The Tuscan Child(52)

The afternoon passed without incident. Paola awoke from her nap and we went into the garden to pick vegetables. By the time the sun set we had a flat cart loaded with wooden trays ready to take to market in the morning. I looked at the cart and wondered if we’d have to pull it up the hill. It looked like really heavy work. Paola left it in the shade at the side of the house. “In the morning Carlo will come for it,” she said. “Now we go and eat.”

This evening’s meal started with round white and shiny balls of a cheese called mozzarella, along with tomato slices and fresh green basil. Then came the fried artichokes. I found these a little chewy and not as good as the zucchini blossoms had been. But the main course of the veal chops in a rich wine sauce—well, that was heavenly.

Afterward we sat talking until I could pluck up the courage to go back to my room. I didn’t like to ask Paola to accompany me, but I did say, “You don’t think we are in any danger, do you? I mean, a man was killed right next to my room.”

Paola shook her head, smiling. “You are in no danger, my little one. You have had nothing to do with this man and neither have I. He has met a sad end, but most likely he brought it upon himself. Don’t worry.” Then she put an arm around my shoulder and walked with me to the little house. I went in and locked the door from the inside. Even so I found it hard to sleep. I pictured someone finding a way to prize off the bars at the window, or even putting through a hand holding a pistol and shooting me as I slept. I closed the shutters and the window even though it was hot and stuffy and finally fell asleep in an airless room.

I awoke to shouts and leapt up, my heart thudding. It was not quite light, and my head throbbed as if I had drunk too much wine. I opened my door and saw that the cause of the commotion was that a man had arrived with a tractor and was hooking it up to Paola’s cart of vegetables while she yelled instructions with much arm waving. I dressed hurriedly and went to join them.

“Did we wake you, little one?” she said. “I am sorry. I would have let you sleep on and join me later. I have to go up to the village now to set up my stall, but I have left coffee and bread for you on the table. If you would like to join me, come up at your leisure. The bathroom is at your disposal, and Angelina will soon be awake if you need anything.”

I realised I had not locked my door behind me when I ran out, so I rushed back. Nothing had been touched. I took my toilet bag, towel, and clean clothes for the day and locked the door carefully this time before I went over to the farmhouse, had a bath, and then had breakfast. Angelina appeared while I was still eating, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“It is not easy to be a mother,” she said. “The baby, she cries and wants to eat every two hours, all night. You are wise to concentrate on your career and not marry. I wish I had studied harder and not let Mario sweep me off my feet.” She paused, and a wistful smile came over her face. “But he is very handsome.”

“You must miss him very much while he is away.”

She nodded. “Of course. But he does this for us so that we can save money and maybe open a little business. I pray for that day.”

“You are lucky to have your mother to help you.”

“Yes, although she can be bossy and tells me how to look after my child. Her ways are old-fashioned, you understand. But she won’t listen to new ways that I have read about in books.”

“At least she is here,” I said. “I still miss my mother. She was a kind person like yours is. She took good care of my father and me.”

“You had no brother or sister?”

I shook my head. “My mother was over forty years old when I was born. It was a late marriage for both my parents. She never thought she could have a child and was surprised when I came along. She told me I was her little miracle.”

“I had a brother,” Angelina said. “But he died when he was a baby. He caught that disease called polio, you know? So sad. Life is full of sadness, is it not? My mother, she still weeps for my father.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Life is full of sadness. But you have a new baby to make you happy.”

“If she doesn’t want to eat the whole night long,” Angelina said, and we both laughed.

“I promised your mother I would come up to the piazza and help her,” I said. Soon after, I set off up the hill. It was a cool morning with a few white clouds racing in from the west. Maybe the weather was going to break. I passed nobody on the path and have to confess that I almost ran through the tunnel, but when I reached the village piazza it was full of activity at this early hour. Paola was already doing a lively trade and looked as if she was glad to see me.

“Ah, you came,” she said. “I will put you to work. The basket of apricots needs to be filled again. And the tomatoes. And make sure the basil is not in the sun or it will wilt.”

I did as she asked.

“And I promised to bring parsley to the trattoria,” she said.

“I’ll take it over for you,” I volunteered.

She shook her head. “No, I had better go myself. I need to know what they might need for the festival tomorrow.”

“A festival?”

She smiled. “It is a holy day. Corpus Christi. We have a big procession and then a feast in the piazza here. Everyone brings food to share. You will enjoy it, I am sure.”

So off she went. I was a little nervous that I wouldn’t be able to understand her customers, but nobody came for several minutes. I was moving the tray of tomatoes out of the direct sun when I saw the shadow of someone approaching. I looked up and it was Renzo.