The Summer of Everything, page 10
‘Sure. Just let me know when.’ Riley raised an eyebrow as Belle paused at the next stall and lifted a giant eggplant to inspect. ‘What in the world are you buying? And what are you going to do with all this food?’
‘This is eggplant, melanzane in Italian. And I’m going to cook it,’ Belle said.
‘In that tiny kitchen at Avery’s?’
‘All I need is a good pan, some bench space and an oven or stove. And yes, we need food in that apartment. I’ve never seen such empty cupboards before.’
‘Good luck!’
‘Maybe one night you could stay home and cook with me. If you can tear yourself away from your boyfriend,’ Belle teased.
Riley threw her head back and chortled. ‘I don’t cook. And I think it’s a bit premature to be calling Leo my boyfriend.’
But as they moved to the next stall, Belle noticed Riley wore the widest grin.
The next morning, Belle wove her hair into her usual braids, threw on her black Valentina’s uniform, and bounced down the stairs of the apartment block with Avery. They pushed through the door at the bottom to find Andre waiting on the pavement.
‘Andre!’ Belle said in surprise.
‘Ciao,’ he said, with an awkward half-wave.
‘What are you doing here?’ Avery blurted, as though the sight of him on her doorstep was completely puzzling.
‘It’s a beautiful day,’ he said. ‘I thought maybe we could walk to work together.’
Avery scoffed. ‘You already walk her home at night. Do you need to walk her in the mornings too?’
Andre’s cheeks flushed red.
‘Besides, I’ve been here a whole year and you’ve never once picked me up for work.’ She huffed her offence and flounced ahead, quickly becoming lost in the sea of people on the corsia.
Andre let out a slow breath, sliding embarrassed eyes towards Belle. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind that I came here.’
She smiled reassuringly. ‘Of course not. I just hope it’s not too far out of your way. She’s right, you already walk me home in the evenings. I don’t want to take up all your time.’ Andre and Uncle Benito lived on the other side of the city. Walking her home occasionally at night was one thing but looping back around to collect her in the morning was surely an inconvenience.
‘It’s fine for me. I like to walk, as long as you don’t mind the company either.’
They rounded the corner of the corsia and stepped into Piazza Navona. The square was already heaving with life. The morning sun burned brightly, making the water in the fountains glisten, and tourists wandered aimlessly, melting gelati in one hand and cameras in the other.
‘I like this thing you do with your hair,’ he said, pointing to her.
‘My braids?’ Her hands reached up to touch the ends of her French braids, two neat gleaming ropes cascading over her shoulders. She’d worn her hair that way for years and was an efficient braider.
‘Yes. They suit you,’ he said. ‘In Italian we say carina. Cute!’
Her cheeks flamed at the compliment. It seemed whenever she was around Andre, she was permanently blushing. ‘Thank you.’
They sidestepped a tour group gathered around an artist drawing a caricature. Some of the square was still drenched in shade, but the sun was quickly chasing it away, baking the ground.
‘About walking me home at night,’ Belle said, ‘I hate putting you out. At two am, it’s a bit much.’
Andre chuckled. ‘Please, don’t feel bad. A woman should not walk across the square on her own at night. Rome is safe, of course, but I’m not willing to take that chance.’
‘Have you ever walked Avery home? I think she was a little offended earlier.’
‘I’ve walked her home many times. She’s my cousin and I want to keep her safe too. But mostly she goes out with friends after work. Honestly, I find it difficult keeping up with her.’ He scratched his head, a perplexed look on his face.
She understood what he meant. Avery had more energy than Belle ever remembered having at her age. Although, to be fair, at the same age, Belle had already been in a five-year relationship with Ben. Sometimes she felt like an old maid, having missed out on the social experiences of her youth, trading parties with friends for quiet dinners at home. Avery was living her best life, having fun at an age when it was crucial to spread her wings and gain her independence. Belle’s one regret was that she’d never spread her wings and she’d never been independent.
‘I see she hasn’t convinced you yet to go out after work?’ Andre said.
‘Sadly, my party days are over,’ Belle quipped. ‘Not that I ever did much of it in the first place. I missed out on all that.’
He tilted his head questioningly.
‘I’d been in a serious relationship since I was sixteen,’ she explained. ‘It ended recently and … well, twenty years down the drain and here I am.’ She hadn’t meant to sound cynical, but it had crept in unconsciously. One could easily argue that she’d learnt a lot in those twenty years, but somehow, she’d yet to find the lesson in any of it.
Andre nodded slowly, chewing his lip. ‘Is that what brought you all the way here, signorina? A broken heart?’
Belle was surprised to find her throat clogged with emotion. It had been weeks since she’d thought of Ben. Occasionally, something would remind her of him, and he’d drift into her thoughts uninvited, although he was becoming less of a presence these days and more an apparition. Still, when he did flit through her mind, it was with the dispiriting realisation that his betrayal was still raw.
Andre was watching her, and she forced a smile. ‘Yes, a broken heart brought me here. A broken dream. A broken life. Everything felt apart.’ Her voice wobbled and she cast her eyes forward, afraid that if she met Andre’s gaze, she’d crumple into a heap.
They reached the end of the piazza, Via di Pasquino stretching ahead of them and the laneway to Valentina’s around the corner. She was surprised when Andre’s fingers found hers, a slight brush, then a light squeeze.
‘Whatever brought you here, Belle, whether it was a broken heart or wanderlust, or to chase all those missed opportunities, you’re going to be fine. I know you will be.’
His voice held such certainty and kindness that her eyes welled, and she had to look away for fear of letting him see her tears. They reached the laneway, then eventually Valentina’s, and before they stepped through the trattoria’s door, she caught his smile, one so hopeful and honest, that every part of her believed him.
Thirteen
Belle reached for a tray of hot margherita pizza from the pass and delivered it to a waiting table where an elderly man and his wife sat. They were loyal customers, part of a handful of regulars who frequented often, but aside from them and a few other occupied tables, Valentina’s was quiet.
It had been a slow shift, a slow month, Rome plunged into a cool autumn as tourists retreated to their usual lives. Even so, Valentina’s had never experienced the kind of roaring trade that the other trattorias did, the ones that offered interesting menus and had more chefs in the kitchen. Even at the height of summer, Valentina’s was often overlooked for the more favourable restaurants that lined the piazzas.
Belle returned to the pass to check on a plate of garlic bread she was waiting for, Avery loitering beside the potted olive tree nearby, checking her phone. ‘Slow night,’ she mumbled.
Belle made a sound of agreement. ‘Is it always like this in the off-season?’
‘Compared with other restaurants, yes. Even in winter they’re busy, while we struggle.’ Avery pushed her phone into the back pocket of her pants. ‘Uncle Benito’s barely paying the bills.’
Belle glanced around the trattoria. Only half the wait staff were working that night. Josh, Natalya and Chase, all foreigners like her, were staving off boredom, talking by the register, while Avery loafed about unenthusiastically. Valentina’s was a shadow of herself. She could have been thriving, with crammed tables and conversation that was musical, with wait staff frantically delivering plates of food. Instead, peak and off-seasons had blended to create a humdrum atmosphere, and Belle wondered how the trattoria managed to stay afloat at all.
‘It’s the menu,’ Avery complained, watching her. ‘It’s the most boring menu in Rome. But try telling him that.’ She rolled her eyes in the direction of the kitchen and Uncle Benito. ‘He’s as stubborn as a mule.’
The plate of garlic bread arrived on the pass, Uncle Benito pushing it towards her before scurrying away again. Belle threw Avery a commiserating smile, then reached for the plate and delivered it to the waiting table. Satisfied that her section of the dining room was under control, she walked to the bar, where Andre was preparing a tray of espressos.
His eyes lit up as she approached, the machine shooting jets of coffee into small cups. ‘Signorina.’
‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Slow night.’
‘It is.’ She glanced at the tray. ‘Can I take that for you?’
‘Please. Table ten, since Avery is doing nothing again.’ He frowned at his cousin who was still by the olive tree, engrossed once more in her phone. ‘Is she going out tonight?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Then I’ll walk you home,’ he said.
Belle suppressed the urge to grin so obviously. She looked forward to her nightly walks with Andre, across the empty piazza to the door of Avery’s apartment. And despite the late hour—for it was always two in the morning by then— they’d linger outside on the steps in the dark to finish a conversation, remaining there until one of them stifled a yawn. Sometimes, if they were still out there when dawn arrived, Avery emerged from the piazza, rolling tired eyes their way as she dragged herself past them and up the stairs to the apartment.
‘I have a day off next week,’ he said, placing four cups of espresso and two shot glasses of limoncello on a tray. ‘I’ll change your shift on the roster too. We can go somewhere.’
He’d been gracious about taking her places, ensuring that she saw all of Italy’s beauty. He’d wandered the Vatican and Pompeii with her, and had driven her to tiny boutique vineyards, the kind that only the locals knew about. Their day trips often commenced at sunup, long before Avery or Riley were willing to stir, and ended when the moon was high. For this reason, it was often the two of them journeying out of Rome, which Belle didn’t mind at all. Andre was lovely company, and they could fill a whole day with conversation that was neither stilted nor awkward.
‘How about Venice?’ she suggested, a city she’d been dying to visit. ‘Can we do it in one day?’
He nodded with a thoughtful expression. ‘It’s a ten-hour roundtrip journey. We’d have to leave early, and we’d get back late. We probably wouldn’t see everything.’
‘It’s quiet here. We could ask your dad for two days off.’
He glanced at her with a bemused expression. ‘You mean we should stay overnight?’
Her face burned with her insinuation. ‘Well, yeah, I mean, we could ask Riley and Leo to come too. And Avery.’ Her intention had been to get the most out of Venice, but she’d made it sound like a romantic getaway instead. She dipped her head, letting her braids fall around her face to hide her flushed cheeks.
‘I see,’ Andre said. He looked mildly disappointed.
‘Us girls could share a room, and you could share with Leo. We could have two days there instead of one, and we wouldn’t have to rush. It’s just an idea.’ She was rambling, still cringing at how she’d embarrassed them both.
‘No, it’s a good idea,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll sort out the roster so we can all take the time off.’ They shared a smile as she collected the tray of espressos and limoncello to take to the table. But when Andre’s gaze broke away from her to fall on the front door beyond her shoulder, she turned and followed it. Three men had entered the trattoria, dressed smartly in dark blue uniforms.
‘Belle, leave the tray.’ His voice was suddenly firm. ‘Take Natalya, Josh, and Chase with you. Go through the kitchen and out the back door. Nice and slow. Wait for me there.’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’ Belle set the tray back on the bar. She could see the concern on his face, and something fluttered unpleasantly in her stomach.
‘It’s nothing to worry about. But can you send my father out?’
Belle nodded, her eyes straying to the uniformed men by the door again who were scanning the trattoria.
Natalya was beside her in an instant. ‘Come with me,’ she commanded, folding her hand around Belle’s, and leading her to the kitchen.
Josh and Chase were close behind them as they pushed through the swinging doors.
It was hot in there, pans and pots covering every inch of the stove and benchtops, the ovens blazing with bread and pizza. Belle had never been inside the kitchen before, only glimpsing it from the pass. Despite the urgency that had arrived with those men, she glanced around curiously, taking in the industrial appliances and the refrigerators, the trays of fresh pizza dough, and containers of prepped vegetables.
‘What is this?’ Uncle Benito barked at them in surprise. ‘What are you doing in my kitchen?’
‘There are some men in the dining room. Andre wants you out there,’ Belle said, moving quickly past him, her hand still firmly in Natalya’s, with Josh and Chase following behind.
Uncle Benito wiped the sweat from his brow with a paper towel. He muttered what she was sure was a series of expletives before he removed pots and pans from the gas burners on the stove, washed his hands at the sink and dried them, then barged through the doors into the dining room.
‘Come,’ Natalya insisted in a Russian accent. ‘We will wait in the back alley. This should not take long, I hope.’
They left the kitchen behind them, exiting through a single back door into the alleyway behind Valentina’s. It was unlike the laneway at the front, which was rustic and charming, decorated with chairs and potted plants and small bars. This alleyway serviced the backdoors of the bars and trattorias. Crates and boxes were piled high on either side and the smell of rubbish from the dumpsters was overpowering.
Once they were all through, Natalya pulled the backdoor shut. Chase kicked an empty box off a crate, sat down and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one, took a deep drag, then offered the packet around.
‘Those things will kill you,’ Natalya said, wrinkling her nose at them.
‘Everything will kill you,’ Chase said, his voice thick with a Mississippi drawl.
‘What happened back there?’ Belle asked. Her hands trembled, although it was nothing to do with the cool night air.
‘Italian immigration,’ Josh said, another American waiter, from California. ‘They’re looking for illegal workers.’
Belle straightened in alarm. She’d always known it was a risk to work in Italy without an approved visa, but she’d allowed the thought to wither since nobody else had seemed overly concerned. She cursed herself now for not sorting the paperwork out sooner. The last thing she wanted was to be deported back to Australia or worse, sent to an immigration camp.
‘It’s fine,’ Natalya said, sensing her panic and waving her hand. ‘More a nuisance than anything.’
‘What do you mean?’ Belle asked, her heart pounding rapidly. She thought it might burst from her chest.
‘Money will exchange hands, the officers will go away, and we’ll all be fine for a few more months.’
Belle glanced worriedly at each of them, but her concern wasn’t mirrored in their faces.
Chase dragged lazily on his cigarette. ‘Don’t worry about it. Uncle Benito will buy their silence. It’s not a big deal.’
‘As long as you’re not parading out there in front of them, they can easily turn a blind eye,’ Josh added. ‘That’s why we come out here until they leave.’
‘But…’ Belle was still trying to make sense of it. ‘Why would Uncle Benito be willing to risk that for us?’
‘Because seasonal workers are cheap to pay,’ Josh said. ‘We don’t demand the wages of locals or visa-holders. Even with the bribe on top, it’s still cheaper than paying full wages. And have you noticed we work harder? We pick up every shift we can. We work double shifts and long weeks without a break. Yeah, we’re cheap all right.’
‘This place is hardly profitable,’ Natalya said soberly. ‘Uncle Benito needs to save all the money he can.’
Andre appeared at the door and beckoned them inside. ‘They’re gone. You can come back now.’
Belle gave him a weak smile as Chase crushed out his cigarette and they trudged back through the kitchen to the dining room. Uncle Benito was at the cash register, counting notes and scratching his head, a defeated look on his face.
‘Is everything all right?’ Belle asked Andre, following him back to the bar. The tray of espressos and limoncello was gone, already delivered to the table by Avery, so she slipped behind the bar to stand beside him.
Andre positioned himself by the coffee machine again. ‘Just a small problem. It’s fixed now.’
‘Were they immigration officials?’
‘Yes.’
‘Am I in trouble?’ she asked. Despite the lack of worry from the others outside, it was hard to shake the concern. She’d never been a rule-breaker, always one to toe the line.
But Andre smiled in a way that told her everything would be all right. ‘No signorina, you’re not in trouble.’
She let out a semi-relieved breath, still searching his face. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. My father has an arrangement with them. It’s fine. They are happy again.’
‘It would be easier if I just applied for a working visa,’ she said. ‘I never expected to work in Rome, but now that I’m here, I should make it official.’ In fact, she would suggest that Riley do the same, and Natalya, Josh, and Chase. It would avoid the stress of having immigration officials arrive every few months.
