Lanterns in the Dark - 2. Chapter 2

The next day, Daniele and his friends gathered for lunch at one of the bars in the square. In the city, Daniele supposed, the waiters might have baulked at serving four unaccompanied thirteen-year-olds. In Ravello, however, everybody knew who your parents were if you were local.

Daniele was a kind boy by nature but, overnight, he had struggled with the first stirrings of jealousy over Laura’s obvious interest in his best friend. He couldn’t deny that he felt it, but he was determined to master it. He thought of Marco, who had allowed himself to be consumed by it and had ended up friendless and alone. Daniele meant to be open and welcoming to the new girl, no matter how much it cost him.

All the same, Daniele felt slightly put out when he found himself sitting opposite Laura that day, with Emilia next to him and Giacomo the furthest away.

It had been another hot, sunny morning, and Daniele was glad of the shade of the giant parasol that spanned their table. They were sitting at the outer corner of the seating area, surrounded by baskets of geraniums in vibrant reds and purples, in a spot where Daniele had often seen Toto take lunch with his father Salvatore. Among the great pine trees that framed the view over the valley to Scala, the cicadas scraped raucously.

“How long have you lived in Rome, Laura?” he asked, sipping on a tall, frosty glass of Sprite.

Laura flashed him a bright smile over her glass of Diet Coke. “Always. My father was born there.”

“So, your mother is…”

“…my zia Agnese,” Emilia supplied in between sips of Lemon Soda. “They met at university there.”

“Emilia’s father is my uncle,” Laura explained. “Have you ever been to Rome?”

Daniele shook his head. “No. I hear the shops are amazing, though.”

Laura’s eyes gleamed a little at this remark. “Oh, I can see I’m going to like you, Daniele. I love shopping.” She leaned in a little closer, looking a little apologetic. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t cute last night. That really didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

Daniele’s eyes flicked briefly to Giacomo, whose dark eyes were watching their conversation with interest over his glass of Fanta. In truth, Daniele hadn’t been offended by her comment at all: he knew exactly what she had meant.

“It’s okay,” Daniele replied, venturing a smile. “I get it.”

Laura beamed at him, then drew back again. “You have nice friends,” she told Emilia.

“Thanks, Laura,” Emilia replied, sneaking an arm through Daniele’s with a slightly possessive air. Giacomo smirked slightly, concealing the expression quickly as Laura turned back to him.

“Emilia told me you and Daniele had some crazy adventures during the spring.”

Giacomo nodded. “Dani’s an awesome wingman.”

“Did you really climb a mountain cliff together?”

Giacomo grinned. “Yeah. Our parents would have freaked out if they’d seen us, but we knew what we were doing.”

Laura blanched. “I’d have died, I swear.”

“Wait until you see the cliff we climbed,” Giacomo said. “It’s on the far side of the valley – you can see it from the Villa Cimbrone. I’ll take you to look at it if you want.”

Daniele felt a prickling at the corners of his eyes. He rubbed at them miserably.

He said ‘I’…

“Is something wrong, Daniele?” Emilia whispered.

“Call me Dani, Emilia,” he whispered back.

Emilia flushed a little. “I’ll try.”

He did his best to smile. “I’m fine, really.”

Laura was laughing again at something Giacomo had said. The other boy seemed to be enjoying the attention.

“It’s so weird seeing those two together,” Emilia muttered.

Daniele nodded. “Tell me about it.”

The food arrived. They had ordered a variety of panini: Daniele tackled his warm aubergine and mozzarella sandwich as gracefully as he could, and just about avoided ending up with strings of melted cheese trailing down his chin. Laura and Emilia both tore small sections off their sandwiches, eating them one neat little piece at a time. Giacomo, who had never stood on ceremony when it came to food, seemed to have discovered his table manners as well, and was eating much more carefully than usual, casting sideways glances at his new companion as he went. Daniele sighed and looked away, wishing he were somewhere else.

When they had all finished, Daniele paid his share using the bank card his parents had given him on his thirteenth birthday. The others produced cash, and the bill was soon settled thanks to some quick maths from Emilia.

By then, the sun had reached its ferocious peak, and somebody suggested taking a break in the shade of the Municipio gardens while they worked out what to do next. Nobody objected, so they set off up the avenue of oleanders together. Giacomo and Laura led the way, still chatting to one another. Daniele trailed a few steps behind with Emilia, hands in pockets, listening to their banter.

“That’s what it’s always been like here,” Giacomo was saying. “You can’t even flush the toilet without half the town knowing.”

Laura laughed. “That’s gross, Giacomo.”

“No, seriously,” Giacomo went on. “When word got round that our neighbour Giovanna had an affair with the plumber…” he snickered. “It was so awkward when she turned up in the square that evening.”

“I’m so glad I live in a big city! Nobody knows you there. You can flush as many toilets as you want, and nobody cares.”

That set Giacomo off too, and soon they were both giggling like mad.

“They really seem to like each other,” Daniele said quietly.

Emilia shook her head in bafflement. “I didn’t know Giacomo was even into girls yet,” she replied. “He’s always been so childish.”

Daniele thought back to a time, not so long ago, when he had comforted a battered and bruised Giacomo in his own bedroom. “A few weeks ago, I don’t think he even knew it himself,” he said bleakly.

“Maybe it’s not girls, exactly,” Emilia murmured. “Maybe it’s just Laura. I mean, she is really pretty.”

Daniele shrugged neutrally. “Maybe.”

Up ahead, Laura was laughing at yet another of Giacomo’s jokes. Emilia wrinkled her nose again. “Ugh. I’m just not sure how much more of this I want to watch, Daniele…”

“Dani,” he replied automatically, forcing his attention away from the two teens up ahead. Emilia’s dark brown eyes flicked over to him for a moment.

“Right… Dani.”

He offered her a smile. “That’s better.”

“You and I can still hang out together, can’t we?” she asked. “I mean… if it all gets a bit too much with those two.”

Daniele considered her for a moment. Yes, he thought, here was a friend he could still count on.

He nodded. “Totally.”

She smiled, and they walked up the steps in companionable silence for a few moments. Before long, they had reached the broad, stone-paved street that ran up through the Toro, where they caught up with Giacomo and Laura, who had paused in the shade of the tall trees that overhung the street from the edge of the Municipio gardens. They seemed to have spotted something unusual up ahead.

Giacomo turned to Daniele, his brow creased in a concerned frown.

“Dani, isn’t that your mum up there?” he asked. “I think something’s up.”

“What?” Daniele said, moving to the front of the group. Sure enough, he could see his mother’s blond head a few doors further up the street. She seemed to be comforting someone. He hurried to investigate, with the others in hot pursuit.

At the sound of their approaching feet, Patrizia looked up and covered her mouth in dismay.

“Oh, Daniele!” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

She had her arm around a young man’s shoulders. Daniele did a double-take as he realised it was Gianni Fortuna. They were both still wearing their waiter’s uniforms. Gianni’s blue eyes, which usually shone with feeling and intelligence, had a glassy, shocked look about them.

“What’s going on, Mamma?” Daniele asked quietly, suddenly struck by a feeling of intense foreboding. Beside him, he felt Giacomo place a supportive arm around his shoulders.

“This really isn’t the time…” Patrizia replied anxiously, but Gianni interrupted her.

“It’s all right, Patrizia,” he said. He gestured at the courtyard next to him. “It’s Nonna, Dani.”

At that moment, there was the clatter of multiple feet, and two paramedics emerged from the courtyard. Between them, they carried a shrouded figure on a stretcher. They started up the street towards an archway at the top, where Daniele supposed an ambulance was waiting.

A third figure had emerged from the courtyard: a strong-looking woman in her forties, wearing the black uniform of a senior Carabinieri officer. She addressed Gianni.

“The paramedics think it was probably a stroke, signor Fortuna,” she said. “Likely sudden, and she’ll have felt very little pain.”

“Thank you, chief,” Gianni said tonelessly.

“Thank you, Valentina,” Patrizia echoed. “It was very kind of you to come up here personally.”

The police chief nodded gently. “It was nothing. Marina Bianchi was a true pillar of this community. I’m sure she’ll be missed by a great many people.”

She turned to leave, following the paramedics slowly up the street.

Patrizia sighed. “I wish you hadn’t found out this way, Daniele,” she said, “but now you’re here… do you think you could stay? I could really use your help.”

Daniele nodded. “Sure.” He turned to the others. “Sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay, Dani,” Giacomo replied. “We’ll catch up soon, I promise.”

He began to lead the others back down towards the Municipio gardens, but Emilia hesitated, glancing uncomfortably from one half of the party to the other.

“Actually, I think I’ll take off,” she said awkwardly. “I’ve just remembered I have some chores to do at home.” She spared a glance for young man in Patrizia’s arms. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, Gianni.”

“Yeah,” Giacomo echoed, “I’m really sorry, too.”

“See you later, Dani,” Emilia whispered, then she shook her head and set off in the opposite direction.

With one last wave, Giacomo and Laura set off down the street together. Daniele took a couple of steps after them and stood alone, watching them go, his eyes prickling again.

A few moments later, Patrizia arrived at Daniele’s side and placed a tender hand on his shoulder. He raised a tear-stained face to look at her.

“Gianni’s gone inside,” she said. “Are you okay, caro?”

Daniele nodded. “I’m all right.”

Patrizia sighed. “I told you to be careful with Giacomo.”

“I remember. But why?”

“I know how you feel about him, tesoro. I’ve known since the day you first brought him to meet us.”

Daniele stared at her in disbelief. “Was I that obvious?”

She smiled sadly. “In your own sweet, innocent way. He’s a nice boy, too, but… I never got the same impression from Giacomo himself.”

“He knows, Mamma,” Daniele mumbled, staring down at the dusty paving stones. “He knows, but he hangs out with me anyway.”

“Then he’s a good friend,” Patrizia said. She began to lead Daniele gently towards the courtyard. “Come on. We have another friend who needs our help now.”

* * *

Daniele had never been inside Gianni’s grandmother’s house before. Patrizia led him into a small, shady courtyard surrounded by crooked old buildings festooned with creepers. The entrance to the house was at the top of a narrow stone staircase, above which a single window peeped out under the eaves, partially obscured by the lush green leaves.

The front door opened onto a dark but welcoming kitchen equipped with an iron range cooker. A large sink with antiquated plumbing was set into a battered old worktop. The walls were lined with shelves, which groaned with glass jars of pasta and other dried ingredients. At the far side, a freestanding sideboard separated the kitchen from a cosy living area with a sturdy wooden dining table. A traditional glass lantern hung over the dining table; the light was out, but its brass frame glinted in the sunlight that streamed in through two small windows on the back wall. Dust motes danced in the air.

Gianni had sunk down onto an old church pew that had been set against the wall below the windows, propped up by an array of patched and faded scatter cushions. While Patrizia set about making two cups of coffee in the kitchen, Daniele wandered across the terracotta tiles to join him.

“I like this room,” he said, sitting down at the other end of the pew.

Gianni glanced at him. The glassy look in his eyes cleared slightly.

“Thanks, Dani,” he replied. “I liked it, too, when I first came here. It felt homely.”

“How old were you?”

“I’d just turned fifteen, so I guess I had a couple of years on you.”

“What was it like, moving here?”

Gianni smiled slightly. “You’ve never been to England, have you?”

Daniele shook his head.

“It’s totally different there,” Gianni said. “It’s very green in the summer, but in the winter it’s cold and grey. And the cities… they’re just not as colourful, somehow, as the towns and cities here. We lived in London. It was just… mile after mile of grey suburban sprawl. As a kid, your world ended at the garden gate, except maybe for school and the local park. Nobody really knew each other’s business.”

“So, when you came here…”

“It blew my mind. The landscape, the colours… and the people.”

“I like it here, too,” Daniele replied. “Living right in the middle of Milan was kinda…” he searched for the right word, “…oppressive.”

Gianni rose from the pew and turned to look at some of the framed family photos that lined the walls. They were all in black and white, even the more recent-looking ones; apparently, Gianni’s grandparents had favoured a classic look.

“Nonna and Nonno made me feel very welcome,” he said. “I don’t think it was easy for them at first, having me here – I was a constant reminder of the daughter they had lost.”

“Your mother?”

Gianni nodded. “Francesca. She had an older sister, Giulia… my cousin Anna’s mother, you know? But she also died at a young age.”

Daniele frowned. “That’s sad.”

“Anna and Pietro were the first other members of the family I met. They were still planning their wedding when I arrived. But they introduced me to Angelo, and the rest is history, I guess.” He paused next to one particular photo, which was larger than the others. “Come and look at this, Dani.”

Daniele rose from the pew and joined the young man in front of the photo just as Patrizia arrived with a tray of drinks: a coffee each for Gianni and herself, and a can of Lemon Soda for Daniele.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Patrizia said, looking up at the picture as Gianni thanked her and took his coffee.

It was a photo from Pietro and Anna’s wedding. The happy couple, both dressed in their wedding finery, were standing at the centre of the cathedral steps, surrounded by their immediate families. Daniele knew them best as the proprietors of Da Rossi, a restaurant in the centre of town. They both looked slightly younger, but they were instantly recognisable.

Behind Anna, Daniele recognised her father Sergio, a dapper man with a fine moustache, who was still head waiter at the hotel where Patrizia and Gianni worked. He also spotted Marina and her husband Vittorio, who were standing arm in arm, supporting each other, their faces creased in proud smiles. Daniele had never met Vittorio before he died, but he had met Marina at Gianni’s twenty-fourth birthday party. She had seemed like a kind old lady.

On the other side, behind Pietro, Daniele recognised Marta, matriarch of the Rossi family. She was looking elegant in a long dress, her dark hair streaked with grey. Next to her was a tiny flower girl of about nine years old.

Daniele smiled. “Is that Claudia?” he asked.

Gianni chuckled and nodded. “She was so nervous around boys in those days.”

But it was the two young ushers that really caught Daniele’s attention. Dressed smartly in matching black suits, they stood at opposite ends of the group, smiling for the camera. At one end, the fifteen-year-old Gianni’s bright eyes peeped out shyly from under a mop of neatly brushed hair that was just slightly too long. At the other end, the fifteen-year-old Angelo radiated confidence, his short black hair styled into neat little spikes. He reminded Daniele of Giacomo.

“Were you and Angelo already together by then?” Daniele asked.

Gianni winced slightly. “Sort of, but that’s another story.”

At that moment, the front door clattered open, and the real Angelo ventured inside. He was dressed in his carpentry clothes, which were still flecked with sawdust from whichever construction site he had just been working on. Hurriedly, Gianni set down his coffee cup and went to greet him. They embraced for a long moment, squeezing each other hard. Gianni had screwed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” Angelo said. “I came as soon as I could.”

“It’s okay,” Gianni replied. “When I called Sergio to tell him what had happened, he gave me the afternoon off right away and sent Patrizia up to look after me.”

Angelo looked up. “Thanks, Patrizia,” he said, then his dark eyes flicked across to Daniele, registering his presence with some surprise. “How did you get dragged into all this, Dani?”

Daniele and Patrizia exchanged a glance.

“Oh, I was… just passing,” Daniele said lamely.

“Dani’s been great,” Gianni said. He sighed. “I guess I’m going to have a certain amount of work to do to sort all this out.”

Angelo nodded. “I’ll be here for you as much as I can, but… I’m in the middle of a job that I can’t really drop.” He gave Gianni an apologetic look. “If I were between jobs, I’d reschedule in an instant.”

“We’ll help Gianni,” Patrizia volunteered. She turned to Daniele. “…if that’s okay, caro?”

Daniele nodded. “Sure.”

* * *

Gianni’s situation had distracted Daniele from his own problems for a while but, as he wandered back down the hill later that afternoon, the image of Giacomo and Laura walking away together came back to haunt him.

He completely understood why Emilia had chosen to go home. She wouldn’t have enjoyed wandering around as a third wheel any more than he would. However, that meant that the others had been left alone together for the whole afternoon. He wondered what they had got up to: had Giacomo lived up to his promise to take Laura up to the Villa Cimbrone gardens, graciously paying her entry fee so he could show her the view? What would have happened after that?

Once Daniele had got home, he retreated to the cool of his downstairs bedroom and flopped down on the double bed that he had all to himself, staring at the ceiling.

He wondered why he was so upset. Shouldn’t be happy that his friend had found somebody that he liked, and who clearly returned his interest? Daniele had never really believed that Giacomo saw him as anything more than a close friend… and, until now, he thought he had accepted it. But maybe there had always been a little spark of hope burning within him, after all. It hurt to have it extinguished.

And, maybe, the rest of him was just afraid that he wouldn’t get to spend any time with his best friend anymore.

* * *

The next afternoon, Daniele and Patrizia returned to the Toro together to help Gianni clear out his grandmother’s house. Gianni had told them that his main priority was to locate Marina’s will, but along the way he intended to start the process of sorting through her possessions.

Daniele suspected that the news of Marina’s passing was already spreading around the town by now. As such, when they arrived, he was far from surprised to find Gianni out in the street, chatting with Father Stefano, the priest from the cathedral. Marina had been one of his most dedicated parishioners for years.

A shortish, bespectacled man in his fifties, what was left of Father Stefano’s dark hair was beginning to go grey at the temples. He was dressed soberly in a black robe and was listening to Gianni with a sympathetic air.

“Of course we’ll have the funeral at the cathedral,” Gianni was saying. “I’m sure it’s what Nonna would have wanted. I’ve spoken with Anna, and we’ve both agreed there would be no better place to hold it.”

The priest looked relieved. “Thank you, Gianni. The congregation will be very grateful. Since you’ve never felt the need to join my flock, I did wonder if you might prefer to make other arrangements.”

Gianni shook his head. “This is about Nonna, not me.”

Father Stefano nodded politely. “As you say. We’ll make ourselves available at your earliest convenience, of course. Until then, you will all be in my thoughts and prayers.”

“Thank you, father.”

The priest bowed and set off down the street, robes whispering on the uneven paving stones. He tipped his head politely to Daniele and Patrizia as he passed.

“Ciao, Gianni,” Patrizia ventured. “How are you today?”

Gianni gave them both a tired smile. “I’m surviving. Come on in.”

Flitting through the shady courtyard, they returned to the cosy gloom of Marina’s kitchen and living room. Although everything looked much the same as it had the previous afternoon, Daniele was struck by an elusive feeling – hard to define – that the sense of homeliness he had felt yesterday was slowly slipping away, and the empty house was becoming just a place like any other.

There was one visible difference, though. Fixed to the wall above the sideboard between the kitchen and the living area, there was a small shrine with a wooden sculpture of Jesus on the cross. Yesterday, it had been empty and dark, but today it was wreathed in fresh flowers. A tealight burned brightly in a small red jar in front of the cross. Daniele approached the shrine, slightly mesmerised by the dancing flame.

“Marta Rossi came by this morning with a bouquet,” Gianni explained. “I thought I’d light the candle for Nonna one last time.”

“That was sweet of you, Gianni,” Patrizia said. “If Marina’s looking down on you, I’m sure she’s grateful.”

Daniele, who had never really lost anyone before, frowned thoughtfully, trying to imagine what it was like for someone close to you to be there one minute and gone the next: as if they had simply vanished, leaving nothing but memories in their wake… and maybe a few orphaned possessions, deprived of their relevance and meaning.

Armed with three glasses of cold mineral water from the fridge, they gathered around the dining table, where Gianni had lined up three large wooden storage crates.

“Nonna was never a hoarder,” he explained. “She wasn’t the sort of person to spend a lot of money buying things she didn’t need, and I guess there was never enough space here to store a load of old stuff anyway. She would use things and reuse them until they wore out, and then they would be replaced. I found these three boxes in a cupboard in her bedroom. Aside from her clothes and all the kitchen things, of course, this is about all there is to go through.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” Patrizia murmured. “Sometimes I think we all end up collecting far more stuff than we ever really need.”

“I’m happy for you look through a box each,” Gianni said. “I don’t think Nonna had many secrets. Let me know if you find anything that looks important.”

Daniele reached out and pulled the nearest crate towards him.

“I’ve never been through a dead person’s things before,” he said uncertainly. “It feels… kinda weird.”

Gianni regarded him compassionately with his keen blue eyes. “Of course. If it’s too much, Dani…”

Daniele shook his head. “No, it’s okay… I can do it.”

Daniele prised the lid off the box, which was covered with a fine layer of dust. It was full of things that looked like they had once been rich with personal memories, some of them very old. Topmost in the box was a sheaf of relatively young-looking papers bunched together with a single bulldog clip. They were all pencil drawings of buildings and places around Ravello. Daniele thought he recognised the style.

They had caught Gianni’s eye, too.

“Oh, dio!” he breathed, seemingly torn between pride and embarrassment. “Nonna kept all my old pictures…”

“That shows how much you must have meant to her, Gianni,” Patrizia said.

Gianni smiled slightly, his eyes a little brighter than usual. “I was never sure, you know… after everything that happened with Angelo and me.”

The next thing Daniele pulled out of his box was an ancient photograph album with crinkly, water-stained pages and a musty smell. It was full of faded old black and white photographs of a young couple on the familiar steps of the cathedral, surrounded by friends and family.

“Marina and Vittorio’s wedding photos?” he ventured.

Gianni glanced over at it. “The more things change, the more things stay the same,” he mused.

“Gianni… I think you should take a look at these…”

Patrizia had pulled a handful of old books out of her box. Daniele wasn’t sure exactly what they were: they didn’t look like printed books, and there was something strangely brash about the faded colours of their shiny boarded covers.

Puzzled, Gianni took the pile of books from her and glanced inside the front cover of the first one. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, my…” he murmured. “I had no idea…!” he closed the book. “I think I’ll come back to these later.”

Daniele watched curiously as he placed the books carefully at the far end of the table.

Next, Gianni pulled a large brown envelope out of his own box. Judging by its determinedly plain appearance, Daniele guessed it probably contained something important. His suspicions were proved right when Gianni slid the end of the document out of the envelope, glanced at the headers, and nodded.

“Nonna’s will,” he said, exhaling slowly. “I guess we’ll know soon enough if she had any special wishes for her funeral.”

Patrizia reached across the table and took his hand gently in her own.

“Would you like me to read it for you, Gianni?”

Gianni glanced dubiously at the document in his hand, then he shook his head and slid it decisively back into its envelope.

“Thanks,” he said, “but I think I’ll wait until Angelo gets here.”

* * *

Angelo arrived at about five o’clock, fulsome in his apologies for being so late. Gianni waved the apology aside and showed him the brown envelope he had found earlier on.

“Will you read Nonna’s will with me?” he asked.

Angelo nodded. “Of course I will,” he replied. “Let’s take a seat.”

Gianni and Angelo sat down on the church pew, reading the document by the glow of the evening sunlight that shone diffusely through the two small windows at the back of the room. Tactfully, Patrizia tugged Daniele through to the kitchen area to help wash up the handful of glasses, coffee cups and plates they had got through during the course of the afternoon.

“It looks like the will was updated after Vittorio died,” Angelo said.

Gianni nodded. “I, Marina Bianchi,” he read, “being of sound mind and judgement, do hereby give and bequeath…” his breath caught in his throat. “Angelo… she’s left the house to me!”

Angelo put an arm around his partner’s tense shoulders. “Weren’t you expecting that?” he asked.

Gianni shook his head, his forehead creased in a puzzled frown. “I don’t understand. What about Anna? She was here first, and with me being… you know…”

Angelo chuckled. “I reckon she had you pegged, Gianni,” he said.

Gianni glanced at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Pietro and Anna are savvy businesspeople,” Angelo explained, the corner of his mouth quirking in a half smile. “They’ll be fine, and I’ll bet Marina knew it. You, on the other hand… you’re the deadbeat artist in the family. You need all the help you can get.”

There was a moment’s shocked silence. Even Daniele and Patrizia froze, waiting to see what would happen next, but then, incredibly, Gianni laughed.

“Oh, thanks, Angelo,” he said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“So…” Daniele piped up. “This place is yours, if you want it…?”

Gianni and Angelo exchanged a glance.

“Yes,” Gianni replied, “but we’ll have to think about it. We love our current apartment, and this place… well, it holds a lot of memories, both good and bad.”

“It’d be nice, though, wouldn’t it?” Angelo murmured, gazing out through the window behind him, which looked down the steep mountainside to the distant sea and the grey sands and terracotta roofs of Minori. “To keep a little bit of Marina and Vittorio alive with us.”

* * *

When they had done all they could at the house, the four of them adjourned to the square to get a drink and something to eat. Patrizia phoned Daniele’s father to invite him to join them when he had finished driving for the day.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen under the pine trees and, even though it was only Monday, the bars and restaurants around the square were already beginning to fill up. The cicadas still scraped in the trees, and a small group of local children had gathered in the square, playing tag around the open area in the middle. Local people and visitors threaded carefully between them as they crossed from one corner to the other; somehow, no collisions took place.

Under the mellowing influence of the gentle crowds and the wine that Angelo persuaded him to order, Gianni’s mood seemed to lighten a little, and he reminisced about the happier aspects of the time he had spent living with Marina and Vittorio. Daniele listened attentively, soaking up all his stories.

Daniele’s father Paolo arrived at about seven o’clock. He looked tired, but he had showered and changed and brushed his short brown hair. He embraced Patrizia and Daniele, then shook hands with both Gianni and Angelo, offering his condolences.

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” he assured them, “just let me know.”

In search of dinner, they retired to a pizzeria at the foot of the avenue of oleanders. It was a peaceful spot with an attractive garden terrace; Daniele had been there several times before, including on his thirteenth birthday. While the adults chatted, Daniele waded quietly through a large Napoletana pizza that was laden with tomato, mozzarella and salty anchovies, reflecting on everything he had learned.

It had been a strange day, and Daniele desperately wanted to talk to one of his friends. He thought of Emilia, but he was put off by the thought of the long walk up to San Martino where she lived, as well as the thought that he might also find Laura there. In any event, in spite of everything, it was Giacomo he really wanted to see. If he could just get his best friend on his own, maybe Giacomo could help everything feel a little more normal, at least for a short while.

As they left the restaurant, Daniele made his excuses, explaining that he wanted to check in with Giacomo, if he was available. His parents let him go, but Patrizia watched him with just a trace of concern in her eyes as he set off up the avenue of oleanders once more.

It was full dark now. The oleander bushes that lined the path, which had been carefully pruned and trained over the years to look like little trees, cast strange little shadows under the glow of the overhead lanterns. Some of them were laden with sparkling fairy lights, celebrating the festival season. The cathedral’s ornate bell tower was lit up in shades of vivid blue and purple. It was a warm night, heady with an expectant, romantic sort of atmosphere.

Hands in pockets, Daniele turned back up the main street through the Toro. He passed the Municipio gardens, where a few young couples lurked in the shadows, then passed Marina’s courtyard home once more as he approached Giacomo’s apartment.

The lights were on upstairs, casting a warm and inviting glow out through the windows, and Daniele glanced up at it with a hopeful feeling in his heart. Opposite, on the arched wall of the landscaped belvedere next door, a traditional square lantern swung gently on its chain, casting a bright radiance out over the crazy-paved street.

At that moment, a whisper of voices caught Daniele’s attention, coming from somewhere on the belvedere. Daniele ducked behind one of stone arches, not wanting to intrude on somebody’s private moment, but curiosity got the better of him and he peered around the corner. What he saw made him stop and catch his breath, a shiver of dread spreading out from his heart.

Almost silhouetted in the darkness, Giacomo and Laura were standing together by the railings. Behind them, the distant lights of Minori and Maiori glinted in the darkness, casting sparkling reflections on the gently shimmering sea, but the two teens on the belvedere only seemed to have eyes for each other.

“I had an amazing time today, Giaco,” Laura said, taking the other boy’s hand gently. He glanced down at it for a moment, looking a little startled, but he made no effort to pull it away. “Thank you for showing me around.”

“Me too,” Giacomo replied quietly.

“There’s just one more thing I’d like to do before we say goodnight…”

She leant forward, and Daniele was desperate to look away… but, just as in so many half-remembered bad dreams, he couldn’t. The two teens’ lips touched, and there was silence for a moment.

Giacomo released Laura’s hand and uttered an embarrassed little laugh. “Wow…” he murmured. “That was pretty…”

“…amazing,” Laura beamed.

Giacomo laughed again. “I guess so.”

Daniele drew himself back from the archway, pressing his back against the wall for a moment, eyes closed, breathing hard, trying desperately to draw strength from the warm, rough stonework. The world seemed to be spiralling around him. He wished, more than anything, that he had never thought to come here tonight.

His blue eyes flew open again, momentarily dazzled by the bright glow of the lantern above him, as he remembered that the others had been about to say goodnight: they might step off the belvedere at any moment. What would they say if they found him here, spying on them?

The thought was enough to get him moving. Daniele’s paralysis broke, and he fled into the night.