Page 16 of In Italy for Love

‘What?’ Alex shook his head with a fond smile, thinking of the old man who’d taught him everything he knew about the instrument.

‘Wants to retire, he said,’ Siôr Quercig continued.

‘Berengario will never retire,’ Alex contradicted him emphatically, picking up the leather accordion case and stowing it behind the counter to take home with him later.

‘He probably just had a date with Elena,’ the other man said with a wink.

‘Or with a friend and a bottle of wine,’ Alex agreed, although the man was right that Berengario and Elena had been inseparable since they’d officially become a couple, as juvenile as that expression sounded for a pair in their eighties.

‘At least you’re taking over the business,’ Siôr Quercig said, slapping him on the arm before turning to leave.

Alex’s mouth dropped open to protest, but the man was already walking away. He wasn’t taking over from Berengario. His old mentor was part of the musical fabric of the city, while Alex was… a bicycle repair man who dabbled in busking and teaching accordion to the awkward kids at school. Cividale had got on fine without him during the years he’d been away.

Luigi appeared with a cigarillo hanging from his lips just before closing time, helping to bring the bicycles for hire back inside for the night and counting the money. He shooed Alex out of the shop twenty minutes before the end of his shift.

‘I’m lucky to have you, boy, and I see you have a hot date tonight.’

Alex’s gaze shot up, a denial on his lips. Had Luigi found out about Julia somehow? But he wasn’t seeing her tonight – or ever again. He was gripped by a sudden panic that someone might have seen them, and the news would be across town by the end of the night as all of his friends and acquaintances discussed his miserable love life over their tajùt on the piazza. For a moment,he wished hecouldmeet Julia again tonight for another drink, as consolation for being the object of pity and gossip.

But the panic ebbed again when he saw Luigi’s eyes on the accordion case behind the counter. Those were his usual evening plans: a date in front of the TV with his pliers and screwdrivers and beeswax and someone’s grandfather’s instrument.

It was a miracle he hadn’t bored Julia stiff the evening before. Perhaps she’d just been nice about it because she wanted to get into his underwear. He could live with that.

Hefting the old case, he gave Luigi a lazy salute and called out the usual ‘Mandi,’ because the shop was proudly Friulian and ‘Ciao’ was only for customers from the rest of Italy. The last rays of the sun painted the sky with slivers of orange as he stepped out of the shop and the wrought-iron street lamps of the old town switched on, illuminating his short walk home.

He wondered if Attila was still angry with him for inviting a dog to his house last night. The cat had regarded him with distinct dissatisfaction that morning, even eating his breakfast with his tail curled in clear disdain. Although Attila was a Persian mix and always looked mildly peeved, even when he was content.

Waving to the owner of the pet salon as she shut up shop for the evening, he wondered what Arco was doing right now and who he was licking. He’d probably already left Italy with his mistress. Given the position of Cividale, she could be in any number of countries: Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Switzerland, Germany – even Bosnia or Hungary were possibilities.

All of which made it seem strange that he hadn’t crossed a border in three years. He didn’t need to, he assured himself. Udine was a big enough city for practical errands, the beach at Grado was only half an hour away for a summer dip, and in winter he had the Dolomites to the north. He wasn’t stuck; he was home. He needed that now.

Elena was at her window when he arrived at the gate under the archway but she disappeared inside her apartment before he could call up a greeting or ask after Berengario, her beau, who was undoubtedly in the apartment with her.

The windows of his building were at least eighty years old and everywhere paint was peeling and wood and glass were warped. Perhaps it was for the best that Julia had arrived here in the dark – and he had kept her effectively distracted.

But that evening there were people by the persimmon tree – three people even, not just Siôr Mauri puffing on a furtive cigarette while his wife wasn’t looking. Make that three people and a dog. Alex froze, concern and anticipation prickling up his spine. He recognised those sneakers, the short ponytail – that place on herneck. He’d spent all day reminding himself she was gone, but… here she was.

Arco saw him first, giving a bark and turning in an excited circle. Alex snapped himself into action when he recognised Berengario with them. He didn’t want to be caught staring, nonplussed, at Julia when she was supposed to be a stranger. But what was she doing there? WithBerengario,of all people? Or was it a coincidence that his old mentor was here as well and… was that Aunt Maddalena?

While he absently greeted the ecstatic dog, Maddalena and Berengario both attempted conversations with him at once.

‘There he is!’

‘Alex! We were starting to think?—’

‘—you didn’t say anything about youryoung woman?—’

‘—except there was a burst pipe and?—’

‘—it’s none of my business why she’s not staying with you, but she?—’

‘She can stay with you, now.’

Alex struggled to decipher the rush of words, but his thoughts got stuck on the ones that didn’t make sense:his youngwoman?And Berengario admitting something was none of his business?

Julia turned slowly, a pained expression on her face, and only then did he notice that her hair was limp and knotty, a smear of dirt was on her cheek and her old jeans were caked in mud. When she lifted a hand to swipe at a strand of hair, he saw her skin was raw.

‘What happened to you?’ he asked, peering into her face. Only belatedly did he attempt to soften his expression. Her only response was an overwhelmed look in the direction of the two older people. Maddalena’s question finally penetrated his thoughts and he glanced back at his aunt. ‘“She can stay with me”?’ he repeated, dumbfounded.

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