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The Ball. Erik PethersenЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Ball - Erik Pethersen


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His version of the story sounds true and I would not have any reason to doubt Mr Pardoli’s good faith. Moreover, according to Augusto, this is not just happening in the shop but also in the city or in other small towns. He described his wife as a nympho with a very strong sexual drive for whoever, no matter if they are male or female.»

      «Excuse me» I say, struck by a sudden doubt. «Why would a shoe shop have a fitting room? I have not physically gone to a shop in a while but I do not remember many shoe shops equipped with fitting rooms.»

      «I don’t have a clue, as far as I am concerned, some of them may have them, or maybe these shops used to be clothing stores. I don’t think it is relevant, anyway Brando» Alessandro replies abruptly.

      «As a matter of fact, it is not so relevant. I was just picturing the lady attacking a customer who is trying on a pair of sandals in the fitting room.»

      «Fine, Brando: you can stop all your picturing» the notary replies sarcastically. «In any case, the trouble for us is how to get out of this situation: how can we convince Mr Pardoli that reclaiming these donations is not that easy after all?»

      «Right, it’s a big problem. Excuse me, just one thing before looking into this issue from a regulatory point of view: has the husband ever used the word slut in telling the story?»

      «Ten times at least.»

      «Right: it all makes sense now.»

      «Great, Brando. Let’s get to the point.»

      «Right» I sigh. «The request for reclaiming can be forwarded for serious harm towards the donor, right?»

      «Yes, she did not try to kill him, she did not sue him without good reason and I don’t think she gave false testimony against him.»

      «Alessandro that should be the direction to take: you should suggest obloquy and a judicial request, stating that his reputation has been harmed and ridiculed on account of his wife’s careless behaviours. Something like that...» I stop for a few minutes. «A lot of work for a good lawyer who wants to have a good time.»

      «Yes, Brando, I feel the same as you. By advising him to go to another lawyer, we would stop the issue immediately and we could lose interest in the situation.»

      «This solution would not be bad at all» I say looking at the notary’s puzzled expression in his face. «So then?»

      «It may be true: dos est uxoria lites. But I don’t know» he says hesitantly, «what if the husband went a little overboard with his story? If the wife seemed to be this way, but in fact she behaved as a faithful and loving partner? What if she is just seen in the wrong way? The husband may see her as being too open with friendships, but it could just be a wrong impression.»

      «Of course, notary, it could be. Shall we go back to the semantics or to other similar studies? What has all of this got to do with being a notary? Wouldn’t a lawyer, family counselling or a friend be more suitable to solve such a situation?»

      «Wouldn’t be even better if Mr and Mrs Pardoli would live in harmony and loved each other like spouses should do? Wouldn’t the two halves be stuck to one another, like two magnets, making up a euphonic ball?»

      I look at him with my eyes almost wide open, and I fall silent for ten seconds.

      «The euphonic ball, of course» I grumble. «A harmonious sphere. In my opinion, we are slipping towards disciplines which are off-limits and in this area I just would not know how to learn something about it in order to hold a conversation with you» I say it with an almost ordinary tone of voice. «I am not that good when it comes to love relationships, I don’t have a clue: I need a full immersion course or even to have some hands-on practice for a few years.»

      «You may be right, Brando: it is not my area» he says.

      «Not even: it is not part of the notary’s job.»

      «Well, you could try to mediate and convince the spouses, in mutual agreement, to reclaim only a part of the donations. Only one house and a few thousand euros, just to get the situation going, but I don’t know if that would make sense at all.»

      «Yes, to find some sort of middle ground» the notary replies.

      He stares at me with a melancholic and pensive look while I keep quiet for quite a few seconds.

      «Look» I say arching my back and bringing my neck almost at knee level, «if you come here, with your head under the table, and you look at the door, the table has only two legs.»

      A few people are scattered around the bar, there are mostly couples sitting one opposite the other at the outdoor tables, along the big stained-glass window which delimit the building.

      Since when it was renovated a few years ago, the bar at the corner has got a Scandinavian air, as if it has been teleported from Östermalm quarter to the heart of Brescia Due.

      The whole place is painted in dark green: the inside, the counter, the wooden floor with wide slats. The black wooden tables are arranged at a fair distance among themselves; the chairs are made with the same material and are lacquered with bright and mixed colours: red, orange, green and blue. In the middle of the bar, some plants which are similar to small palm trees divide up the hall from the back room, overlooking the street.

      The notary has dragged me here to kill some time while waiting for the Provençal night and now is walking ahead of me. I follow him past the plants and we sit at the table in the back, in the corner between the two stained-glass windows that delimit the bar.

      «What shall we have, Brando?»

      «I don’t know...»

      «All this waiting has made me feel hungry and has given me cravings for drinking» he replies, looking at me. «Most of all, I want to have a drink.»

      «Good evening, gentlemen, good evening notary. What can I get you?» the waiter asks. He is a nice boy, wearing an apron with black and white stripes and a name tag.

      «Good evening Gigi, can we have two Franciacorta wine?» the notary asks.

      «Sure, right away. Which one do you prefer?» Alessandro looks at me to find out what I prefer.

      «Something like a brut, or less sugary, rosé wine would do» I suggest looking at the notary in search of approval.

      «Fine, two brut rosé Franciacorta wine: I’ll check inside what we have. What would you like to have it with? Can I bring you our platter of seasonal aperitifs?»

      «Sure, Gigi, that would be great» the notary replies.

      «Brilliant, I’ll be right back, gentlemen» he says going off.

      Five girls come from the hall behind me and sit at the table beside ours. They must be in their 20s and are all dolled up as if they are in their late racy teens; two of them are compulsively typing on their smartphones, the others are talking loudly.

      I turn to the other side, and I look outside the stained- glass window: I can see a middle-aged couple walking all wrapped up in two long and grey coats; the notary is sitting opposite me and he is carelessly looking at them.

      I turn to the left again.

      «So, did you recover from the discussion about lexical semantics? You looked rather pensive.»

      «I was just thinking about the situation between the spouses. I told you anyhow that it is forbidden to talk about issue during our aperitif.»

      «Okay, you are quite right» I grin.

      «And thank you for being here with me, at the bar, waiting for the Bistrot

      «Not at all: I am quite pleased. Talking about other clients then: I was just thinking today, while I was checking the share transfer on behalf of Anyauto...»

      «Yes, Brando? What were you thinking?»

      «I


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