Janey looked up at the dirty brick and plaster façade of the unremarkable-looking church and wrinkled her forehead. Perhaps it was something to do with . . . coffee?
‘Um,’ she said, pushing her fringe out of her eyes, ‘is there a must-see fresco in there? Because I’m all out of memory.’ She dangled her camera.
Luca smiled. ‘The fratelli, the Capuchin friars, they do not allow the pictures, in any case. Your eyes, they are enough.’
He ushered her up the front steps and led her through the church towards a man dressed in plain religious robes, who Janey realised must be a friar.
‘You ready?’ Luca asked, placing a donation into the friar’s bowl for the two of them. Janey smiled her assent, wondering what this simple-looking building could possibly house that made it so famous. Strangely, they had the building almost to themselves, for the heat of the day had driven the crowds of tourists to seek the cool of nearby department stores, gelaterias and tearooms.
They followed the friar as he led them beneath the church and in through a series of barred iron gates.
Janey drew in a shocked breath. She didn’t believe what she was seeing.
It was a six-roomed crypt. And five of the rooms were decorated, floor to ceiling, with human bones and skulls that had been used to form shapes, patterns and Christian symbols. Here and there full-sized skeletons reposed in Capuchin robes, or were made to resemble the Grim Reaper, complete with scythe.
‘It is an ossuary,’ Luca murmured as the silent, elderly monk took them from one bone-filled room to another. ‘Almost four thousand are here. The Capuchin dead, and also the poor of Rome, who could not find burial elsewhere. It is interesting, no?’
The further they progressed within the dimly lit crypt, the fainter Janey felt. Maybe it was the heat, or the claustrophobic closeness of the place, or even the densely patterned swirls made up of human vertebrae and other bones that marched across the walls and ceilings, but Janey felt herself begin to sway. She was a tender-hearted creature and was the only one, of all her friends, who had to watch the gory parts of horror movies through her fingers. There were even lampshades made out of bones, Janey noted in horror.
‘I’m sorry, Luca,’ she mumbled suddenly, ‘but I think I’m going to be sick.’
Luca glanced sharply at her and said something to their guide in rapid Italian before putting an arm around Janey and whisking her back outside. He sat Janey down on the front stairs of the church. It was five minutes before she could bring herself to say anything, her embarrassment was so great.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the colour slowly returning to her face. ‘But I’m just a bit over death at the moment.’
‘No,’ Luca replied grimly, ‘it is I who am sorry. I was not thinking. Sua madre . . .’
Janey shook her head. ‘Mum would’ve thought this was a hoot. Especially the Latin inscription at the exit that says: “What you are, we used to be. What we are, you will be.” It’s so true, and so very clever. But I’m not a very brave person. And it’s a hot day. I just needed some air. I guess I’m just tired.’
In fact, the place had reminded Janey all too forcefully of the stark realities of death. A wave of panicky nausea threatened to overwhelm her again and she took several deep breaths to get her emotions under control, hoping she wouldn’t throw up on Luca’s sandals.
‘Then we ’ave seen enough today,’ he responded. ‘And you are very brave, more brave than Federica and her friends, who hid their fear of this place in jokes and foul language that made the Capuchin who was their guide very angry. He asked them to leave.’
Janey gave him a wan smile. When some of her colour had returned, Luca hauled her gently to her feet and took one hand again in his, tucking it into the crook of his elbow.
They wound their way slowly back up the Via Veneto, stopping for one more watermelon granita, which succeeded in banishing the last of Janey’s melancholy mood. When they finally reached Celia’s villa, Luca left Janey at the front entrance with a gentle kiss on the forehead. And she closed her eyes for a moment as he walked briskly away without a backward look, her mouth a gentle, happy curve.
Freddy was home and using the computer in the study as Janey let herself in.
‘Hi Freddy,’ Janey called as she walked past the room where Freddy sat shrieking into the screen in Italian, the headset and webcam on.
Freddy waved gaily before nudging the door shut with one foot.
Two hours later and Janey – showered and dressed for ages and wondering whether she should attempt to make dinner for her hosts or suggest an outing – overheard a heated discussion in Italian in the hallway. Celia must be back, Janey thought, as she opened her bedroom door. Her aunt must have been waylaid on embassy business. Plus, they ate late here. She pinned a smile on her face, determined to clear the air with her aunt about why she’d returned so late from the rave. She was sure they would be laughing about it in no time.
‘Hi!’ Janey said, as she looked from Celia’s thunderous expression to Freddy’s worried one and wondered why her cousin suddenly murmured, ‘Good luck!’ before grabbing her handbag and flying out of the apartment.
‘Did I not make it clear,’ began Celia, as she stalked down the hall to the formal sitting room, ‘that you are to stay away from Luca Sarti, except in the case of a dire emergency?’
Janey’s smile faltered as she followed her aunt. ‘Um, he asked me out for coffee this morning and we ended up doing a little sight-seeing. That’s all.’
‘That’s all?’ Celia exclaimed, tossing her briefcase, handbag and tailored jacket down on the nearest armchair before turning and planting her hands on her hips.
Janey nodded uncertainly.
Celia looked incredulous. ‘And when does “sight-seeing” include you kissing Luca on the front steps of this villa, in full sight of the families of most of my closest friends and colleagues in this city? Steven Edwards in 1B saw the two of you on his way out when you got back from doing God knows what today. He assumed you were Luca’s latest squeeze! I assured him you most certainly were not and clarified that you were my sixteen-year-old niece. You’ve been alone together for hours! You’re way too young to get involved with someone like him. I don’t want you to get hurt or get yourself into trouble. Don’t make me bring this up with him! Luca Sarti is off-limits in the romance department. Do I make myself clear? Again?’
Janey nodded shakily, knowing Celia had hopelessly misread an entirely innocent situation. Again.
‘Maybe this was all a bad idea,’ said Celia, lowering her voice. ‘Maybe I should just put you back on a plane to Australia before you make a mistake like . . .’ She stopped herself before she said anything more hurtful and added over her shoulder as she walked away, ‘I’ll just be in the kitchen fixing us something simple to eat, unless you have other plans . . .’
The implication was clear. Her aunt had been about to say, ‘Before you make a mistake like . . . your mother did.’
Janey blinked hard before spinning on her heel and retreating to the study in order to log on to her MySpace page. She needed to process and share her incredible day. For some reason, her aunt was determined to believe the worst about her. Her friends, wherever they were, would know what to say to make her feel better. Tearily, she began to blog.
‘Well, friends and citizens of Cyberia, it’s been just another day of Heaven and Hell in the Eternal City. Here’s the story so far . . .’
Trastevere
Janey stayed in the study busily uploading photos and responding to concerned queries from her online buddies long after Freddy had returned, and both she and Celia had retired to their bedrooms. Earlier, Celia had slipped into the study with a dinner tray of cured meats, chargrilled vegetables and cheeses for Janey, but they hadn’t really spoken because Celia had had to take an important call almost immediately.
‘Call me tomorrow?’ she’d told Janey distractedly – back in work mode – as she hurried out of the study. Janey had nodded and whisper
ed her thanks, but she hadn’t looked up, not wanting her aunt to see how upset she was. Things were still up in the air between them, and it bothered Janey a lot, especially since she’d travelled halfway around the world to meet the only family she had left and silly misunderstandings were threatening to ruin everything. She hated conflict.
But it felt great reconnecting with her vast network of friends from around the world, most of whom could see she needed cheering up. Postings went up faster than she could answer them, and after a while, Janey stopped crying as she recounted the more spectacular parts of her day with Luca.
Sounds like a hottie
Razzle Girl
White hot! Xtreme NV.
Minxie10
Keep urself nice! ;)
Bille88
Unfortunately, the three people Janey wanted to hear from the most weren’t online. It was Sunday morning back home and they were probably all sleeping in. But Janey knew that before too long, Em, Gabs and Ness would catch up on her latest blog and demand a Skype conference call or something. It was the way the four of them dealt with a crisis when they weren’t all able to be physically present in the one place.
It was nice to know that people cared, thought Janey tiredly, as she finally logged out around one in the morning.
When she finally got to bed, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep straight away, and slept deeply without dreaming.
With a shock, she woke to find it was almost one o’clock on Monday afternoon.
Celia was probably at work and, Janey noted as she stumbled down the hallway, Freddy was still asleep in her bedroom after yet another late night with her glamorous BFFs and BBFs. Brandon was right when he ’d described her cousin, Janey mused with a yawn. She could be a little full-on.
Janey headed back to the study with a coffee, eager to see whether her three besties had caught her latest blog. It had been so long since she’d spoken with Ness! Janey owed her big time for playing fairy godmother and totally accentuating her positives.
She logged back in to her MySpace page, almost spilling coffee down her front in excitement. The very latest posting was from Em, from about six hours before.
We’ll wait to hear from u (skype!!!) either 11.30 am or 11.30 pm (wont get to sleep in with this one, but wont hold it against u!) Monday ur time. Pls b there?
The Divine Miss Em
Thanks to Janey’s cyber bender the night before, she’d missed the first of the appointed rendezvous times, but there was only about ten hours to kill before the next one. And boy, did she have a lot of stuff to tell her best mates face to face that no amount of blogging could even begin to convey!
Feeling a lot calmer than she had the night before, Janey scrolled back down to the last comment she’d looked at and started reading upwards. Distracted by playing around with the background wallpaper on her page, it took her a while to notice that a new comment had been posted, just above Em’s.
Immediately, she felt a chill run up her spine.
Hey loser. Don’t read so much into 1 lousy kiss, will ya?
Fellini
Without warning, Fellini and his chillingly familiar car crash avatar had popped up again. In real time.
Janey stared at the posting in horror. She hadn’t said anything about any kiss in her latest blog about Rome. It had been something so private, and so special, that she’d only planned to tell her besties about it.
Janey’s mind spun. Who was this creep? That guy in 1B whom she’d never even met? She refused to believe it could be Luca, slamming the lid on that traitorous thought, though a tiny, rational part of her mind insisted that it could be. She forced her shaking hands into action.
Who’s the loser? U following me?
x X Janey G X x
There was a long pause. Janey refreshed her page a few times. When nothing new appeared, she thought, with relief, that maybe Fellini was logging out. But one click later, she saw:
Lets just say I know what u did yesterday & Im keeping MY I on U.
Fellini
Janey leapt away from the screen as if someone had doused her with a bucket of iced water. She scanned the study as if Fellini had somehow managed to plant a camera in there with her.
She sat back down slowly. Her stomach did a double backflip when she refeshed her page again and read:
Every breath U take every move U make baby.
Fellini
Chilled to the core, Janey hurriedly shut down. She threw on the orange tank and white shorts, grabbed her rucksack and fled into another bright, hot and lazy Roman afternoon feeling as if Fellini was right behind her and breathing down her neck.
Almost unconsciously, Janey headed away from her aunt’s villa in an unfamiliar direction, wanting to lose herself in some obscure but busy corner of town where Fellini couldn’t possibly be.
So she cut through the historical centre of Rome, heading across the River Tiber to a district called Trastevere.
Trastevere didn’t have a whole lot of obvious tourist destinations, but her guidebook indicated it was still one of the most happening areas of Rome. It was a picture-book old quarter of the city where real Romans still lived, packed with bars, cafés, hip shopping spots, and atmospheric public squares. It was also riddled with narrow cobbled streets, making it a great place to get lost in the crowd, which was exactly what Janey needed. To lose that horrible feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. She needed time to just think and chill.
By the time she crossed the Ponte Sisto into Trastevere, the breezy outfit she’d thrown on just over an hour before was plastered to her willowy frame but her usual positivity had returned. As she looked around, she saw hundreds of people of almost as many nationalities and Janey could feel herself relaxing a little. Fellini – whoever he was – couldn’t possibly be here in Rome actually tailing her around. He was probably some spotty twelve-year-old moron from Florida or somewhere.
Janey followed the swell of people ducking into and out of the medieval churches, marvelling at the ancient mosaics and astonishing domes, sculptures and icons that featured on almost every building. In between, she browsed the leather goods stores, specialty paper shops and museums that seemed to occupy every street corner. She kept herself hydrated with slices of fresh watermelon, and one sweet and icy grattachecca after another.
Trastevere was the perfect antidote to the poisonous situations she’d been experiencing with her aunt. The streets were crooked and crowded with ancient apartment buildings and villas that seemed to lean into one another. High above her head, the lines of colourful washing that stretched across from building to building just added to the festive air of the place. Through the shutter-framed windows of their abodes, Romans could be glimpsed talking on the telephone, preparing food, chasing their children and just generally going about their business.
Family’s so important, Janey thought, determined to try and explain her side of the story to Celia the next chance she got. Celia really seemed to care about her, though she was willing to leap to the most awful conclusions about her character! And that hurt. A lot.
After an overload of ancient history, Janey headed for the busy café scene that centred on the Piazza di Santa Maria in Trastevere, its radiating laneways crowded with eateries. She’d just ordered a late afternoon tea at the bustling Sabatini, and was enjoying her coffee, when her mobile phone buzzed loudly. Janey dug through her bag with a smile on her face, thinking it had to be Luca texting to find out how her day had been. But she recoiled as she read the message in her inbox and suddenly felt ill.
Nver liked Trastevere in
summer. Too many tourists,
dont u think?
With a chill, she realised immediately who the text was from. Fellini!
The accompanying mobile number was a local Italian number that Janey didn’t recognise. It didn’t tally with any of the preprogrammed numbers in her phone for Celia, Luca, Freddy or Brandon. Signalling frantically to her waiter, Janey hastily cancelled her food order, fumbled
out the right amount of change for the coffee and almost ran out of the piazza. As she hurried back towards the Ponte Sisto, she searched the faces of the people passing, wondering fearfully if any of them might be him. Because how would he know where she was unless he was somewhere nearby?
Once she’d crossed back over the bridge, she picked up her pace, because to get back to the Via Veneto area of Rome – which was the closest area of the old city to Celia’s apartment – she still had to cut through the Campo dei Fiori, Piazza della Rotonda and Quirinal districts. Suddenly, her aunt’s apartment seemed like a haven she couldn’t reach fast enough and she cursed herself for heading out at all that afternoon and foolishly believing Fellini didn’t pose a real threat!
She still had almost an hour of walking left when she came across a huge protest going on in the piazza she’d intended to take a short cut through on the Quirinal Hill. There were hundreds of people milling about in the square, holding placards she couldn’t decipher. The road blockades and heavy police presence meant that she, as well as about a thousand other tourists, was being redirected through surrounding laneways. Janey realised with frustration that this would take her well out of her way and back into the Piazza di Spagna tourist district, a place choked with people and impossibly hilly.
If I don’t see another hill in this lifetime, thought Janey – trying to puzzle out where she’d ended up, with the help of her guidebook – that would be too soon.
She found herself shuffling slowly up a street whose name she didn’t know, which was crawling with overheated and annoyed tourists and locals. She almost screamed out loud when someone grabbed at the back of her tank top.
‘Sorry! Tripped,’ said a woman in an English accent, before letting go of her hold on Janey.
Janey threw the woman a tight smile and threaded her way quickly to another part of the slowly moving throng, just in case she wasn’t someone fully random and harmless. Janey had just stopped by a newsvendor’s booth to take her sunglasses off and put her guidebook away when she saw something on a nearby side street – one that cut across the lane she was on – that sent a thrill of sudden irrational fear up her spine.