Summer In San Caprile

Tina let herself be carried away by the kindness of the people of a quaint Italian village,

The only contents of her fridge were a quarter of a litre of sour milk and a withered carrot. There was nothing for it:Tina had to go into town. She hadn’t set foot outdoors for 11 days. She knew that for certain, because 11 days ago it had been her 27th birthday, and Nick had delivered her the worst present of her life to date.

They had been in a pizzeria in the central square of San Caprile, where they’d been living for the past 18 months.

Tina was tucking into a delicious quattro stagioni, saving the artichokes for last, because they were her favourite.

They’d already shared the best part of a bottle of red wine and she was feeling pleasantly happy.

The last months had been amazing. She’d never imagined she’d be sharing a house in a remote valley in the Tuscan Apennines with her dream man.

She glanced across at him. Nick looked as gorgeous as ever with his deep tan and sun-kissed blond hair.

He hadn’t shaved, but she liked the five o’clock shadow look. It made him seem more relaxed.

Topping up her glass, she watched him as he toyed with his half-eaten pizza. It was unlike him to be picky. “Don’t you feel well?” she asked. He pushed the plate away.

“I can’t do this any more,Tina,” he blurted out.

“Shall I order something else for you?” Her Italian was far better than his and he usually left the talking to her whenever possible.

“It’s over.”

It didn’t sink in immediately for Tina. Puzzled, she watched him stride to the door and push through the fly screen.The beads swung to and fro, as if in slow motion, and she gestured to the young waitress that she wanted to pay the bill.

“Is Nick ill?” the girl asked as she came over with pen and pad.

Maria was one of Tina’s English students, trying to improve her marks so she could resit an exam for catering college in September.

“Yes, I think he must be,” Tina replied. “But the pizza was lovely.Thank you.”

She handed over a 20-euro note and told Maria to keep the change.

She smiled her thanks and Tina wondered how long it would take the whole of the village to learn about the interrupted meal. It was impossible to keep secrets in San Caprile.

Nick was over by the fountain, smoking. She could see the glow of his cigarette and went over to sit next to him. “What’s up?” she asked.

“It’s over. I need to get away. It’s not working any more.”

Three cliches in one breath,Tina thought. It was unreal.

“I don’t understand.What have I done?” she asked.

“You haven’t done anything. It’s probably me.”As he spoke, he ran his hand through his hair. She’d noticed him doing that whenever he was under stress. “Can’t we talk about it?” “There’s no point,Tina.” “Is there somebody else?” Tina was crying now. She knew people were watching and listening to their raised voices, but she couldn’t help it.

“There’s nobody else. I just need to get back home to Australia. I feel hemmed in. I’m sorry.”

Back at the house, she’d numbly watched him shove his few possessions into his worn rucksack.The same one she’d shared when they’d travelled across Europe; the same one he’d been carrying when she’d met him in Thailand.

He avoided her gaze while he packed and, as he left, he started to say something, then shrugged, raised his hand in a halfhearted wave and, with that, he was gone.

After she’d cried herself dry and understood he wasn’t going to acknowledge her frantic text messages, she took to her bed.

After two days she had to change the sheets because they smelled of him, and the effort wiped her out.Then the end-ofsummer rains arrived, beating hard on the terracotta roof tiles so that water dripped through and she had to place buckets underneath.

She lay in her bed, watching the rain stream down the window panes, trying to fathom why Nick had left her, occasionally foraging in the fridge when hunger gnawed at her stomach.After 11 days, there had been nothing left in the house to eat.

She stood under the shower, feeling cold to the core, and she turned the hot-water tap as far as it would go.

After drying herself, she pulled on jeans, a T-shirt and a thin sweater, but she still felt chilled. Her clothes hung off her.

Nick’s hoodie was slung over the chair. He’d forgotten to pack it and she resisted the temptation to pick it up and breathe in his scent.

Grabbing a bag, she pulled the door closed and started up the old mule track that led to the village.

A new road had long replaced this route, but she preferred to use the old road, trying to imagine who might have trundled up the stony slopes in the past.

Here and there a leaf spun down from the turkey oaks lining the track, the colours beginning to turn a rich orange.The whine from a chainsaw broke into the birdsong.

The villagers were busy stocking their woodpiles for winter, which she knew from last year brought snow and icy conditions. Hard to imagine during the burning summer months.

She tried to stop images of herself and Nick back then, when they’d jumped into the refreshing river pool near the house, sunbathing afterwards on flat rocks, bottles of beer cooling in the shallows.

The effort of walking, after days of hiding herself away was exhausting, and she sat on a boulder to get her breath back.

She still didn’t understand why Nick had left, and she hoped he would at least message an explanation when he was ready. She deserved that at least.

Anger was beginning to push sadness away and she kicked at some loose stones at her feet and watched them roll down the track from where she’d walked.

A couple of old men were sitting outside the bar in the piazza, reading newspapers.

One of them looked up and muttered something, whereupon Maria came running over to her.

“Come and have a cappuccino,” she said, taking Tina’s arm.“We haven’t seen you for a few days.

“Are you all right?” she continued, linking her arm through Tina’s and propelling her inside. Maria called to her mother, who came scurrying from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Sit down,Tina. I’ve made a cake this morning.” She wrung her hands in dismay. “You look terrible, my girl. Have you been ill?”

Tina couldn’t help the tears from falling and let herself be enveloped in the older woman’s arms, then briefly explained about Nick’s departure.

“He’s not worth it, is he?” she comforted, stroking Tina’s head and ordering Maria to bring cake and coffee.

After promising to return for breakfast tomorrow,Tina stepped down the alley to the little greengrocer’s shop. Cinzia, the pretty young owner, had already been relayed the news and, as Tina entered, she was once again embraced, kisses bestowed on each cheek and a basket of tomatoes, salad, peaches and grapes thrust into her hands.

“This is a present from me,Tina. I am so sorry about what happened.” It was the same in the butcher’s. She’d only intended to buy a couple of sausages, but Franco insisted she needed a chicken to make herself some strong, restorative broth, and half a pecorino cheese that had been delivered from the farm only that morning.

Then he issued her with an invitation to lunch on the following Sunday.

“We are having a small gathering,” he said shyly,“to celebrate publication of my books of poems. Please come.”

Tina had had no idea this stocky, middle-aged man was a writer, and she told him she would love to come.

As she walked past the hairdresser’s, Stefania pulled open her window and gestured Tina to come over. She was wearing curlers, arranged under a bright pink headscarf.

She, too, pulled Tina into an embrace and whispered something rude about what men were like.

“But come in.Your fringe could do with a trim. It’s my day off, but if you look better, you will feel better.”

Tina allowed herself to be combed and groomed, listening all the while to Stefania’s patter about her family and the christening of her latest grandchild.

“And you must come out tomorrow evening.There’s a group of us going to the new pizzeria in the next village to try it out. No men allowed,” she said, laughing and holding up a mirror so Tina could inspect the back of her head.

Hugging Stefania farewell,Tina continued towards the newsagent’s owned by the parents of Ernesto, another of her students.

He needed higher marks in English to continue with his degree in engineering and was making great progress.

His parents were in Florence, he told her, meeting a new stockist, so he was manning the shop.

He was more discreet than the others and made no mention of Nick’s whereabouts, but he noticed her heavy bags.

“I will take you back to your house,” he insisted, locking the door behind him.“It will take me no more than 10 minutes.

“We can arrange for my next lesson while we travel,” he added, handing her a helmet and arranging Tina’s bags in the box on the side of his motorbike.

“Hop on,” he said,“and hold on tight.”

Tina let herself be carried away by the kindness of the people of San Caprile, feeling stronger because of their support.

She held on to Ernesto as he negotiated the bends down to her stone house, and she felt ready for whatever the future might hold.

She thought that San Caprile might be a small place, but it had a big heart.

Nick looked as gorgeous as ever with a deep tan and sun-kissed blond hair

For more great short stories, get the latest edition of The People’s Friend