Song Above the Clouds by Rosemary Pollock Read Free Book Online

pleasant refuge.
    They entered a maze of narrow streets and tiny squares, and the noise of the tr a ffic di e d away, to be replaced by the rushing of fountains and the shouts of small tousle-haired raggazzi who ought to have been in bed. At the street corner s lights burned beneath brightly coloured images of the Virgin and the saints, and every now and then, from an upper window, there was a burst of music. Even inside the taxi Candy could hear it. One moment it was a radio, blaring forth the latest money-spinner from the world of Italian pop, the next it was a wonderful cascade of Beethoven from an unseen piano. She was fascinated, and absorbed in the sights and, sounds of the streets she didn’t realize they had reached their destination until the taxi-driver got out to open the door for her.
    Then she saw that they had come to a halt in the shadow of a very old wall. Set in the wall was a handsome iron-studded door, and over the door a swinging lantern shed light upon a small, gleaming brass plaque to one side of it.
    “The Convent of the Holy Angels,” said the taxi-driver in careful English, and extricated Candy’s suitcases from the boot. He stuffed all three cases more or less under one arm, and with his free hand pulled the bell-chain that hung beside the stout old door. Candy got out of his taxi and stood beside him, and as she stared up at the finely carved iron-work of the lantern he thought she looked very white.
    “You are tired, signorina? You make a long journey to-day?”
    She smiled and shook her head, so that her uncovered hair swung around her.
    “It was a long journey, but a very easy one.”
    “Yet you are tired. N o w that you are in Rome you will rest.”
    She was just about to disabuse him of any idea that she had come to Rome to rest when a light suddenly appeared behind a tiny window next to the doorway in front of them, and she saw that a nun w as looking out.
    “The Sisters wish to know who you are,” the taxi-driver told her. “It is their custom. It is very old. They cannot open the door until they know who you are.” He bent towards the beautiful, finely wrought grille that protected the window and said something in extremely rapid Italian. The nun seemed to hesitate, and she bent her head a little to study the English girl more closely through the thin, ornate bars that separated them.
    “You say that we are expecting, you, signorina ?” Her voice was quiet and soft, and her English very good,
    “Yes.” Candy moved closer to the tiny aperture, feeling very much as if she had suddenly stepped back into the Middle Ages. “Well, I ... I think so. Signor Maruga made all the arrangements.”
    “Signor Maruga... ? ” It could hardly have been called a frown, but a faint pucker certainly did appear between the nun’s slim, straight brows. Then she smiled.
    “Wait, I will let you in. Then you can, explain to us.”
    She disappeared, and Candy swallowed and glanced at the patient taxi-driver.
    Two minutes later the doors in front of them swung open, and another nun appeared. Once again the taxi-driver spoke quickly, and she nodded and s miled, and told him to leave the suitcases just inside the door. Then she beckoned Candy inside, and when she had paid the driver he touched his cap and beamed on her paternally.
    “You will be all right now,” he told her. “With the Sisters you will be all right.”
    Candy stepped across the worn threshold of the Convent, and as the outer door closed she glanced uncertainly at the white-robed figure beside her.
    “ Is it all right?” she asked, a little anxiously. “Can I stay here?”
    T h e Sister smiled with the tranquillity of a being for whom no problem is insoluble.
    “I am sure you can stay, signorina. Come with me.” They passed through into a small cloistered courtyard, where three more dim lanterns shone on the exquisite tracery above rows of Renaissance arches, and a tiny fountain gushed softly in the stillness of the evening.