Samuel could see plain as day that the incident with the wolves had damaged any early romance between Lara and Matteo. It had been a week, and still she was hiding in her room, another recipe book from the library shelves tucked under her arm as she’d taken the stairs two at a time at the sound of Matteo’s truck. Samuel pondered this as Matteo and Henrik spread goat manure around Henrik’s rows of vegetables, the black pellets spilling from large hessian bags, raining down on young green leaves of eggplant and capsicum. Henrik wasn’t the greatest gardener that Samuel had ever seen, but he’d been true to his word and had been here almost every day since they’d met, slowly building up terraces of reddish-brown earth and transplanting seedlings.
Matteo stood and stretched his back, then left Henrik to finish up, coming to Samuel’s side, dragging empty hessian bags beside him. ‘The f-f-farm has more manure than it can d-d-deal with,’ he said. ‘At least it’s going to a good home here.’
Samuel eased himself down onto the bench seat that Matteo had kindly brought over for him, resting his broken wrist in his lap. ‘I’m surprised they’re not a fully permaculture farm,’ he said. ‘It seems like that would be an easy thing to do with so much free labour around in people like Henrik.’
‘I agree,’ Matteo said, sitting beside him. ‘I g-g-get frustrated with the limitations there and I would like to see it grow and diversify.’
The two men sat in silence a moment, Samuel enjoying the scent of fresh earth and straw coming from the garden terraces, and even the goat manure. Goats, being herbivores, had manure rich in earthy smells, like any good compost really.
‘Is Lara here today?’ Matteo asked casually, eyes straight ahead on Henrik, who was using his rake to spread the pellets.
Samuel scratched under his chin, thinking quickly. ‘She’s upstairs. She’s been studying recipes from the old books in the library.’
Matteo nodded and kicked out his muddy work boots to stretch his legs, leaning back in the seat. ‘I’m having time off this week,’ he said. ‘It’s a s-s-slower time after mating season and before winter.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Trip up north.’
‘North?’ Samuel felt a twinge of worry. Lara’s question the other week about who had named this villa had stirred up uneasy feelings.
‘I want to visit some farms and cheesemakers along the way. I am researching, in truth. Thinking about career options.’
Samuel waited. He had the same sense he’d had when his now son-in-law Marco had come to see him, wearing a formal shirt and a slightly crooked tie, requesting a special meeting to ask permission to marry Giovanna. Samuel continued to watch Henrik, one brace of his overalls swinging loose behind his shoulder, now heading to the tap to turn on the water and wet down the fertiliser.
‘If I could c-c-convince her to come, would you let Lara accompany me for a couple of days? I know tomorrow is her day off; I could take her with me and she could see some of the country, then I can p-put her on a bus back to you on Monday. I just thought…’ Matteo shrugged. ‘She’s on holiday, you know.’
Samuel stroked the skin of his throat, now so loose. Sometimes when he looked in the mirror those folds of skin reminded him of a Brahman cow.
‘That would be fine,’ he said.
‘Really? Thank you.’
Henrik came back with the hose and began to water the vegetables, a wide mist of fine spray catching the sun and casting rainbows over the seedlings.
‘Are you going to visit Carlo, by any chance?’ Samuel asked, as inconsequentially as he could. The guilt of unfinished business nagged at him.
Matteo shifted in his seat, signalling they’d entered tricky territory. He was a good Italian boy, Matteo. Of course he would visit his relative while he was up north.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen him. He’s been up in the mountains years now.’
‘Yes,’ Samuel agreed.
Carlo. Once a treasured in-law and friend. Samuel missed him and he needed to resolve their outstanding matter before…Well, neither of them was getting any younger. The opportunity to make amends could be taken out of their hands at any moment. He wasn’t sure he believed in premonitions or visions, but he’d been dogged by a feeling of doom lately. Time was slipping away. Death was coming for him. So be it. He would stare Death in the face and quell its enthusiasm. He wouldn’t lie down for Death. Instead, he would take this chance to mend some old broken fences.
He could ask Matteo to take him north so he could visit Carlo in person but, to his utter disgust, he truly didn’t think he could make the trip without collapsing. And right now, he wanted that wrist to heal so he could get back to milking his own damn goats; he couldn’t take the chance that his health would be made worse by a road trip.
His only consolation was that he might be able to help Lara and Matteo, two young lovebirds who had flown off course, to find their way back together.
‘Actually,’ Samuel said, ‘why don’t you take Lara with you for the week? Then she could really see some of Italy.’
Matteo turned to look at him, his raised eyebrows and a small smile showing his disbelief. ‘She hasn’t spoken to me since the whole wolf thing,’ he said, shaking his head, his smile vanishing. ‘I will be lucky to convince her to come for a couple of days, but a week?’
‘Leave it to me,’ Samuel said. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
‘But even if you c-could conv-v-vince her, you still need her here to look after you.’
Samuel’s pride prickled at this even though he knew Matteo was right. His wrist was halfway there, but he wouldn’t be able to do enough for himself. And then there was the highly disagreeable thought that he could have another fall and no one would be there to help him. Also, he still couldn’t milk the goats.
Henrik began to sing quietly to himself while he hosed the plants. To Samuel, he looked like an overgrown teenager at odds with the world, determined to do his own thing.
‘There’s always Henrik,’ Samuel said quietly, leaning close to Matteo. ‘Could the farm spare him for a week? Maybe he would like to spend more time here and really get into his study of bacteria or whatever it is he’s trying to do.’
Matteo jiggled his knee from side to side, his thoughtful frown turning into a smile. In a conspiratorial voice he said, ‘You know what? He’s not very good in the factory. Domenica is worried he will break something expensive. She’d probably be happy to have him away for a while.’
‘But can he milk?’
‘He’s no expert, but he gets the job done.’
‘Then it’s settled. Leave Lara to me.’