آلِگرا یک

CHAPTER ONE

Allegra One

I met Allegra one night in April twelve years ago. I was sixteen years old and she was only five.

I remember that it rained a lot that night and we arrived late at the house. We were driving along a dark road when my mother saw a sign, which said in big letters: Villa Henderson - Bed and Breakfast.

‘It’s in English,’ my mother said. She was surprised because we were on holiday in Italy.

My father turned right and drove along an old road. When we arrived, we saw a big villa with tall black trees around it. There was a light in one of the windows, and on the wall above the door were the words Villa Henderson.

My father knocked at the door and a small woman opened it. She was about sixty and wore strange clothes,

‘Are you English,’ my father asked.

‘Yes, I am,’ she answered in a quiet voice,

‘We’re looking for rooms for the night. Can we stay here?’

‘Please come in.’

We went into a long, comfortable room. There was a bright fire in the old fire-place, which gave a beautiful, warm light.

‘The weather is very bad,’ said the woman, ‘It’s cold for April. I’ll make some tea for you.’

When she went out, we looked around the room. There were lots of English Tables and chairs in dark wood, and the walls and floor were of stone. There were two big armchairs in front of the fire and a large black dog was sleeping in one of them.

‘I like this room,’ said my mother, ‘It looks comfortable, but it’s beautiful too.’

Just then the woman returned with the tea. Behind her came a woman in a long black dress.

‘My name is Margaret Henderson,’ said the old woman, ‘and this is my daughter Chiara. She has a daughter too, so I’m a grandmother.’

‘My daughter is in bed,’ smiled Chiara.

She was a tall woman, with long, fair hair and blue eyes. She was perhaps about thirty-five.

‘Have you come far today,’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ my father replied, ‘We’re very tired.’

‘Your rooms are ready for you. I’ll take you up when you’ve had your tea.’

So, after tea, we went up some stairs and followed Chiara along a corridor. She stopped at a door and told my parents that it was their room. Then she looked at me.

‘Your room is round the corner. Come this way, please.’

We turned right and walked along another corridor. My room was at the end.

‘Good night and sleep well,’ said Chiara with a smile. But I didn’t sleep well.

I locked the door and after five minutes I was in bed. The house was silent, but I could hear the rain on the window and the strong wind in the trees outside. I slept a little, woke up, then slept again. And then I woke up suddenly. The window shutters were making a loud noise against the wall, I could see that the window was open because the long white curtains were moving in the wind. I got up and closed both the shutters and the window. Now the room was very dark, so I walked with my hands out in front of me, to try and find the light on the table by the bed, My left hand touched the table - and then something took hold of my right arm.

It was a cold little hand. The hair on my neck stood up and my legs began to shake.

‘Who is it,’ I cried.

At the same time I found the light on the table and turned it on. A little girl in a long white nightdress stood in front of me near the bed. She was looking at me with big eyes, as blue as an Italian sky in summer. Her blond hair was as bright as sunlight round her pale face.

‘What a beautiful child,’ I thought.

‘Hallo. My name’s Allegra,’ she said.

Her voice was soft and sweet and she spoke English beautifully, But she couldn’t say the letter ‘r’.

‘Did you come in through the window,’ I asked.

But she answered me with a question. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Adrian?

‘I’m five years and three months old,’ she said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Sixteen. How did you get in here?’

‘Don’t be angry with me, Adrian,’ she said.

‘I’m not angry with you. Don’t cry. Tell me your name again?

‘Allegra. It means happy in Italian.’

‘What are you doing here, Allegra? What do you want?’

‘Will you take me to my Mama,’ she asked suddenly.

I looked at her in surprise. ‘But you know where your mother is,’ I said.

‘Yes, but she’s a long way from here.’

‘No, she isn’t, Allegra. She’s in this house.’

‘I want to see Mama, Will you take me, please?’

‘No, Allegra. She’ll be angry with you because you aren’t in bed.’

‘Oh no, Mama was never angry with me,’ she said with a little smile. ‘But sometimes Papa was angry and I was afraid of him.’

For a while I didn’t speak, and I just looked at her. Why did she say ‘was’ and not ‘is’ when she spoke about her parents? She was a very strange little girl.

‘You must go back to bed now, Allegra,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to take you to your mother.’

She looked at me, and now her blue eyes were sad.

‘Will you take me to Mama tomorrow then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ she cried happily.

‘Now, where is your room?’

‘It’s next to this one.’

‘Okay, let’s go.’

And I took her hand, her cold little hand. Just then the window opened again and the wind and rain came in. I went to the window to close it but the curtains flew up in my face and I couldn’t see anything. I closed the window. And when I turned round, Allegra wasn’t there.

For a minute I just stood still. Then I unlocked my door and went along the corridor. There was a door on the left. I opened it slowly. The room was dark but I could see that it was a child’s room. Somebody was sleeping in a bed near the window.

‘Good,’ I thought. ‘She’s in bed now.’ And I closed the door.

Next morning, after breakfast, we went into the garden.

There were beautiful hills and woods around it. I walked round to the back of the house because I wanted to look at the windows of my room and Allegra’s room. There was a big tree between them near the wall of the house.

‘Perhaps she got out of her window on to the tree, and then got in through my window,’ I thought. But it looked a difficult and dangerous thing to do. Possible for an adult perhaps, but not for a girl of five.

When I went back to the front garden, Allegra’s mother was there. She was talking to my parents.

‘Did your shutters open last night,’ she asked. ‘I heard a noise.’

‘No,’ replied my mother. ‘But we heard a noise too!’

‘It was the shutters in my room,’ I said.

‘Oh I’m sorry,’ said Chiara. ‘those shouters is very old, but I hope you slept well after you closed them!’

‘Shall I tell her,’ I thought. Then I said with a smile. ‘Yes, I slept well, thank you, but only after your daughter visit.’

‘Allegra–’ Chiara was very surprised.

‘Yes, she came to my room, in the middle of the night.’

‘Did she? Well, I know she sometimes walks in her sleep.’

‘But–’ I began. And I stopped. Again I thought: ‘Shall I tell her?’

But I decided not to say that the door was locked. I knew they wouldn’t believe me, and I thought that they would laugh at me. So I just said that Allegra was a beautiful child.

‘Yes, she is,’ Chiara answered. ‘But she isn’t a very happy girl.’

‘Doesn’t her name mean happy in Italian?’

‘Yes, but I’ve never met an Italian child called Allegra.’

‘Why did you call her Allegra,’ my mother asked.

‘I don’t know. The name came to me suddenly. Perhaps I wanted a happy child.’ And Chiara smiled sadly.

Then she turned to the house and called her daughter.

‘Allegra! Come downstairs, please!’

‘I’m coming,’ came a shout from the house.

We heard Allegra on the stairs; then she came out. I looked at her. I looked and looked. But I couldn’t believe my eyes.