58

 58

LEA TOOK A LONG TIME in the shower, smoothing her thighs with the loofah mitt. She shaved her legs and armpits, passing the blade over skin slippery with bath foam, fixed her hair with the curling iron, put on blue eye shadow and mascara. Finally, all spruced up, she started cleaning the house.

Martino was a bundle of nerves. He vanished as soon as he finished his breakfast. All she’d managed to get out of him was the name of his eagerly awaited classmate: Giulia.

Gianni came by to leave the keys to his car, but Lea still didn’t know if she would use it. She was washing vegetables and she dried her hands on her skirt as though getting it wet didn’t bother her. She thought she could detect the sour odor of sweat under her perfume and was sure that Gianni had noticed her hair, her white blouse belted at the waist, and the way she was risking getting dirty by doing the housework in that outfit.

“Shall I put some artichokes aside for you?” she asked.

“Thanks. Martino?”

“He’s outside waiting for his friend Giulia. His Pearl of Labuan, I’m afraid.”

Gianni laughed and the scars on his cheeks wrinkled. A lock of hair, stiff with brilliantine, had escaped the discipline of his comb and stood up on his head like an antenna. “But that’s Anselmo Rosso’s daughter. I’m waiting for them too. They’re late. Should have been here two hours ago. We’re beating the shores of the Quargnasca today.”

“How can it be that we know nothing yet? Ten days must have passed by now.”

“Look, I don’t know. At least her body must be somewhere around here.”

She held out a bag of cleaned artichokes.

“Did you know that the English say artichoke like we do? Exactly the same way.”

“Articioc?”

“Artichoke: a-r-t-i-c-h-o-k-e.”

“What do you know!”

“I think it’s from the Arabic. Ciao, Lea. I don’t need the car. Keep it till tomorrow.”

“Well, you know we’re taking the train to Turin tomorrow.”

“Exactly. Leave it in the station car park so when you get back you’ll find it waiting for you.”

Afterward, Lea thought for a while that she would just stay put. She made something to eat and walked a little way down the road looking for Martino. When he saw her he hurried over. “Are you going to Biella?”

“Why?”

“You look elegant.”

“Well, yes,” she replied, “but I’ll be back soon. There’s something ready for you to eat at home. Still no Giulia?”

She got a dirty look.

“I’m asking because Gianni is expecting them too. When they get here, you two children can go to the house. Show her your room.”

Distracted, Martino nodded and Lea turned back. He was short of breath and he felt like a fraud.

She rolled down the car windows to let in the cold and get rid of the smell of cigarettes and vetiver. She hooted the horn at Martino, standing by the edge of the road, and as she drove off she felt calm again. She passed women on their way to do the shopping and a boy with curly hair and trousers that were too short at his ankles. A chattering of starlings expanded and contracted in the sky like an accordion, a cloud of soot with a life of its own.

When she got to town, she parked near the school but not in the teacher’s road, checking her face and hair in the rearview mirror once more before getting out. As she turned the corner she saw the bicycle in its place on the balcony with the blue-painted railing.