The Vatican Rip

No two ways about it. I wandered on in a welter of relief. Even Arcellano would have to accept the obvious.

It was coming up to Easter. I'd never seen so many Easter things in my life. Shop interiors were hung all about with chocolate Easter eggs done in scintillating coloured papers, each egg decorated in a spray effect for all the world like a grenadier's badge.

And windows with a zillion chocolate shapes, chocolate baskets full of tiny eggs and little creatures doing their thing. You couldn't help but be fascinated. I saw one that I don't know to this day how it stayed upright, a giant floating dove cake in creams and puff pastry. Marvellous.

Marvellous, that is, until I saw old Anna struggling in the grip of the proprietor, her hand pointing imploringly at me and screaming blue murder.

'Nephew! Nephew! Enrico! He'll tell you the truth!'

I looked round. The old bat meant me.

Shoppers gathered instantly, volubly joining in and having a whale of a time explaining opinions.

'Are you her nephew?' the proprietor demanded.

'Yes! Yes!' Anna screamed, yelling it was all a misunderstanding which her nephew would account for. 'Enrico! Tell them!' Enrico, for Christ's sake?

'It's your auntie!' people informed me. I was pushed at Anna. Faces were everywhere.

A million voices were raised in tangled explanation as I looked about desperately for escape. And Anna was screeching and pleading, with the weary proprietor accusing Anna of stealing the things in her basket.

'Poor old woman!' people cried.

'Let my nephew explain!' Anna was bawling. She reached over and clutched at me. I could have strangled her.

'Hush! Let the nephew explain!' everybody babbled.

There was no way out. A horde of faces turned expectantly. I drew breath, trapped.

The trouble was, everybody looked so bloody nice and interested. If they hadn't I'd have scarpered in a flash—and I'd have got away, too. Nobody scarpers like Lovejoy Antiques, Inc.

'Yes?' the proprietor demanded.

Italy abhors a silence, so I started. 'I'm so sorry,' I said to the proprietor, casting a loving glance on Anna. There was no doubt in my mind the sinful old devil had half the shop in her basket and, seeing me contentedly sipping coffee, had hit on the notion of using me for cover. 'Yes. I'm her nephew. Hello, Auntie,' I smiled.

'There you are!' everybody exclaimed triumphantly. 'He is her nephew!' They told Anna I was her nephew, after all.

'I've been looking for you, Auntie,' I announced loudly, quickly beginning to get the hang of Rome talk. This was one thing Maria hadn't taught me: use gestures and keep going. If everybody else talks louder, use a few more decibels yourself. The system of alternates used where I came from—saying your bit in turn—is regarded hereabouts as surrender.

'You have?' Anna said, amazed despite herself.

'For two whole days,' I lied, embracing her. 'And here you are!'

'Yes! She is here!' the shoppers chorused.

'My poor auntie,' I bawled into the din, eyes misty, 'has been expecting me for Easter and wanted to give me a present, but she is poor—'

'Ah, how loving!'

'—but,' I thundered, 'proud!'

'Ah! How human!'

I had some of them in tears. The proprietor was glancing exasperatedly about. A strolling policeman across the street was looking across. One more problem I could do without.

'If there's any misunderstanding, I'll pay!' My yell gained instant approval, even scattered applause on the crowd fringes.

'She stole—' the proprietor tried loudly.

'How much?' I bawled louder over the hubbub. 'I'll pay, this very second!'

The place was a riot of chatter. A couple of tearful old ladies and a well-dressed elderly man pressed forward offering bank notes.

'Here! Take this, signor! For the old povera?

'No!' I carolled. 'This lady is my responsibility! My honour demands—'

'Such honesty!'

The proprietor named a sum beyond my resources. Thankful for the racket, I flourished my handful of notes and, howling explanations that my dear old auntie was in any case slightly loony, grandly miscounted out a complicated sequence of notes. Old Anna looked murderous. The pandemonium reached deafening proportions as I wrung the proprietor's hand. Several of the shoppers embraced me tearfully.

I left the shop a hero, with my dear old auntie clinging to my arm. We walked, smiling and reunited, round the corner to a small alley and paused, carefully looking right and left to check we were unobserved. Then she clobbered me on the side of my head, hissing abuse.

'Cretino!' she spat. 'Stopping them from giving us money—'

All for equality, I clocked her back hard enough to glaze her eyes. She leaned against the wall, moaning.

'You beast! She was obviously at death's door from my criminal assault.

'Yeah, yeah,' I said calmly.

Her basket was crammed with chocolate delicacies under the cover cloth. No wonder the proprietor was narked. Old Anna had practically nicked his entire shop, the evil old witch. I found her purse and riffled inside. Two hundred grotty lire.

I flung the basket down. The old sod was falling about laughing at the expression on my face. I chucked the chocolate figures back, keeping a merry Easter rabbit out of spite.

'Here,' she said, sobering up long enough. 'Got any further on your Vatican job?'

'What Vatican job?'

'I understand,' she said slyly. 'But I could help you.'

'How?' I asked levelly, hating the old crab.

'You're new to Rome. Your Italian's good but raw. Learned too fast, see? Come and live with me.'

The old lunatic was off her nut. 'With you?'

'Not like that, cretin. We'd be a good team. Do that shop act all over Rome.' She went all coy. 'I've extra space. My daughter's away studying. We'd be a great team, Enrico.'

This was getting out of hand. Anyway, I had to phone Marcello to get myself off the hook. I unlatched her arm but I couldn't help smiling.

'You're a scream,' I told her. 'Get lost, Granny.'

She weighed me up. 'You're too dumb to be a good thief.'

'I'm not a thief,' I corrected with asperity. 'That's you, remember?'

'Better than you'll ever be,' she said, rather sad. 'I'm in the open market eight every morning if you need me.'

I felt myself warm to the stupid old creature. In her own way she was courageous and vital, and for a senile geriatric she had startling eyes. I shook myself. When you get feelings like that it's time to cut out, so I did.

Smiling to myself I thought, me? Need her? That was rich. 'Good luck, Anna.'

'Keep it. You'll need it, Enrico,' she called after me. 'Arrivederci.'

I was still smiling when I looked back from the intersection. She was trotting beside a small group of tourists, chattering eagerly and obviously in her element. I could hardly keep from laughing outright.

With considerable relief I got through to an anxious Marcello from a payphone near the Julius Caesar Theatre.

'Is everything all right, Lovejoy?'

'Look, Marcello. The job's off. It can't be done.'

Marcello sounded astonished. Gawd knows what kind of a build-up Arcellano had given me. He exclaimed, 'But there's no question of backing out, Lovejoy—'

'Oh yes there is.' I was getting narked. The whole thing had gone wrong from the start.

It was all based on misconception. And, for Christ's sake, I fumed to myself, one antique's not the whole world. 'I'm backing out right now. So Arcellano has a bee in his bonnet about an antique. Haven't we all?'