Page 25 of In Italy for Love

‘Are you coming?’ he called out.

Approaching hesitantly, she pointed to the fierce blade hanging casually over his shoulder. ‘What is that?’

A deep frown marked his brow. ‘A falcet,’ he said as though the answer was self-evident. ‘For cutting grass. I don’t know what it is in English.’

‘Ah.’

‘What did you think it was?’ His English was surprisingly good given his age and the fact that he used a scythe like a peasant from a hundred years ago.

She couldn’t exactly explain to him her weird image of Death, just as she hadn’t admitted to hearing ghostly accordion sounds overnight. Her sudden departure from Parma had obviously dealt her a shock that she was still recovering from and her landing in this weird place with spartan accommodation and grumpy locals hadn’t been the softest.

Except for the part where she’d landed in Alex’s bed.

‘I couldn’t see it properly in the fog.’ With a shiver, she followed Berengario into the mist, the sun creating a smoky halo over the shadowy hill.

‘Are you cold? Although we are close to the sea, we have some bitter winter days here when the wind comes down from the mountains. Perhaps you need a good coat – and some better shoes.’

‘Bitter,’ she repeated thoughtfully. She’d never heard that word as much as she had over the past two days. ‘But it’s only autumn and I won’t be here long.’

‘If you say so,’ Berengario said, his words sending another shiver down her spine. ‘But we hope the weather improves before next weekend.’

‘Next weekend?’ she asked as he turned back.

‘The harvest!’ he called over his shoulder.

Walking into the grove after him, she imagined entering a portal, emerging in an alternate timeline. Perhaps in this world Luca was a stranger to her. How wonderful that would be, if she could just erase the past three years and her youthful stupidity.

Olives hung heavy on the trees, in shades from yellowish-green to light purple. Her companion squeezed the occasional berry absently as he passed.

‘I cut the long grass, you cut the short grass, hmm?’ was all he said before he picked a spot and set to work.

Berengario made operating the scythe look effortless, clutching the handle halfway along the pole to slice the blade through the wet grass. Jules found the hand-push lawnmower difficult to steer and it required a shove to get it moving. Her arms ached before she’d cut a single row. To make the work even more difficult, Arco snapped at the machine every time she pushed it, making her worry that he’d cut himself. But she struggled on, knowing how desperate Maddalena and Berengario were for help.

‘Try more gently. You want to keep your elbows, yes?’

Her only response was a sigh.

‘Alex should have taken Arco to the shop.’

‘He’s my dog and Alex has already done too much for me.’

‘Alex likes to help people.’

‘That doesn’t mean people should take advantage of him. You do understand that I’m not his girlfriend, don’t you? We only just met.’ With a gulp, she realised how that sounded, given everything Berengario had witnessed. ‘But don’t judge him for that either. It was my idea.’ Eek, now she’d never be able to look the man in the eye again.

His chuckle behind her was deep and reminded her of Alex’s voice. He’d said Berengario wasn’t his grandfather. Perhaps hewas a great-uncle or something. ‘Brava! I like that, Giulietta. An audacious woman.’

His statement didn’t do anything for her embarrassment, but his choice of words made her laugh. ‘Reckless’ was the word that had come to her mind, but ‘audacious’ sounded less like making mistakes and more like derring-do, as though she’d bravely – rather than awkwardly – asked Alex out on a not-date and begged for a kiss.

When they trudged back for lunch, Jules was damp to her bones, her hair plastered to her face. Stepping into the farmhouse was a blessed relief. There was a fire on the hearth in the dining room, warming the handful of lunch guests who had braved the fog.

It was a funny fireplace – surely not compliant with anyone’s ideas of building regulations. Raised to waist height on a brick dais, the flames were open on three sides with a giant plastered flue hanging above. It reminded her of the fireplace in the taverna where she’d eaten with Alex.

She expected to be tucked in a corner of the kitchen and fed vegetable stew, but Berengario led her to a table in the dining room. A relieved Arco ducked under the table, bumping the chairs as he wriggled in a few circles and then plonked himself down to sleep with a doggy sigh.

‘Give me your jacket,’ Berengario instructed gruffly.

Shaking her head, she pulled it around herself and shivered. ‘I’ll keep it on.’

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