One of Ragazzo's popular pitches was at the corner of West Strand and Adelaide Street, beneath the pepper-pot turrets and balconies of a big building of shops and offices. Here he would come in the late afternoon to catch shoppers with their children, hurrying home to tea, or the visitors who had come to gaze at the great monument to Admiral Nelson in Trafalgar Square nearby.
One hot afternoon, just as he was serving his last ice cream to
two little boys, he heard a shout behind him.
"On guard."
He turned
quickly to see Tom standing erect, hand outstretched, holding his imaginary
sword ready for action.
"0h, it's you," Ragazzo sighed with relief.
In a series of twists and lunges Tom approached him, then thrusting his arm
forward, he shouted, "Toccato, I hit you."
Ragazzo laughed. Tom had been
for his fencing lesson with Professor Angelo.
"Phew," said Tom, "it's so
hot. Can I have an ice?"
Ragazzo looked in the canister. "It's all gone
now. I've just sold the last of it. I was just off back to the café."
"Come on then, we'll go together."
They crossed over the Strand. Then Tom said suddenly, "It's
Cook's day off today, why don't you come back and have tea? And I'll show you
the map I told you about - of the Ticino."
Ragazzo hesitated, but he was
not expected back at the cafe immediately.
"Alright", he said.
Together they walked on to Craven Street, where Tom lived. It was a street of
fine three-storeyed houses. Tom stopped at No.10.
"Leave the barrow
there," he said, opening a little gate in the railings and disappearing into
the basement. Ragazzo followed, entering first into a dark passage and then
into a large kitchen, with a huge black shiny range on one side of the wall.
There was a fine white sanded table in the centre of the room and a big
dresser, crammed with plates and tureens.
Their arrival brought a young girl in a white cap and apron into
the kitchen.
"Oh it's you, Master Tom."
"May, be a dear and make us
some tea?" May's eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of Ragazzo in his
rough clothes.
"But Master Tom .... "
"And bring it upstairs as soon
as you can. I'm starving."
Tom opened a baize door. "Come on, Ragazzo."
Ragazzo followed on through the door, up a flight of steps and into a
spacious hall, dark with pannelling. One open door showed him a room lined with
books from floor to ceiling.
Tom ran quickly up the stairs, but Ragazzo followed more slowly, stepping onto the thick carpet, noticing as he climbed, the sweeping staircase with its carved balustrades. At the top of the stairs there was a very large room, lit by three windows looking out onto the street. He peered in. At one side was a great fireplace set with logs with a great marble mantlepiece, topped by a golden mirror. All around him the parquet floor shone. There were beautiful rugs and big comfortable chairs in flowered patterns. Ragazzo had never seen such wealth and luxury. And the walls - the walls were covered in pictures, pictures of people, of animals and places. He stood and stared.
"Come on!"
He heard Tom call from the second landing. He
continued up the stairs, his feet sinking into the thick carpet. Tom stood at
an open door.
"This used to be my brother and my nursery, but we use it
now as a kind of study."
It was a much simpler room. A table and chairs in
the centre. An ottoman with a collection of old toys, a desk, books on shelves
and in the far corner what looked like a horse.
