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50 pages

English

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Beatrice has a problem with her leg. Is it because of an accident, or under a spell? Her auntie, the only person to give us an answer, went into the forest for strawberries, one morning, and never came back. Beatrice cries all night long over the 'naked' cake. It was the girl`s 9th birthday.

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Children's

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Publié par	Dora Oronti
Date de parution	10 décembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781908886101
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Beatrice and Benedict
Dora Oronti
Beatrice and Benedict
Your shadow freedom of the seas and then... so many sea-gulls started gracefully dancing in her heart.
To my parents
CHAPTER I
Beatrice Looking for Greda
"Days to come stand in front of us like a row of lighted candles golden, warm, and vivid candles…."
K. Kavafis
‘What a beautiful poem!’ thought Beatrice. And the voice! Is it the voice of a woman, or… is it the voice of a ‘spooky?’ she thought again and looked around. The poem came to its end soon and it was silent again. Beatrice remained at the same position for a while, looking like a statue, listening to the absolute silence of the forest. Then she walked slowly to her favourite spot and sat down carefully, leaning her back on the green-purple trunk. The yellow and red and brown leaves, helped by the morning breeze, made a big circle around her. The young girl got her book out from her haversack and said with a soft voice.
Greda I’m just going to start reading! I know you like to play seek and hide but I’m a little too tired for for this kind of game. Come on out please!’ Then after a pause Beatrice said again in a low voice.
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t like to miss anything from this lovely story.’ But there was not a sign of Greda anywhere. Only the girl’s echo came back, repeating the words again and again.
Beatrice sat down and opened her book. She was a pretty girl around twelve, or even younger; no one really knew for sure as she was so very slim. Sometimes her eyes looked like two black-ebony marbles which made a strange contrast with her short ginger hair and her fair complexion. Though she was beautiful she was sad and used to keep herself away from the other children. She was happy being alone in the forest, with all the animals and insects, the ants, and even the strange, sometimes poisonous, reptiles.
‘She is always happy going for a walk with her companion, the green turtle! I wonder why? ha ha ha ...’
They have the same rate of walking, that’s why. Ha ha ha ha ...’ Beatrice could still hear the cruel sarcastic voice of Arnold and Garry in her ears. All the other boys in the same group were repeating those words chuckling and making fun of her.
Beatrice’s heart, full of bitterness watched and heard all these cruel words while trying to be as calm as possible. She’d learnt this attitude through the years of her childhood, her beloved auntie had been such a good teacher to her. She tried not to show signs of weakness either, as this would make things even worse for her. Paul, a tall slim boy, tried many times to change the gang’s negative attitude towards Beatrice but, with no success. The gang was too big and ever so strong. So he decided to keep away from them, ‘If Benedict had not been so busy always,’ he often thought. He waited patiently. But he couldn’t help watching her in the distance admiring her courage and good looks. Sometimes he pretended that he had to do his homework, using the school computer, and stayed behind. Then, he would watch her from behind the curtains of his classroom. It was only then he realized how much shorter her left leg was than her right. Not only was it shorter but it was attached to something that from a distance looked like iron. It must have been so heavy to drag that leg.
Her leg was the reason why Beatrice used to go early in the morning before the arrival of all the other children, and always stayed last, after everybody else had gone home. Her beloved teacher, Ms Atherton, had got ill all of a sudden, and the new teacher seemed always to be so busy. Once, Beatrice’s school bag had broken open, and suddenly the corridor was full of colourful books, note books, pens and pencils, even pastels and a drawing pad, as Beatrice liked drawing and painting a lot. The new teacher was coming out of her class that moment, and looked worried, as usual.
‘Oh! My dear Beatrice what has happened to you?’ she said as she was passing quickly by. ‘I’ ll send a child to give you a hand!’ she said, still in a hurry. But the child never turned up. Perhaps the teacher hadn’t found anybody around as all the children were in a hurry to get home, especially on a Friday afternoon.
‘I miss you so much Ms Atherton!’ she often thought. Beatrice looked around. She tried to stand up. The red and brown leaves under her feet made a musical sound. ‘Greda, come on out, are you sleeping or something? What on earth has happened to you?’ she said with a loud voice.
CHAPTER 2
The Old Olive Tree
Beatrice whispered again the title of the book. ‘The Old Olive Tree and the Jungle’ . The colourful illustration on the cover was so exciting, but mostly she was interested to find out how an olive tree could possibly grow in a jungle. What she knew was that the beautiful silver-grey trees with the rich foliage, grew mostly around the Mediterranean; and there were no jungles there.
Beatrice was happy sitting under the protective cool shadow of the beautiful mulberry tree, the Donatriste, as the young girl had named it. The tree seemed to like the girl very much and it used to sing its most beautiful melodies for her, even confide its own secrets to her sometimes. And the young girl had always been such a good listener. She used to listen to these nostalgic melodies, so sweet that even the pain in her leg felt less. Her only problem was when she had to run for some reason. The other day she had heard the sound of a wolf (or was it a wild fox?) in the distance. She had to grab Greda and tried to run home, as fast as she could. If she could have climbed up on the highest branch of her darling tree Donatriste it would have been better. It was at such moments that her tears flowed. They were so hot and ever so big! Nearly as big as the glittering stars above and nearly as hot as if she had high fever. ‘But they were not hot enough to create the miracle and not big enough to break the spell!’ Beatrice eventually opened the book at the correct page with the help of an elongated yellow leaf that was using as a bookmark. She started reading loudly and slowly as Greda was a good listener. But her lovely green tortoise kept silent. ‘I hope you are somewhere near, as I’ ve already started reading! I’ m sure you wouldn’t want to miss anything, would you?’ After a pause and still receiving no reply, Beatrice decided to continue reading. She had a feeling that the sound of her voice would encourage Greda to appear.
‘… . Because of the attack the old olive tree was left with only one huge olive on its highest branch…
‘ Who will be the the lucky one to eat this huge juicy olive?’ Fandomino remained still as a statue for a moment looking scared. Then he whispered softly, trying to raise his eyes, without moving the rest of his body, ‘Who is it?’
‘ It’s me! Don’t you remember me?’ replied the voice even more dramatically.
Beatrice was enjoying reading about Fandomino but just at that moment something tickled her feet.
‘Hello my darling! You’ve turned up at last! Are you enjoying Fandomino too?’ said Beatrice smiling happily, her eyes still fixed on the open book.
CHAPTER 3
Beatrice and the Strange Old Woman
Suddenly she heard the words, ‘my name is Kleantho!’ A strange trembling voice above her was not something she was expecting to hear in reality and for a moment she felt scared. An unexpected visitor! Beatrice looked up eventually only to see an old woman standing next to her holding something rolled up in her arms. Was it a baby?
The young girl became confused. and could not speak for some time. The old woman looked so much like her darling auntie. When Beatrice found her speech again she said softly,
‘I thought it was Greda!’
Kleantho sat down cross legged, and put the rolled packet carefully next to her. Then she asked the young girl.
Is Greda your friend?’ As she spoke she threw an old cotton hat that had obviously once been a bright pink colour, with tiny white flowers. Beatrice saw with great surprise that the old woman was utterly bald. ‘Greda is my turtle! She is a good friend alright!’ she said, looking at a strange beautiful bird on the tree. After a pause Beatrice asked,
‘Is this pretty bird yours? It looks as if it is following you.’ The old woman gave no answer. Awkward silence followed, then Beatrice asked again,
‘Is there something I can do for you?’
‘Thank you, my dear! I wish you could help me, as it seems that I’ve lost my way home completely. The little Red House in the forest, have you ever heard about it?’ Beatrice was ready to say ‘no’ but the old woman went on. ‘Above all I’m so thirsty! I ’ve been walking for days and nights. Gabriella, my sister would be wondering what happened to me!’ Kleantho said, taking a deep breath.
‘I am so sorry!’ said the young girl. ‘I don’t think I can be of any help to you, as I haven’t heard of a house like that in the forest! But I ’ve got some water left in my flask; I keep it for Greda but you can have it.’ Beatrice took a small red thermos flask out of her haversack.
Kleantho kept staring at her for a while and then slowly picked up the red flask.
‘You are so kind, Beatrice! Thank you!’ the old woman said and took a sip. Then with the flask still in her hands she looked at the girl`s short leg.
‘Beatrice, may I ask how it happened?’ she asked. The young girl looked at her with amazement.
‘How does she know my name?’ she wondered. Then she remembered how her dear untie used to say, ‘At some stage or other you may come across strange people in the woods, who could be perhaps, wizards! You shouldn’t eat or drink anything offered to you by those strange people, no matter how nice they might look!’
‘When I was very little,’ she said, after recollecting her thoughts, ‘I had a bad fall from my darling pony Hercules!’
‘Oh! Poor darling! I am so sorry! It must have been a bad fall! You were riding on your own?’ asked Kleantho again.
‘No, my father was riding next to me, but Hercules, my lovely pony, had an attack all of a sudd