Page 23 of Livia in Rome
And Giulio...he’s shifting about on his mattress perch like a scolded schoolboy.
‘She loves our coffee,’ he offers weakly.
‘She loves to meddle, you mean. And now Caterina’s got her doing her dirty work.’
Dirty work? The only dirty work Ma does involves kitty litter and a scoop. I search Nina’s face for clues as she chases a cannellini bean around the tomatoey broth. I want to know what she means, and why Ma hasn’t been back since her impromptu lunch trip on Giulio’s Vespa – not even on Sunday – but my relationship with Nina still feels fragile, and I’m afraid it will shatter if I press too hard. I’ve only just started getting smiles. So I swallow my questions and focus on my food. Only, a few spoonfuls in, the heat of the dish starts to hit me, and I think I might melt on to the floor. What was I thinking, orderingpasta e fagioliduring a heatwave?
Nina notices. ‘Have you been outside at all, Livia? You will never get used to the sun if you hide away from it.’
I’m reminded of our first conversation, and howpale she thinks I am. I shift so the overbed table hides my arms from her judgemental stare. ‘I’ve been...busy. Language classes...the bar...’
Nina waves her spoon at Giulio again. ‘Caro, perhaps you can show Livia around a little?’ Then, after a pause, she adds, ‘When the bar is closed...so Caterina is not working alone.’
Is it my imagination, or is Nina eyeballing Giulio like she’s trying to zap a secret message straight into his brain? Or maybe there are so many secrets flying around that I’m seeing them even where they don’t exist.
When we turn into Via dei Serpenti, I spot a man in a smart navy suit pacing in front of the bar. He looks familiar, but before I can fully place him, Giulio veers sharply left, taking us up a side street. I grab his shoulders to keep my balance and find myself flattened against him, so close I feel the low vibration of his voice when he speaks.
‘Just need to make a quick detour!’
‘Giulio!’ I protest, but he accelerates harder, only stopping when we’re on a long avenue lined with ancient stone walls and broccoli-shaped trees, the rocks and ruins of the Roman Forum stretching out below us. Tourists crowd in around tour guides holding up colourful umbrellas to make themselves stand out in the throng. I’m surprised to see locals here, too – businesspeople on benches, talking loudly into their hands-free earpieces, families watching kids climbing on low walls.
I turn to Giulio. ‘Why—’
‘Nina wants you to see some of the sights,remember?’ he interrupts, tilting his chin towards the ruins, his voice casual, like he didn’t just swerve away from the bar and the man standing outside it.
I cross my arms, frustration boiling over. ‘You might think I’m some bumbling tourist, Giulio, but I’m not an idiot – that man back there...he was hanging around your Vespa the other day. Why are you avoiding him? And don’t tell me this is a sightseeing detour.’
Giulio runs a hand through his hair, the bright sun picking out the golden tones, especially in the tufts that are left sticking up. I run a hand through my own to satisfy the strange urge to reach out and smooth his. I’ve just taken my helmet off, but the frizzy mass is already hot to touch. Maybe I’m overheating and that’s why my brain’s malfunctioning. It’s like Nina says – I’m not used to the sun.
Giulio hoists himself on to a wall and kicks his heels against the stone. He’s obviously trying to think of a good excuse. I can tell the moment he gives up, because he lets out a long sigh and his feet go still.
‘That man...his name’s Bertolli. He works for the bank, but he’s got a thing for vintage Vespas and hinted he might accept the bike as a sort of down payment.’
‘Down payment?’ My confusion deepens. ‘For what?’
‘For the debts. To stop the bar being...’ Giulio pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Pignorato.’
‘Pignorato?What does that mean?’ For once, I don’t care that I’m showing my lack of Italian vocabulary.
‘The bank will take the bar away if the debt is not repaid in full,’ he explains, his expression grim.
Repossessed. It means repossessed. But the word still doesn’t make any sense. ‘How can the bank do that? Nina owns the bar outright, and the flat above. Ma told me.’
Giulio shakes his head. ‘Nina’s been borrowing against the property to keep the business afloat. But she’s fallen behind on the repayments. Far behind. I didn’t know anything about it until she went into hospital and I had to deal with the post.’
I press a hand to my chest to ease the painful squeeze of my heart. The bar that’s been in my family for generations is in danger of being taken away.
‘You can’t tell Nina the debt is being recalled...Not while she’s in hospital.’ Giulio’s voice is urgent, his eyes seeking mine...holding my gaze. ‘She needs to concentrate on getting better. I won’t have her worrying that there might not be anything to come back to.’
My mind races. All those times I thought Giulio was up to something shady – the letter, stealingmoney from the till, snooping in the paperwork – I had it completely wrong. He wasn’t taking from the bar; he was trying to save it. And I misjudged him. Completely.
Then there’s that call I overheard on the rooftop – he must have been talking to Bertolli, telling him not to send the letters to the bar in case Ma found out.
‘I get why you don’t want to worry Nina, but why hide it from us?’
Giulio’s lips twitch. ‘You and I haven’t exactly been friends.’
I squirm at his understatement. ‘True...but...what’s that got to do with Ma? If anything, she’s always on your side.’ I try to keep the bitterness from my voice.
