Hero on a Bicycle Read Online Free PDF Page A

away toward his car.
    “I wish you wouldn’t be quite so friendly with the German officers,” Rosemary said as they made their way home. “You know how much Babbo would hate it.”
    “He was only being polite. And I thought we were rather rude, as a matter of fact,” said Constanza coolly.
    “He certainly seems to like clicking his heels at you,” Paolo said, “but I suppose he’s an improvement on Aldo, the Chinless Wonder. Talk about a stuffed parrot! I’d like to pour a whole jug of mayonnaise all over his head!”
    Constanza did not bother to answer. She merely pulled her shawl over her brown arms. They all walked on in silence.

W hen they arrived home, Paolo hung around in the hall, hoping to catch his mother alone. Last night’s message was weighing heavily on him. Tight knots of anxiety filled his stomach every time he remembered those two armed men. But after throwing down her things, Rosemary went straight into the kitchen to help Maria serve their meager family lunch, and when they had cleared away, she went up to her room to rest.
    All afternoon Paolo skulked around in the hot, parched garden, fretting about how he was going to pass on that message without giving away anything about his nocturnal sorties into Florence. He prided himself on being quite a good liar when the occasion demanded it, but somehow it was always particularly difficult when his mother was involved. She had a way of seeing through him.
    From an open upstairs window, he could hear Constanza playing records on her windup portable gramophone. She seemed to be addicted to hearing the same tunes over and over again: Rina Ketty’s French voice singing “J’attendrai,” Edith Piaf’s version of “La Vie en Rose,” also in French, and, to annoy her mother, the German hit song “Lili Marlene.”
    Paolo wandered into the yard to see his dear old friend Guido. He felt that he was neglecting him these days but knew that Guido was too good-natured to hold it against him. The old dog lumbered out of his kennel with his usual rapturous welcome, putting his paws on Paolo’s knees and trying to lick his face. Paolo fondled his ears and released his chain. It was too hot to go for a long walk, so together they ambled down to the olive grove at the end of the garden. Here, Guido ran ahead joyfully, rather wonky on one back leg but happy to be out and about and sniffing around everywhere. If only life were always this simple, thought Paolo as he walked along behind, throwing a stick now and again.
    It was nearly five o’clock when he returned Guido to his kennel and replenished his water supply from the tap in the yard. He would have liked to have given him something to eat, but, like the rest of the family, Guido was on strict food rationing and limited to the one daily meal of scraps that either Paolo or Maria fed him each morning.
    Paolo hovered on the terrace until Rosemary emerged and began watering the geraniums that rioted in huge terra-cotta pots along the low wall. He helped her carry the heavy old watering cans to and from the water tank. They worked together in silence for a while. Then he said casually, “Oh, by the way — I forgot to tell you, Mamma — I’ve got a message for you from two men I ran into on the road yesterday.”
    Rosemary stopped watering.
    “Two men? What men? People we know?”
    “Well, no, actually. I’ve never seen them before. It was when I was out on my bicycle.”
    “What did they want?”
    “They wanted me to give you a message. They said to tell you they’re in the area and they’ll be getting in touch. Tonight, if they can. The usual way, they said.”
    “Was that all?”
    “Yes, that was all. I only saw them for a few minutes.”
    Rosemary sat down rather suddenly on the terrace wall. There was a brief silence. To Paolo’s surprise, she did not press him for any further details. She just sat there, her face dappled in deep shadow from the vine overhead. Then she got up and resumed her