He took out his car keys and was about to unlock the door, when he heard a faint whine. He glanced over his shoulder. His gaze was met by a scruffy, wiry, one-eyed dog. Despite its condition and sad expression, its tail was swishing back and forth.
Dario crouched down and slowly extended his hand. The dog licked his palm. There was no collar or hair missing where one might have been. ‘Hey, little fella. Where did you come from?’
A cloudburst began to pound the concrete. He looked around, vainly hoping someone would appear from the darkness and claim their runaway pet. The dog fixed Dario with a soulful stare. He seemed to be saying, ‘Please don’t leave me here.’
What was he to do? His life didn’t allow time for a partner, let alone a dog. With a heavy heart, he stood up, jumped in the car, turned the ignition and headed for the exit. Rainfall pelted the roof, the windscreen wipers swished back and forth, and the indicator lights blinked. For around thirty seconds he sat there. The traffic light turned green, then red again. Checking his rear-view mirror, Dario threw the car into reverse.
It was irrational and irresponsible, but he knew he couldn’t leave the scrawny animal there, to die from hypothermia or malnutrition.
He opened the rear passenger door, then rummaged in the boot of his car, looking for a plastic sheet, but when he returned, he found the dog sitting inside, looking at him, as if to say, ‘Shall we go home now?’
Much to Dario’s surprise and relief, there wasn’t a growl or bark on the journey back to his apartment. The dog sat bolt upright, tongue hanging out, staring out of the window.
When Dario opened the front door, Tuono – Thunder – as he called him, trotted inside without a moment’s hesitation as if he had always lived there.
Dario reached inside the fridge, took out that night’s supper of bolognese sauce and scooped some into a plastic bowl. Tuono jumped up and down excitedly, sticking his head in the bowl the moment it hit the floor.
Dario took advantage of this preoccupation and headed for thebathroom, stripping off his soaking wet uniform as he went, leaving a trail of clothing behind him. He flicked on the shower and waited for the water to heat up.
He resisted the urge to remain under the steamy water a while longer, wrapped a towel around his glistening waist and ran a comb through his damp hair.
On entering the kitchen, he found Tuono had peed on the floor, pulled down one of the curtains, and was on his hind legs, face glued to the window, muddy paw prints all over the sofa.
Dario sighed, shook his head and smiled, despite himself. Instead of his planned gym workout, tomorrow’s day off would now have to be spent visiting the vet and Top Dogs grooming salon, and trying to find the owner. But what were the chances of that?
Tuono jumped down, laid his head on his paws, looked up at Dario, and let out a faint whimper. Dario knelt down and stroked his head. ‘It’s okay, buddy. If we can’t find your owner, I think I know someone who will give you the life and the love you deserve.’
Late one night, a few days later, while Stefano was asleep, Lucy and Elena were to be found in the kitchen wrapping toys, books and sweets, then hiding them around the house.
‘November second isGiorno dei Mortiwhen the dead visit the children and leave them gifts.’
Lucy was sure she’d misheard. ‘Excuse me, but did you say, the dead visit…?’
Elena shrugged. ‘Sì.It is a tradition in our family – the day when we remember and celebrate the lives of our loved ones who have left us.’
‘Right.’ Lucy was puzzled.
‘You think thismorboso,how you say, morbid?’
‘Just a little.’
‘In Italy, maybe our idea of death is different; we accept it is part of the life, and we thank our ancestors for giving us our heritage.’
While Lucy wrapped the last of the gifts, Elena began arranging bunches of chrysanthemums and tying them with ribbon. A giggle caught in her throat. ‘Do you remember the week you arrived, and I cooked dinner for everyone? You came home with a bunch of chrysanthemums, and couldn’t understand why we all looked so shocked.’
Lucy cringed. ‘How could I ever forget? And Alfonso said, “Who died?”’
‘And I tried my hardest to keep a straight face, but when everyone started crossing themselves, I lost it completely.’
Lucy began to laugh so hard she could hardly get the words out. ‘I didn’t know what was going on, everyone talking over each other, and pointing up to that painting of the Madonna and Child with praying hands.’
The two women wrapped their arms around their stomachs, gasping for air.
Elena thumped the table. ‘The look on your face…’
‘Well, how was I to know chrysanthemums are the gift of death?’
The following morning Lucy woke early to the sound of banging doors and the pounding of boisterous feet haring up and down the hallway.
