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She stared at the horizon, the fine line between the sky and sea. Between two things that were similar but entirely different.
Sky and sea: identical yet opposite.
Just like the two monosyllabic words that had been going round her head ever since Alfredo had offered her the B&B job.
Yes, no. Yes, no. Yes, no. Yes, no…
Chantal told herself that sooner or later she had to get back on her feet. She'd had a torrid year, but life had to go on.
She took a deep breath and sat back down in front of the PC.
Her heart jumped into her throat. The smiley face. A message.
THE DEPARTURE
La canzone rimasta nel vento
le sorprese che fa il firmamento
ed i primi che mangiano tutto
e gli ultimi pagano tutto quel conto…
(La linea sottile, or The Fine Line - Luciano Ligabue)
CHAPTER 10
Chantal loaded her case into the car and closed the boot
before going back inside to pick out a few last things. She grabbed her pack of Philip Morris from the shelf, chose her best handbag, transferred everything across from the bag she had used on the previous day and zipped it shut. She grabbed her scarf from the bedroom and wrapped it several times around her neck before walking over to the door and lingering as she stood on the threshold. The borderline. A fine line that separated the light tiles of her flat from the dark marble slabs of the landing.
A thought crossed her mind and made her smile.
Light, dark. Sea, sky. Yes, no...
...In or out?
She took a deep breath and stepped over the line into a brand new chapter of her life.
A shot at redemption, she told herself.
Chantal closed the door, inserted the key and turned it all the way round in the lock. She shoved the bunch of keys in her bag as she went down the stairs, and got in her car.
As she started the engine, her thoughts turned to the moment when Alfredo had replied to her message. He'd been brief, writing only that he was happy she'd accepted the job and that he'd have her come down to Grosseto immediately in an ideal world. She took him at his word, replying:
"I can leave tomorrow".
He replied with three smiley faces and just two words: Can't wait!
Chantal sighed and pressed the button on the remote control. The gate opened, revealing yet another borderline, this time separating the apartment block from the rest of the world.
As she crossed it, she thought to herself that life threw up more thresholds than anybody could ever imagine, each one putting us at a crossroads, presenting us with a choice, a decision to make.
On the radio, the newsreader's voice gave way to a familiar tune.
Chantal smiled
and turned up the volume a few notches. With or Without You by U2.
As she belted out the chorus, Chantal felt the weight lift off her chest only for it to return even heavier as her head filled with memories of a relationship that was no more.
With or
without you.
Without the man she had loved more than life itself. Without Giulio.
It would never have lasted anyway. I'd never have stayed with a woman who couldn't give me a child.
"BASTARD!!" she yelled, drowning out Bono and banging her fist on the steering wheel.
It was all her fault. She was barren, so she couldn't possibly have hoped to find a man who would stay with her forever.
She wouldn't be falling in love again in a hurry, that was for sure. From now on, she would chew men up and spit them out, just like she herself had been.
It would never have lasted anyway...
With the town she grew up in fading into the distance, Chantal drove at a steady pace and turned onto Via Meucci, her mind racing. She took a left onto Via Italia and stopped at a red light.
She glanced at the trees on either side of the road, their tapered trunks holding firm against the icy gusts of wind. Chantal's teeth chattered and she shivered as she rubbed her hands together.
Someone behind tooted impatiently, making her jump. She raised a hand to say sorry and drove off quickly by way of further apology.
She decided to concentrate on the road ahead, but no sooner had she regained her focus, she was distracted by a noise. Her mobile was ringing.
She looked all around but there were no police, so she picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
No answer.
She looked down at the screen: Missed call.
She put her phone back in her bag.
After taking another left, she reached a roundabout and took the exit that led to the motorway toll booth. She took her ticket and the bar in front of her raised.
As she emerged from the toll booth, she noticed it had started to rain. She pressed a button to close the driver-side window and instantly felt more secure, as if she were inside a glass bell jar protecting her from the outside world.
Temporarily reassured, she moved into the inside lane and began to fiddle with her phone, keeping her other hand on the wheel. When she accessed the list of missed calls, she saw Alfredo's name against the one she had missed just a few minutes earlier.
What did he want? Did he no longer want her to come and work for him?
She decided to call him back.
A hoarse voice answered after just one ring.
"Hello?"
"Oh, ermm, is that Alfredo?"
"Yeah, hi Chantal. What can I do for you?"
"I'm just returning your call. I didn't pick up in time, sorry."
"Oh, right, of course. I just wanted to check you'd left and ask what time you might be getting here."
"Well, I looked online yesterday and it said it would take around five hours. So, I reckon I'll be with you at about seven. I'll turn the sat nav on when I stop for a coffee in the next hour or so, see what my ETA is. I'll let you know, yeah?"
"OK, I just wanted an idea because then I can rustle you up something for dinner. What do you say?"
"That's really kind, but..."
"But what?"
"I wouldn't want to put you out. Perhaps it's best if I grab something while I'm o..."
"It's no bother, really," he insisted. Suddenly, his tone became rather abrupt. "Anyway, I'll leave it there. See you later."
Chantal didn't even have time to say goodbye before he'd hung up.
Why?
In fact, why her in the first place? Why had he chosen a girl who lived three hundred miles away over someone local?
She couldn't remember if she'd already asked him, but she would sure as hell find out when she got there. She'd ask Alfredo why he hadn't hired a girl from around these parts to...
Her stomach lurched as her thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a loud boom that sounded as though someone had fired a cannon. The car jerked violently and began to swerve all over the road. Chantal lost control and slammed on the brakes in desperation. The tyres of her Citroën C2 screeched plaintively as the vehicle travelled another few yards and spun round twice before
slamming sideways into the barrier that ran alongside the hard shoulder. Sparks flew up as metal ground on metal, the noise piercing Chantal's ears.
She closed her eyes, fearing the worst.
CHAPTER 11
The axe swished through the air.
A bead of sweat formed on Alfredo's temple, before trickling down his cheek and becoming an irritating itch. He gripped the handle more tightly and brought the axe down once more, the blade slicing through the icy winter air before thwacking into the wood, sending an echo all across the valley. The huge log split, but more work was required to separate the two halves completely.
Frrrrsscch…
The noise of the blade rushing through the air was interrupted by a rustling sound. Alfredo paused with the axe in mid-air and felt his shoulder muscles tighten. He turned towards where the rustling had come from.
There was nothing there.
He took one hand off the axe and used the back of it to wipe the sweat from his face. With both hands now back on the handle, he swung the tool back and brought it crashing down once more into the log, which finally split clean in two.
"That ought to do it," he said, as he threw the two pieces of wood into a basket that was already full to the brim.
Added to the wood he had chopped in the previous days, today's haul would be enough to keep the fireplace going all winter. The huge pile in the woodshed was the result of a lot of hard graft.
Feeling pleased with himself, Alfredo buried the axe in the huge tree stump he used for cutting the logs and bent down to pick up the basket.
Frrrrsscch…
There it was again. Hearing it once, he could have been mistaken, but not this time. He was certain he'd heard something move, right where he was looking.
There two trees stood next to each other. Olive trees. Identical. Like two drops of water. When his father had planted them, they had obviously been much smaller than they were now, but they had looked alike even then. And the similarity had only deepened with the passing of the years as the trees grew. One day, after his parents had died, Alfredo had decided to change the B&B's name and logo. Gone was the face of a wild boar, to be replaced by two identical olive trees. White and green. White at the base of the logo and green for the trees themselves. From that day onwards, The Wild Beast was known as the Twin Olive Trees B&B.
Someone was hiding between the two trees. God only knows how long they'd been spying on him as he chopped the wood.
Alfredo took a deep breath.
'Better to be safe than sorry,' he told himself.
He stooped down a fraction to grab the handle of the axe, slung the tool over his shoulder and glanced over to where the rustling had come from.
He thought he saw an outline behind the mighty trunk of one of the olive trees. He could feel his heart pounding and could even sense the blood coursing through his veins. Alfredo resolved to be brave and took a step towards the olive trees. He felt the ice-cold air on the back of his neck, the sharp contrast between the freezing temperature and his sweat-drenched skin prompting him to shudder.
Another step towards the trees... As he got within a few yards, there it was again:
Frrrrsscch…
A definite rustle. No doubt about it.
Someone was there.
Another two paces towards the trees...
He gripped the axe with his other hand and defensively brought the weapon in front of him. Just like he'd done with the bottle that time...
He'd been slumped in his armchair in the living room watching Hitchcock's Psycho, one of his favourite films. Every time he watched it was like the first time. His eyes were glued to the screen and he had an ice-cold beer in his hand. Empty bottles were lined up on the table.
It was the first weekend of the off-season at the B&B, and like every year he was celebrating the start of his holiday alone, relaxing in his armchair, consuming a load of beer and junk food, and getting lost in Hitchcock or Dario Argento films.
Very few clients darkened his door from the end of November until the beginning of spring. There was the odd foreigner on a business trip who might stay for one or two nights, and a few couples arrived in December looking for a quiet break with good food. But other than that, not a soul for months on end.
He'd nearly finished his beer, but he was so engrossed in the film that he didn't want to get up and grab another one from the fridge.
