A Darkness Descending by Christobel Kent

stern seriousness he knew well, cultivated in the army, city hall, even the police, to disguise the fact that one’s time was largely spent doing not very much at all.
    ‘Good evening,’ said Sandro easily, with a little nod in deference to the man’s uniform and token authority. He had, in fact, almost no respect for the army, but they could be decent company. ‘Sandro Cellini,’ he said. The officer barely inclined his head, and didn’t bother to supply his own name: why would he?
    What the hell? thought Sandro. ‘I’m an investigator,’ he said, and the colonel frowned. ‘Looking into the Frazione.’
    ‘Really?’ said the man, and Sandro was taken aback by his eagerness, a sudden lively amusement in his eyes. ‘Well, that’s interesting. We’re looking into them ourselves.’ He smiled lazily. ‘Daft bunch, really, but it’s part of the job.’ This with a sidelong defensive look. ‘And there’s some – well – some funny types in the Frazione, I can tell you.’ The colonel put his hands in his pockets. ‘If we can be of any help,’ he said vaguely, turning back to look at the demonstration, which had now dwindled into no more than an affable crowd, their placards placed on the pavements while they chatted amongst themselves.
    ‘Well,’ said Sandro. Perhaps the offer had been no more than a courtesy, but that was no reason to let it lie. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
    ‘Of course,’ said the man, without turning back, eyeing the heads in the crowd again. ‘Honoured to be of help.’ Irony in his languid voice that Sandro couldn’t help but find appealing. ‘You know where we are? Behind the Botanic Gardens.’
    Feeling himself dismissed, Sandro turned away, thinking. From the restaurant’s terrace Luisa was looking at him with mingled impatience and anxiety. What’s up now, he thought, what have I done now? Raising a hand in apology, he hurried back.
    Picturing himself turning up at the barracks, his heart sank. What would they really tell him? Nothing. But the colonel – why hadn’t he even asked the man’s name? Since when had he been so timid in the presence of a uniform? – had offered possibilities. Sometimes these officials were bored enough to let stuff slip.
    He sat back down beside Luisa, and again he wondered, if the army were monitoring the Frazione out here in the open, who else might be involved?
    He could ask Pietro.
    ‘I’ll have to ask Pietro,’ he said, hardly aware that he was speaking out loud.
    ‘Pietro?’ said Luisa, setting down her coffee cup with sudden agitation. He looked at her expectantly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I think you’ll find Pietro’s got other things on his mind,’ she said.
    ‘Oh, yes?’ said Sandro warily. So there was something going on. Some secret police operation and Pietro couldn’t talk about it. God knew, it could even be surveillance of this bunch, the Frazione. It all made sense to him now. There’d been silences: he’d always known the time would come, and the wedge would be driven between them. He couldn’t expect—
    ‘Gloria came to see me today.’ And Luisa sighed.
    *
    In the small bright white kitchen, Enzo was cooking. It was late, but it had taken both of them a while to realize that this was their life now. They could eat when they wanted. Fresh from her shower, Giuli leaned out over the waist-high balcony and looked into the trees around their apartment building. They’d moved in three months ago, at the beginning of the summer, and Giuli still couldn’t quite believe it.
    From behind her the hissing of the frying chicken, the smells – lemon and thyme, Enzo had told her patiently, Giuli knowing nothing about what smelled of what in the kitchen – Enzo’s slow, considered movements around the compact space, the steamy warmth, all represented a kind of comfort Giuli could never quite bring herself to believe was hers. It was why she was looking out of the window; she could hardly contemplate the new life that