by Paige Toon
We burst into the house laughing, and within seconds Serafina has me in her arms and is chattering away, half in Italian and half in English, about how happy she is to see me again.
She greets her son as warmly, while I in turn say proper hellos to Jacopo and Valentina. Valentina is thrilled to see that I’m wearing the blue headscarf she gave me.
The house smells of burning wood and when we go into the living room the fire is lit in the hearth. It reminds me of camping with Grandad out in the bush when I was younger. We would bake damper – soda bread – in the coals of our campfire, just as Australia’s early settlers once had: the swagmen, drovers and stockmen who’d had only very basic rations. Grandad would add sultanas to the recipe that was otherwise simply flour, salt and water, and I remember how delicious the bread tasted smeared with butter. The next day, though, the leftovers were as hard as a rock. We’d play catch with them.
Grandad also used to bake. Pies were his speciality, mostly savoury ones, but Nan preferred sweet treats. Every day, when I was at school, I’d find something freshly baked in my lunchbox.
The memories make my heart ache.
Serafina settles me on the sofa closest to the fire and, in grandmotherly fashion, drapes a blanket over my knees before going off to prepare hot drinks. She shuns Valentina’s offer of help, but doesn’t protest when her son follows.
‘What is Alessandro doing today?’ Jacopo asks me.
‘I’m not sure,’ I reply.
I think he’s disappointed that Alessandro didn’t come.
‘What have you two been up to?’ I ask.
‘The usual. Milking goats, feeding pigs,’ Jacopo replies with a shrug.
‘Is it very hard to milk a goat?’ I ask.
‘You want to try?’ Valentina asks with glee.
‘Sure,’ I reply.
‘I’ve already milked them today, so we’ll have to wait until later.’
‘Maybe when the rain lets off,’ I suggest.
‘Oh!’ Jacopo remembers something and jumps up. He returns with his phone. ‘I have to take some photos of you. Everyone has been asking.’
I assume he’s talking about the family members I haven’t met yet.
‘Come and sit next to me,’ I say to Valentina, patting the space beside me.
She presses her cheek against mine and beams at the lens. I laughingly do the same.
‘And now one with you,’ she says to her brother, who takes her place.
Afterwards Valentina makes Serafina and Giulio sit down on either side of me and Serafina makes no attempt to get up again. Giulio, who I think was about to, seems to also have second thoughts.
‘I brought some photos with me,’ I say, remembering Alessandro’s suggestion. ‘Would you like to see them?’
Serafina would, very much. Valentina and Jacopo come and stand behind the sofa so they have a better view.
‘These are my friends,’ I say self-consciously, flicking past them quickly to the centre of the album where the photos become more general, featuring snaps of the town, the landscape and the dugouts.
‘It looks like the moon!’ Jacopo exclaims.
‘People say that,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Is this your dog?’ Valentina asks.
‘I was only small when he died, but yes. His name was Dingo. He’s not a dingo, but he kind of looks like one, don’t you think?’ I glance over my shoulder at her. ‘Do you know what a dingo is?’
Valentina shakes her head, flummoxed.
‘I’ll show you some pictures later,’ I promise.
‘I recognise this dog,’ Giulio says suddenly. ‘Dingo. Your mother’s dog?’
‘Yes,’ I reply with surprise. I always thought of Dingo as my grandparents’ dog. I was only four when he died so I don’t remember him that well, only that he used to perform tricks for my grandad.
‘Your mother carried a photo of him in her purse. She missed him very much,’ he reveals.
Serafina turns to me. ‘Do you have a photograph of your mother?’
‘Yes.’ I’m uneasy as I hunt it out and I imagine Giulio is too. I doubt he ever brought Mum to Tivoli to be introduced. ‘Here she is.’
It’s a photo of Mum with my nan in Adelaide. She’s sitting on the beach, smiling, her dark hair flowing behind her in the summer breeze.
‘I remember now,’ Serafina says, while Giulio falls quiet, leaning closer to study the picture.
‘Did you meet her?’ I ask with surprise.
‘She worked for us,’ she replies with equal surprise that I didn’t know this.
But of course she did! Serafina and Andrea were still running the restaurant when my parents met.
‘She was a good girl,’ she says. ‘Very friendly and nice to the customers. So sad that she died.’
‘Si,’ Giulio murmurs. He’s still scrutinising the photograph. ‘You have others?’ he asks me.
I nod and we slowly work our way through the last third of the album, which also features photographs of me as a child and my grandparents.
After wards, I snap a few photos of my own. The Bake Club crowd have been on at me to post some pictures of my family online. I’ll remind Bonnie to show them to Jimmy when they’re next together. He doesn’t have Facebook. He doesn’t even have email, or a computer, for that matter. ‘I can’t be doing with all that!’ But he obviously enjoys penning postcards. I’ve had five from him so far and his last told me that Bonnie is well and truly addicted to the Patricia Cornwell series. I’m glad she’s still keeping him company.
It’s a lovely day. Valentina and I spend an hour or so on the piano together – I teach her a duet for us to play together, which delights our grandmother no end. We also have a quiet heart to heart about how she can’t wait to go to university in September, but how she’s worried about leaving behind her responsibilities. She doesn’t think anyone cares for Fiocco and Nocciolina as much as she does. To her, the goats are beloved pets. To everyone else, they’re not much more than a source of ingredients.
In the afternoon, as we’re preparing to leave, Eliana and Enzo arrive home. Enzo tries to get us to stay a while longer, saying he’ll open a bottle of wine from the family vineyard, but Giulio declines.
‘Alessandro will be waiting with an alcohol test when I get home.’ He humphs, casting his eyes heavenwards.
Once again, it’s just the two of us in the car. When I say something about Serafina, Giulio interrupts me.
‘She would like you to call her Nonna,’ he says. ‘And, I don’t know, maybe you could call me Papà?’ He sounds hesitant. ‘But whatever you like,’ he adds hastily, filling the awkward silence that has descended upon the car.
‘I can call you Papà, if you like.’ I’m touched almost to the point of being speechless.
‘Si, I would like,’ he replies.
Chapter 33
On Tuesday morning, it’s bucketing down.
‘That’s going to make walking to work fun,’ I say wryly, staring out the French doors at the puddles rapidly forming on the terrace.
‘I have a spare helmet,’ Cristina says easily, prompting me to shoot her a look of alarm over my shoulder.
‘I’ll go slow,’ she adds.
‘No, it’s okay.’
‘Come on, Angel, live a little.’
‘You promise to go very, very slowly?’
‘I promise! Jeez.’
‘Fine. Let’s do this.’
We arrive at work laughing and wet through from our hips downwards. Cristina doesn’t care – she’s wearing shorts today, typically – but my jeans are soaked.
‘Angel!’ Giulio exclaims when he sees us.
‘Buongiorno. . . Papà.’ I say this mischievously, still laughing about the bedraggled state we’re in.
His face lights up at the moniker and, to my surprise, he opens his arms to me and comes over to give me a hug and two kisses.
Alessandro walks out of the stockroom while this is happening and comes to an abrupt halt.
‘Ciao!’ I call cheerfully.
‘Ciao,’ he replies in a more reserved manner, heading behind the bar.
Oh great. He’s gone back to being detached. I try not to be put off.
‘Good weekend?’ I ask, propping myself up at the bar.
He nods. ‘You?’
‘Yeah. We went out for Cristina’s birthday on Saturday night.’
‘How was that?’
‘Lots of fun. And yesterday’s trip to Tivoli was nice. You were missed.’
He says nothing.
‘I was thinking about taking a few days off the week after next and going to visit the rest of the family in Venice. Would that be okay?’
‘Of course. Let me know when you’ve decided which days.’
I pause. ‘You wouldn’t like to come too?’
He meets my eyes with surprise, then looks down again, shaking his head. ‘I have to work, but Loreta and Boris are very good hosts and your cousin Melissa will enjoy showing you around.’
I try to mask my disappointment.
‘What did you get up to yesterday?’ I probe.
‘I had a quiet day,’ he replies and doesn’t seem to want to elaborate so I get on with setting the tables.
*
On Friday afternoon, I go to place a drinks order when Alessandro stops me. The restaurant isn’t busy – Stefano and I have the only two tables.
‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ he asks.
‘Nothing, why?’
‘Logan has texted. He and Lea would like to have dinner.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘What’s this?’ Stefano interrupts.
‘Nothing, just meeting up with a couple of Alessandro’s friends tomorrow night.’
Stefano looks at Alessandro with mock surprise. ‘You have friends?’
Alessandro stares at him and Stefano shrugs. ‘What? I’ve never seen any.’ Stefano slaps my arm as Alessandro gets on with the drinks order. ‘I thought we were going clubbing again tomorrow night?’
‘When did we decide that?’ I ask.
‘Last week. You said you would come dancing with me every Saturday night from here until eternity.’
‘I did?’
‘Yes,’ Stefano states adamantly.
‘I’d had quite a lot to drink,’ I reply apologetically.
‘Fine. We can go tonight instead.’
‘We’ll see,’ I say to get him off my back, picking up the drinks tray.
There’s no such thing as ‘We’ll see’ when it comes to Stefano. In the end I give in to his badgering and agree to go into town with him – Cristina is also swayed. She’s still suffering with post-Rebecca blues so we manage to convince her that she needs another night out with her friends.
She’s not the only one. All week I’ve struggled with Alessandro’s detachment, but I know I can’t let it get me down, not when I’m finally free to live my life. I’m simply going to have to make some solid friendships so I don’t feel dependent on him.
‘See you later, Papà!’ I call with a cheeky grin.
Again, Giulio looks absolutely delighted as he comes out of the kitchen to give me a hug.
It doesn’t come naturally, calling him Papà, but it does entertain me, seeing that look on his face. Such a small thing to do to bring someone joy. How could I not? Ultimately, it seems to be bringing us closer.
Warmth spreads through my body as Giulio squeezes me.
‘I pick you up Monday morning, nine o’clock,’ he states, looking into my eyes.
‘I’ll see you then.’
Giulio and I are going to Tivoli again – I’m hoping this will become our ‘thing’, something we do together regularly.
I turn to Alessandro. ‘You sure you won’t come for a drink?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’
‘Shall I meet you somewhere?’
‘No, I’ll pick you up. Seven o’clock?’
‘You’ll leave work early?’ I ask, pleased.
‘On this occasion. Have a good night,’ he says, nodding towards the door as Stefano calls out to let us know that the taxi is here.
‘Thanks, you too.’
I do have a good night, despite the underlying edginess that comes whenever I think about Alessandro. I feel young and free, and I can’t believe it when we arrive home and I see that it’s four o’clock in the morning!
For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m acting my age.
Cristina and I sleep in late the next morning and nurse our hangovers in front of the TV for much of the day. I was intending to go into town to do some sightseeing – the weeks will soon turn into months and before I know it, I’ll be going home again – but I don’t have the energy.
At least Venice is all lined up. I’m going a week on Tuesday for three nights. My aunt Loreta and her husband Boris run a small hotel and they’ve blocked out one of the rooms for me. It’ll be great to meet some more members of the family.
*
I’m not sure what I expected, but Alessandro is as remote when he comes to collect me on Saturday night as he was at work.
It would probably be stranger if he’d instantly switched to being tactile again, but I’m still a bit thrown by his two cool cheek kisses. Our skin barely connects, and a friendly hug seems like it would be out of the question.
‘Are you not drinking tonight?’ I ask when we go outside to his van.
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll sleep in this when you catch a taxi.’
‘Oh, okay.’
He puts his music on at a high volume so we don’t really talk on the drive into town. I’m unsettled, wondering whether I’ve done something to upset him. Eventually I come out with it, turning down the music as I ask, ‘Have I done something wrong?’
He looks startled. ‘No. Why?’
‘You’ve been aloof all week.’
He shakes his head. ‘We’re at work. Giulio, too many other people around, but everything is okay. Tonight my head is elsewhere.’
‘Where?’
A few seconds pass. ‘I’m thinking about what will happen when I go.’
‘When you go?’
‘Frida and I.’
‘Oh. What are you worried about?’
‘Nothing,’ he replies. ‘Everything is fine.’
I don’t believe him, but that’s all he’ll say.
We’re meeting Logan and Lea at a bar and they’re already there when we arrive. Logan calls out in not quite as loud a voice as he did in Pompeii, thankfully, but still loud enough to get a few looks: ‘Allez-Allez-Allez!’
I laugh and glance at Alessandro. ‘Where did he come up with that?’
‘It’s what the spectators shout at the cyclists in the Tour de France,’ Alessandro explains.
‘Go, go, go!’ Logan chips in, before shaking Alessandro’s hand. ‘It’s also become a Liverpool football chant since then.’ He leans forward to give me a peck on my cheek.
I’m not quite as at ease as I was when I last met Logan and Lea, knowing what I now know about base jumping, but the conversation between us flows, and gradually I begin to relax.
After one drink, we head to a steak restaurant with a dark and sumptuous interior. We’re led to a booth table with black-velvet-covered bench seats. Lea slides into one side whilst I take up position opposite her, the men following in after us.
We spend the first part of the evening hearing about Logan and Lea’s travels. Alessandro has been everywhere they mention, but I hang on to every word, especially when they talk about Venice and the things they got up to there.
During the break between the starters and the main course, Logan slides his arm around Lea and pulls her close. A few moments later, Alessandro rests his hand on my knee.
I give him a sidelong glance and reach for my wine glass, but leave his hand where it is.
By the time we’re eating a shared dessert, we’re even closer. Anyone looking at our table would think we are tw
o loved-up couples.
Of course, there’s absolutely no kissing, but Alessandro is being very affectionate. Right now, his left arm is around me and he’s holding his fork with his right.
I don’t know why this is happening again after a week of distance. It’s almost as though he’s following Logan and Lea’s lead. Maybe if I hadn’t been drinking, I’d be more on guard. But right now, I’m trying not to overthink it because I’m enjoying it too much.
Far too much.
We pay up and move on to a bar, lucking out when a couple of big comfy armchairs by the window become available.
Alessandro and Logan go to get some drinks while Lea and I look around for extra chairs. We can’t see any so we sit down and she leans towards me.
‘Are you and Alessandro a “thing” now?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘Friends.’
‘You’re very close.’
‘Sometimes,’ I say with a nod. ‘He’s not always like that.’
‘Logan says he’s never seen Alessandro with a woman before.’
‘Really?’
‘Never.’
I’m not sure what to say.
‘It’s nice,’ she adds with a smile. ‘He seems happy.’
I glance over at the bar, but Logan and Alessandro haven’t been served yet.
‘Has Logan told you what Alessandro was like when they used to know each other?’ I ask.
She nods, growing serious. ‘A little.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I’m not sure how much to tell you. I mean, he seems in a pretty good place right now.’
There’s something about her tone and the look in her eyes that make me feel nervous.
‘I worry about him,’ I confide. ‘If I can better understand him, I might be able to help.’
She pauses, and then sighs. ‘There were a few times when Logan said he acted irresponsibly. Not all the time,’ she’s quick to clarify, ‘but occasionally.’
‘In what way?’
‘He jumped in dangerous conditions when nobody else was jumping. Logan says it was a miracle that he survived. If the conditions aren’t right, it can be suicide. Logan tried to talk Alessandro away from the edge more than once, but he was like, “Three, two, one, see ya!” ’