The Sense of an Elephant Read Online Free PDF

charger, a pile of cotton handkerchiefs, a leather-bound diary. He closed the drawer. A cascade of water roared in the pipes in the wall and muddied the lawyer’s voice: ‘Here I am, Theo, I’m fine now. Come here and give me some love.’
    He reopened the drawer and paged through the diary. On the first page there was nothing. On the others he read last names, account numbers, payment due dates, more doodles. He went to 8 February, the day of the death of the doctor’s mother. The page was blank. On the next, scrawled diagonally across the page:
No frame, Mama, just the memory
.
    He paged ahead and noticed that some dates were circled in pen, 9 January several times. Underneath, a line:
How will you condemn me, God?
He paused. Read again:
How will you condemn me, God?
Continued to flip through. The third of May was circled as well and bore the same message. He searched the surface of the desk, found a blank piece of paper and a pen, traced the doctor’s handwriting. Folded up the paper and placed it in his pocket. Checked the coming days, pages full of reminders about Sara’s birthday party. The order placed with the pastry shop Madame La Cuisine, the magician Massimo Nicolini’s expenses.
    He opened to today’s date. It was circled. The doctor hadnoted,
7:00, call first
, and lower down,
Don’t have the courage
. Pietro stared at the writing.
    The second drawer was locked. He shook it and something moved inside. The third was unlocked. He slid it open and a jumble of photographs appeared, on top one of a woman holding a newborn in her arms, her face pressed against the sleeping child, her smile that of someone in her twenties.
    He closed the drawer quickly and left the study. When he came to the Martinis’ bedroom he leaned against the door jamb, then shuffled slowly to the wicker bed and bent down over the two orange pillows. He sank his face into the pillow-case with the smell of Luca.
    This time he breathed.

8
    Pietro slowly closed the door to the Martinis’ flat and instinctively turned to where the lawyer had surprised him the last time. Saw the giant window above the landing wide open, a stream of light dazzling the cream walls. Picked the cactus up off the doormat and took two steps toward Fernando’s door. Froze. The door was ajar and through the gap poked a loafer.
    â€˜You stole.’ Fernando was there. The door of the flat opened completely. Now there were two loafers. They came forward, below pyjama bottoms with elasticated bands stretched around fleshy calves. ‘You stole.’
    â€˜I was bringing back your plant, Fernando. It’s better now.’ Pietro called him over but the strange boy took no heed.
    Fernando moved slowly in the thick pyjamas. ‘How do you know it’s better?’
    â€˜It made flowers. Come and see how pretty they are.’
    He shook his head.
    It was the first time Pietro had ever seen him without the beret. His hair was short, thinning in the middle and speckled with grey. ‘Come and see, we won’t say anything to your mother.’ He pointed out the bud of a reddish flower.
    Fernando hesitated, then took a quick look. ‘Mama says you heal the plants with prayers.’ He cleaned the toe of one shoe with a thumb.
    The concierge put the cactus back down on the mat.‘When all the flowers bloom you can give it to Alice at the cafe. She’ll be happy.’
    The strange boy thought about it. ‘Happy.’ He smiled and seized the concierge’s hand, crushing the fingers with his oxlike strength.
    Pietro tried to break away but Fernando refused to let him. The boy drew him into the dimly lit entryway, dragged him into a living room that also contained a kitchen. The shutters were rolled down and the only light came from a small table with five cemetery candles placed in a circle. In the middle lay his felt beret.
    The boy took a folded blanket from the couch and placed it at the foot of