She checked her watch. ‘Don’t you usually sleep during the day?’
Just as Alex was about to respond, they heard the chatter and joyful banter of Lucia’s students, who returned to the stage with arms full of props and costumes to try on.
A few paces behind them was Olivia, who joined the pair, her almost crimson curls shining under the lights. ‘Ah, Lucia Trevisan, this is Alessandro Scarpa. Alex, Lucia runs La Scuola Rosa, and some of her students are going to form the chorus cast for us. Lucia, Alex is working with the costume departm—’ Met with awkward expressions, Olivia asked, ‘Do you know each other?’
Alex was frowning slightly, but he had not moved. ‘Sì. We do. We are neighbours.’
‘We are,’ Lucia affirmed, and her eyes trickled across Alex’s face; those tear-stained cheeks and melancholic eyes from the cemetery were almost impossible to imagine under his current indignant expression. The way his sleeves were rolled to his elbow creases, however, drew her eyes to those delicious forearms for the slightest of seconds.
Lucia, mind out of the canal! This is not the time.
When the ensuing silence was clearly making both Olivia and the students uncomfortable, Alex pulled himself up a little straighter. ‘I’m done here, Olivia. Everyone has been measured.Tutto pronto. I’ll drop it all off in a few days.In bocca al lupo. I’ll just collect my things from backstage.’ He turned to Lucia and said under his breath, ‘A domani, Lucia.’
‘Yes. I’ll see you at thecomune.’
He hesitated for a moment, and Lucia watched as his softening stare moved from her eyes to her lips. It hovered there a moment before rising to meet her gaze once again. Then he turned and walked from the stage and was quickly enveloped by the darkness of the wings.
Lucia held her breath.
What was that? Did I imagine that? He’s never looked at me like that before.
trentuno
Both Lucia and Alex stepped out their front doors onto Calle del Leone at the same moment. They froze, eyes locking onto each other. That strange, loaded gaze which had filled Alex’s eyes yesterday on Il Camino’s stage was there again.
Definitely not imagining it . . .
Lucia felt the space between her lungs and stomach tighten and she shook her head.
Not now. Don’t get distracted.
Pulling the door closed behind her, she could hear the dying minutes of the day’s lessons and the situation grated on her.
They needed her now. Nothim. And not thecomune.
Lucia set off first, and turned to say, ‘Please allow me a wide berth.’ Her eyes dropped to Alex’s feet, now a few metres behind her, as if to mark some sort of barrier between them.
‘If you wish.’
And so the pair walked, and with every step Lucia took, the echo of Alex’s answered, all the way to thecomune. When they arrived, they made their way to the desk.
The same man was on reception, and on seeing them, he smiled. But Lucia read only sarcasm andschadenfreudein his eyes and curled lips. There was nothing friendly about the smile, let alone anything genuine.
He didn’t wait for an exchange of pleasantries but pointed to the left, indicating a corridor. ‘Third door on the right. Play nice,’ he said, pressing the buzzer and calling the next Venetian in line.
Lucia, with Alex in tow, entered the meeting room and took a seat. Alex chose the one next to hers and they both sat in silence for a moment.
Eventually, Alex reached across and poured himself a glass of water. ‘Would you li—’
‘No, grazie.’
It all felt foreign to Lucia. The cold air of the meeting room. The way the knitted upholstery of the chair seemed to cling to the fabric of her clothes. The stack of papers sitting opposite them. The feeling of disembodiment, as if her arms and legs belonged to someone else.
It felt sterile. Clinical. And something about the white walls and linoleum floor drew her mind back to the funeral parlour where her parents had been prepared for cremation. That trip with Mariella to drop off their clothes and personal affects.
She swallowed, breathing as slowly and as deeply as she could.
This was the last thing she needed right now.
