by a terrible hammering. Someone seemed to be dealing hundreds of thunderous blows on the ceiling. The room was like the inside of a drum. It was too loud to bear. The Petrocchi girl dropped her candlestick and rolled on the floor. Tonino found himself crouching down, with his hands to his ears, looking up at the chandelier jiggling overhead. He thought his head would burst.
The pounding stopped. There was no sound except a whimper, which Tonino rather thought came from him.
A great huge voice spoke through the ceiling. “That’s better. Now be quiet, or you won’t get any food. And if you try any more tricks, you’ll be punished. Understand?”
Tonino and Angelica both sat up. “Let us out!” they screamed.
There was no answer, only a distant shuffling. The owner of the huge voice seemed to be going away.
“A mean trick with an amplifying spell,” Angelica said. She picked up the candlestick and looked at it with disgust. The branched part was bent at right-angles to the base. “What is this place?” she said. “Everything’s so shoddy.”
They got up and went to the windows again, in hopes of a clue. Several little spire-shaped trees were clearly to be seen, just outside, and a sort of terrace beyond that. But, peer as they might, all they could make out further off was queer blue distance, with one or two square-shaped mountains catching the sun on a glossy corner or so. There seemed to be no sky.
“It’s a spell,” said Angelica. Her voice suggested she might be going to panic again. “A spell to stop us knowing where we are.”
Tonino supposed it must be. There was no other way of accounting for the strange absence of view. “But I’m sure I know,” he said, “by those trees. We’re in one of those rich villas by the Palace.”
“You’re right,” agreed Angelica. The panic had left her voice. “I shall never envy those people again. Their lives are all show.”
They turned from the windows and discovered that the vast banging had dislodged one of the wall panels behind the dining-table. It hung open like a door. They shoved one another out of the way to reach it first. But there was only a cupboard-sized bathroom, without a window.
“Good,” said Angelica. “I was wondering what we’d do. And at least we’ll have water.” She reached out to one of the taps over the small washbasin. It came away in her hand. Under it was a blob of glue on white china. It was clear the tap had never been meant to be used. Angelica stared at it with such a ridiculous look of bewilderment that Tonino laughed. She drew herself up at that. “Don’t you laugh at me, you beastly Montana!” She stalked out into the main room and threw the useless tap on to the table with a clump. Then she sat in one of the two remaining chairs and rested her elbows gloomily on the table.
After a while, Tonino did the same. The chair creaked under him. So did the table. Though its surface was painted to look like smooth mahogany, close to, it was all blobs of varnish and huge splinters. “There’s nothing that’s not shoddy,” he said.
“Including you, Whatyoumecall Montana!” Angelica said. She was still angry.
“My name’s Tonino,” Tonino said.
“It’s the last twist of the knife, being shut up with a Montana!” Angelica said. “Whatever your name is. I shall have to put up with all your filthy habits.”
“Well, I’ve got to put up with yours,” Tonino said irritably. It suddenly struck him that he was all alone, far from the friendly bustle of the Casa Montana. Even when he was hidden in a corner of the Casa with a book, he knew the rest of the family was all round him. And Benvenuto would be purring and pricking him, to remind him he was not alone. Dear old Benvenuto. Tonino was afraid he was going to cry – in front of a Petrocchi too. “How did they catch you?” he said, to take his mind off it.
“With a book.” A slight, woeful smile appeared on Angelica’s tight white face. “It was called The Girl Who Saved Her Country, and I thought it was from Great-Uncle Luigi. I still think it was a good story.” She looked defiantly at Tonino.
Tonino was annoyed. It was not pleasant to think he had been caught by the same spell as a Petrocchi. “Me too,” he said gruffly.
“And I haven’t got any filthy habits!” snapped Angelica.
“Yes you have. All the Petrocchis have,” said Tonino. “But I expect you don’t realise because they’re normal to you.”
“I like that!” Angelica picked up the broken tap, as if she had half a mind to throw it.
“I don’t care about your habits,” said Tonino. Nor did he. All he wanted to do was find some way out of this nightmare room and go home. “How shall we get out of here?”
“Through the ceiling,” Angelica said sarcastically.
Tonino looked upwards. There was that chandelier. If they could give it a pull, it might well rip a hole in the shoddy ceiling.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Angelica. “If there’s a spell out in front, there’s bound to be one up there to stop us getting out.”
Tonino feared she was right, but it was worth a try. He climbed from his chair on to the table. He thought he could reach the chandelier from there if he stood up. There was a violent creaking. Before Tonino could begin to stand up, the table swayed away sideways, as if all four of its legs were loose.
“Get down!” said Angelica.
Tonino got down. It was clear the table would fall to pieces if he stayed on it. Gloomily he pushed the crooked legs straight again. “So that’s no good,” he said.
“Unless,” said Angelica, suddenly bright and pert, “we steady it with a spell.”
Tonino transferred his miserable look from the table legs to her sharp little face. He sighed. The subject had been bound to come up. “You’ll have to do the spell,” he said. Angelica stared at him. He could feel his face heating up. “I hardly know any spells,” he said. “I – I’m slow.”
He had expected Angelica to laugh, and she did. But he thought she need not have laughed in such a mean, exultant way, nor keep saying, “Oh that’s good!” like that.
“What’s so funny?” he said. “You can laugh! I know all about you turning your father green. You’re no better than me!”
“Want to bet?” said Angelica, still laughing.
“No,” said Tonino. “Just make the spell.”
“I can’t,” said Angelica. It was Tonino’s turn to stare, and Angelica’s turn to blush. A thin bright pink spread right up the bulge of her forehead, and she put her chin up defiantly. “I’m hopeless at spells,” she said. “I’ve never got a spell right in my life.” Seeing Tonino still staring, she said, “It’s a pity you didn’t bet. I’m much worse than you are.”
Tonino could not credit it. “How?” he said. “Why? Can’t you learn spells either, then?”
“Oh, I can learn them all right.” Angelica took up the broken tap again and scribbled angrily with it, great yellow scratches in the varnished top of the table. “I know hundreds
