In Italy for Love

Chapter 27

27

The festival honouring the dead continued the following day. All Saints’ Day was a holiday and Alex disappeared with Berengario and his accordion to sing at various events while Jules found herself back at Due Pini to keep busy, slowly improving her wood-chopping technique. When she returned in the afternoon, Alex’s neighbours took turns to ring the doorbell and brusquely hand over small, wrapped packages – biscuits, some kind of sweet bread made with dark flour and a paper bag of beans.

When Alex got home and caught sight of them he sighed, explaining in a clipped tone that it was the night to pray for the dead.

‘Which everyone seems to think is my special holiday,’ he mumbled, before taking himself off to the shower.

Afterwards, he obviously didn’t want to talk about it and Jules didn’t judge when he kissed her instead and tugged her into his room. But she was careful to leave again before she fell asleep, one last protection against feelings she wouldn’t be able to take back.

On Thursday and Friday, Maddalena insisted she go home after lunch and Jules made use of her newly-acquired freedom of the Friulian plain – her bicycle – to explore further along the emerald river, parking her bike in a village and walking in the hills with Arco before stopping to taste the most famous speciality of the valley, the spiced bread with nuts and grappa called gubana.

Although she spent all morning out in the vines or repairing the chicken coop with wire-cutters and her bare hands, or clearing the tomato plants that had died off in the polytunnel, she had no desire to go inside to the stove until the first chill of the evening chased away the sun. The bright-eyed, rough-skinned woman who stared back at her in the mirror in the evening would have been a stranger three weeks ago.

A stranger, too, was the rumpled woman who dragged herself out of Alex’s bed every night just before she went to sleep, despite the big, warm hand that sometimes fumbled to stop her. On Friday evening, he fell asleep before she did, his lashes casting shadows over the hollows of his eyes. It was even harder to leave with him so peaceful beside her. But on Saturday morning Alex looked even more wrecked than usual, his hair standing up on one side and refusing to be tamed, even after he emerged from the bathroom ready for work.

‘Did you sleep at all?’ she asked warily, worried that his early night yesterday evening had led to a worse night’s sleep.

He shook his head and said in a gravelly voice, ‘Slept through.’

‘Really?’

He eyed her. ‘Sometimes it happens.’

‘But you look like shit.’

He smiled then and ruffled her hair. ‘I feel like I’ve slept for three weeks.’ With a dismayed glance at her, he added, ‘Except that you’re still here, which suggests it hasn’t been that long since yesterday.’

Maddalena had insisted she take Saturday off with a strong hint that she should spend time with Alex. Jules hadn’t had the heart to tell the older woman that he was working anyway – although she’d also developed a few plans for his long lunch break – so she farewelled him at the door, feeling a little forlorn.

At the last minute, he turned back and pressed a quick kiss to her lips that left her stunned. Coming back to herself, her gaze flickered around the courtyard, wondering which of the neighbours might have witnessed that and trying not to be touched that Alex had done it anyway.

Jules was so uncertain about what was going on between her and Alex – and scared to upset the delicate balance they’d created – that her phone call to her mum was tongue-tied as she tried to avoid mentioning her housemate at all. If Brenda noticed, she thankfully didn’t say anything.

Her long walk with Arco started out wet and ended soaking, too muddy even to collect chestnuts. By the time she cycled home from where she’d left her bike, even Davide’s solid shoes were drenched and the dark clouds rolling in made it feel like four o’clock and not midday.

As she hurried for the door, the top branches of the persimmon tree whipped in the wind, even though it was protected on all sides in the little courtyard. Siore Cudrig’s pumpkin decoration was nowhere to be seen and the lanterns under the tree had fallen on their sides.

Jules closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief, but her stomach didn’t settle. Texting Maddalena, she asked if everything was all right at Due Pini. They probably hadn’t had many lunch customers in the downpour.

Even when Maddalena replied that she’d weathered worse before and everything was all right, the sense of unease still plagued Jules. She showered and then blow-dried Arco with an amused smile. She needed to take him to Marisa to be clipped. He couldn’t have all this fur in Brisbane, where temperatures were over thirty degrees already.

Brisbane was as abstract a thought as thirty degrees when it was about eight outside and the sky was thick with cloud. Despite the storm and the worry cramps, Jules was satisfied to keep it that way.

She was just thinking about cooking something for lunch when she noticed Attila’s food bowl on the windowsill was still full.

‘He’s probably fine,’ she muttered to herself and tried to swallow the panic in her throat. But she abandoned her own plans for food to look for him. He wasn’t in Alex’s living room, on the tatty sofa with the throw blanket on it, where they’d watched an old thriller and fooled around last night. The only things in the workshop were Alex’s neatly packed tools and the carcass of the poor red accordion. She even checked under the table and behind the curtains.

Alex’s room was similarly empty and although she felt justified in checking in his cupboard, she immediately regretted intruding when she found a framed photo of a smiling woman with dark eyes and olive skin, giving the camera a scrunched-up smile that couldn’t hide how beautiful she was – dainty and good-tempered.

The photo was stacked on top of a moving box, lying carelessly face up, as though he’d stashed it in the cupboard in a hurry – because Jules was now spending time in his room?

Placing the photo of Laura carefully back where she’d found it, she returned to the immediate problem of weather plus missing cat. She’d bet that Attila had found a cosy fireplace somewhere in a luxury hotel to see out the storm, except that she hadn’t seen any luxury hotels anywhere around here and even that diabolical cat couldn’t drive.

When she went to the front door and peered out, keeping a hand on Arco’s back to communicate that he should stay inside with her, the rain was falling in sheets and the occasional crack could be heard in the courtyard. It wasn’t thunder. It sounded like two stones clapping together.

Peering hopefully around the courtyard, Jules called for the cat, not sure if he would come for her anyway. ‘Attila! Here, puss! Micio!’ she called, trying the pet name that Alex called him and making kissy noises.

Another crack sounded and this time Jules saw where it came from. A chunk of ice the size of a chestnut had slammed into the ground in front of her. As she watched, smaller balls landed beside it, until the rain slowly turned to what looked like polystyrene beans, streaming to the ground.

She gritted her teeth, torn with indecision. She’d never find the cat if she wandered the streets, surely. He would have taken refuge somewhere. But what if he hadn’t?

Perhaps the cat did have more sense than she did, because she shrugged into her still-damp jacket, gave Arco a treat before locking him in and then headed out into the storm. The wind whipped at her when she made for the car park and the sodden vegetable gardens at the back. She wasn’t even sure the cat would hear her over the wind and the hail, but she kept up her calling, checking under cars and behind the bins and in Alex’s shed, but Attila was nowhere to be found.

She was about to trudge back to the courtyard and search out on the street, when she heard a distant miaow. Hurrying back in the direction she thought she’d heard it, she couldn’t see him, but the sound came again – from behind the wall. Grabbing a rusty drum, she clambered up and peered over to find a rushing creek that she’d never known was there.

It was a kind of rudimentary storm drain – or a creek bed that was used as one. And over the other side of the rushing water was a sodden white cat, all bones and enormous, terrified eyes with his fur plastered to him.

The drum wobbled alarmingly and Jules couldn’t reach him from where she was anyway, so she climbed down quickly and rang Alex.

‘A-A-Attila!’ she said as soon as he connected the call. ‘He’s stuck – near the water. I’m going to try to get him.’

‘Jules, where are you? Wait there. I’m nearly home anyway.’

‘He’s in danger, Alex. Near the creek at the back of the house.’

‘Whatever you do, don’t go near the water!’

‘I’ll meet you on the other side. Come quickly!’ she finished urgently as she ran for the courtyard. Pulling up the map on her phone, she located the other side of the creek and set off at a sprint, a smattering of hail bouncing off her shoulders.

There was a car park on the other side, sheltered by trees that weren’t providing cover that day. Twigs were scattered already and a layer of hail blanketed the ground like marbles. Wading through thick bushes, Jules made her way to the place where she’d seen Attila and threw herself at the stone wall, leaning over.

Her heart stopped when she realised he was no longer there. Alex would be devastated, losing his connection to Laura. Even more than the old house that had once been hers, Attila was a living thing that his wife had cared for and Jules was devastated for him just imagining the grouchy old cat never coming home.

‘Attila!’ she called frantically. ‘Micio! Pspsps micio!’ There was no response. Desperation climbing up her throat, she threw her hands up and cried with inarticulate frustration. Swiping at the moisture on her face, she shook her head to clear it and then threw one leg over the wall, shimmying into the weeds on the other side.

Negotiating the stony bank with one hand on the wall, she stepped carefully, following the direction of the water and combing the banks for any sign of him. There was a flash of something near the bridge where the main road crossed the creek, but she couldn’t see properly.

Letting go of the wall, she clutched at the long grass and skidded down towards the rushing water.

‘Jules!’ came Alex’s deep voice from above her. ‘What are you doing? Come back up here! It’s dangerous!’ She was vaguely aware of his voice growing nearer. ‘ Jules! I’m serious. Don’t go near the water!’

Her heart nearly stopped when she came close enough to see the pale smudge she’d noticed from above. Wedged between two bushes with the water swelling around his little body was Attila. She couldn’t tell if he was moving.

‘No!’ she cried, placing one foot in the water. ‘He’s here!’ she called back. ‘He’s stuck! I can get him.’

‘No, Jules. I’m coming to help. Don’t go after him alone, you’ll?—’

With a splash, she slipped to her waist in the water, and then the drenched ball of fur was within reach and she grasped him with both hands, relieved, but also alarmed when he didn’t protest. Tucking his surprisingly frail little body into her arm, she grabbed at the bushes and stumbled back towards Alex, only now realising how strong the current was.

She managed to haul herself back out of the water, but she was grateful for Alex’s strong grip to pull her all the way back up the bank.

‘What were you—? That was— Putane— Fuck , Jules!’

Her mind was now so quiet with purpose that she had the space to ask herself if she’d ever heard him say that word before. But she let him shepherd her back to the wall and help her over.

‘I told you not to go into the water!’ he cried, his voice high. ‘You could have drowned!’

Finally back in safety, she ignored Alex and peered at the little bundle she’d fished out of the creek. ‘Alex, I don’t know if he’s breathing.’

‘What?’

Grasping Alex’s arm, she squeezed hard enough to drag him out of the fog of panic glazing his eyes. ‘We have to take him to the vet – now.’

She expected him to take Attila, but he didn’t. He just looked stricken and half-absent as she clutched his cuff and dragged him after her to the road. When she was sure he was following, she rested her other hand on the little form of the cat, a chill rushing through her when she still couldn’t detect any signs of life. She had no idea what kind of first aid people could give to cats. She just made sure she was supporting his body and kept him close.

Arriving back at the courtyard, they ran for the car, Alex with enough presence of mind to fetch a blanket out of the boot before swinging himself into the driver’s seat. Jules towelled off the little cat and then shrugged out of her jacket, holding him to her chest in an attempt to keep him warm.

‘And?’ Alex asked sharply. ‘Is he okay?’

‘I don’t know,’ she had to tell him. ‘Do you want me to drive?’

Shaking his head vehemently, he steered the car around the tight corners and onto the main road. ‘Just tell me if anything— No, don’t tell me?—’

‘Just drive the car, Alex,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve got him.’