Chapter Twenty – The Fountain

She was in the reception area of the Hotel Alfonso. In the dining room next door guests were finishing their meals, Marco waiting at tables. For everyone else on the planet life went on while for her and the boy she loved, everything disintegrated. A clock above reception told us it was 10:20. Tony, behind the desk, leaned on it looking concerned. Shizuku stood before him speaking into a telephone. She ran her fingers through her hair nervously.

"Hello? Hello, Anna-Marie? It's Shizuku. I'm very sorry. Yes it is late, I'm sorry. There has been bad news, its Mr. Nishi back in Japan, he has been taken ill. Very ill. Yes. No. Yes that's right. In a hospital, yes. Yes, we are going right away. Tomorrow. I'm afraid so. But… look, I don't know how to best say this, so I will just say it – can you come? Can you bring your mother? I know she is ill but I'm so afraid. I'm scared that this may be their last chance to meet," tears ran down her face as she spoke, "Yes I know, I know, I'm so sorry. But it has to be tomorrow. Yes, have you a pen? OK. Its Japan Airlines flight JL418 from Milano Linate airport to Tokyo Narita. Yes. It takes off at 9:20 in the evening. Here is the number of the Japan Airlines check-in…" (she gave a number) "Please say you are flying with Mr Amasawa and Miss Tsukishima, you should be able to get seats with us. Well, that's it. No, I'm OK. Really. I hope we see you at the airport? Goodbye."

She put down the phone and stared at it. The tears continued to run. Quietly to herself she said,

"Oh grandpa, please be alright."

She looked up at Tony,

"May I make one more call? This is to Japan. I promise I'll be quick."

Tony merely pushed the phone toward her a little and smiled kindly,

"She-zoo-koo, you use Alfonso telephone as long as you like. I go for coffee."

She watched his vast back disappear through the PRIVATO door. She picked up the phone again, dialled, there was a long wait while across the planet wires sent pulses and computers linked the message request under thousands of miles of sea. A faint ringing, then the phone was picked up at the other end and a familiar voice answered. His voice was so wonderful to hear and she realised for the first time how much in the last three weeks she had missed him.

"Hi, Dad. Hi. It's me. Yes, oh yes, sorry to wake you. What time is it there? OK, well, I'm calling to let you know we'll be coming home a couple of days early. We should be there in the evening the day after tomorrow. No, no. No problem here, it's just that…" and then she was unable to speak any more, the tears that had been flowing silently now choked her and she couldn't make the words come out past them. She eventually managed to continue that conversation, to finish it but it took all the calming influence of the man at the other end to get her there, for her to make sense.

The scene shifted and changed, the shadows faded. The clock hands still showed 10:20. It was the same room, the same view but now it was morning. Bright bands of sunlight lay where before there had been shadow. She stood again before the desk. As usual Tony filled the space behind. She signed a form.

"Signore Tony, grazie, molte grazie."
"She-zoo-koo. It is not Mr. Tony, eh? Just 'Tony', eh?"
"Thank you, Tony. I loved it here. It was a lovely room. I will keep such good memories of staying here. And you are so kind. I will come again."
"Ha! I wait for you. And for you She-zoo-koo, is no problem, eh?"

There was a loud noise and down the stairs clumping and grunting came Marco. He wore his waiter's clothes and he brought down Shizuku's huge bag. He dragged it to the centre of the reception floor. The girl opened her purse, found some money, this time it was paper money, several notes. She gave Marco the tip,

"Marco, grazie. Va bene così?"

Marco looked at the notes in his hand. He looked up at Shizuku, gave her a curt nod and a grunt. He went bright pink and disappeared quickly through the PRIVATO door. Tony burst into laughter.

"Ehi, Marco! Ti vuole bene!" to Shizuku he said, "Hey, he nodded. He likes you!"
"Tony, I must go. Arrivederci!"

Tony, still smiling, came round from behind the desk and opened the door,

"Arrivederci, cara Signorina."

He bowed and she bowed in return.

"In Japan. Is that how you say goodbye?"
"Yes."
"In Italia, we say goodbye like this," he reached for her hand, lifted it and kissed the back of it.
"Goodbye in Italia is better, yes?"
"Oh, Tony, yes, I think it is."
"Be in good care now."

In the courtyard a taxi stood by the horse trough. It was a surprise to Shizuku that it even fitted down the alleyway. Seiji was beside it. He spoke with a distinguished silver haired gentleman. As she came out of the hotel, the boy and the man shook hands. The man made a strange fatherly gesture and laid one hand on Seiji's shoulder, squeezed slightly. Then he walked to the school and went inside. She went up to the taxi,

"Well, here I am. All ready."
"Hi. OK, well, I suppose we'd better go."

The driver squeezed her big bag into the small car. Seiji took one final look at the school, troubled, to himself, he said

"Every time I come to Cremona, I leave a day early."

Something suddenly occurred to Shizuku, something both hopelessly trivial and yet at the same time it was, at this moment, the most important thing in the world. She reached into the taxi, unzipped her pink bag and retrieved her purse. She turned to the driver,

"Tassista, può aspettare quindiciminuti per favore?"
"Si, si non c'è problema."

Seiji watched her,

"What are you doing?"
"Seiji, come with me. It's not far."

She took his hand and led him at a fast walk up the alley,

"Where are we going? There's no time. The taxi."
"The flight isn't 'til this evening. We've all day. This won't take ten minutes, and it's important."
"What? Now?"
"Yes, now."

She led him by the hand from the alley, across a main road, down another street and then cutting through small alleys that were now so familiar that she nodded her good mornings to the lady who swept her steps, she turned up a sloping street of antique shops,

"There's no time for this."
"Ssshh, for this we make time."

They passed Anna-Marie's shop, Seiji thought they might go in but although it was open, Shizuku ignored it and went on, walking faster now. At the top of the hill was the piazza. And the fountain. She led him up to it and stopped. For a few moments they stood, hand in hand, saying nothing. Seiji watched the water gush and gurgle down over the unicorn's head and wash across the fat stone cherubs' little round backs. Despite the tens or hundreds of years the water must have flowed here he could see the freshness with which the little figures were carved, their cute baby faces, at the same time both young in form and ancient in expression. They didn't smile but were so serious, so sad. He knew it was an artistic convention to make the faces serious and the stone masons probably hadn't intended an emotion here but suddenly he felt it. He could feel the stonemason's personality, his intent, his spirit, his heart. Seiji connected at once with what the artisan had thought when he carved those faces, he may well have understood that what he was doing would survive long after his time and would be looked upon by people hundreds of years in the future.

Something powerful came over Seiji as he stood, holding Shizuku's hand and looking at the exquisite stonework of the cherubs' bodies. Something about his purpose touched him and he felt a link to his grandpa, a man who had devoted his life to repairing things he considered of value, things of quality, things that would bring pleasure to people many, many years in the future. In a way the violin making class in grandpa's workshop was the same thing - the old man was carving cherubs. His teaching would be passed to his young pupils and even if just one of the class went on to make just one violin that would be played a hundred, two hundred years from now, then his effort would have been worthwhile. Seiji imagined a concert hall two hundred years after his own death with one of his violins being played and five thousand people transported to a make believe world by the sound. To give that gift to people not yet born, now that was something worth doing. His thoughts turned again to his worries, to the dream that troubled him night after night. The violin making thing was a problem, it had to be resolved one way or the other. He really needed to talk about this. Talk to her, he had to use her as a sounding board. But not right now, this wasn't the time.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how old this fountain is do you?" he asked,
She turned her head and looked at him, "Yes, as it happens I do. I was here the other day looking at it and thought how beautiful it was. So I went to the library and looked up some local history."
"And?"
"Well, this piazza has been here for hundreds of years but it seems the fountain isn't as old as the piazza. According to a local history book it was built in 1667."
"This fountain is over 300 years old?"
"Well, maybe not this one exactly. The figurines in it were last replaced in 1716."
"Aranyi," Seiji spoke the word softly, as though it were a prayer.
"What did you say?"
"Aranyi. It's the namesake of the oldest known Stradivarius in existence. It was made in 1667. He was only twenty-three. The same year someone built this fountain. And 1716 was when he was at the height of his skill, Stradivari produced his finest work here, in this city in the early 1700s. Heh," he chuckled, "for all we know he may even have stood here and listened to this water."
"His violins have names? I never knew that."
"Oh, not when they were made. They are modern names, mostly. Well, modern in that they were given in the last hundred years or so. Usually an instrument is named after an owner or a famous violinist who performed on it. Oistrakh, Cipriani, Arma Senkrah, Auer, Cabriac, Castelbarco, Boissier."

The names rolled off his tongue like an ancient language, beautiful names, beautiful sounds. The Japanese in him meant some of the pronunciation was broken; he had real trouble annunciating some of the sounds and many of the names were mangled and would have sounded funny to an Italian listener, but in his heart the names weren't mangled and that was what counted. Listening to him say the names Shizuku felt almost as though he were playing a violin itself.

"You know all the names?" she was amazed
"No. Not all of them, but most. And the dates he made them. There are fewer than 700 known Strads in existence now. There were more at the beginning of the century but some were lost in World War One and World War Two. It makes me so angry, war is so ugly and stupid – the exact opposite of a Strad. Hm…well… I'm off again, rambling," he smiled, "Many violin makers and scholars know the names, its part of getting under the skin of the subject."
"That's amazing," she spoke in a hushed tone, she was genuinely awed by his commitment to the subject.

A few moments went by, she could feel the taxi waiting. They had to go - the tide was pulling them - but she didn't want to go.

"Are you afraid?"
"Of grandpa dying?"
"Mm."
"Yes, of course. He's everything to me. I lean on him so hard."
"Well, I understand that. But. Hm, this is hard to say without me sounding rude and insensitive."
"I'm listening."
"How can I say this? Seiji - he won't always be there. You know? If the worst happens you need to move on, you can't be dragged down."
"I know, but you're not me. You don't know what grandpa means to me. Look, there's things I need to tell you but no time for them now. We can talk on the plane I hope."
"Seiji, what I'm saying is... well, I'm here. If grandpa isn't there one day, please use me instead. I'm not very good at encouraging and supporting and I'll probably cry too much but I'll try my best," she looked at him shyly, "As it's you,"
He looked at her, "I understand what you're saying. Thank you. You're very kind. Shizuku, I appreciate you in more ways than you know."
"You say he's everything to you. Well... I want that job."

She squeezed his hand, he squeezed back.

"That's my special squeeze," she said, "I don't do it for just anyone."
"You did one the other night, on the way back from the Museo Stradivariano. I remember."
"We need to go."
"I know."
"But before we do..." she let go of his hand and opened her purse, she gave him a coin, and took one out for herself.
"And this is for...?"
"Make a wish."

She closed her eyes and threw her coin into the fountain. It plopped into the water and sank wobbling down to the bottom where it lay among others thrown in by people before her. Seiji closed his eyes. He rubbed his fingers across the coin. She touched this, it's too precious to throw away. It was a silly thought. There were so many things to wish for right now, but one thing surfaced above all the others. He wanted to wish for grandpa but there was another thing not involving grandpa and he knew grandpa would understand. It was a good thing to wish for, it was right. He threw his coin. He kept his eyes shut and heard it plop into the water. When he opened them his coin had already come to rest and he could no longer tell which one it was.

"What did you wish for?"
He looked at her again, "You know I'm not supposed to tell. It breaks the wish."
"I was just curious," she smiled,
"When it comes true, I'll tell you," he smiled back,
"When? Or if?"
"When."

She reached for his hand again and they turned to go.

In the doorway of the Café Volpi stood Adamo. He had been standing there some minutes watching the Japanese girl and boy. He'd seen them walk up and had been about to come over and greet them when he noticed something about the way they were acting. They were in a closed world, a world where only the two of them existed, a private place. He knew this world, he could tell from how they were behaving that this was a world only for lovers. So he didn't interrupt but merely watched, fascinated as they acted out some unknown but intense cameo before him. He saw them drop coins in the fountain, he'd seen so many couples do just that and it made him smile. When they turned and left he wondered when they'd be back. As it turned out he didn't see them again for a whole year, but they did come back, and he was waiting for them.

Their visit of the following year was brief but it was four years later, when they came again to Cremona, in 1999, and this time they didn't leave. Then, some years again after that was when Seiji brought her by the hand to this fountain and was able to tell her what he had wished for.

And she told him.