As they reached its peak and began the descent down the long driveway, suddenly the orange flames came into view. The barn, containing all their supplies for the following week’s Sagra dell’Umbria, was completely alight.
Sarah burst into tears, unable to contain her fright and Matthew sped ahead even faster.
Gathered on the open glade, securely far from the main building and the barn, they could make out the figures of Riccardo and Margherita surrounded by services personnel. Riccardo had both Dante, Beatrice and the kids by his side, sat in the grass, looking on in despair.
They quickly parked and rushed from the car.
‘Are you all ok?’ Matthew yelled as they bolted towards them.
‘Yes. We are ok!’ Margherita was shaken, but fine. Riccardo now stood beside her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Margherita’s head dropped and she began to sob. ‘I don’t know what happened. I’m so confused.’
‘Nothing matters except the fact that you’re ok. That’s what’s important,’ Sarah said reassuringly. Riccardo took a step back to allow Sarah to embrace Margherita. ‘It’s ok.’
‘But it’s not ok.Guardate la catastrofe!’ Reflected in Margherita’s brown eyes were the orange flames. ‘It’s our fault. You trusted us to stay here to guard La Viola. And look!’
‘What have the services said?’ Matthew asked Riccardo.
‘The barn is completely destroyed. They have tried their best to contain the fire to the rear courtyard. The stables – when we were last down there – were ok, and the main building. But who knows now? The embers on this breeze can travel and spark.’
Margherita tried her best to regain her composure and took Sarah’s hands into hers. ‘Sarah, I got the book. And everything from the safe. It’s all a big mess in my car. But it’s safe.’
Sarah was overwhelmed with relief. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, breaking down into tears.
‘What happened?’ Matthew asked.
Riccardo said, ‘We’d been here all day. With Angelo, too. At around eight o’clock, Angelo and I left. I was taking him home for the night, and I was going to collect somepizza d’asportofor Marghe and I for dinner. I was gone for possibly twenty or thirty minutes,no, amore?’
‘Sì, sì,’ sniffed Margherita.
‘When I returned, I thought I could smell burning. Not wood. Like a chemical smell. Plastic . . .’ Sarah’s mind immediately thought of the white PVC marquees, plastic chairs and tables, and the advertising banners, all which were presumably now chemical puddles under the raging flames. ‘Allora, so we took thepizzeinto the kitchen, and then from the window we saw the smoke. We ran outside and there it was. I tried . . . with the hose . . . but . . .’ Riccardo broke down.
Matthew stood forward and threw his arms around him. ‘It’s ok, Riccardo.’
Through sobs, he said, ‘I called thevigili del fuoco, and that’s when Marghe called Sarah.’
The group looked on, helpless, as the fire continued to rage into the night.
The breaking dawn revealed the full extent of the damage. Even in the lowest light, the devastation was clear.
The last of the firefighters had finally headed home, but the chief remained. He walked the group across the property and explained the degree of destruction.
The double-storey barn was gone; all that remained were the stone pillars and bricks which had lined the external walls. The roof had collapsed very early on, and all the supplies for the Sagra dell’Umbria were completely destroyed. Ironically, these only fuelled the fire due to their chemical composition. Much of the neighbouring garden and a few trees were also lost, and there was smoke and ember damage to the side of La Viola’s main building.
The chief explained that they would send an engineer to the property within a few hours to check the building for issues that might render it uninhabitable. As such, the group wasn’t yet permitted to return inside.
As much as the turn of events was devastating, there was plenty to be thankful for. Margherita and Riccardo were safe. The main building had only superficial damage, which they hoped the engineer would be able to sign-off on without further complications, and the stables, rear courtyard and the remainder of the property were untouched.
Matthew and Sarah sent Riccardo and Margherita home to get some rest, promising to call as soon as they were given clearance to return inside.
Before departing, the chief blocked off the doors to La Viola and left them with the advice to catch up on some sleep in their car.
‘And you have no idea . . .?’ Matthew asked a fourth time.
The chief simply shook his head. ‘No,’ then returned to the last emergency vehicle parked in the front courtyard.
Just the two of them, Sarah and Matthew were finally able to allow themselves a moment to grieve together. At the rear kitchen door, caught in each other’s arms, neither was game enough to get too close to the barn. The smell of smoke and melted plastic stung at their lungs with each inhalation, and Sarah wept openly, clinging to Matthew for strength, feeling small in his arms.
‘Are you ok?’ he ventured.
