With a sad sigh, they had said goodbye to the house that had hosted them that morning. For the next stage, they had to move to Cologne, where they had been given a smaller apartment, but spacious enough for all of them.
The only thing she missed, however, Belinda thought, was the garden, where in her final days she had taken refuge with a small notebook, in which she wrote thoughts and words that, added together, would become songs at the end of that adventure.
Tom was right: she couldn't leave music behind; it was part of her.
However, she still had a long way to go before she could pick up where she left off, also because she had realized that now, when she sang, she was no longer pouring her anger into the notes, but channeling the pain she had inside and sharing it with others.
That morning, while they were all on the large tour bus that accompanied them, Belinda continued to work on her music. She repeated the melody, adding or removing sounds, while thinking of which words she could adapt.
A hymn to music? No, banal! A social text? No, it didn't sound right. Then what language to sing it in: Italian or English?
"I told you no!" Naomi exclaimed from behind her, distracting her.
She turned and saw him arguing heatedly with Bill over the shade of black nail polish. They were incredible: they'd been going on for two hours, just to decide whether it should be worn with a purple or blue flower application.
He chuckled to himself, thinking that the conversation with her would be over in fifteen seconds, due to his lack of desire to waste so much time on such a topic.
He looked at his hands and had the urge to hide them in his pockets: they weren't beautiful, his nails were short and unpolished, while his long, thin, nervous fingers needed a good sunscreen.
I'm not sloppy! she told herself to console herself. I just need to feel free; with all that makeup, I'd feel heavy and fake.
Behind her, the bickering continued fiercely, neither of them convinced of what the other was saying.
She sighed, concentrating on finding the words she was looking for. She glanced out the window and suddenly had an idea: she would write that song for Bill! She would give it to him when it was time to leave. It would be a way to tell him how grateful she was for what he had done and how much he meant to her.
The words came naturally, like a river, washing over her, and it seemed as if they were there waiting to be written.
She took her notebook and began writing quickly, pausing every now and then to correct the form or rhythm of the lyrics.
They were almost there when, tired but satisfied, she put the notebook and pen back in her bag, smiling.
Luckily, the move went smoothly and without incident. They carried their bags into the house, while Naomi and Bill had started arguing again, this time over the room assignment, since there were only two double rooms and four singles, two of which connected via the bathroom.
"What's the problem?" Naomi snorted. "You get a single room, preferably the one at the end of the hall, and the three of us will take the connecting rooms!"
"You can't put another bed in the connecting rooms, there's no room," the boy protested smugly. "How do you three sleep?"
"Did a tarantula bite you this morning, Bill?" Naomi scolded him. "Mind your own business, please, and we can manage on our own!"
"That's enough!" Klaus interrupted, picking up his suitcase and Hellen's. "We'll take the double room near the living room. You guys keep arguing like children!" He walked off with the girl in tow, who gave them an apologetic smile.
"They're right!" Annalisa commented, shrugging. "I don't understand what the problem is."
"There isn't a problem at all," Tom intervened. "Don't you understand that for them, arguing is a way to pass the time?"
Huffing, Naomi grabbed her trolley and headed for the other double room, followed by Annalisa. They opened the door and stopped, disheartened: the rooms, though tastefully furnished, didn't allow for extra beds. She turned to her sister, who, shaking her head, said, "You take it too, I'll take one all to myself this time!"
Smiling gratefully, the girls carried their things inside.
"Oh, no!" protested Tom. "You're not going to make me share a bathroom with Bill: he spends two hours in it every morning and always leaves the toothpaste open on the sink!"
Belinda and Kristian threw up their hands, disheartened.
"Okay!" said the girl. "Let's do this: if Bill promises to let me use the bathroom first, then I'll take it. Then, he can stay four hours for all I care!"
"It's not true that I leave the toothpaste open," the boy protested to his brother. "You're the one who does it!"
Belinda snorted, almost exhausted. "Enough, I can't stand you anymore! I don't care about toothpaste, you can spill it on the floor and the shower tray. As long as the bathroom is empty in the morning! I've had to wake up at dawn to wash up at a decent hour for years, so make up your mind!"
"Fine," Bill agreed, biting his nails. "But no women's things lying around!"
"Listen, kid..." he began patiently, "I'm not in the habit of leaving my women's things around! And since you're being so picky, let's make it clear: everyone uses their own cosmetics!" she concluded, sticking her tongue out.
She grabbed her things and took them to her room: finally, some space all to herself!
She threw herself onto the bed and began jumping on it to test the mattress's softness, then lay down contentedly to admire the room.
It was very beautiful, with its wrought-iron bed, blue curtains, and double-door wardrobe with a huge mirror.
This time, my dear little sister, I have the mirror all to myself... and I can see myself in it! She laughed, looking amused.
Not even thinking about it, and Naomi burst in like a whirlwind to see the room.
"I can't believe it!" Her eyes widened. "You have a nicer room than mine!"
"Yes, indeed! For once, everything is nicer than you, princess." Belinda laughed, sitting in the middle of the bed.
"Not the boy, though!" her sister retorted. "Tom is more handsome than Bill."
"But they're twins!" Belinda exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
"It's just a detail," Naomi pointed out. "Tom has more masculine features than the big star."
"Crazy! Until last month you were drooling over Bill and you wore us out with phrases like 'But how Bill puts on makeup!' and 'And how Bill dresses!'... and how much Bill was pissing us off, you know?"
"I didn't know Tom-Tom!" Naomi exclaimed with conviction.
"Who, the navigator?" Belinda laughed, stepping aside just in time to avoid a pillow hit.
"By the way, how's it going with Bill?" Naomi then asked, her face serious again.
"It's none of your business, dear."
"You have secrets from me? I can't believe it!" Naomi feigned dejection and sulked.
Bellinda gave her a long, searching look. "My secrets are the least secret of all. Unlike someone who holds on to their own!"
"Who are you referring to?"
"You and Tom. Shouldn't you be telling me something, little sister?"
"I don't think so. What about you?"
"I'm not even thinking about it!"
They looked at each other intently for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. It had been a while since they'd had time for each other, especially for the long chats they used to have in the evenings. There were always too many people and too much to do then, so as soon as they got to their room, they fell asleep right away.
"How's he doing?" Belinda winked at her.
"Um… not bad, so far. I almost split his lip on the first try." Naomi giggled at the memory.
"Couldn't you have said, 'No, thanks'?"
"But I didn't hit him, damn it!" she exclaimed. "It's just that Super-Tom suddenly kissed my neck and I jumped, headbutting him."
Belinda laughed. "Wow! Imagine if he'd made any more advances to you..."
"No, I don't think he will," Naomi replied, suddenly serious.
"You don't know Tom well, then!" the other girl sneered.
"It's precisely because I know him so well that I don't think he'll ask me anything... I think he's afraid of me."
"I don't understand." Belinda moved closer to the edge of the bed. "What do you mean?"
"I think he's used to a different kind of girl, and I'm either too serious or too young for his standards."
"Well, actually, even though you're only four years apart, I think he knows more than half the world of women." Belinda looked seriously at her sister and put her arm around her shoulders. "I know how you feel right now. You wish you were bigger than you are, to be able to fully experience this feeling, but at the same time, you don't want to throw yourself away for someone who won't remember your name or face after this summer... Keep your feet on the ground, Tinker Bell, because, knowing you, you'd lose your heart."
Naomi sighed. "I know, but... I really wish for once..."
"I'm not the best person to tell you not to follow your dreams, but think about it! After all, has he ever told you what you mean to him?"
"No, and I certainly won't ask!" she replied dryly.
"Why? If it can clear up your doubts..."
"I shouldn't be the one to come forward. If he doesn't understand, the only one who loses is him!" she protested.
"I know, but I think he's scared to admit to himself that he really likes you, you know?"
"What an idiot! Let's forget it, go and talk about you. What will you do with Bill?"
Belinda sighed and stood up to put her suitcase in a corner. "I... I'll have a good memory when we leave."
"Are you decided, then?"
"What did you think, that I was thinking I'd spend my whole life with Bill?" she replied sarcastically. "You know how I feel about journalists and crowds: I'm terrified of them... And then just think, if they ever saw us together, the newspapers would spend all their time wondering how he chose me, given his female following!"
"But he's really into you!" protested Naomi with conviction.
"Yes, for now! You're a dreamer!" He stroked her hair. "You know, I've decided not to wonder what will happen, so I can live this gift life has given me with emotion... I really have to thank you for what you did for me, for throwing me on that stage, for introducing me to the guys, and... for meeting Bill. It helped me look inside myself, understand what I want from life, and... to remember what happened that night."
"You mean... Really, Linda?"
Her face opened in surprise, her pupils dilated, and her mouth parted. She was fearful of what her sister had dug up from her memories and fearful of what might happen again.
"Yes. That terrifying nightmare I had brought back memories and fears... Bill was generous with me, both emotionally and with emotional support. I couldn't have faced all that darkness alone..."
"What did you remember? What had you dreamed to be so terrified?"
"I don't feel like talking about it yet, but I'm fine. Really!" he reassured her, squeezing her hands. "Thank you too for your patience…"
"Don't be stupid, you're my sister!" Naomi replied softly.
"It's not always that automatic… Now I just want to be happy." Belinda leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I wrote a song for Bill, you know?"
"Really? I want to hear it!"
She clapped her hands excitedly.
"I promise I'll do it as soon as possible, but I still have to finish it… See? What more could I ask for?"
"Maybe that's your limit, Linda: you never ask anything of others, but you're always there for them."
Belinda smiled. "That's exactly what I think of you!"
"If Mom could hear us, I think she'd smile with tears in her eyes at seeing us so close!"
"Worse: I think she'd faint!" Belinda agreed, laughing.