“They were civilized times. I try to bring a little of that civilization into my house regardless of what is going on in the rest of the country, for my daughter.” She then proceeded to tell them about her ancestor who was a count: “He fought with Caracciolo in the war against Nelson and the Bourbons, you know.” Thomas listened with half an ear; the rest of his senses were focused on the silent Valentina.
“How long will you be staying?” she asked when dinner was over and they sat feeling drowsy with wine and full bellies.
“As long as it takes to shift the arms,” Thomas replied.
“There are many more, you know. The hills are full of guns and grenades. It is your job to make sure that they don’t fall into the wrong hands, is it not?”
“Of course,” Thomas replied, frowning.
“Then you must stay. This place may look enchanting, but there is evil in every shadow. People have nothing, you see. Nothing. They will kill for a morsel of food. Life has little value nowadays.”
“We will stay as long as we are needed,” he said confidently, although he knew that there was very little he could do against the sort of evil of which she spoke.
While the setting sun singed the sky pink, they sat chatting beneath the vine. Immacolata lit candles, around which moths and mosquitoes fluttered, their tiny wings ever closer to the lethal flame. Thomas and Jack smoked, both acutely aware of Valentina. When she spoke, they listened. Even Jack, who understood little of what was said, sat back to let her soft, beautifully articulated voice run over him like a delicious trickle of syrup. Jack had to let Thomas dominate the conversation; his Italian was far more fluent. However, he did have his lucky charm and, when he felt that he was disappearing with the sun, he let Brendan scamper up his sleeve to sit on his shoulder. As he predicted, the squirrel caught her attention and to the little creature’s relief she didn’t show the slightest intention of eating him. “Ah, che bello!” she sighed, stretching out her hand. Thomas watched her slender brown fingers caress the ginger fur and couldn’t help imagining those same fingers caressing him. He didn’t catch Jack’s eye in case his friend raised a suggestive eyebrow. But Jack was also taken with her loveliness and was well aware that his lewd jokes had no place at that table.
At about ten thirty the car arrived in a cloud of dust. “That will be Lattarullo,” said Thomas. He wished he had had the opportunity to talk to Valentina, but Immacolata had dominated the conversation. Valentina hadn’t seemed to mind. Perhaps with so many brothers she was used to being in the shade.
Lattarullo appeared on the terrace, his brow glistening and his beige shirt stained with sweat. His belly had swollen in the heat like a dead pig and mosquitoes buzzed around his head. He was an unpleasant sight. He informed Thomas and Jack that the rest of the crew had danced all evening in the trattoria. “The singer has entertained the whole town!” he enthused. Judging by the sweat on his shirt the fat carabiniere had been dancing too.
Thomas felt a wave of panic. When would he see Valentina again? He thanked Immacolata for her hospitality, then turned to her daughter. Valentina’s dark eyes looked at him with intensity, as if she could read his thoughts. The corners of her mouth curled into a small, shy smile and her cheeks flushed. Thomas searched for words, any words, but none came. He lost his train of thought in her gaze. The sun had disappeared behind the sea and the light from the candles seemed to turn the brown of her eyes to gold. “Perhaps we will have the pleasure of seeing you again,” he said finally and his voice was a rasp. Valentina was about to reply when her mother interrupted.
“Why don’t you come for the festa di Santa Benedetta tomorrow night?” she suggested. “In the little chapel of San Pasquale. You will witness a miracle and perhaps God will grant you luck.” She toyed with the cross about her neck with rough hands. “Valentina will accompany you,” she added.
“Mamma has a role to play; I will be alone,” Valentina said, lowering her eyes as if embarrassed to ask. “I would very much like you to come.”
“It will be a pleasure to accompany you,” said Thomas, enchanted by her diffidence. This was one excursion he would take alone.
Once in the car Jack burst into commentary. “That Valentina is a real smasher!” he said. “Even Brendan was impressed and he’s very hard to please!”
“I’ve lost my heart, Jack,” Thomas announced gravely.
“Then you had better find it,” he replied with a chuckle. “We won’t be hanging around for long.”