Page 87 of In Italy for Love

Maddalena peered over Elena’s shoulder at the sheaf of printouts from the Internet neatly stapled together. ‘The visa costshow much?’

‘Money isn’t a problem, after the payout from Laura’s life insurance,’ Berengario said dismissively. ‘He can’t have spent it all during that first year in shock. Most importantly, I’ve contacted the Fogolâr Furlan in Brisbane—’ The way he mangled the pronunciation of Jules’s home city almost made Alex laugh.

‘There’s a Fogolâr Furlan in Brisbane?’ he repeated, his thoughts pleasantly diverted by the idea of Jules joining the cultural association of Friulian émigrés. She was a Furlan Volpe after all.

‘Yes, and they were very keen to help you settle in.’

‘Hang on a minute!’ Alex said, giving himself a shake. ‘What exactly is going on?’

‘We’re shipping you off to Australia, boy.’

The utter disbelief that descended on him with that statement put pressure on his lungs until he was wheezing – either with laughter or incredulity or a mixture of both.

Australia…Half the world away from his friends and family – the support network that had held him together through his darkest time.

‘Did you think I’d just turn up at her door with all my possessions on my back and ask to move in?’

‘It worked for Jules,’ Berengario pointed out.

‘That’s because Jules is brave. And tough.’ And beautiful. His throat thickened.

‘Don’t you think it’s your turn to be brave?’

His vision tunnelled as those words burrowed into his consciousness. He couldn’t go. His well-being depended on frico and tocai and Bianchera olive oil – to say nothing of his meddling family. There was an invisible barrier that would make him disintegrate if he stepped out of Friuli. He felt it. Laura had died when they’d left Friuli.

When he reached the last item on that list, he recognised it was irrational. He was afraid. But he’d enjoyed living in London before the accident had changed his life. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask Jules to stay for him, but could he be brave enough to go to her?

With a cough, he stretched his hand out to Elena. ‘Give me the papers.’ When she didn’t immediately respond, he clicked his fingers urgently until she placed them warily in his hand. ‘You too, Stefano.’

Gathering up the forms and lists and the intricate tattoo designs, he made a neat pile, tapping them on the table. ‘Thank you for your input,’ he said tightly. ‘I admit, I’ve been a few steps behind my own feelings since I met Jules.’ He paused, allowing those words to settle over him. ‘You’re also right,’ he continued softly with a self-deprecating smile, ‘I fell in love with her and I didn’t deal with it well.’

He ignored the gasps and gleeful noises of his family.

‘But if anyone is doing something to fix this, it’s got to be me.’

Looking up slowly, he met Berengario’s calculating gaze, holding it until the old man gave him a small nod and his combative posture softened. ‘You know we’ll help you with anything you need.’

‘I know.’

36

Reverse culture shock was real.

Back in the glaring sunshine the day after she landed, under the shade cloth and the spreading jacarandas clinging to the last of their purple blooms, Jules was dreaming of stone pines in the mist and persimmons and the silver leaves of squat, gnarled olive trees.

The city was sweltering and full of people, but just as lazy in the summer heat as she remembered. Brisbane was a different planet from the foggy Friulian plain and Jules was an alien – one of those extraterrestrials who could make themselves look exactly like a human to blend in.

The way her family treated her, she was one hundred per cent Julia Volpe on the outside, the exact woman who’d left Australia for an extended backpacking trip and was now home again, her thighs sticking to a plastic chair placed on the tough buffalo grass of her brother’s lawn. It was another plane of existence and she felt out of focus inside.

The little sting that assailed her every time a photo from Friuli arrived on her phone didn’t help her attempts to adjust. Alex had even managed to engineer a photo of both Arcoand Attila, although Attila was only in the top corner, peering superciliously at the dog from the windowsill outside Alex’s bedroom.

She’d have Arco back in a few months and that would help, although it still wouldn’t be the pack back together.

Feeling the twinge again, she picked up her phone to text Alex:

I still feel guilty for making you bond with Arco for six months.

Seeing her father Tony approaching, beer in hand, she quickly stuffed her phone back into her pocket as he collapsed into the chair next to her.

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