But now, with the death of Falco, there had been another lurch in time in the other world. And they were still trying to work out by how much it was ahead of them. Rodolfo kept a mirror trained on Luciano's old bedroom as he had done on the day of Falco's death, when the Duke had seemed to lose his mind. But he discouraged Luciano from looking in it.

The two older Stravaganti had watched while the Talian boy lived a life in sudden changing pictures. If they had ever seen a film in which time was supposed to pass or watched a video on fast forward, they might have compared what they saw to that. As it was they noted Falco's absence and his return with his leg heavily plastered. They saw him gradually grow stronger and do exercises and then one day the plaster was gone and he walked with only one crutch.

They tried to judge the passing seasons by the quality of the light through his window, but sometimes they needed Luciano to interpret what they saw.

‘Whatte is thatte scarlet hose with packages sticking oute of yt?' Dethridge asked him one day.

‘A Christmas stocking,' said Luciano, feeling homesick. They didn't have them in Bellezza and it was still the end of August in Talia.

They tracked Falco through the months of his convalescence and recuperation, the boy unaware that he was watched by old friends. They saw him grow stronger and taller and sometimes they saw Georgia sitting on the bed beside him. They always called Luciano when that happened and he was glad to see her. There was no sound to be heard through the mirror that linked Talia to the other world but he liked to think that sometimes Georgia and Falco were speaking about him.

By the time that Rodolfo heard of the Stellata Straordinaria, through the mirror he had trained on Remora, the other world seemed to have slowed again. He estimated that a year had passed, going by the physical changes in both Georgia and Falco.

‘Shall we go back to Remora for Falco's race?' asked Luciano.

‘No,' said Rodolfo. ‘It's not necessary; Arianna won't be going and there's no need to expose you to meeting the Duke. The di Chimici will all be there, without doubt.'

*

The di Chimici clan were all mustered in the square outside the cathedral, taking their pre-race dinner in the Twins. Their own cities' Twelfths were being neglected in favour of family unity. Duke Niccolò sitting next to his brother the Pope looked out over all his remaining sons and his daughter and his many nieces and nephews.

His plans for their inter-marriage had been well received and he looked forward to a new generation of di Chimici, to a future when his descendants ruled every city-state in Talia, as Prince or Duke. He closed his mind to the thought of the troublesome young Duchessa of Bellezza. He would find a way of dealing with her; it was just a matter of time.

‘Can I come round and see you after school?' asked Nicholas. ‘I want to talk to you about something.'

‘OK,' said Georgia. ‘See you then.'

She remained jumpy all day and it was a relief to get home. The house was empty with a new emptiness that shouted ABSENCE OF RUSSELL! Georgia went up to her room and saw that Russell's door was standing open. She had never seen it like that unless he had been standing in the doorway taunting her.

She pushed the door wider and went in. His bed, chest of drawers and desk were all still there. But his stereo, computer and TV had all gone to Sussex with him and the bed was stripped. And there, in the middle of the bare, ticked mattress, was the winged horse.

No message, no note, just the horse and it was undamaged. Russell must have known she would go into his room to revel in his absence and he must have gone back in to place the talisman there after Ralph and Maura had been in and out with boxes and cases for the last time.

Gingerly, Georgia picked it up. It felt just as it always had, smooth and warm, its wings vulnerable, the fine lines of the last mend just visible at their base. The doorbell rang.

Nicholas stood on the doorstep and Georgia realised with a shock that he was now as tall as her.

‘How are you?' he said. ‘I've been feeling so peculiar all day. I think it's something to do with Remora so I wondered if you felt it too.'

And then he saw what she held in her hand.

The morning of the Stellata di Falco dawned fine and clear. Cesare went through all the rituals he had missed a month before: the jockeys' Mass in the cathedral, the last morning heat, the registering, and then went back to the Ram for a light lunch before the afternoon's demands.

He went out to the stables to calm his nerves and jumped out of his skin. There, in the shadows, stood a slender, tiger-haired girl, wearing a skimpy top and baggy pantaloons that struck a chord of memory.

‘Georgia?' he asked wonderingly.

‘Cesare!' she cried, giving him a big hug. She smelled lovely. ‘You'd better find me something to wear – my old boy's clothes aren't here any more.'

‘I don't think boy's clothes would suit you now,' said Cesare, admiring her new figure. Georgia blushed a bit but punched him on the arm.

‘Wait till you see who's come with me,' she said, grinning. It felt wonderful to be back in Remora. ‘It took us ages to get to sleep – we were so excited about coming back.'

Behind her, a slender boy with black curly hair, wearing the loose outlandish clothes of the other world, stepped forward into the light. Cesare didn't recognise him until Falco greeted him by name.

And then the Remoran made the Hand of Fortune. For this was Falco, an older, taller Falco, walking normally without sticks. The other world must be magical indeed.

‘I'm back,' he said. ‘Tell me what's been going on this last year.'

‘Year?' said Cesare. ‘It's only a month since you left. I can't believe how you've changed! And that you came back today of all days.'

‘Why?' asked Georgia. ‘What's special about today?'

‘There's going to be a special Stellata,' explained Cesare. ‘And I'm riding Arcangelo for the Ram. It's in Falco's honour.'

‘Brilliant!' said Falco.

‘We'll come and watch you,' said Georgia. ‘Only we need clothes.'

Cesare raced into the house to tell Paolo and Teresa the news.

*

In honour of the dead Falco, the Lady's float was draped in black along with the purple and green of the Twelfth. It was pulled by black horses with silver harness and sable plumes. It carried an empty casket with the crest of the Giglian di Chimici – the lily and the perfume bottle – and a portrait painted by a Giglian master. A small orchestra of musicians on the float played a dirge.

The ensigns had black ribbons tied at the top of their flags and all the parade members of the Lady wore black under their green and purple sashes. As the Lady's part of the procession passed each stand, the spectators removed their hats and made the sign of the cross. Weeping was heard, even in the Scales; it was a sad story even if it happened to your enemy.

The great bell of the Papal palace, which always rang its single note throughout the afternoon of the Stellata, now recalled the day it had tolled for Falco a month ago. But however sombre the parade, there was still the excitement of the race to come.

Georgia sat in the Ram's stand with Teresa and the children. She was wearing a red dress of Teresa's and a red and yellow sash of their Twelfth. The dress and her hair attracted admiring glances around her and she felt quite different from the jockey who had won the Stellata over a year ago.

Only it wasn't a year ago here. It was hard to wrench her mind round the thought that she had been away hardly long enough to be missed. For one of those weeks the Montalbani had assumed her to be away in France and, though they had wondered a little about her absence since, they had not really begun to be concerned.

Little had changed in Remora since she had last been here. It seemed as if the city was in perpetual festival mode. And yet this Stellata was hardly a celebration. She scanned the crowds, looking for Falco. He had stayed longer than her in the Ram. They had both been to see all the horses and spent a long time with Merla but Falco was loath to leave her.

Georgia trusted he wasn't going to risk sitting in the Lady's stand or trying to gatecrash the Twins. He might be a year older and stronger and fit in body but he was still recognisably Falco. She hoped he was all right; it was an impressive first stravagation back to his old world. Georgia remembered Luciano saying how difficult it was for him but Falco seemed bright-eyed and full of energy.