Magic at Silver Spires by Ann Bryant Page B

Nicole was crying a bit. I think that packing was truly the most horrible task of my life, and I knew I’d never ever forget it.
    I’d been helping Papà in the kitchen earlier, slowly and carefully chopping up vegetables, grating cheese and whisking eggs, but I hadn’t enjoyed it one little bit, partly because of my hand, but mainly because of my sadness again. I just couldn’t shake it off. In fact, it seemed to be deepening. Mamma had taken a walk around the grounds while Papà cooked, because it was quite a hot day and she said she wanted to be outside to feel the English sun on her face. Nicole and the others had all gone to decorate the common room and had given me strict instructions to keep out.
    And now we were back together in the dorm, admiring Emily’s straight hair. She never usually does anything with her hair except tie it back into a ponytail, which gradually comes loose during the day as most of the hair falls out of the hairband. Matron even has to remind her to brush it sometimes. But tonight she’d done something that we’d persuaded her to do once before for the getting-to-know-you party we had in the first term. She’d borrowed my straighteners and made her hair look lovely and sleek.
    â€œEmily, you look bee-you-tee-fool!” said Mamma, which made us all laugh.
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Rossi…I mean Signora Rossi!” Emily replied.
    â€œNo, no, you call me Annalisa, plees.”
    I was happy because all my friends seemed to really like Mamma, and I also felt proud of her because she looked lovely, dressed up in a flared red and black skirt and a plain black top with red and gold jewellery. She’s what my dad calls “petite”, and her hair is a big mass of very dark curls just like mine, although mine is a bit longer.
    â€œEet ees a spetchal evening from Italy so I ’ave bring for you all a geeft from Italy.”
    â€œOh, Mamma, that’s brilliant.”
    â€œThank you, Annalisa,” chorused my friends.
    â€œThees are theengs I ’ave weeth me by good fortoon.”
    â€œI think Mamma means she just happened to have them with her, because obviously she didn’t know about the Italian evening when she and Papà first came over.”
    Mamma was frowning at me as I spoke and I could tell she was concentrating hard to try and understand what I was saying.
    She nodded. “Yes, eet ees correct!”
    That made everyone laugh again. But then Mamma was taking things out of a bag. “ Allora , for Sasha, for zee eyes!”
    â€œOh thank you, Annalisa,” said Sasha, taking the eyeshadow that Mamma was holding out to her. “It’s all sparkly. I love it!”
    â€œThees ees not for old lady. Better for yong girl, I theenk.”
    â€œYou’re not old!” said Sasha and Izzy together.
    â€œSo, for Eezzee…” Mamma did a mime of painting her nails as she held out some deep pink nail varnish.
    â€œOh, that’s so cool!” said Izzy. “Thank you very much, Annalisa!”
    â€œCool! Very cool!” repeated Mamma, as though she was trying out a new word to see if she liked the sound of it. “And for you, Brryonee, and also for Emilee, I theenk… calzini !” She turned to me. “What ees…?”
    â€œOh, they’re socks!” said Bryony. “They’re brill! Thank you very much!”
    â€œThey’re totally fab!” said Emily. “Let’s swap one, so we both get to wear both patterns, Bry.” Then she turned to me. “Tell your mum she’s really clever knowing that Bryony and I are the tomboys.”
    I quickly translated for Mamma and she said, “Antonia tells a peecture of her friends so I can understand you better.”
    Mamma sounded so sweet talking in her broken English and I started to wonder whether I’d come across like that when I’d first arrived at Silver Spires. I didn’t think so though,