Page 47 of In Italy for Love

In the daylight, the narrow paths between the run-down stone buildings of the tiny village would have been charming. Even at night, the place was atmospheric, especially with the mist beginning to swirl as the temperature dropped. She couldn’t see many lights on – and the shutters of most of the buildings were firmly closed – but there were street lamps set at intervals and Jules had that feeling again of travelling back in time with each step. Unlike Cividale, with its ancient roots in Roman and mediaeval times, here she could imagine the hardy farmers from the previous century holing up and preparing to defend themselves from a variety of powers, all of them foreign in this isolated valley.

They took a paved walkway with grass growing through the stones, heading steeply up behind the town, and Jules followed as Alex took long, impatient strides. Arriving in a clearing, she saw the silhouette of a craggy tree trunk that split in two about halfway up. It wasn’t enormously tall, but so wide her outstretched arms wouldn’t even span half of it. She stayed close to Alex – to the light – as they took the makeshift stairs of earth and wood and Arco bounced happily ahead of them in the dark.

The tree was perched on a slope facing the wide valley behind. Without daylight, the view was more a sense of openness and the glint of white on a distant mountain top. The sight of snow gave Jules a start – a reminder that winter was coming, time was passing, faster for her than for this wizened old tree.

Alex moved the torchlight over the trunk and she skimmed her fingertips along the crevices in the bark, taking in the jumble of knots and shoots and the vine growing up the middle.

‘It’s about four hundred years old. So at one time, this tree was a citizen of the Republic of Venice,’ he said softly.

‘I wonder if the Doges liked chestnuts.’

He peered at the ground, then twisted his foot carefully in front of him, before bending to retrieve something. Opening his hand in front of her, he held two smooth, brown nuts in his palm.

‘I doubt it. Chestnuts were always considered peasant food, although that could be true for most delicacies in Friûl.’

He continued to hold his hand out, so she reached hesitantly for one of the nuts, brushing her fingers over his rough palm. The nut was smooth, curved on one side and flat on the other, where it had nestled against the second. She glanced from the grand old tree clinging stoically to the mountain to the cold evening glittering with mist and broken by spots of light from the hillside settlements.

‘It’s so isolated, but you can tell that many people have visited this place.’

‘Chestnuts are also a symbol of endurance,’ he continued quietly. ‘Sometimes we call it the bread tree.’

‘Emergency rations from the forest,’ she mused.

‘Exactly.’

‘Maybe Berengario had a good idea,’ she commented, appreciating the stillness of the cool evening, the feeling of being far away from the real world. A smile on her lips, she glancedat Alex to find him studying her warily. She gulped. ‘I meant suggesting you bring me here. This is why I came to Europe in the first place: to explore and see new things. I didn’t mean the matchmaking.’

‘Of course you didn’t. Should we go back?’

She glanced doubtfully at him, wishing she could make out more of his expression.

The darkness had drawn in on them as they stood contemplating the ancient tree and she had to stay close to Alex or risk tumbling head over heels down the hillside.

‘I can’t see,’ she explained when he appeared unnerved by her snuggling up to him. ‘Take it easy, Alex. It’s not my fault that you don’t want to hang out with me.’

‘What?’ There was an edge to his voice.

‘I know you’d rather I weren’t gatecrashing your life. I know it’s awkward that we slept together and inconvenient that I keep reminding you of… life with your wife, but I can’t do anything about it! You don’t have to share your deepest secrets, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop treating me like chewing-gum on your shoe! I’ll be gone as soon as I can arrange it.’

He caught her arm, stopping them both under the dim glow of a street lamp at the edge of the village. Arco tugged at his lead, but the expression on Alex’s face was too wild for Jules to look away. Uncertain, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his threadbare jeans.

‘There doesn’t seem to be anything in between,’ he said, his voice strained.

‘In between what?’

‘Being complete strangers and…’ He lifted a hand to her face, gritting his teeth when he gave in and grazed his fingertips over her cheek and under her chin. The touch was so light, Jules should barely have felt it, but the ripples it sent over her skin told her exactly what he was going to say. ‘Between being strangersand whatever we were that first night. I’m using so much energy onnotkissing you…’ He swallowed audibly, his gaze darting to her mouth and away again.

Her breath stalled. The circle of light from the lamp and the intimate darkness, the deserted streets of an isolated village made the perfect set of circumstances to think about kissing. She had such vivid memories of the first night, standing next to the stone wall by the river as a simple goodbye kiss transformed into a joyful kind of heat and wanting.

Would he do it? Kiss her again here, tonight? What would she taste in the kiss now? His jealousy? Grief?

She understood deep in her skin what he’d meant, how much energy they’d been expending to suppressthis,the crackle of awareness. What would happen if she just?—?

20

‘We should go back to the car,’ he said. Grasping her hand, he took off along the narrow path of pale stones, tugging her along behind while she recovered from her surprise. He realised too late that if they weren’t supposed to be kissing, they probably shouldn’t hold hands either, but he was bone-tired and confused and he wanted to hold her hand, so he threaded his fingers with hers.

She held on, gripping so tightly that he had to glance at their tangled fingers to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Was she annoyed with him? She had every right to be.

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