Page 63 of In Italy for Love

As he walked away, he pulled a crushed felt hat out of his jacket and shoved it on his head as he joined the semicircle of older men gathered around Berengario. One of the drummers stood ready to accompany them.

Armed with her warm parcel of chestnuts, Jules found a position directly in front of the choir and enjoyed Alex’s discomfort as she watched him intently. He tugged at the collar of his shirt as they picked their starting notes and then Berengario launched them into song.

Jules couldn’t help but grin. The song was a jaunty a cappella number, complete with ‘pum-pa-tum-pums’ and lively bass ringing out from Alex’s deep voice. There weren’t many members under fifty and she imagined Alex might never have joined the choir if it hadn’t been for Berengario. But he seemed to be enjoying himself and his rich voice, a firm foundation for the harmonies above, would definitely have been missed while he was away in London.

For the next song, Alex accompanied the choir on the accordion as well as singing, his fingers lively on the keys as he finessed the bellows to match the dynamics of the voices. Jules studied his instrument – the same one he’d been playing the day they’d met. The brand name in silver letters near the keyboard read ‘Victoria’. She wondered how old the instrument was and wished she could have seen him play in London.

They sang four songs to raucous applause and some audience participation and then the low-key celebration came to an end, people drifting through the Venetian arcade on the square to find dinner at an osteria, or heading home along the lanes.

Jules snatched Alex’s hat before he could stow it back in his coat. Tugging it over her ears, she grinned at him.

‘You have a lovely voice.’

‘Andyoudidn’t save me any chestnuts,’ he said with mock censure. When he grasped her around the waist and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, she forgot anything she might have quipped in return.

‘Are we really doing this now? Kissing in public?’

‘It would appear so,’ he said with half a smile. ‘Come on, let’s eat dinner.’

Bolstered by creamy pumpkin soup and a glass of wine and lulled by the fire in the stove half an hour later, Jules leaned her elbow on the table and asked, ‘What’s the story with the choir? Is it connected to Berengario’s accordion classes?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s our local coro alpino, the choir of the voluntary association of the Alpini, the alpine troops. It’s a very traditional repertoire. I could sing these songs at the Fogolâr Furlan – the Friulian club – in every city I visit. I even sang them in a pizza restaurant in London a few times. But they’re well-known in Veneto as well, and all across the north.’

‘So it is an army thing?’

‘Yeah, the motto of the association is “Onorare i morti aiutando i vivi.” Honour the dead by helping the living. I’m not involved so much with the association, but it’s a cultural institution around here and the veterans and volunteers do all kinds of work.’

‘Did it…’ Jules began, not sure if she should ask the question or not. ‘It doesn’t bother you when people talk about those who’ve died? There’s a lot of remembering going on in this place. Earthquakes, wars, famines…’

She waited to see if he’d withdraw, but it seemed he’d given up on that since Saturday. But he did stare pensively into his soup for a few moments before answering. ‘You’re right about remembering. It’s a culture. But it’s not the same as the way I remember Laura.’

‘How is it different?’

He glanced at her, as though measuring how much she truly wanted the answer. ‘The acts of remembering are planned and scheduled and carried out with tradition. But I don’t have tomakemyself remember her. I just do. Maybe other people make themselves remember her, but I can’t help it.’

‘I suppose that’s where nights like this gnot dai muarts come from,’ she mused. ‘Because it feels like people we love can’t really be gone.’

Alex’s response was a dark laugh that suggested she’d said the wrong thing. ‘Laura is gone. She doesn’t whisper to me in the shadows or come to me in dreams. She’s very gone.’ He leaned on the table and hung his head, rubbing his hand over the back. ‘Sorry about this.’

‘I brought it up, Alex,’ she said gently.

Lifting his head, he pinned her with an unexpectedly penetrating look. ‘Do you think if I’d told you all of this that night at Salvino’s bar, we would still have slept together?’

Memories of that night surfaced and twisted together with this broken Alex, who’d tried to spare her what he’d been through. There was so much behind his question: guilt, a little desperation, a need for vindication. But after the past few days of honesty and casual affection that felt anything but casual, her answer could determine what happened next, how far they were willing to bend towards each other. A reckless answer now with the truth of all the feelings that bubbled up in her when she looked at him could bend her so far she might break.

Recklessness had always been her weakness.

26

Sitting in his own kitchen had never felt like a roller coaster before, but waiting for an answer to his question had Alex’s stomach lifting and dropping out of his control. Jules looked at him straight on without flinching, seeing all the feelings behind his question but not shying away from the difficult truth.

Still, he didn’t want to imagine how she’d react if she knew about Laura’s last days, as much as he wanted to explain himself. Perhaps if she just accepted his grief the way she seemed to, he wouldn’t have to tell her. Like that first night, when she’d accepted his inarticulate explanation about why he wasn’t looking for love.

She took a deep breath and leaned close, almost conspiratorially, and the impression of being on her team prickled over him far too pleasantly. ‘I don’t think the answer matters as much as you think it does. I liked you then… and I like you now. If you want?—’

That half an answer was enough of a miracle. He grasped her face in both hands, closed the distance between them and kissed her, lingering, testing – her and himself. With the conversationabout Laura in the room like a real ghost, he kissed her with the weeks of wanting he’d stuffed down inside.

Her hand closed in his pullover in a firm grip. Reservations flying from his mind, he grasped her waist and hauled her into his lap. She smiled against his lips, her kisses growing clumsy as he felt her chuckle under his hands.

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