The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten 2)

“Boys my age are boring. They have nothing to say and half of them seem like complete idiots.”

I was going to say that they didn’t improve with age but didn’t want to spoil her illusions.

“So what age do you like them?”

“Old. Like you.”

“Do I seem old to you?”

“Well, you’re not exactly a spring chicken.”

It was preferable to think she was pulling my leg than to accept the blow to my vanity. I decided to respond with a few drops of sarcasm.

“The good news is that young girls like old men, and the bad news is that old men, especially decrepit, slobbering old men, like young girls.”

“I know. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Isabella observed me. She was scheming and smiled with a hint of malice.

“Do you like young girls too?”

The answer was on my lips before she had asked the question. I adopted a masterful, impartial tone, like a professor of geography.

“I liked them when I was your age. Now I generally like girls of my own age.”

“At your age they’re no longer girls. They’re young women or, to be precise, ladies.”

“End of argument. Have you nothing to do downstairs?”

“No.”

“Then start writing. You’re not here to wash the dishes and hide my things. You’re here because you said you wanted to learn to write and I’m the only idiot you know who can help you.”

“There’s no need to get angry. It’s just that I lack inspiration.”

“Inspiration comes when you stick your elbows on the table and your bottom on the chair and start sweating. Choose a theme, an idea, and sque

eze your brain until it hurts. That’s called inspiration.”

“I have a topic.”

“Hallelujah.”

“I’m going to write about you.”

We exchanged glances, like opponents across a game board.

“Why?”

“Because I find you interesting. And strange.”

“And old.”

“And touchy. Almost like a boy my age.”

Despite myself I was beginning to get used to Isabella’s company, to her jibes and to the light she had brought into that house. If things continued this way, my worst fears were going to come true and we’d end up being friends.

“What about you? Have you found a subject with all those whopping great tomes you’re consulting?”