Dani the Hero - 2. Chapter 2

Daniele rose early the next morning to begin another week of school. As usual, his parents had risen first; he could hear them moving around in the kitchen diner. As was his custom, he started by prising open the shutters over his two small windows, blinking in the sudden blue glare of the April sky as he paused to take in the sea view. The sun must already have been up for at least an hour; it was almost as if he could feel the summer waiting in the wings, impatient to unleash the full ferocity that would follow in a month or two.

Running riot in the hills would have to wait. For now, there was work to be done, and he needed to choose something to wear: the lower high school he attended had no uniform policy, and pupils were free to express themselves within reason. Daniele padded across to his wall of cupboards and opened the wardrobe door; an array of tie-dye t-shirts confronted him, neatly hung up and organised by colour. In many ways, Daniele was as messy as any other twelve-year-old boy, but clothes were a serious business.

After a moment’s thought, he picked the lavender t-shirt, which was another of his favourites. He had always liked the way the mottled patches of pale purple complemented the blue of his eyes and his mop of light blond hair.

Grabbing some clean underwear and a fresh pair of shorts, he swung the wardrobe door shut and stripped off his vest top in readiness for a shower. For a moment, he paused as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the door. It was all skinny limbs and crazy bed hair; there was barely a scrap of muscle on him.

Not very heroic, he thought dispiritedly.

But then, that didn’t always matter, did it? Surely it was the heart inside that really counted. Spider-Man just looked like a regular kid most of the time, but that didn’t stop him fighting villains and swinging from building to building over the streets of New York.

Lost in contemplation of superheroes, Daniele stared into space for a moment, but then he shook himself and made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

A short while later, fuelled up by a breakfast of fresh orange juice and an apricot croissant, Daniele set out into the spring sunshine with his school rucksack hanging over one shoulder. He had made excuses for his early departure by telling his parents he fancied a stroll before school, which, he reasoned, was sort of true.

He started out up the usual flight of steps into town, but almost immediately turned off onto a side route that he rather liked. The crazy-paved alleyway meandered between well-kept villas and whitewashed walls crowned by lush spring foliage from the adjoining gardens. A bit further up the hill, the twin domes of a small church frowned down upon the path, their blue-grey stonework and creamy stucco render catching the morning sun that streamed in from the sea.

The path brought Daniele to a broad stairway that ascended steeply past the church. Up he climbed, until the old stone tower and terracotta tiles of the Villa Rufolo came into view, proudly straddling the path. He disappeared into a dark and narrow pedestrian tunnel under the villa, his footsteps echoing back off the rough stonework as he strove towards the half-circle of daylight at the far end.

Daniele emerged back into the morning sun just a short distance from the cathedral square. If he strained his ears, he could just about hear the quiet voices and chinking cups of the morning coffee trade echoing down the lane as the sound bounced off the high stone walls to either side of the path.

Daniele had planned his journey well. He turned off onto a side route, a quiet, sweeping staircase known as the Bishop’s Way, which provided a back route up to the Toro, a prestigious part of town on the hill above the cathedral, where Ravello’s smartest hotels could be found. In between these grand former palazzi, a few smaller properties lingered on, some of them home to small businesses like the shop run by Giacomo’s mother.

The Bishop’s Way was as peaceful as ever. The tall trees of the Villa Rufolo gardens arched overhead, casting a pattern of dappled sunlight and shade onto the dusty steps. From their perch on an old wooden footbridge that spanned the high stone walls, a couple of stray kittens looked on suspiciously as the young interloper passed by.

Daniele finally crested the hill, barely perspiring in the cool of the spring morning. The main street through the Toro was quiet, with just a scattering of people passing back and forth, some of them dressed in smart hotel uniforms. He walked past an avenue of colourful oleanders that led back down to the square, then he passed the formal gardens of the town’s small Municipio, where the fresh bedding plants were just starting to flower. A row of grand old palazzi swept by on the right; rendered in shades of salmon and cream, they perched along the top of the ridge, making the best of the sea view. Daniele’s attention, however, was focused on the smaller buildings on the left, where he was pretty sure Giacomo lived.

Before long, he had found the place: a small, slightly run-down shopfront, with a faded hanging sign that read Ceramiche d’Agnello. To the right of the shopfront was a wooden door that Daniele guessed led up to the apartment above the shop, where he could just make out a few lights shining out through the open shutters; he wondered if Giacomo was in there right now, getting ready for school.

At first, Daniele thought the shop doors were already open, and he had time to wonder why Giacomo’s mother had bothered to open the shop so early; but then he realised that the doors were actually missing. A young man in his mid-twenties was working out in the street, concentration evident in the set of his shoulders as he stooped over a sawhorse. His spiky black hair caught flashes of sunlight as he cut a pile of solid-looking timbers to form a new doorframe. Daniele approached the young man, recognition dawning in his mind along with a rare rush of pleasure at encountering a friendly face.

“Ciao, Angelo,” he said brightly.

Angelo was a carpenter who lived in town with his partner Gianni. The previous summer, Daniele had got to know them a little by spending time with Toto and Michele. As it happened, Angelo was also the younger brother of Pietro, co-owner of Da Rossi.

The young man looked up and flashed Daniele a smile. “Ciao, Daniele,” he said. “What are you doing up here so early in the morning?”

“Just going for a walk before school,” Daniele replied, although he couldn’t quite stop his eyes flicking back to the upstairs windows for a second. He wondered whether the young man had noticed. “What’s happening?”

Angelo, who was considering Daniele’s question, didn’t seem to have picked up on anything untoward. He scratched his head in a puzzled fashion. “Signora Agnello, who runs this place… Elena, I think she’s called… wanted me to fit her shop with some new doors. The old ones seemed pretty solid to me, but she insisted.”

Daniele frowned. “Why?”

Angelo shrugged his shoulders. “She seems pretty anxious about the rumours that are going round about businesses being attacked. You’ve heard them, I guess?”

Daniele nodded. “Yes, I have.”

Angelo sighed and leant back on his sawhorse. “Even if the rumours are true, I tried to tell her that she wouldn’t be an obvious target. I mean, I don’t want to talk myself out of work, but it looks like she’s barely keeping this place going even without having to pay for new doors, you know what I mean?”

Daniele glanced up at the faded sign, and then at the rest of the shopfront. The paintwork was peeling and the whole effect was decidedly shabby, although it couldn’t quite detract from the display of colourful ceramics in the small shop window. He nodded.

Angelo looked at him for a moment longer, and then he chuckled. “You don’t say much, sometimes, Dani,” he said, “but there’s a lot going on behind those blue eyes of yours, isn’t there? I can almost feel you sucking in information… like some sort of human vacuum cleaner. You came here for a reason.”

Daniele flushed guiltily. “I… I’m just…”

Angelo grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He paused, glancing casually down at the timbers he had been cutting. “Say, would you like to have a go at this?”

Daniele brightened at once. “Yeah! Yes please…”

He started forward, but then they were interrupted as the apartment door swung open. Angelo shrugged apologetically. “Maybe some other time,” he murmured.

Giacomo and Elena had emerged into the street. Watching them curiously, Daniele thought they made an odd pair. Giacomo was kitted out in a stylish fitted t-shirt with long sleeves and smart new shorts and trainers. His mother, however, seemed to have allowed herself no such luxury; she was wearing a worn and faded dress, which was decorated with a listless floral pattern, and her wavy hair, which prematurely streaked with grey, was tied back roughly behind her head with a tired-looking hairband. There were dark circles around her eyes, but she smiled warmly as she hugged her son. Giacomo accepted the embrace willingly enough.

“Have a lovely day at school, tesoro,” she said softly.

“Thanks, Mamma,” Giacomo replied.

As the dark-eyed boy separated from his mother, he caught sight of Daniele standing next to Angelo. He frowned for a moment, but then turned on his heel and set off up the street without a backward glance, rucksack over one shoulder. Daniele watched him go until he had vanished through an arch under one of the grander villas that spanned the street. When he turned back, he saw Angelo looking at him with a thoughtful expression. Daniele felt heat rising to his cheeks again, and was grateful when Elena provided a distraction.

She walked over to them, clasping her hands anxiously over her breast. She smiled wanly at Daniele before addressing Angelo.

“How’s it going, signor Rossi?” she asked.

“Fine, thank you, signora,” Angelo replied. “I should have your new doors installed by lunchtime.”

Elena sighed with relief. “Thank you… I’ve been so worried since those awful stories started going around.”

Angelo nodded. “They’re upsetting, for sure…” he smiled reassuringly, “but don’t worry, we’ll have your shop secured in no time.”

Elena nodded gratefully, before turning her tired gaze back on Daniele. “Do I know you, caro?” she asked. “Are you one of Giacomo’s friends?”

Caught on the spot, Daniele shook his head hurriedly. “Ah… no, he’s in my class at school, but I was just… passing.”

“Daniele here is a friend of mine,” Angelo said. “He’s a good kid.”

Elena smiled distractedly. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you,” she said. She turned back to Angelo. “I’ll leave you to it, then… thank you again.”

Angelo nodded as Giacomo’s mother made her way back to the apartment, the frayed tail of her dress whispering against the dusty paving stones as she walked. Daniele watched, feeling blue, as she closed the door behind her.

“She seems so sad,” he said, glancing back at his companion. “Do you know why?”

Angelo shook his head. “Not really,” he replied. “I’ve heard it said that her husband ran off with a younger woman years ago, but that may just be Chinese whispers. You know what it’s like round here… people love to talk about each other’s business.”

Daniele nodded; he had noticed that, too. “Well, thanks,” he said. He glanced at his wristwatch. “I guess I’d better get to school.”

“Sure,” Angelo replied. “It was good to see you…” he paused, before adding curiously, “did you get what you came here for?”

Daniele shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe. Ciao, Angelo.”

“Ciao,” Angelo replied with a gentle half-smile. Daniele set off up the stone-paved street, lost in thought.

* * *

Daniele’s school was a light, bright and modern building tucked away above the quiet end of Via Roma, a safe distance from the shops and restaurants but only a short walk away from the cathedral square. There wasn’t a lot of outside space, and what little space there was had to be shared with the primary school kids. Staggered breaktimes helped to ensure that the younger children didn’t have to tangle too often with the older ones.

Daniele’s day started with a double lesson on Italian language and literature: a subject that he normally enjoyed, but today he was struggling to concentrate. While the teacher droned on, Daniele’s eyes found the window a little too often, drawn relentlessly to the blue April sky. Whenever he thought he could get away with it, he cast a quick glance across at Giacomo, who sat one row back from the front of the classroom, close to his friends Emilia and Marco. Giacomo gave no visible indication that anything was wrong; he joined in with the class as much as he normally would, and he seemed neither preoccupied nor anxious, although Daniele knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Daniele thought he knew why Giacomo was wearing long sleeves today: bruises like his would take a few days to fade. However, he was at a loss to know how the other boy had got them. If Angelo was right, Giacomo and his mother lived alone… and Elena had seemed like the last sort of person to hurt her child. Although she had seemed terribly anxious and sad, the warmth she felt for Giacomo had shone through. Daniele frowned and fiddled with loose piece of trim at the corner of his desk, troubled and, for the moment, completely mystified.

The Italian class was followed by mathematics. Now Daniele thought about it, signorina Amitrano really did look pregnant. He wondered how he had failed to notice it before.

Maybe that’s just not where you were looking.

Daniele shrugged the confusing thought away and returned to his exercise book.

At lunchtime, Daniele wandered down to the outside play area with his packed lunch, where there was a small grassy terrace under the shade of a couple of umbrella pines, with a handful of picnic tables that the pupils could use to relax and chat. Later in the year, the grass would be dry and brown, but for now it was short and green. The picnic tables were already fully occupied, so he perched on the boundary wall with his back to the street below, heedless of the dangerous drop behind him. Sipping occasionally on a carton of green apple juice, he nibbled at his homemade prosciutto and mozzarella sandwich.

Giacomo had taken up residence at the middle picnic table along with Emilia, Marco and a couple of other kids. The three friends were battling with Pokémon cards, and it looked like Giacomo was winning.

After a particularly daring victory, Giacomo thrust his fists skywards.

“In your face, Marco!” he whooped, his dark eyes alight with laughter. “Hand it over.”

Marco flushed a deep scarlet. “Whatever,” he said, passing a card across the table. “It’s just a little kids’ game anyway.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Marco,” Emilia chided him.

“It’s fine,” Marco replied, with a brave attempt at a smile, although Daniele could tell that he was still upset.

“Hey, relax,” Giacomo grinned. “I know how much you love Blastoise. I’ll let you have it back after the game.”

Marco seemed cheered by this. “Thanks, Giaco.”

“You and me, next, Emilia?” Giacomo said.

Emilia nodded. “Think you can take me?”

“I know it,” Giacomo replied, stretching his arms luxuriantly.

Daniele smiled slightly; he sensed a mind game in progress, as the dark-eyed boy tried to look as relaxed as possible.

Daniele didn’t want to be caught staring, so he tore his eyes away from the three friends and began to unwrap the slices of leftover breakfast sponge that his mother had packed for him. However, at that moment, everyone was distracted by a commotion from somewhere down the street.

There was a series of crashes, the tinkle of breaking glass and the muffled sound of a woman screaming. Dropping his cake, cellophane and all, Daniele whipped round at once, heart pounding with excitement. He leant out over the top of the wall, craning his neck as he tried to see the source of the disturbance, but it was frustratingly out of view. A portly officer of the Polizia Municipale was hurrying along the street, puffing heavily through his bushy moustache as he made for the source of the noise; he was closely followed by the young duty officer from the Carabinieri station down the road, clutching her smart uniform cap to her head as she ran.

“What’s happened, Daniele?” someone called.

Daniele glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see that it was Giacomo who had hailed him; the dark-eyed boy had risen from his seat and was looking keenly in his direction. All the other kids in the playground had also paused in whatever they were doing, and those who hadn’t already hurried to the wall themselves turned to look expectantly at him. Silence reigned for a moment.

Unused to being the centre of attention, Daniele was speechless for a second, but then he found his voice.

“I don’t know,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s just out of sight.”

The tension broke, and everyone present started whispering excitedly to one another, offering wild speculations. Relieved, Daniele picked up his cakes and began to unwrap them once again. He didn’t think there would be much learning done at school that afternoon.

* * *

When the final bell rang, Daniele made sure he was at the front of the queue to leave the site. The initial frenzied excitement over the commotion at lunchtime had died down somewhat, but he was sure there would be still a few kids who wanted to find out what had happened. He meant to be one of the first.

Daniele slipped out through the gates and hurried eagerly along Via Roma in the direction of the square, following in the footsteps of the police officers he had seen earlier. It wasn’t long before the cause of the disturbance became obvious, and what Daniele saw made him stop in his tracks, his mouth falling open in dismay.

The frontage of Da Rossi was in total disarray. Two out of the three large plate glass windows had been smashed. It looked like the restaurant’s own outside chairs, which were of the metal type with a cushion on top for comfort, had been used to smash the windows in; Daniele could see the legs of one of them sticking up just inside the remains of the window. The rest of the façade looked like it had been pelted with paint bombs and bags of flour, leaving a dripping mess behind. A very subdued-looking Anna was standing outside, hands clasped loosely by her waist, talking quietly with a Carabinieri officer who seemed to be taking a verbal statement.

Daniele wondered whether it was Anna herself who had screamed when the attack took place; he shook his head in disbelief at the idea that anyone could do something like this.

She must have been terrified...

At one side of the little square, a stocky young man stood surveying the scene, leaning on the saddle of a Vespa scooter that was resting on its kickstand. He wore jeans and a leather jacket and was observing the conversation between Anna and the police officer with a surly scowl upon his face.

Daniele knew the man. There was a time when he would have hidden at the sight of him, but since the last summer they had formed a reluctant sort of rapport; it was difficult to stay frightened of someone who had helped to save your life.

“Ciao, Enzo,” Daniele said, sidling cautiously up to him. Enzo Palmeri glanced down at him and acknowledged his presence with a grunt and a nod.

“Bad scene, huh?” he muttered.

Daniele nodded. “What happened?”

“The way Anna tells it,” Enzo said, “two thugs with their faces covered – young men, she said – came out of nowhere at lunchtime and started smashing the place in.”

Daniele’s eyes widened in shock. “Just like that?”

Enzo nodded. “In broad daylight. With customers in the building.”

Daniele frowned as he tried to comprehend the idea. “But why?”

Enzo gave a neutral gesture. “Beats me.”

“I’ve heard…” Daniele said uncertainly, “I mean, people have been saying something about a… protection racket?”

Enzo glanced at him, his heavy eyebrows knotting in doubt. “Here?” he growled. He paused, glaring at the wreck of the shopfront. “If it is, it’s pretty amateurish,” he snorted. “I could have done a better job than this. Don’t you think?”

Daniele shrugged. “How would I know?” he said.

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Enzo said. He curled a lip distastefully. “Well, if the punks that did this come anywhere near my garage, they’d better be ready for trouble.”

Anna seemed to have finished giving her statement to the police officer and was looking forlornly at the wreckage of her business. As Daniele watched, Pietro emerged from the restaurant, his face grave, and approached her.

“I told you there’d be consequences,” she said quietly, and then she burst into tears. Pietro pulled her into an embrace and spoke quietly into her ear. Feeling like an intruder, Daniele averted his eyes, and looked properly at the Vespa that Enzo was leaning on for the first time.

“Hey, isn’t that Michele’s?” he asked.

Enzo grunted and nodded once again. “I just finished fixing it. He asked me to drop it off where Toto usually parks his. I guess they have plans together for tonight.”

Daniele noticed that Enzo was unable to keep a slight sneer from his face as he said this.

I guess some things never change, he thought glumly.

Pietro and Anna were still locked in their embrace. Suddenly, Daniele wanted to leave. The excitement and anticipation he had felt since lunchtime had been replaced with something bitter and much less fun.

“I’d better go,” he said, hitching his school bag a little higher.

Enzo nodded, still surveying the scene. “Yeah, whatever. Later.”

Shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, Daniele set off for home, dodging automatically whenever a shopper or passer-by entered his peripheral vision. It had hurt him to see Anna, a grown woman who usually seemed so positive, crying like that, and he wished there was something he could do to help.

But you’re just a kid. How can you expect to save the world?

Sometimes he hated being so powerless. He thought of his favourite superheroes, and how they always seemed to have some new trick up their sleeve.

There was something else bothering him, too. Hadn’t he always believed in the basic decency of people? Even bullies sometimes did good things.

No, he couldn’t help Pietro and Anna… but maybe he could still do something for Giacomo, if he could only figure out what had been happening to him.

* * *

Wednesday morning dawned with an April shower, and Daniele awoke to the rare sight and sound of raindrops running down his small bedroom windows and dripping off the lintels above them. But before long, the spring sun had appeared and burned most of the clouds away, leaving the sky blue and the dusty ground refreshed.

As the last tinge of orange had left the sky on Monday night, Daniele had struggled to settle down in bed, troubled by everything he had seen. His father had been working late, and he had avoided bringing it up when talking to his mother, for fear she would worry.

As he tossed and turned between the sheets, Daniele had got no closer to working out how he was going to find out what was going on with Giacomo; he had dreamed up and then written off scheme after scheme until, in desperation, he had even considered just coming out and asking the other boy about it; but the thought of having that conversation brought him out in a cold sweat. After worrying about the problem for hours, Daniele had given up and decided that he was prepared to wait; with time, maybe the perfect opportunity would present itself. In the meantime, he decided he would try to keep an eye on his would-be friend… in case things got any worse.

Tuesday had passed in a bit of a haze, but last night Daniele had slept like a log, and he woke with more of a spring in his step despite the raindrops on the windows. It finally was the day of Toto’s birthday party, and he couldn’t wait for the evening to come. He slogged impatiently through the school day, looking forward to the chance to get dressed up and celebrate with his friends.

The party was to be held at the Villa Cimbrone gardens. Daniele remembered attending a birthday party there last year, which Angelo had thrown for his partner Gianni; it had been a magical affair, held on a balmy summer night on a triangular lawn lined with trees and shrubs that glittered with fairy lights and burning torches. Daniele was smart enough to realise that a teenager’s party held in April wouldn’t be the same, but there would still be food, there would be laughter, and maybe he would even be brave enough to dance a little.

At the end of the school day, Daniele fairly flew out of the gates and set off for home without delay, a balloon of excitement swelling in his chest once again. He hurried on past Da Rossi, where the broken windows had already been boarded up. A morose-looking Angelo was measuring up for new window frames; he tipped Daniele a weary smile and a wave as he passed. A handwritten sign in the one surviving window, signed with a smiley face, read ‘temporarily closed, see you in a few days’; Daniele suspected Anna’s handiwork, and admired her spirit.

When Daniele got home, he found the house empty. Despite his quick march home, he had scarcely broken a sweat; but he stripped his day clothes off all the same, wanting to make sure he was showered and fresh for the evening’s festivities.

‘Don’t you ever sweat, Dani?’ Toto had asked him once. In truth, he didn’t much; Daniele supposed it would come with age.

Daniele washed his hair thoroughly and gave the rest of himself a once-over with a soapy sponge. Once he was warm and dry, he applied a couple of quick squirts of deodorant just to be sure, then wandered through to his bedroom to get dressed.

Opening his wardrobe, Daniele reached immediately for the light blue shirt and beige slacks he had worn to Gianni’s birthday last year. Toto, he remembered, had worn the same outfit; it was with only the slightest embarrassment that Daniele remembered how he had consciously imitated the way the older boy was planning to dress when they had gone down to Amalfi together to look for some smart new clothes.

Daniele buttoned up his shirt and examined himself in the mirror. Everything looked fine; now he just needed to wait for his hair to dry.

When he wandered through to the kitchen and living area, he found that his mother was already there, unpacking some shopping bags; she must have arrived back while he was in the shower. She beamed as he came in.

“Ciao, tesoro,” she said. “You look almost ready to go, and handsome with it.”

Daniele rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Mamma.”

“I thought you said the party wasn’t until six?”

Daniele shrugged with a guilty grin. “I couldn’t wait.”

“Well, it’s only half past four,” Patrizia smiled. “Plenty of time to do your homework, then.”

Daniele sighed, his balloon of excitement thoroughly punctured for the moment. “Yes, Mamma.”

* * *

At the appointed hour, his mop of blond hair brushed until it was soft and neat, Daniele set out on foot with the present and birthday card he had prepared for Toto tucked under one arm and a light cardigan tied around his waist at his mother’s insistence.

For a gift, Daniele had chosen a set of art pencils he had come across while shopping with his father in Salerno. The child within him had wanted to buy Toto a DVD set of Marvel superhero films, but the more intuitive part of his mind knew that Toto had spent a good part of the last couple of years working hard on his art. When Michele was busy elsewhere, Toto and Gianni, who was an accomplished artist, were often to be seen drawing together in the cathedral square.

Of the birthday card, however, Daniele was particularly proud. He had drawn it himself. Words and feelings were Daniele’s real gift, and he knew he would never truly make an artist, but he had managed to put together a simple, cartoon drawing of Toto and Michele standing heroically side by side. Each of them sported a pair of feathered wings and wore a vest top embossed with a stylised ‘S’.

‘S’ for ‘the Swifts’, Daniele thought with pleasure as he climbed the steps past Michele’s house.

It was still daylight, so Daniele decided to save himself a long detour to the cathedral square by taking a little-used back route up to the crag. Once he had crossed the road, he slipped through a narrow archway at the bottom of his usual stairway and began to climb. The quiet old path wasn’t lit, so he would have to return by a longer route later on. Climbing at first through scrubby trees and terraces with a slightly abandoned feel, he took the broken concrete stairs one careful step at a time, not wanting to trip over and spoil his nice clean clothes or to arrive looking too hot and bothered.

A dog barked behind one of the high stone walls as Daniele climbed a steep, straighter stairway past a few isolated houses. Unfazed, he whistled a tune quietly to himself, glancing up into a deep blue sky that was broken by a few scattered clouds. The spring seemed to be warming up by the day, although now, at this hour, there was no real ferocity in the golden rays that fell upon Daniele’s face from the low sun in the west.

The path turned a corner and began to climb more gently. For a while, Daniele could see down to the coast, where the seaside town of Maiori sat cradled at the foot of a rocky mountain peak, but then the view was obscured by trees. He climbed up a narrow, overgrown little path past a salmon-pink villa and soon came out by the vegetable garden he had passed at the weekend. He paused for a moment to glance down over the Valle del Dragone towards the village of Pontone and the way to the Torre dello Ziro, remembering, as he always did, that sudden feeling of falling.

A short while later, Daniele approached the grand entrance to the Villa Cimbrone gardens. The main doors were shut, but a small wicket gate stood open, allowing him access to the villa’s welcoming courtyard, where an ornate cloister stood opposite a tall umbrella pine that cast dappled shade over the dusty ground.

By day, visitors would have to pay to enter the gardens, but at this hour the ticket kiosk was empty. The gardens’ main central avenue receded, dead-straight, into the distance. A temporary sign reading ‘Friuli party’ had been erected at the mouth of the avenue, with a large black arrow pointing straight ahead. In the distance, a couple of other guests could be seen following the same route.

Daniele set off again, a small and lonely figure on a seemingly endless path. The broad dirt walkway, which was lined with hydrangea bushes, led between the long lawns and formal gardens along the top of the high rocky crag upon which the Villa Cimbrone stood. In the distance, he could just pick out the temple-like structure that stood at the entrance to the Terrace of Infinity, a vertiginous stone platform that offered some of the finest sea views in town.

Beautiful wisteria flowers in purple and white, always some of the first to appear in the spring, trailed from the pergola structure overhead as Daniele walked. Gradually, he became aware of the sound of music and voices growing in volume from somewhere on the right, and he realised that Toto’s party must be happening on the very same triangular lawn that had hosted Gianni’s party last year. It made sense: the space came ready-equipped with a bar, and there was plenty of space for guests to spread out and have fun while enjoying views of the valley.

Another sign stood just before the temple and the terrace, directing guests down a flight of stairs on the right, but it was scarcely necessary; there could be no mistaking the source of the cheerful sounds now. Daniele turned down the steps, and a lively scene unfolded before him.

* * *

“Ciao, Dani!” came a cheerful voice. Daniele’s eyes raked the garden until they settled on Toto, who was waving at him from amid a small group of people in the middle of the lawn. Daniele smiled and hurried towards him at once, taking in the scene as he went.

This time, the garden seemed to have been laid out for fun and games rather than romance. Instead of burning torches and fairy lights, the trees were bedecked with bunting and there were rainbow bunches of helium balloons tied to the shrubs. Cheerful music was playing from a pair of loudspeakers by the bar. A row of colourful lamps had been set up along the stone wall at the upper side of the lawn, ready for the approach of the night. Down below, a belt of trees and rustic chestnut railings framed a view across the valley, where the shadows were lengthening as the sun began to dip behind the towering mountain peaks.

Michele was standing by Toto’s shoulder. “Uh-oh, clothing faux pas again,” he said as Daniele approached, glancing between Toto and the younger boy. Once again, Daniele realised, he and Toto had dressed in the same way.

“Yeah, well,” Toto shrugged, “what can I say? The kid’s learned from the best. How are you, Dani?”

“Auguri, Toto,” Daniele replied brightly, handing over his gift and the card he had made.

“What’s this?” Toto said, “thanks, Dani.”

“Open them,” Daniele implored him.

Toto grinned. “If you insist. Present first?”

Daniele shrugged. “Sure.”

Passing the card to Michele for a moment, Toto tore off the wrapping paper and examined the tin of art pencils, holding them up in the fading daylight. “Hey, this is great. I can really use these. Thanks!”

“Open the card, then,” said Michele, trading the envelope he was holding for the discarded wrapping paper.

Daniele watched with eager anticipation as Toto pried the envelope open and slid the card out. His face spread slowly into an amused smile.

“Check this out, Michele,” he said, nudging his boyfriend in the ribs. “The Swifts!”

Michele glanced over his shoulder and then laughed in embarrassment. “Oh, Dio…”

“Do you like it?” Daniele asked anxiously.

“Are you kidding?” Toto replied. “It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant, Dani.”

Daniele found himself inexplicably overcome with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Suddenly tearful, he flung his arms around Toto’s waist.

“Hey, what’s up?” Toto said, automatically hugging Daniele back. “You haven’t done this in a while.”

Daniele pulled back, offering the older boy a watery smile. “I don’t know. I’m fine, really.”

Toto made as if to ruffle his hair, but then seemed to think the better of it. “You’re sure?”

Daniele nodded. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about it later if you like, Dani,” Toto said. “If you’re sure you’re okay, go and get yourself some party food. Michele?”

“I’m on it,” Michele replied. He turned to Daniele, bowing in a passable imitation of an elegant maître d’. “If signore would like to accompany me…?”

Daniele giggled slightly as Michele led him away from the others, depositing the discarded wrappings in a litter bin as he went. He led Daniele to a buffet table near the bar, which was groaning with crisps, pastries, cakes, and fruit; there were pizza slices, a selection of meats and cheeses and even a few salads for the more healthy-minded guests.

“Soft drinks are on the next table,” Michele said. “Get stuck in.”

“Who organised all this stuff?” Daniele asked, his eyes scanning the table with hungry admiration.

“Mamma and I did, mostly,” Michele replied. “Papà pulled some strings, got us some great deals from his suppliers. Load up…!”

Daniele did as he was told. Returning a couple of minutes later with a teetering pile of food on his plate and a cup of lemonade in the other hand, Daniele sipped on his drink and cast his eyes around the garden to see who else he recognised.

At the far end of the garden, he spied Toto’s father Salvatore, who was chatting with Marta, matriarch of the Rossi family. Daniele thought briefly of the boarded-up shopfront in Via Roma, imagining how awkward she must feel to be attending a birthday party while her eldest son licked his wounds at the family business.

Angelo also seemed to have arrived. He had exchanged his dusty work clothes for a natty floral shirt and a pair of light brown chinos and was accompanied by his partner Gianni. The pair were chatting cheerfully to Toto and Michele. Gianni, who was half English, was looking relaxed in a neat blue shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, his blue eyes alert and attentive under his neatly styled crop of black hair.

Daniele needed more hands. He was just finishing his drink, ready to scrunch up the paper cup so he could start eating, when a finger tapped him unexpectedly on the shoulder. He jumped, sending a miniature sausage tumbling to the ground from his overloaded plate, and came face to face with two older girls.

“Oops! Sorry, Daniele,” the lead girl said, although she was biting her lip to suppress an unrepentant smile. Aged about nineteen, she was dressed casually in jeans and a check blouse and was instantly recognisable by the long black plait running down her back.

Daniele laughed shakily. “Ciao, Claudia,” he replied, crouching down to retrieve the sausage. “Have you come all the way up from Salerno?”

The older girl nodded. “I couldn’t miss my boy’s seventeenth,” she replied, her eyes flicking momentarily across the lawn towards Toto. “Do you know Isabella?” she added, gesturing to the girl just behind her. The dark-haired girl, who was closer to Toto and Michele’s age, waved a greeting. Her spectacles gave her a bookish look, but there was a confident glint in her eye all the same.

Daniele shook his head. “No. Piacere,” he said, addressing the new arrival politely as he had been taught.

Isabella smiled. “Pleased to meet you too, Daniele,” she replied. She gave Claudia a sidelong glance. “Well, you said he was a cutie…” she added with a smirk.

Claudia chuckled as Daniele turned away, flushing furiously. “You’re the one who usually tells me not to torture people, Bella,” she said. She put an arm around Daniele’s shoulders for a moment, forcing his eyes reluctantly back to hers. “Don’t forget to ask me to dance later,” she whispered.

Giggling, the two girls moved on to greet Toto and Michele, leaving Daniele feeling small and entirely inadequate. He comforted himself by starting on his food.

* * *

As the evening progressed, the guests loosened up over a few drinks. The dancing hadn’t started yet, but there was laughter as the guests chatted and many jokes and stories were told.

After a while, Toto produced a box of party games from somewhere, and Daniele found himself dragged into a game of Twister. Claudia looked on, snickering, taking photos with her expensive camera while Daniele, Toto and Michele tied themselves up in knots with Isabella. Daniele found that his smaller size gave him an advantage to start with, as he nimbly squeezed through small gaps that the older players couldn’t manage. Realising that he could achieve a lot by staying below the others, he thought he had a winning strategy sussed out, until…

“Right hand to blue… okay,” Isabella panted from somewhere over Daniele’s left shoulder, “let’s try… oof!”

There were shrieks from above him and then the whole group collapsed on top of him like a tonne of bricks, driving the wind from his lungs. Somehow, Isabella had managed to cut the arms out from under both Toto and Michele as she fell. Daniele was left totally pinned, with the bizarre feeling of Isabella’s breasts pressing down on the small of his back.

Somewhere nearby, Claudia seemed to be practically wetting herself with laughter. The pressure lessened as Daniele felt Toto and Michele roll off the pile, and then Claudia was helping Isabella to her feet.

Free at last, Daniele flipped over onto his back and sat up blearily, shaking his head in a dazed fashion.

The others were standing around him in a half-circle. Isabella has a hand over her mouth, somewhere between amusement and shame. “I’m sorry, Daniele,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Daniele nodded his head shakily. “I think I’m done with Twister now, though,” he gasped as lightly as he could, before flopping back to lie spreadeagled on the game sheet, staring up into the rapidly darkening sky.

There was laughter, and then Daniele felt strong hands grab his own hands and feet and he found himself airborne.

“Am I flying?” he asked hopefully. He craned his neck and saw that Toto and Michele were carrying him clear of the game board.

“Poor Dani,” Toto said in mock sympathy. “That was a little more intimate than he had in mind.”

“I’m sure it was an education,” Michele replied.

Toto and Michele propped Daniele up against the chestnut railings at the lower edge of the lawn, then they left to fetch him another lemonade. From where he sat, Daniele had a clear view of the colourful lamps that had been set up among the shrubbery on the far side of the garden. They twinkled merrily in the night; the effect was rather beautiful.

Angelo and Gianni were standing nearby, chatting over drinks. Daniele heard one of them mention Da Rossi, and he tuned into the conversation at once, scrambling to his feet so he could perch on the railings, watching the two men through the corners of his eyes.

“A full set of new windows, yeah,” Angelo was saying. “I think they lost a few plates too. Small stuff, really, apart from the windows. A few pretty scared customers though.”

Gianni winced. “How’s Anna bearing up?”

Anna and Gianni, Daniele remembered, were cousins.

“She was putting a brave face on it when I saw her earlier,” Angelo said, as Toto and Michele reappeared and wordlessly pressed a fresh cup of lemonade into Daniele’s hand. “I just... I’m not sure whether she’s really let it hit her yet.” He frowned. “Repressing things… it’s never good, is it?”

“She cried,” Daniele offered.

The others turned to him at once.

“Say again, Daniele?” Gianni asked, looking at him curiously.

Sipping his drink, Daniele described how he’d heard the commotion at lunchtime and what he’d witnessed when he arrived on the scene in the afternoon.

Gianni exhaled slowly. “That sounds like a real mess,” he said, “but if you’re right, then I guess we don’t need to worry too much about Anna.”

“Do they know who did it, Angelo?” Toto asked.

Angelo shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Enzo said it was two young guys with their faces covered,” Daniele said.

“Enzo was there?” Michele said, a little sharply.

Daniele nodded. “He was pretty mad. From what he said, it sounded like they’d be in a world of hurt if they tried the same thing at his garage.”

Toto laughed. “No, I would not want to be one of those guys with Enzo on the warpath.”

“What’s going on, though?” Daniele asked, frowning as he searched Angelo and Gianni’s faces for answers. “I don’t get it. When did Ravello become a dangerous place to live?”

Gianni shrugged slightly. “I don’t think you need to worry, Daniele. This protection racket, if that’s really what it is… it only seems to target businesses.”

Daniele inspected his fingernails for a moment. “What about Papà?” he said quietly. “He runs a business.”

“A moving taxi’s not exactly an easy target,” Angelo said reassuringly. “These guys, whoever they are… they sound like a bunch of amateurs.”

Daniele nodded. “That’s what Enzo said,” he admitted. “He said he could have done a better job.”

Gianni chuckled. “I bet he did.”

Toto gave Daniele a quick squeeze about the shoulders. “Cheer up, Dani,” he said, and this time he did ruffle his hair slightly. “It’s party time. You shouldn’t be worrying about all this stuff.”

Daniele glanced at him. For a moment, it was on the tip of his tongue to open up about everything else that had been bothering him, but then he stopped himself. It was supposed to be Toto’s party, after all, and this wasn’t the moment. Instead, he smiled bravely. “Yeah.”

Toto glanced across the middle of the lawn, where some of the guests had started to gather. “It looks like they’re getting ready to start dancing,” he said. “Are you in?”

Daniele followed Toto’s gaze and caught sight of Claudia, who gave him a wink and a wave. “Okay,” he said reluctantly, “let’s go.”

* * *

By nine o’clock, Daniele realised he really needed to be getting home. With school tomorrow, he had promised his mother that he would be in bed by ten. Having said his goodbyes to Toto, Michele and the others, he set off back up the steps on his own, embarrassedly wiping Claudia and Isabella’s lipstick off his cheeks as he went.

The spring night was cool, and Daniele donned his cardigan as he padded almost noiselessly back down the central avenue. Low-level lights shone across the path; the purple and white wisteria flowers glowed faintly in fringes of their aura, scenting the night air with a sweet floral smell.

There was nobody about as Daniele climbed the steps back to the vegetable garden. He paused to glance across the valley, where a cluster of silver and gold lights picked out the village of Pontone in the darkness, before heading on his way.

It was as Daniele was approaching a fork in the path, just before the café where he had met the tabby cat a few days ago, that he saw a young figure up ahead.

It was Giacomo, and he was alone. He stood at the junction, in the pool of light cast by a decorative streetlight above, chewing a thumbnail as if psyching himself up to something. Daniele, who didn’t think he could cope with running into the other boy alone just yet, pressed himself back into the shadows against the stone wall, the navy blue of his cardigan helping to conceal him from view.

After a few moments, Giacomo set off down the left fork, a back route that Daniele sometimes took when he fancied a change of scene. Curious, in spite of himself, Daniele followed at a discrete distance.

At first, Daniele followed the other boy down a flight of steps and past a low stone wall where, by day, there would be another fine view across the valley. Flowering oleander trees leant against the wall, their blooms shining a dull pink in the glow of the streetlights. However, before long, they had arrived among the villas and other small buildings that lined the lower part of the street on its way back towards the cathedral square. At this point, Giacomo glanced around warily and slowed right down, looking at each of the houses with attentive interest.

Daniele was left with a powerful feeling that something wasn’t right. He slowed down too, ducking behind cover whenever he could and peering round corners to see what the other boy was doing.

So far, Giacomo seemed to have no idea he was being followed. He peered into each of the houses in turn, pausing every so often to make sure nobody was coming down the street. One building, a small workshop that bottled and sold the local Limoncello liqueur, he seemed to examine with particular intensity.

Daniele broke off his stealthy pursuit when the other boy reached the cathedral square, where most of the bars had closed for the night against the April cool. Lurking in the shadows, Daniele watched Giacomo pensively until the other boy disappeared round the corner of the avenue of oleanders next to the cathedral, presumably headed for home.

Daniele could scarcely believe it, but it had certainly looked like the other boy had been checking out each place in turn, searching for weaknesses… or for things worth stealing.

But why?