“Mrs Bellacci is spoiling us tonight. If I am not mistaken, she has made us her speciality, which is calledPeposa Dell’Impruneta. These are braised beef short ribs with freshherbs served on a bed of her homemade fettuccine. I hope you eat meat.”
“I eat anything and everything,” I reply to the doctor before turning my attention to Mrs Bellacci. “And if the smell is anything to go by, I already know I am going to enjoy this.”
This time, a smiling Mrs Bellacci serves us, placing the meat and pasta onto our appetiser plates before setting the large platter of leftovers in the middle of the table. The taste is sublime, the best food I have tasted since Nishan's meal. As I twirl my fork in a bed of fettuccine, I sense Lorenzo come to stand next to me, placing down an empty glass with his tattooed hand and pouring in red wine.
“My mother asks me to apologise,” says Lorenzo, to the top of my head. Even though his voice carries no warmth, the sound sends a sizzle to my groin. “This wine is from a local vineyard and is a premium chianti. I am sure you will enjoy it with this food.”
Once he finishes pouring, he remains standing there, but I say nothing. After a few moments, he moves away to serve the doctor. When I look up, he’s heading back to the kitchen, where Mrs Bellacci appears to be laying the table for their own meal. I wonder absently if I will eat alone in future.
“Is there anything you would like to ask me?” asks Dr Romano after we both return to our food. “I am sure you must have questions.”
There are many questions I need answered, but first, I need to find out how much he knows. I’m especially intrigued about his connection to Albert.
“How well did you know Albert—uh—Professor Callico?”
“Well enough. I know his work was one of the most important aspects of his life. He also thought highly of you, Gabriel. I could tell by the way his face transformed when he talked about you, about how much you would love this house when he eventuallysurprised you with a visit. Completely different to his mood when asked about his immediate family. Of them he disclosed very little, which gave me the impression they were not close or did not get along.”
“That sounds about right. And you met Sylvie Leblanc when he brought her?”
“I did not, I’m afraid. I had family business in Sicily at the time. Butla signoraBellacci took good care of them.”
“Do you know why she came with him?”
“I believe they had been travelling together. Before coming here, they had been to consult with medical professionals at one of the main hospitals in Lombardy, the one that had dealt with the deluge of coronavirus cases when the virus first hit our shores.”
That makes sense. Even after numerous countries had begun referring to the pandemic as an endemic, Albert had continued to research more effective vaccines. He’d cited one of his contemporaries, a medical research expert called Puchinsky, who had helped to found a new combination super vaccination protecting against common diseases such as diphtheria and tetanus. He aimed to add an effective coronavirus vaccine to the mix. I’d had the impression Albert had respected the intent but not the man.
“They took separate bedrooms, if that is what—”
“No, no,” I reply, stifling a laugh. “I know they were close friends only in a professional capacity. I merely wondered if there was more to their trip here.”
“More? In what way?”
“I don’t know,” I reply before turning my full attention to him. “Have you heard of someone locally called Luriabio? Or maybe just Luria?”
I watch his face carefully for any tell, any surprise at me mentioning the name, but there is nothing. Instead, he scratches his head and frowns in concentration.
“Luria is certainly an Italian name. Less common, I should say, and I don’t know anyone who bears the name locally. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Just a name Albert referred to—”
“Ah, then,” says the doctor with a grin, “that makes perfect sense. He was probably referring to Salvador Luria, an Italian microbiologist. The man shared a Nobel Prize with two other medical contemporaries for their research into the composition of viruses.”
“Would Albert have known him?”
“Luria won the award in 1969 and died in the early nineties. In the US, if I’m not mistaken. So I doubt there would have been a personal connection. But Dr Callico would undoubtedly have studied his body of work and most likely in great detail.”
“I see.” Josh had clearly been searching in the wrong place. Albert would have been more invested in the work of a microbiologist, wouldn’t he? And at least I can rule out the name as a reference to someone locally.
“I thought you might ask me what there is to do around here? To pass your time while you’re staying. A young man like yourself.”
“Honestly, I’m grateful just to relax, recuperate and gather my thoughts, if you know what I mean?”
“I understand completely. And as a doctor, I wholly endorse this plan. To be honest, the house is like a hidden sanctuary at the end of a lane that goes nowhere. The grounds are substantial, five hectares of land, which is over twelve acres I believe. Beyond is countryside until the next farmhouse. You’d need to use another road to get there. So if it’s peace and quiet you are seeking, then you could not have come to rest in a better place.”
That night, I leave the patio doors wide open, letting a gentle breeze billow the gossamer-thin curtains. Eventually, I fall asleep wearing only boxers and a white tee, lulled by the constant buzz of crickets and the distant hoot of a lone owl. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I sleep soundly through the night.
Sunlight wakes me, and I am immediately tempted to head to the pool and resume my fitness routine. Until I remember the filth littering the water. When I check my phone, it’s just after six. No missed calls or messages from Josh. Out on the balcony, the day appears to promise sunshine again, and I decide to don the shorts and T-shirt he loaned me. Below me, I hear someone laying the patio table, and I take a seat on the bedroom balcony.