Dani the Hero - 3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t until Friday that Daniele plucked up the courage to try talking to Giacomo about what he had seen.

After the party on Wednesday night, Daniele had been too exhausted to dwell on anything for long; he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow. As he drifted through school on Thursday, though, the image of Giacomo skulking along Via Trinità, peering in through everyone’s windows, came back to haunt him.

The other boy had definitely been performing reconnaissance.

But what for?

Daniele was the sort of boy who would always try to see the good in people, and Giacomo… Daniele had been unusually aware of the other boy from the moment he had first seen him; he couldn’t bear the thought of his would-be-friend being reduced to a petty thief. He racked his brains, trying desperately to find some excuse or justification for Giacomo’s behaviour… anything that resembled a good explanation.

His mother’s shop, the state of her clothes… maybe they have no money?

But Giacomo was always so well-turned out… no expense seemed to have been spared on his clothing.

Is that it, then? Is he stealing clothes, or money for clothes? Maybe his mother doesn’t even know about it.

But that didn’t wash, either. If Giacomo was producing smart new clothes from nowhere, Elena could hardly fail to notice.

Maybe he hasn’t actually done anything wrong yet, Daniele thought hopefully. Maybe I just saw him thinking about it. He looked, he considered it, and then he moved on. Would that be so bad?

No, there had been something too practiced and cautious about the whole thing for that to really work... but it was a possibility, and Daniele clung to it as a castaway clings to a life-raft.

Daniele thought about the rumours of a protection racket. There had been no talk of a spate of break-ins and burglaries, had there?

But he stopped to look at that shop… for ages…

Miserably, Daniele wished that he had never seen a thing. He screwed up his eyes and tried to listen to the teacher, who was droning on about the unification of Italy, but his mind kept returning to the memory of that furtive quest, his thoughts going round in the same tired circles.

* * *

By Friday afternoon, Daniele was ready to try talking to Giacomo, no matter what the cost. He had to do something, if only to quiet the endless loop of his thoughts.

How much should he admit to seeing? Daniele wasn’t sure. He didn’t think the other boy would take kindly to being followed. And should he mention the bruises? Maybe they were connected to whatever Giacomo had been up to… perhaps he had been caught before? But maybe it was something else entirely…

Daniele had hatched a basic plan to get the other boy on his own. At the end of school, he fought his way to the front of the crowd once again and slipped out as soon as he could, retreating round a corner to lurk at the bottom of a steep, little-used staircase that led straight up to the Toro. Emilia and Marco, he knew, lived somewhere in the direction of San Martino… but if Giacomo was planning to go straight home after school, he would have to come this way, and he would be alone.

A couple of swifts flew over the rooftops, calling shrilly, while Daniele waited. Directly above him, a middle-aged woman threw open the shutters on her French windows with a sudden clatter that made Daniele jump. She stepped out of her apartment to hang a few items of laundry on the railings of her balcony. He eyed her warily, silently willing her to go straight back inside; to his relief, she did.

Familiar voices pulled Daniele’s eyes back to the corner of Via Roma. As he had hoped, Giacomo was taking leave of his friends in the street below.

“See you over the weekend, then,” he was saying. Emilia and Marco set off with a wave, disappearing through an arch onto the sunlit path beyond.

Walking casually, Giacomo set off along the quiet side street. He stopped abruptly as he spotted Daniele waiting at the foot of the stairs.

“Daniele?” he frowned. “Why do I keep seeing you around?”

Daniele felt a dull heat rise to his face. He pressed on, hoping desperately that it didn’t show. “Ciao,” he said. “I was wondering…” he searched for the words.

“What? What’s this about?”

“Wednesday night…” Daniele hesitated, “I saw you…”

Giacomo took a step back, his dark eyes suddenly sharp and suspicious. “Have you been following me?” he said quickly.

Daniele shook his head, even though it wasn’t strictly true; his plan seemed to be falling apart by the second. “No, please,” he said desperately, spreading his hands in submission. “I just want to help. I was just, you know… I was heading home from Toto’s party, and I saw… something. It looked like you were…”

“Like what?” Giacomo pressed.

“Like you were checking places out or something. I didn’t understand, so I… hid.”

The last part was weak, but the other boy didn’t even seem to notice. He, too, was shaking his head, backing away rapidly.

“You’re out of your mind,” Giacomo said, an edge of ill-concealed panic to his voice now. “I didn’t do anything. Just… leave me alone!”

He turned and fled up the stairs, apparently heedless of the steepness of the climb. Cursing his own clumsiness, Daniele wanted desperately to call him back, to start over, but he knew it would be hopeless; he watched the other boy go, defeated.

* * *

After a few moments, Daniele began to climb the steps himself. The other boy was long gone; the last Daniele had seen of him was his school bag whipping round the corner of the small church at the top of the hill. Laid low by his failure and hoping for a distraction, Daniele thought he might stay in town for a while; both his parents would be working tonight, so he wouldn’t be missed.

Reaching the Toro, he wandered slowly down the main street, passing the row of grand palazzi that dominated the ridge. As he passed the building where Giacomo lived, he kept his eyes firmly downcast, watching the dusty crazy paving slide by in the afternoon sun. Reaching the peaceful oasis of the Municipio gardens, Daniele plonked himself down on the grass in the shade of an umbrella pine. In the formal garden nearby, a few colourful red and purple geraniums were just starting to bloom.

It was ruined now, he realised dully. Giacomo would never open up to him after being frightened like that. It was time to move on; to think about other things.

A hero wouldn’t quit.

But this wasn’t like the movies, was it? There was no comic book villain to fight, no trail of handy clues to follow. Just people, and their strange and inexplicable ways.

After a while, Daniele hooked his reading book out of his school bag and began to flick through the pages. Before too long, he was engrossed in the story. He lay down in the grass to read and, in that way, the afternoon turned into evening.

* * *

After about an hour, Daniele came to his senses. His stomach was starting to rumble. Replacing the book in his school bag, he got to his feet and dusted himself down, thinking of home. His mother would have left him something simple for dinner that he could easily cook or re-heat; if he headed back now, he could have a shower, fix some food, and still have plenty of time to work on his stories before bedtime.

Daniele stretched, shouldered his bag, and made for the avenue of oleanders that led down to the cathedral square. As he sauntered down the broad stairway between the sprays of bright pink blooms, the distant hillside of Scala shone in the evening sunlight. He strained his ears, but there were still no cicadas to be heard in the gardens to either side of the street.

Soon, he thought.

Somewhere nearby, a church bell chimed five o’clock. As it was Friday night and the sun was shining, a few more of the bars in the square had risked opening for the cool April evening. As Daniele rounded the corner of the square, he saw that they were already doing a respectable trade; he spotted several couples, families and social groups gathered for drinks or an early supper. He wandered slowly towards the railings under the umbrella pines and the view of the valley, feeding off the buzz for a while; he was a lonely boy in many ways, and the sound of his fellow human beings quietly enjoying themselves was a comfort to him.

A suggestion of familiar voices trickled through the general murmur of conversation, stirring Daniele’s subconscious. He stopped in his tracks and glanced toward the source of the sound.

At the corner of one of the bars, two of the outside tables had been pulled together. Angelo and Gianni were there, sharing a drink and a chat with Pietro, Anna and Marta. Angelo glanced up, caught sight of Daniele watching them and beckoned him over with a friendly smile.

Obediently, if a little surprised, Daniele sidled over to the table.

“Ciao,” Angelo said as Daniele arrived, offering him the empty chair beside him.

“Buonasera,” Daniele replied politely but a little anxiously, doing his best to address everyone at once. He didn’t take the seat right away.

Pietro, Anna and Marta were looking at the new arrival with some surprise, but Marta rallied quickly.

“It’s Daniele, isn’t it?” she said. “Toto and Michele’s friend? You were the one who, last summer…” she trailed off awkwardly, perhaps realising she was about to bring up a bad memory.

Daniele nodded. “Yes, signora,” he replied simply, allowing the older woman to regain her composure.

“Well, any friend of those two is a friend of ours,” Marta went on hastily. “Please, join us.”

“Grazie,” Daniele replied, sitting down at last.

“Can we get you a drink, Daniele?” Pietro asked.

“Maybe some food?” Anna added.

Daniele shook his head. “I’ve got some food at home, thanks. I could drink a Lemon Soda, though…?”

“Consider it done,” Pietro replied, and he summoned a waiter to make the order. It wasn’t long before a glass of the cool, cloudy drink was placed in front of him, fizzing invitingly, along with a small bowl of crisps. Daniele set to work, taking his time to make sure it would last.

“Are you all on your own tonight, Daniele?” Gianni asked.

Daniele shrugged. “I’m used to it,” he said.

Gianni nodded. “I guess you must be,” he mused. “Patrizia told me she was working the evening shift tonight. I’m the lucky one, I guess…” he shrugged affably. “Sergio gave me the night off. It seems a bit unfair on you, though.”

“How is Papà?” Anna asked him.

Gianni and Daniele’s mother worked together at a hotel in town. Anna’s father Sergio, Daniele recalled, was head waiter there.

“Oh, the same as ever,” Gianni smiled. “He’s worried about you, though, after what happened at the restaurant.”

Anna sighed and nodded. “Of course. I’ll call on him tomorrow.”

“Daniele was almost a witness, you know,” Angelo said. “He heard the whole thing from the school playground.”

Five pairs of eyes turned towards Daniele, who nodded. “I heard a woman scream,” he said. He hesitated. “Was that… was that you, Anna?”

Anna looked a little embarrassed. “Yes, that was me. It was just so loud, and so sudden.”

“No-one could blame you, tesoro,” Pietro said gently, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Anna shrugged this off. “I know, I know. Those two men, though, they came out of nowhere!”

“You don’t know who they were?” Daniele asked them both.

Pietro shook his head. “Mamma and I were in the kitchen,” he said, glancing at Marta, who nodded. “But from how Anna described them, I don’t think either of them was the young guy who came in to hassle us before.”

“Who…?” Daniele began, but Marta cut across him, her voice kind but firm.

“I’m sure young Daniele doesn’t want to hear all of the awful details,” she said.

Daniele begged to differ, but he held his peace.

“Don’t underestimate the power of young signor Ferrero, Mamma,” Angelo said with just a trace of a grin. “The way Claudia tells it, Daniele was an integral part of her scheme to get Toto and Michele together.”

Now it was Daniele’s turn to feel embarrassed. “Aah, c’mon,” he mumbled.

“I’m not kidding,” Angelo insisted. “He’s secretly an evil genius.”

Daniele glared at him. “I’d rather be a superhero,” he replied firmly.

Gianni chuckled. “Careful, Angelo,” he said. “Dani’s got you in his sights now.”

Angelo raised his hands in submission. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

“Dani? Is that what you like to be called?” Anna asked.

Daniele shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what Toto and Michele call me. It’s cool.”

Daniele sipped his drink and ate some more of his crisps as the conversation turned back to the attack on the restaurant. As far as Daniele could tell, that was why they were all gathered here. With the restaurant closed for repairs, Angelo and Gianni had invited them out for the evening to commiserate with them and hopefully cheer them all up.

“What did the Carabinieri say after you gave your statement, Anna?” Gianni asked after a while.

Anna and Pietro exchanged a glance.

“Well,” Anna said hesitantly, “they said they’d investigate, of course…”

Gianni frowned. Watching attentively, Daniele could tell that the young man had found her answer as unconvincing as he had.

“But…?” Gianni pressed.

Anna sighed. “I don’t want to speak out of turn. I was still upset, you understand. But the young officer I spoke didn’t seem all that interested. It was like he was, sort of, going through the motions.”

“I had a chat with Giancarlo yesterday,” Pietro said. “You remember – the old man who runs the refreshment stand down from your hotel? His business was done over about a week ago.”

Gianni nodded. “I remember… the poor guy.”

Pietro gestured helplessly, as if to say, ‘what can you do?’

“I found him propping up the bar in the place over there,” Pietro went on, gesturing vaguely across the square. “He was in a pretty bad way. He had some friends with him, who were taking care of him as best they could, but it was obvious that running that little place was all he had left since his wife died. Now it’s gone, I’m not sure he has the energy left to rebuild.”

Sober glances were exchanged around the table at Pietro’s words.

“Anyway,” Pietro continued, “from what old Giancarlo said, it sounds like the police have done absolutely nothing since they took his statement. He’s called, and been given the brush-off, more than once.”

“That’s awful,” Marta said, shaking her head. “I mean, you hear stories of course… but never, in all my years here…” she tailed off.

“And so say all of us, Mamma,” Angelo replied.

The table fell silent for a moment; everybody seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Unsure where to look, Daniele glanced around the table, moving from face to face. Eventually, a couple of pairs of eyes found his. There was an awkward pause, and then Anna laughed.

“Poor Daniele,” she said with a smile, although the sadness hadn’t completely left her eyes. “Whatever will you think of us all? You must be regretting ever sitting down with us.”

Daniele smiled back at her, and this seemed to set everyone else off. Soon there were chuckles all around the table.

There they go again. It’s funny how you become invisible when they talk about the big grown-up stuff.

“I don’t know,” Gianni said with a shrug. “Maybe the police just aren’t coping with everything at the moment. Do you know my colleague Carlotta, who works on reception? She was burgled a few days ago. She hasn’t heard anything about her case either.”

Daniele’s ears pricked up at once, although the rest of the party seemed quite unsurprised by the news. He forced himself to relax.

It’s probably a coincidence. Anyway, Giacomo isn’t my problem any more.

…or so he tried to convince himself, anyway.

Angelo raised his glass. “To the Carabinieri of Ravello,” he said, “the finest police force in the world!”

Four glasses rose to meet Angelo’s in the middle of the table. After a moment, Daniele realised they were all looking expectantly at him.

“Come on, Daniele,” Angelo whispered amiably.

“Huh? Oh,” Daniele replied, snapping back to reality. He raised his own glass to chink it against the others’.

* * *

The sun was dipping towards the mountaintops above Scala by the time Daniele took his leave of the others; the shadows on the terraced slopes across the valley had first lengthened, then disappeared as the evening wore on. The others, who had started to talk about moving on to a nearby pizzeria for dinner, all wished him a good night as he left.

Because of the lie of the land, dusk lasted for a long time in Ravello. The streetlights sputtered into life as Daniele walked home, lighting his way down the quiet steps he knew so well.

He might not have time to work on his writing tonight after all, but the evening had been instructive in other ways, and it had been nice to spend some time with friends, even if they were grownups… but now it truly was time to sort out some dinner.

As he had expected, Daniele found the house empty. His mother had left him everything he needed to put together a basic tomato pasta sauce, and had chopped the onion herself to give him a head-start on the cooking. He found the ingredients neatly arranged on the kitchen worktop, with the chopped onion sealed away in a Tupperware tub to keep it fresh. A short note nearby, which read see you later, caro, was signed with a heart.

Concluding that his shower could wait, Daniele set to work right away. Deciding to turn his basic pomodoro sauce into an arrabbiata, he helped himself to a couple of extra garlic cloves and some dried chillies from the cupboard.

Daniele sat down at the dining table half an hour later with a bowl of hot pasta steaming in front of him. He liked that his parents allowed him to do basic cooking like this on his own, and that they trusted him to do it without burning the house down or destroying the kitchen. The meal wasn’t bad, either, although he could taste that the tomatoes were tinned. He looked forward to the day when fresh local tomatoes would be in season again: nothing else was quite the same.

By the time his mother returned home, the dishwasher was running and Daniele was showered and ready for bed. He told her about his evening in the square and everything the others had said, and finally revealed how he had heard the attack on Da Rossi and witnessed its aftermath. By the time he’d finished his story, her eyes were wide.

“You must have had so much on your mind these past three days, tesoro,” Patrizia said wonderingly. “Why on Earth didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Daniele shrugged. “You guys were busy, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

Patrizia pulled him into a fierce hug. “You’re so sweet,” she said softly into his ear, “but you should never feel afraid to tell us what’s worrying you. Never.”

* * *

May arrived with an upswing in temperatures and the promise of even hotter days to come. In the cathedral square, the bedding plants in the flowerpots had begun to bloom as they tumbled and trailed towards the warm paving stones. The pigeons in the bell tower had love on their minds and could be seen courting vigorously. Groups of swifts flew overhead more and more often, screeching shrilly, while stray cats and kittens could be seen lurking under the umbrella pines every day, hoping for treats from the rising tide of visitors.

Daniele revelled in the approach of summer, spending more of his time outside and catching up with Toto and Michele whenever he could. He tried his best to put Giacomo out of his mind, and sometimes he succeeded. In fact, it was over a week before he saw the other boy again outside of school; it was almost as if Giacomo had been lying low on purpose, Daniele thought, waiting to see if anything would happen now his secret had been discovered.

I wouldn’t do that to you, Giacomo.

Daniele’s often solitary life went on, and when he eventually did see the other boy again, it was in the most unexpected of circumstances.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Daniele had just enjoyed a pasta lunch at home with his parents. His mother had cooked up a tasty spring recipe made with Parma ham and fresh asparagus, which the three of them ate companionably, enjoying, however briefly, some time together as a family. They chatted about this and that, and nothing very important; there was no talk of protection rackets or burglaries this time, although there was a brief discussion of Daniele’s thirteenth birthday, which was coming up at the end of the month. When his parents asked how he’d like to celebrate, Daniele suggested that he’d like to have a meal at the pizza garden near the square so he could invite his friends.

“Sure thing, champ,” Paolo said. “And… ah… which friends would you like to invite?”

“Toto, Michele and Claudia,” Daniele replied at once. “And maybe Angelo and Gianni.”

His parents exchanged a glance; although they tried to keep their faces neutral, Daniele knew exactly what they were thinking.

Yes, I know they’re all older than me, but they’re still my friends.

“Of course, caro,” Patrizia replied, “if that’s what want.”

Their white-painted kitchen diner was flooded with light from two large windows that looked out over the coast to the east. That morning, for the first time this year, they had kept them shuttered against the heat until the sun moved round to the south. When Daniele wasn’t actively talking to his mother and father, he found himself gazing raptly out at the sapphire blue sea, itching to get out and start exploring his world once again.

He lingered impatiently for just long enough to help with the washing up, then set out with his mountain bike, which was a midnight blue number decorated with a distinctive pattern of silver stars. Patrizia and Paolo wished him a good afternoon and told him they hoped to see him again before he went to bed that night. Another child might have quailed at the thought of spending the rest of the day alone, or resented it, but for Daniele it was just par for the course – especially on a Saturday night, with the summer season on its way.

As Daniele wheeled his bike out onto the quiet road at the front of the house, there was a sudden skittering sound. Daniele smiled happily as he glimpsed a couple of lizards disappearing into cracks in the stone wall across the street with a fleeting flash of green and blue. Now he thought about it, hadn’t he glimpsed a few others in the past week? He thought perhaps he had… another sign of the changing seasons.

There was real heat in the sun now. As Daniele set off up the hill, a summery figure in a pale orange t-shirt and light beige shorts, he was suddenly very glad of the water bottle that his mother had insisted he bring along. It was mounted to a double clip on his bicycle frame, for ease of access whenever it was needed. Soon, the weather would be too hot for this kind of exercise in the afternoons.

Before long, Daniele had reached the first hairpin bend at the hamlet of San Cosma, passing the tiny square that led to the path for the olive groves, but today he had his mind on more distant destinations. He turned the corner and kept on climbing. An assortment of bright villas, terraced gardens and shady old footways slid past him as he went, including the familiar stone stairs he usually used to walk into town.

It was a long and sustained climb, but Daniele was accustomed to it. He kept the pressure on the pedals, running in a low gear and perspiring ever so slightly as he passed the curved lines of the town’s modern concert hall. The edifice was set cleverly into the hillside, so by the time he crested the hill and reached the main road into town from Naples, it was entirely hidden from view. All he could see now as he looked over the railings were the tree-crowned mountains of the coast and the endless blue of the sea, dotted here and there with white pleasure boats.

Daniele paused for a sip of his water. Nearby, a small crowd of people had formed around the bus stops outside the tunnel leading to the cathedral square. Other visitors milled around, taking selfies on their mobile phones or consulting the menus of the restaurants that had sprung up on the hillside, taking advantage of the view-commanding spot. Few paid any heed to the blond-haired boy who wandered through their midst with a bicycle.

Daniele set off along the road, passing the local pharmacy and a few other shops as he went. High above him, the grand palazzi of the Toro lined the ridge, their terraced rear grounds tumbling down towards the roadside. Daniele already knew where he was headed: on this side of the hill, a deep wooded valley led inland from the coast at Minori. If you cycled far enough along the main road towards Naples, before long you could turn off onto a very quiet road that led to the village of Sambuco, a secluded place that was only really known to the locals. Daniele felt that it was time he got to know it better himself.

As Daniele left the sea view and the grand palazzi behind him, the soaring green slopes of the Sambuco valley rose up on the right. Daniele passed the Palmeri garage, where he glimpsed Enzo serving customers at the petrol pumps. Before too long, the quiet houses of San Martino began to cascade down the uphill side of the road, and Daniele found himself passing the local cemetery, a slightly spooky place where the dead lay interred in rows of elevated tombs. He wondered whether anyone he knew had ever laid someone to rest there.

When I die, I’d rather be turned to ashes and scattered in the mountains so I can be free. Who wants to spend eternity sealed up in a concrete box?

It wasn’t long before the Sambuco turning came into view on the right, and Daniele was able to leave the main road behind him. Relaxing in the saddle at last, he coasted gently down the side of the valley amidst wild scrub and trees littered with rocks and bracken, soaking up the warmth of the May afternoon.

By the side of a small olive grove, he brought the bike gently to a halt. Hadn’t he just heard…?

He closed his eyes and strained his ears. Yes, there it was: somewhere down below, the first tentative cicada of spring, scraping away in the sun. For a moment, a smile spread across his face that was quite beautiful.

The summer child pedalled on, his mood, for the moment, as bright as his clothing.

The first few houses of the village began to appear around him. For the moment, they were scattered, interspersed on the valley side of the road with patches of terraced plantations. It was as he was passing through one of these in-between areas that he saw something that brought him to a slithering halt, sensing loose chippings skittering across the tarmac.

Giacomo was walking along the road ahead of him.

What?

Giacomo was alone, on foot, what felt like miles from town in a village he could have no cause to visit.

The last thing Daniele wanted was to be accused of following the other boy again. Hurriedly, he dismounted from his bike and pulled it into a layby at the valley side of the road where someone had left a large pile of logs. He crouched down behind the crash barrier so he could peep over the top, giving him a fair view of the road ahead.

Giacomo walked slowly along the road, scuffing the toes of his trainers against the tarmac in a morose sort of way, then turned down a flight of scruffy concrete steps that led into the valley. Daniele waited until he was sure he would not be seen, then jogged along the last stretch of the road himself, pausing only to conceal his bike hurriedly behind the log pile.

Giacomo’s slim figure could just be glimpsed disappearing round a bend a little further down the hill. Daniele had time for a brief moment of doubt: whatever the other boy was up to was surely his own business? But the thought of Giacomo’s bruises drove him on.

It’s not just that he’s mixed up in something bad. Someone’s been hurting him.

Daniele didn’t, at that moment, stop to consider that he might be crossing a line from which there would be no return. Instead, he set off down the steep, weed-strewn steps at a trot, trying to catch up enough to avoid losing the other boy completely, without getting so close that his footsteps might be heard.

From a distance, Giacomo led Daniele down the hill until the concrete stairs gave way to a dirt path that wound down through sun-dappled terraces laden with grape vines and lemon trees. Shoes kicking up little puffs of dust as he went, Daniele tracked the other boy until he arrived at the courtyard of a tatty little house nestled into the hillside. Giacomo disappeared round the back of the property, passing an open window from which adult voices drifted out.

Curiosity had overwhelmed Daniele, temporarily driving out any thought of danger. He crept around the side of the house and concealed himself behind a particularly dense clutch of grape vines, peeping through a small gap that allowed him to see in through the open window.

Two men were talking in a tired and grimy-looking kitchen area under the glow of a bare lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. One was a late middle-aged man in a stained polo shirt and battered work trousers. He was unshaven and slightly overweight, with a slouched posture. His skin had an unhealthy pallor apart from his ruddy cheeks and nose, but his small, pouchy eyes burned with a bitter intelligence; somehow, he seemed to fit perfectly in the gloomy kitchen with its tired, flaking paintwork. Daniele had never seen the man before.

Daniele thought he recognised the second man, although he couldn’t place him at first. This man was older than the first, but he looked like someone who was in much better health. His silvery hair was neatly groomed, his back was ramrod straight and he was wearing a casual suit. Daniele had a feeling this was not how the man usually dressed in public, as if he were trying to avoid being recognised; but, in these surroundings, he looked entirely out of place.

“Public pressure is mounting, Ettore,” the older man said, his brows knotted in anxiety. “Rumours of the attacks were already all over town, and now we have this latest travesty. An attack on a popular restaurant by masked thugs, in broad daylight, right in the centre of town? And you expect us to look like we’re unable to progress the case at all? Just how long do you think we can keep this charade going?”

The scruffy man curled a lip. “That, officer Leggero, is not my problem,” he replied, in the rasping voice of a heavy smoker.

Daniele gasped quietly as the realisation hit him: the man in the suit was the chief of the local Carabinieri.

What’s he doing here?

The police officer grunted in frustration. “At least bring your rabid dogs under some kind of control. If you don’t get them to bring a bit more finesse to this, it will be both our problem before too much longer.”

The man called Ettore seemed to consider this for a while. “I’ll talk to them,” he said grudgingly.

“That’ll do for now,” Leggero replied, “but if they go too far again, you’re on your own.”

Ettore chuckled mirthlessly; Daniele thought it was the meanest laugh he had ever heard outside of the movies. “That’s some nice posturing, officer, but you’re forgetting the evidence I have of your little transgressions. If I go down, we both go down.”

At that moment, there was a clatter as Giacomo let himself into the kitchen. Ettore whipped round, his pouchy eyes suddenly furious.

“Get out back!” he snapped. “I’ll talk to you in a minute.”

Giacomo went a little pale and slipped through another door, disappearing from view. Now it was the police officer’s turn to look angry.

“Have you brought children into this?” he said sharply.

“He won’t come to harm,” Ettore replied, in a casual tone that was almost convincing. “Hadn’t you better be leaving, chief? You’ll be missed at the station.”

“All right,” Leggero replied, backing up a step, “but you’d better make sure that young boy doesn’t get hurt. My career isn’t worth that.”

The police officer turned to leave, and Daniele returned to reality with an unpleasant jolt. If he were still here when the police officer left the building, he realised, he would be spotted at once. Breaking cover, he turned tail and ran back the way he had come, trainers pounding the dirt, raising a cloud of dust in his wake.

* * *

Daniele was fighting exhaustion by the time he regained the road. Heart pounding, chest rising and falling harshly, he ran shakily back to the layby and flopped down behind the log pile to regain his breath, propping his back up against the sturdy chestnut trunks.

It wasn’t long before Leggero appeared, walking up the road with a frown of consternation on his face. Daniele made no attempt to hide himself, reasoning that there was nothing particularly suspicious about his being there. The police officer glanced at Daniele without much interest, clambered into a neat little Volkswagen that was parked at the side of the road and then went on his way, leaving Daniele alone on the deserted street.

The boy in question, whose heartbeat was slowly returning to normal, brushed dismally at some of the dust that had collected on his trainers and reflected on what he had witnessed.

Daniele was sure, now, that he had seen the man who was behind the attacks on businesses, and it looked like the police were going to be no help to Anna, Pietro or anyone else… at least as long as the man called Ettore maintained whatever hold he had over officer Leggero.

What should he do? Should he tell someone? But who should he tell, and what would he say?

It’s not fair… I’m only twelve! How am I supposed to know?

He shuddered at the thought of that unshaven face with those bitter, flint-like eyes.

And, worse still, Giacomo was involved. Daniele had no idea how or why, but it looked like his would-be friend, who had haunted his thoughts for so long, was mixed up with a criminal gang.

But he looked so unhappy when he got here… and they’ve been hurting him.

Daniele wondered whether it was Ettore who had left those bruises on Giacomo’s arm.

Who else is in on it? Emilia and Marco? Surely not his mother…?

Elena had seemed so genuinely fearful of the rumours going around town. How could her own son possibly be a part of the very thing that frightened her so badly?

Daniele leant over the crash barrier and stared down into the verdant depths of the valley. He remembered how happy he had felt when he set out on his bike after lunch; so glad to be out once again, exploring the world he had come to call his own. Now, he wondered if he really knew the place at all.

Daniele realised, with a jolt, that Giacomo had reappeared and was walking back up the road. He scrunched himself in behind the log pile so that he could just peep round the edge.

Please don’t see me… please don’t see me…

Ettore had seemed so angry when Giacomo had walked in on his meeting with the police officer, but the other boy seemed to be unharmed, at least for now. Whatever task he had come here to perform, he must have completed it.

Walking alone up the sun-drenched road, Giacomo suddenly seemed very small and vulnerable. He walked with his eyes downcast and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trendy shorts, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Despite all he had seen, Daniele felt sympathy welling up for the other boy. Whatever Giacomo’s reasons for being involved, he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Daniele was so absorbed in the other boy’s defeated air that, at first, he didn’t notice the car that was creeping up the road behind him.

It was Giacomo’s own reaction that alerted Daniele. The dark-eyed boy glanced up just in time to see the small car, a battered black Fiat, pull up behind him. Daniele crouched down low to conceal himself even further as the driver, a young man with a long mane of greasy black hair and a battered leather jacket, clambered out and approached Giacomo. He had a rather unpleasant smile upon his face.

“Antonio…?” Giacomo said warily.

“I’ve just got off the phone,” the young man said, making a calling gesture with one hand. “Zio Ettore was very unhappy that you let yourself be seen by that cazzo from the Carabinieri.”

“Zio…?” Giacomo repeated. “He’s not your uncle.”

Antonio shrugged. “He might as well be. He’s the only man who’s taken an interest in me for years.”

“I’m sorry he saw me,” Giacomo said. “I didn’t know he was there.”

“I guess it’s all forgiven, then,” Antonio said, a mocking edge to his voice. “Bellissimo.”

Before Giacomo could respond, Antonio grabbed his arm so hard that he cried out. Suddenly, Daniele knew exactly where the other boy’s bruises had come from, and the knowledge made his blood run cold.

“This time, zio Ettore wanted me to make sure that you got the message,” Antonio said, a horrible, dull sort of excitement lighting his eyes as he reached for Giacomo with his other hand.

Help him…! part of Daniele’s mind was yelling, but instead he looked on, frozen in horror, as a short but fierce struggle ensued.

“Let go of me,” Giacomo cried, jerking his arm hard as he tried to free it from Antonio’s grip. “You can’t… you mustn’t…!”

But the young man was too strong. He pulled the struggling Giacomo closer until he was held tight against him. Daniele didn’t have time to work out what Antonio was planning to do next, because at that moment Giacomo’s face bumped into the young man’s other arm and, seizing his only opportunity, he bit down hard.

Antonio roared in pain and flung the boy away. What happened next seemed, to Daniele, to take place in slow motion. Giacomo, knocked off-balance by the young man’s thrust, tumbled down towards the ground. As he fell, his forehead struck the metal crash barrier with a resounding clang, and he slumped down insensible on the tarmac.

Antonio cursed loudly. He stood uncertainly for a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of a meaty hand, then nudged the prone Giacomo gently with one foot. There was no response. At this point, Antonio’s nerve seemed to fail him: he fled to his car and drove shakily away with a screech of tyres on tarmac, leaving Giacomo lying motionless in the road.

As the black Fiat vanished from sight, Daniele’s paralysis finally broke. He lurched to his feet and ran over to the other boy, dreading what he would find.

“Giacomo?” he said hoarsely, his voice somewhere between a squeak and a whisper.

There was no response, but the steady rise and fall of Giacomo’s chest told him that the other boy was still alive. His eyes were closed, and blood was seeping slowly from a cut on his forehead. It wasn’t deep: it looked like he had split the skin on the rounded surface of the crash barrier instead of catching the sharp edge.

Tearfully, Daniele fed his arms through Giacomo’s armpits and, summoning up all his strength, lifted him by the chest, dragging him painfully back towards the safety of the layby.

I guess I’m not a hero after all…

He had had his chance to save the other boy, and he had failed. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces.

With an effort, Daniele pulled Giacomo’s limp form round behind the log pile and sat him down, propping him up against the tree trunks. His mind flirting with panic, he stared at the other boy’s injury, trying to figure out what to do next; after a few moments, an answer of sorts came to him.

Water. Clean it up and cool it down.

Having something to do made Daniele feel calmer, so he unclipped the water bottle from his bike. He looked around, searching for something he could use as a compress, but saw nothing. In desperation, he pulled off his own t-shirt and used about half the contents of the water bottle to wet the bottom part of it. Bare shoulders baking in the afternoon sun, he scrunched the t-shirt up and used the damp section to clean the dust and dirt away from the other boy’s wound; small patches of crimson blood stained the breezy orange pattern. When he had got the cut as clean as he could, he applied pressure to the point where Giacomo had bashed his head, hoping that the cool compress would do its work.

After a few tense moments that seemed like an eternity, Giacomo’s eyelashes fluttered, and his dark eyes opened a fraction. He groaned, and then gazed at Daniele in puzzlement through heavily lidded eyes.

“Daniele?” he mumbled. “What the…”

“Don’t try to move,” Daniele replied, his stomach churning with a blend of anxiety and relief. “You hit your head.”

Giacomo’s eyes cleared a little. “But… Antonio…” he started. He tried to get up, but Daniele pushed him back down and applied his t-shirt once more.

“He’s gone,” Daniele replied. “He fled when you got hurt.”

“Lousy coward…” Giacomo muttered quietly. Tears began to form at the corners of his eyes and Daniele looked away, for fear it would set him off as well. He had to try to keep his head until the other boy was safe.

“Stop it…” Giacomo said, trying push the cool compress away. Shaking his head, Daniele dropped the damp t-shirt into the other boy’s arms instead.

“You do it, then,” he replied. “I’ll have it back in a minute.”

Reluctantly, Giacomo accepted the compress and pressed it against his head with one hand. Daniele handed him the open water bottle and watched as he drank a couple of mouthfuls, then he turned away and stared miserably out over the valley once more.

“What are you even doing here?” Giacomo said, his voice tired and listless. “Were you following me again?”

Daniele glanced back at him. “No!” he protested. “I was just out cycling, and there you were.” He paused. “Okay, I followed you down the steps. I was worried about you. Who is Ettore?”

“You saw Ettore?” Giacomo said weakly; he seemed too tired to be angry.

Daniele nodded. “Yeah, and the guy from the police.” He pressed on desperately, his own fright finally getting the better of him as the adrenaline receded. “What’s going on? Why are you caught up in all this?”

Giacomo closed his eyes and shook his head painfully. “Please… not now…” he replied.

Daniele dropped his gaze and stared down at his own dusty shorts. His own tears were coming again, and this time he couldn’t stop them. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to cry as quietly as possible.

“Daniele?” Giacomo said indistinctly from behind him.

“Yes?” Daniele replied, trying to hide the catch in his voice.

“Thanks.”

* * *

After they had rested together for a few more minutes, Daniele began to wonder how he was going to get Giacomo home. They shared the rest of the water, and Giacomo seemed to recover a little. When Giacomo tried to return Daniele’s t-shirt a second time, Daniele accepted it. He got to his feet, pulling the damp and slightly blooded garment back over his head; it felt better to get his bare back out of the sun. He stuck out a hand to help the other boy to his feet.

“Can you walk?” Daniele asked the other boy.

“I think so,” Giacomo replied. He manoeuvred slowly out from behind the log pile, clutching the tree trunks for support, then took a couple of unsupported footsteps up the road and staggered a little.

“It’s a long way,” he said, looking ashamed of himself.

Daniele had wheeled his bike out from behind the log pile, and now stood in the road with it, facing the other boy.

“Could you ride with me?” he asked tentatively.

There was a pause, and then Giacomo nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

Daniele mounted the saddle and the other boy perched on the pannier rack behind him. Daniele didn’t protest as Giacomo grabbed his waist for support; Daniele himself had done so many times on Vespa rides with Toto and Michele and, in truth, it wasn’t such an unpleasant feeling.

A little shakily at first, Daniele set off up the gentle hill. He wasn’t used to the extra weight, but he had soon found some momentum. He strove along the valley, climbing gently all the time, heading back towards the distant blue glint of the sea.

“We need to do something about your cut,” Daniele called after a while. “Can we go to the shop?”

“Okay,” came Giacomo’s indistinct reply from behind him.

It took several minutes to reach the end of the street, and the gradient got steeper as they approached the main road. With a final push, however, Daniele crested the hill and they were cruising gently down again on their way into town, a much larger blue horizon now unfurled ahead of them. Daniele coasted in past the familiar terraced slopes of Ravello, relieved that their ordeal was finally almost over. Just before they reached the tunnel that led through to the cathedral square, they pulled up beneath the familiar illuminated green cross of the pharmacy. Giacomo hopped wearily down off the bike and propped himself up against some railings nearby, closing his eyes once again.

Daniele felt in his pockets and realised they were empty.

“I don’t have anything…” he said awkwardly. “Do you…?”

Wordlessly, Giacomo reached into his right pocket and pulled out a ten Euro note, which he handed to Daniele.

“Thanks,” Daniele said.

A few minutes later, Daniele came back out carrying a pack of plasters and some antiseptic wipes. Giacomo waited patiently as Daniele cleaned out his cut once more and covered it with a plaster. He offered the spares to the other boy, who pocketed them. Daniele stood back and surveyed his handiwork, biting his lip nervously.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

Giacomo nodded gratefully. “Yeah, I guess.”

They began to walk down the street together, heading towards the mouth of the tunnel, where they paused to say goodbye.

Mustering his courage, Daniele decided to air something that had been on his mind since they began their journey back.

“We should tell someone what happened…” he said, “your mother…”

“No!” Giacomo replied, flaring up at once. “Please, don’t say anything to her. I’ll deal with it.”

“People are going to notice,” Daniele countered, gesturing towards the other boy’s wound.

“If anyone asks, tell them that I fell down and you helped me,” the other boy replied. “It’ll be fine.”

Every part of Daniele cried out in protest at this, but he held it back. He sensed that this was not the time to push the other boy too hard.

“At least tell me what’s going on,” Daniele implored him, “please!”

Giacomo’s dark eyes glared back, offering a fierce challenge. He looked ready to argue, but then he settled down, as if deciding that Daniele had earned some kind of explanation after all.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” he conceded. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

Giacomo turned to leave. Daniele remained where he was, holding up his bike.

“I hope you feel better soon, Giacomo,” he said.

Giacomo paused. Glancing back at Daniele for a moment, he looked him up and down; Daniele thought he saw the faintest trace of a smile.

“Go home and take a shower,” he replied. “You’re a mess.”

Daniele offered him an embarrassed grin and nodded. “Ciao, Giacomo.”

“Ciao, Daniele,” Giacomo replied.

Giacomo set off through the tunnel; Daniele watched him go until he disappeared around the corner of the cathedral, his mood strangely light and hopeful in spite of everything that had happened. He couldn’t help but ask himself just one important question.

Are we friends now?