18. Theodora
18
THEODORA
FLORENCE
CERUSSITE: Enables decision-making, growth, adaption to change
B reakfast is served on the top floor of my hotel, accompanied by a dancing cascade of church bells. While I sip freshly squeezed arancia rossa juice, I have a perfect outlook over Florence and the Duomo ; Brunelleschi’s famous octagonal dome in all its magnificence looms before me. On the steps of a church below, the foremost Italian designers are on display. Men with perfectly groomed facial hair sport suits of Armani , Valentino and Versace and chatter with stylish women wearing up-do hairstyles and diaphanous maxi dresses more suited to evenings. I admire their ease and grace; no one appears fazed by the rising temperature or echo of carabinieri sirens. Instead , they elegantly smoke their cigarettes and wait for the bride to arrive.
There’s no escaping the culture, the art and the history here. Florence is striking. There’s beauty everywhere, from monuments at the end of basalt cobbled laneways to bronze sculptures and statues in the piazzas. The legacy of the Medici family endures—the powerful medieval dynasty understood the importance of cultural conservation and assured ongoing restoration and preservation for their treasures. Thanks to the family’s foresight and dedication, the works of great artisans will continue to be valued and enjoyed. I’m eager to play a part in preserving the past with authenticity yet in awe of the responsibility.
Butterflies chase and tumble in my stomach as I head towards Santa Maria Novella station and to the Fortezza da Basso . The fortress that once protected Florence from attack now houses the textile conservation department of the OPD and guards the city’s cultural heritage.
The ancient wall of stone built to defend the city from neighbouring provinces is intimidating. I scout the perimeter to the gateway, and the thought of armour-clad knights with swords drawn against an enemy feels perilously real; I imagine the centuries of bloodshed the wall has witnessed, the number of lives lost at the point of daggers and pikes. The idea of life confined inside such heavily guarded fortifications sends a chill down my spine.
A small group of interns gathers at an imposing arched entrance and appear as nervous as me. We are directed to a theatre, the Teatrino Lorenese , where the supervisor offers an effusive welcome. I concentrate on Signora Vecchia’s heavily accented English as she commences with an introduction to the coperta and an overview of the work completed.
Later we follow her into an area more resembling a science laboratory than a workroom. I’m reminded of the scientific aspects of our conservation efforts and the necessity to preserve an original textile at its best. Microscopes and measured lighting cast a clear vision over the controlled environment and pristine work surfaces. Far removed from the textile’s creative history, it is here, with clinical instruments and technology, that the first steps of the conservation process take place.
We’re presented with white coats and gloves, and our orientation continues. Feet shuffle around me as Signora’s instructions bounce off the blank walls. It appears the rest of the team are as eager to see the Coperta di Usella as me.
‘ The cleaning was done with an ultrasonic humidifier. The dust particles were more prevalent on the front—not equals to the back. What does this say?’ Signora looks directly at me. ‘ This …calcifications?’
‘ The coperta was most likely used as a wall hanging or a curtain rather than a bed covering.’
‘ Si , Signora …?’
‘ Harris . Theodora Harris .’
‘ You have done your research, Theodora . Brava .’
We move to a large workbench where the coperta is spread in the centre, supported by batons and illuminated under clear but gentle light. The conservation is in the final stages, with consolidation needed to repair or reconstruct the design’s missing and damaged threads. Conservators hover around the edges, and I creep closer, fascinated by the swirling embroidered interplay of vines and fleurs-de-lis on the coperta’s border.
It’s slightly smaller than the Tristan Quilt and in remarkably good condition given it’s survived for over six hundred years. I’m in awe of the magnificent medieval work.
‘ Technical details have been collated, and we continue with the ongoing reports. Allora , there is more to do….’
My enthusiasm builds as the faint scents of camphor and cedar invade my senses, then the naphthalene from mothballs from more recent centuries. The musty residue of age.
What an honour this is. Like a fish on the end of a reel, I fight the force that urges me closer to the table. Without thinking, I reach out and touch the cloth. A shock surges through my body and I gasp; tremors turn my legs to jelly. A man opposite rolls his eyes.
‘ Allora —’
‘ Mi d-dispiace, Signora .’ I stutter the apology, possibly the most useful phrase I’ve learned.
A picture flickers in my mind, brighter than a dream. It surrounds me with warmth and happiness. I stare at a spot on the floor to compose my stance.
A woman is silently focused with needle and thread; a young, dark-haired man interrupts her, dressed in brocade like a character in a Shakespearean play. Her face beams with love, and she gazes up at him.
Then I catch my breath as an immeasurable sense of loss hits me, and my sisters’ faces appear behind my eyelids. I blink back tears and try to process and calm my emotions.
‘ It’s probable several people were involved in creations of the design. Si , here are different technical abilities in the drawings…’
Signora points to various figures on the fabric, ‘…and in the methods, here and here.’
But my line of vision changes. I leave my body and fly outside the group, peering down on the room from above. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes tight, willing the sensation away.
‘ We see the use of templates. Certain figures—horses for examples, is precisamente the same size in all sections—and so too, the figures of Tristan . These shapes then transfer to the backing linens.’
A quick glance at the group indicates no one has noticed my state. I lean against a nearby workbench to steady and sigh in relief. My legs are still shaking when Signora dispenses us to our duties. I’m directed to a table where a piece of cream linen is laid out under an overhead lamp.
‘ Theodora Harris . I want you to examine the stitches and applications and replicate this piece. Capiche ?’
‘ Si grazie, Signora .’
‘ Backstitch two layers and with the cotton wools, position a figure to begins the trapunto. Then , follow et cetera with stitches in the manners of the coperta. Take care with tensions and adjust lengths for the threads. But I am sure, you know this—no?’
I refer to the microscope for details to imitate those on the coperta. Within minutes I’m comfortable whizzing my needle through fabric, the process of running stitch and antique slipstitch as natural as walking.
Once my task is completed, I stretch my neck and review my handiwork.
Signora Vecchia returns and checks my sample. ‘ Brava , Theodora . You work with fine, neat stitches as I thought. Perfetto .’
‘ Grazie , Signora .’
She clears her throat. ‘ Theodora . Your reaction. I have seen this before when people have intense connection to textiles or antichità from the past. It is physical reaction. Psicometria . Psychometry . You’ve heard this term, si ?’
‘ Psychometry ?’ I frown. Gran’s words ring in my ears. You’re not psychic dear, just sensitive. Forget about that for now . ‘ No , I haven’t.’
‘ Si , the reading of vibrations and emotions of the pasts through the senses. Touch , smell?—’
I recall the intensity of a constant stomach ache when I worked on a costume at the NGV —one worn by famous star of the stage Nellie Stewart in the 1880s. I nod slowly, vowing to take further note of the term.
‘ Do you think this will be a problem for you? Make it too difficile to work with our coperta? It happen on other assignments—no?’
‘ I’m not sure I understand what happened today, Signora , but I will do my very best for the OPD .’ I bite my lip.
‘ Your portfolio was impressive. Si , the photographs with your application of the detailed care you have for your work—this make me see how suited you are to our project.’
I wish Gran could see what her encouragement has given me. She insisted on selecting the photos of my work, and filled out some of the application forms, barely asking for input.
‘ Your supervisor reports from previous projects were impressive. Your needlework is prima classe , Theodora . This is why you are selected. So , you must protect yourself from the sensations and learn to control them. Accept how the feelings help you, and understand what they say—listen—eh?’ She points to her head and smiles.
I’m not certain how, but it’s possible I did feel something deeper in the fabric. But it’s the first time someone has addressed my reactions, and I’m relieved she understands. Perhaps I should pay the images more attention? It scares me to think I might be more like Amelia than I realised.
‘ Thank you, Signora . I will do my best.’
‘ The coperta will be exhibited for a short time at the Palazzo Davanzati . We know, the good conditions is because it was in storage for centuries. Allora , this medieval technique, the unique iconography—it deserves to be seen and appreciated in entirety, eh?’
‘ Yes of course. It is remarkable.’
‘ Brava . And Theodora , it is molto importante to enjoy and experience la dolce vita while in Italy — si ?’
‘ Si , Signora .’
‘ Perfetto . I look forward to consulting with you on this assignment—this importante textile from our history. Grazie mille , Theodora .’
O ne weekend, I move into a villa on the outskirts of Florence . My days begin with meditation, breathing in the sweet fresh air and wholesome scents of earth and sunshine. It’s difficult to hold back my enthusiasm when ideas loom in everything I see and do here, spurred on by the climate, the scenery and the way of life. Instead of restrictions, I imagine opportunities.
I take my lunch into the garden. A plate of figs and olives, Maremma goat’s cheese spiced with mint and oregano, slices of prosciutto crudo, and a chunk of the heavy pane toscano. The delicious aroma of freshly brewed espresso from the moka pot—a staple in Italian kitchens, trails behind me—it’s my new essential too. I know from experience there is much love and nurture in the creation of homegrown produce. Italians have such rich and productive lives. Lives full of giving and sharing. Full of family.
I’m the last of my family, and Gran’s stories live on in me. But if I’m the last to remember her, then when I’m gone, her story—as well as my family’s stories—will all be forgotten. I think of the importance of passing on a history, a legacy, of finding a way to be remembered. Gran’s quilts were her legacies. Amelia left a diary. I’m mindful of the gifts I have, those that can be shared. I want to leave a legacy too.
The view over the terraces of gnarled grapevines in the mauve-blue valley below is delightful. Surrounded by earth and sun, my thoughts dissolve, leaving my body lighter. I love it here. The patterns of life that have continued for centuries remain in the art and architecture, the rolling hills and valleys. I close my eyes and soak up the sun. It feels like home. My thoughts stray to Tristan , to that kiss. It’s becoming a habit. But like the dreams that persist, I push him away. The light and amicable tone of his texts are enough for now.
A long dull ring interrupts my peace. I flick the screen open and connect with the other side of the world as Star’s face frowns back at me on Zoom . It must be quite late—dark shadows blur the floral patterns of the walls I know so well behind her.
‘ Well , hello! How’s everything going?’ Most of our communication has been via email or text. It’s great to speak to her.
‘ Yeah good…pretty good. Interesting . Those pictures you sent were lit. Are you homesick yet?’
My stomach twists with butterflies as her words reach me. The slight delay has me watching her face for clues before her words sink in.
‘ No , I’m loving it here.’
‘ Is that Florence ? It’s so green, like you’re in the mountains.’
‘ I’m staying on the outskirts of the city. The villa is gorgeous. You’d love it here.’ I walk around the courtyard, angling my phone so she can see the view.
‘ Maybe , but…’
The picture wavers, and I can’t make out her mumbling with the delay. ‘ Sorry , what did you say, Star ?’
‘—something I need to ask about Luke .’
‘ Go on.’
‘ He’s been dropping by work a bit, checking up on me and stuff…don’t mind…but…says things are going to…and change when you get back?—’
The connection lags again.
I wait again, irritated with the connection as her voice wavers in and out.
‘—well—he sorta implied you’re moving in with him. Is that true? I didn’t know…and the two of you had hooked up again.’
I take a deep breath before answering. ‘ What ? No , no it’s not like that?—’
‘ Whatevs … Theodora .’ Star looks away from the screen and speaks to a point in the distance. ‘ But I’m a bit pissed off. I put up with his interruptions because he’s your ex, but it’s a bummer to hear you’re getting rid of the shop…’
My face heats up as I take a deep breath. ‘ Star , that not what’s going on?—’
‘ It’s your life, so you do you. But I can’t believe you didn’t tell me?—’
‘ I’m sorry. I have no idea what Luke’s talking about. I’ll speak to him.’
‘ He said he’s got plans for the building. I’m a bit, well, you know?—’
Bloody hell, Luke . Checking in is one thing but ordering her about and interfering in my business is overstepping the boundaries.
‘ If you’re selling up, can you let me know first so I’ve got time to find another job? I need it.’
‘ Star ! That’s not happening!
I clench my fist, working to keep the scowl from my face. I’ll have to sort out my finances with him. It’s time I bought him out of his share of the building.
‘ O …kay.’ She hesitates, brushing her fringe as she does when she’s nervous, ‘but do you think you could have a word with him? I’m not comfortable with him. He sorta tries to be cool, but in a creepy old guy way—plus he’s always asking stuff about you.’
‘ Is he behaving inappropriately?’
‘ Yeah nah. Not hitting on me or anything—’ Star rolls her eyes and acts out gagging with a finger in her mouth.
The delayed response on my phone screen is almost comical; like watching a badly dubbed foreign language movie.
‘—and always flexing!’ Star’s on a roll now. ‘ I don’t get it. But you’ll speak to him, yeah?’ She raises her eyebrows and peers into the screen.
She’s keeping something from me. I’m not sure what. My chest is tight. I’m instinctively feeling what Star feels. Fear closes in on me.
‘ Star . It’s okay. I’ll speak to him.’ I’ve needed to have a conversation with him anyway. It’s long overdue. Damn him for putting her in this position! ‘ Now tell me how the sale plans are going….’
We chat for a few more minutes until she yawns.
‘ So , you’re not getting back together?’ she asks, and then looks away from the screen. ‘ I heard about the baby. He told me the girlfriend’s out of the picture.’
I take a deep breath again. ‘ Not going to happen, Star .’ I keep staring until she nods that she’s heard. ‘ I have ideas about the future of the boutique, but I’m focussed on what I’m doing here. My work at the OPD is opening up channels of inspiration. I’ll let you know more soon.’
‘ Yeah , whatevs, I’m up for it. Oh , and another thing. The guys came to check on the shop for maintenance. So , that’s okay, isn’t it?’
‘ What kind of maintenance?’
‘ Dunno . But Luke said he uses them all the time. He looked pretty stressed but said it’d be fine to sort the jobs while you’re away. The first guy in a suit was pretty lame. Haven’t seen any hot tradies yet?—’
‘ Star , I’ll speak to him.’ I bite my lip. What is he doing?
‘ Okay . Well , I’m pretty wrecked. I’ll catch you later.’
The screen wavers and blinks, and my thoughts jumble. He runs like a bull at a gate when he’s chasing a plan. It’s hard to make him listen to reason. But I never asked Luke to make decisions for me. If he’s having a difficult time that’s a problem of his own making.
My resolve has become clearer as the weeks pass. I need to set him straight. I’m done with being trapped in situations that stifle me. The building that houses the boutique is the last tie to him. Time to sever it.
I call him immediately, but his phone goes to voicemail. Then I send a text asking him to call me back. I’m not looking forward to the conversation, but like Star said, it’s time I lived life on my terms. I’m sure once we’ve sorted the finances, Luke will be fine.