Tuscan Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

scullery maid slept? Her skin prickled when Signora Guerrini led her down the stairs and into a dungeon-like space. The chilly stone floor bit through the soles of her shoes. Through the curtains of spider webs she could see hundreds of dusty bottles on the wrought-iron racks. Signora Guerrini reached a door that led to a corridor, which then opened into an enclave with a bed and a set of drawers. To Rosa’s relief the space was pleasant. The lemon-blossom-patterned wallpaper was bordered by a strip of sunflowers that matched the cover on the iron bed. The golden theme continued to the ceiling where it culminated in a star-shaped ceiling rose. The wallpaper disguised an inbuilt cupboard, which Signora Guerrini opened and indicated for Rosa to place her bag and flute on the shelf inside. She pulled a set of sheets from the cupboard and tossed them on the bed.
    ‘You can make it up yourself,’ she said. ‘I have things to do and you weren’t expected.’
    ‘Thank you, Signora Guerrini,’ Rosa said, noticing the charcoal bedwarmer the housekeeper took from the cupboard and placed under the bed. Perhaps she did not despise Rosa as much as Rosa thought. ‘The room is very pleasant.’
    Signora Guerrini pulled aside a curtain to reveal a view of the kitchen garden. ‘Yes, they made it so, didn’t they?’ she said, a malicious grin forming on her face. ‘It used to be the hospital room. They brought servants here when they caught the plague. The scullery maid won’t stay here. She says it’s haunted.’
    Signora Guerrini left Rosa alone to unpack her things, which were so few that the task was completed within minutes. Shetucked in the sheets and then sat on the bed, thinking over the day that had passed. That morning she had awoken in her cell at the convent, and now she was here in this room, which, while much prettier, put her ill at ease.
    Behind a screen she found a sink and a bucket with a wooden seat. She turned on the tap. The water was freezing and smelled of slime. She let it run then rinsed her mouth and splashed her face before returning to sit on the bed. She longed to play her flute to quiet her mind but did not wish to arouse any further ill will in Signora Guerrini. She held an imaginary flute to her lips and lost herself in playing Bach’s Allemande and other pieces from memory.
    The afternoon passed by this way and evening fell. Rosa waited for Signora Guerrini to return to call her to dinner or to show her around, but once the moon rose and the room turned cold she understood that this would not happen. She took the warmer from under the bed and held it in her lap. Without coals from a fire it was useless. She remembered the charcoal warmer that Suor Maddalena had given her in winter when she was a child. The gentle heat that emanated from it had filled her with happiness.
    She took out the key from her sleeve and tucked it into her flute case. A shiver passed down her spine and she undressed with the light still burning. It was not so much the thought of ghosts that made her afraid but the rats she could hear scratching in the cellar. She knelt by her bed to pray but the words she had said before bedtime all her life, which had touched her with comfort and peace, felt empty and hollow. Climbing into bed, Rosa wondered if her inability to pray was because she had been so abruptly separated from Suor Maddalena, or if it was because she was now somewhere that God couldn’t hear her.

TWO
    R osa awoke the next morning with a jolt. She scanned the room, searching for something familiar. Where was the crucifix? Where was the chest of drawers? When the golden flowers on the wallpaper and the decorative ceiling came into focus she knew she was no longer at the convent. She climbed out of bed and pulled aside the curtain. The sun shone brightly. There was no clock in the room but Rosa realised that she had slept later than usual. She sat back down on the bed. Even the mattress was an anomaly. It was soft