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Vessels

A short story in small instalments: PART XVII

“Granny! Granny!”

“What is it?”

“I found your pots! At least, I think, I have. Katarina Conti said Viola Greco told her she thought they were bought by Olivero Russo.”

“Is he related to Ludvic Russo?”

“I don’t know. But Katarina gave me an address. I’m going around to see if he’s willing to sell them back.”

“Take me with you.”

“Are you sure, Granny?”

“Of course, I’m sure. I’m sick of sitting here by myself, watching the hyenas come and go.”

“The what?”

“Never mind. They’re practically ghosts now, anyway. Come on Hermes, let’s go.” But Lydia hadn’t heard. She was already halfway across the courtyard to get the three-wheeler car. Lydia drove them very slowly, because the road was bumpy. They stopped at the gate.

“I’ll find out if he’s home first. You wait here.”

“No, take me with you,” said Caspertina Passala. “My life is practically all waiting these days.” With Lydia’s help, she struggled out of the vehicle, hampered by Hermes who didn’t want to get off her shoulder and perched thus, was too tall to fit through the door.

“Come on, Hermes, just hop over to Lydia for a minute. You’re a mite too heavy on my shoulder, anyway.” Hermes ruffled his carmine cape, but complied.

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