wasted valuable time. She grabbed her jacket, her helmet, and slung her bag over her shoulder and edged outside.
It was bitterly cold; the bare trees of the little piazza were silvery with frost. Where were they?
‘They haven’t come out,’ said the voice at her shoulder. It was Sandro, leaning against the wall.
‘You’re not warm enough,’ he added, holding out a hand for her helmet, so she could get her jacket on properly. She didn’t know whether to hug him for being there or give him grief for treating her like a kid.
There was movement behind them, voices in the doorway, and Sandro took her by the elbow, moving them both aside.
‘Good move,’ he said in a low voice, ‘leaving before them. Clever girl.’
Behind her Giuli heard the guttural accent of the man in the grey leather jacket. ‘ Alla prossima ,’ he was saying. ‘Any time, baby.’ Slurring, insistent.
‘How long have you been out here?’ hissed Giuli. ‘You did go home, didn’t you? You talked things over with Luisa?’
‘I did,’ said Sandro shortly. ‘Look, I just came back to make sure you were all right. And the girl, of course.’
‘I was going to follow her home,’ said Giuli, keeping her voice down. ‘On the motorino .’
‘You’d die of exposure,’ muttered Sandro. ‘And you’re worn out, look at you.’ Giuli grimaced, remembering the shadows under her eyes in the cloakroom mirror. ‘I’ll follow her back in the car. Only – ’ he stopped.
‘Only what?’ Giuli had her shoulders hunched against the cold and even in the lovely padded jacket Luisa had given her she couldn’t stop shivering.
‘Only I might want you to take this over a bit from tomorrow. I promised him – Bellagamba – promised him we’d come by and update him.’
So he was going to stick with it – or she was. She said nothing; Sandro mistook her silence for reluctance. ‘I know tomorrow’s Saturday, ’ he said apologetically. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I just want Bellagamba to know you’re part of the deal.’
Giuli felt her face break into a smile. She could do it, she wanted to say, she could. She restrained herself, as Sandro had taught her to do. ‘Why?’
‘Well, for a start you’ve done most of the legwork,’ he said, hesitating. ‘And something’s come up. Another job. At least, I think it has.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Sandro. ‘I’ve got a garbled message from Luca Gallo on my mobile.’ He was looking over her shoulder, distant. ‘Says it’s urgent. Says he needs to see me tomorrow.’
His gaze shifted over her shoulder, and turning her head a little Giuli saw the three boys and Carlotta on the street. From behind them came the sound of a bolt being shot across the door. ‘Chucking-out time,’ said Sandro. It was after two.
‘You get on your bike,’ Sandro said, ‘I’ll follow the girl home.’
They walked together as far as Giuli’s motorino ; he handed her the helmet. ‘Go home and get some sleep now.’ And before turning towards the little car he and Luisa had used to come and visit her in rehab together, he put a hand to her cheek. Then he hunched his shoulders and went.
As she swung around the corner, heading for home, Giuli looked back and saw his silhouette as he sat solitary and motionless at the
wheel, watching the kids on the pavement. You’ll be OK , she promised silently. Everything’s going to be OK .
The frost that glittered on the city pavements also dusted the trees and gates and fences out through the suburbs and up into the dark hills. Down in the Maremma, the icy tributaries of the rivers that crisscrossed the land were beginning to freeze at the edges, and high up where Orfeo sat under a waxing moon the clear night sky had lowered the temperature to eight degrees below zero, and hardened the rutted fields to stone.
Down in the steep-sided valley, on the sharp left-hand bend where Loni Meadows had come off the road, the deep ruts the heavy
It was bitterly cold; the bare trees of the little piazza were silvery with frost. Where were they?
‘They haven’t come out,’ said the voice at her shoulder. It was Sandro, leaning against the wall.
‘You’re not warm enough,’ he added, holding out a hand for her helmet, so she could get her jacket on properly. She didn’t know whether to hug him for being there or give him grief for treating her like a kid.
There was movement behind them, voices in the doorway, and Sandro took her by the elbow, moving them both aside.
‘Good move,’ he said in a low voice, ‘leaving before them. Clever girl.’
Behind her Giuli heard the guttural accent of the man in the grey leather jacket. ‘ Alla prossima ,’ he was saying. ‘Any time, baby.’ Slurring, insistent.
‘How long have you been out here?’ hissed Giuli. ‘You did go home, didn’t you? You talked things over with Luisa?’
‘I did,’ said Sandro shortly. ‘Look, I just came back to make sure you were all right. And the girl, of course.’
‘I was going to follow her home,’ said Giuli, keeping her voice down. ‘On the motorino .’
‘You’d die of exposure,’ muttered Sandro. ‘And you’re worn out, look at you.’ Giuli grimaced, remembering the shadows under her eyes in the cloakroom mirror. ‘I’ll follow her back in the car. Only – ’ he stopped.
‘Only what?’ Giuli had her shoulders hunched against the cold and even in the lovely padded jacket Luisa had given her she couldn’t stop shivering.
‘Only I might want you to take this over a bit from tomorrow. I promised him – Bellagamba – promised him we’d come by and update him.’
So he was going to stick with it – or she was. She said nothing; Sandro mistook her silence for reluctance. ‘I know tomorrow’s Saturday, ’ he said apologetically. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I just want Bellagamba to know you’re part of the deal.’
Giuli felt her face break into a smile. She could do it, she wanted to say, she could. She restrained herself, as Sandro had taught her to do. ‘Why?’
‘Well, for a start you’ve done most of the legwork,’ he said, hesitating. ‘And something’s come up. Another job. At least, I think it has.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Sandro. ‘I’ve got a garbled message from Luca Gallo on my mobile.’ He was looking over her shoulder, distant. ‘Says it’s urgent. Says he needs to see me tomorrow.’
His gaze shifted over her shoulder, and turning her head a little Giuli saw the three boys and Carlotta on the street. From behind them came the sound of a bolt being shot across the door. ‘Chucking-out time,’ said Sandro. It was after two.
‘You get on your bike,’ Sandro said, ‘I’ll follow the girl home.’
They walked together as far as Giuli’s motorino ; he handed her the helmet. ‘Go home and get some sleep now.’ And before turning towards the little car he and Luisa had used to come and visit her in rehab together, he put a hand to her cheek. Then he hunched his shoulders and went.
As she swung around the corner, heading for home, Giuli looked back and saw his silhouette as he sat solitary and motionless at the
wheel, watching the kids on the pavement. You’ll be OK , she promised silently. Everything’s going to be OK .
The frost that glittered on the city pavements also dusted the trees and gates and fences out through the suburbs and up into the dark hills. Down in the Maremma, the icy tributaries of the rivers that crisscrossed the land were beginning to freeze at the edges, and high up where Orfeo sat under a waxing moon the clear night sky had lowered the temperature to eight degrees below zero, and hardened the rutted fields to stone.
Down in the steep-sided valley, on the sharp left-hand bend where Loni Meadows had come off the road, the deep ruts the heavy
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