In the Wolf's Mouth by Adam Foulds

Author:Adam Foulds [Foulds, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781443431002
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2014-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

2

Walking home, Angilù caught sight of the witch of Montebianco in the distance. Perhaps she’d been visiting someone in the house, the servant Graziana maybe. Short, dark, she moved with a rapid skimming walk, a small bag hanging from her right hand. Angilù wondered what she knew. For himself, he preferred the church now and again. He should go soon to get a blessing. He pictured the holy sparkle of it descending on him, protecting him.

He walked up through the whispering avenue of olive trees and into his home, into the blue shadows of his whitewashed hallway with its smooth, cool smell of plaster dust and paint. For two years, Albanese’s widow had remained in this place. After two years, she had moved back in with her mother in Sant’Attilio and later, when she’d married again, into Silvio’s house. The Prince had invited Angilù and Rosaria, then pregnant with their first daughter, to move in. The house frightened both of them at first. It was so large and quiet and still. And Albanese had lived there. His presence remained. The families in Sant’Attilio who were friends of the Albaneses, those of them who remained, watched Angilù as he passed in the street. Angilù had the house blessed. Holy water flashed into every corner. And then the baby was born, a new blossoming of loud life, and Angilù forgot; the place became their house.

He could hear Rosaria in the kitchen, the melody of her talk to Mariuzza, their youngest daughter. Walking in, he found Mariuzza sitting on the counter, kicking her soft legs. Rosaria was pouring olive oil into the bottom of a smoking pot. Beside her were heaps of sliced vegetables. Angilù put his hand on the back of her neck, a strong, thick neck, a mother’s neck. Always that distance he crossed in himself to reach out and touch her, still at heart a shepherd and far from everything. He kissed the ticklish damp hair on her nape as she picked up a handful of silvery onions and dropped them into the pan. ‘Hello, little bird,’ he said through the sudden noise of frying.

‘Yes, yes. You need to move.’

Angilù caught hold of one of Mariuzza’s swinging feet. He held it, straightening the girl’s leg, and bent to kiss the dimpled knee.

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