Sunrise By the Sea by Jenny Colgan

Chapter Fifty-eight

It is, Marisa learned, impossible to access a foreign country’s 999 system. That was the first thing. The second thing was having to wake up her mother who genuinely was asleep, and whose voice of panic – what is it? – would have irritated Marisa had it not been the correct response. Lucia went immediately to phone Ann Angela.

Marisa and Alexei kept the feed on, with Marisa talking to her nonna through it, getting her to sit down and not move, but to grab a towel for the bleeding.

Nonna was talking rubbish, garbled sentences that went round and round, and mixed Marisa up with Lucia all the time. At one point she squinted at Alexei, who was googling hospitals in the area but coming up with nothing, and, in a moment of sudden clarity said, ‘Questo è l’uomo così grande?’ – This is the big man? – and Marisa leaned forward off the phone to the nearest hospital to say, ‘This is . . .’ but her grandmother then suddenly burst into tears and Marisa got back on the phone to the ospedale.

They held hands, helpless on the other side of the world, Marisa keeping up a comforting stream of nonsense sounds to her grandmother, saying not to worry, not to fret, everything was going to be okay, and even as she did she felt her grandfather, closer than ever before, picking up her knee, rubbing it where she’d fallen over on a stone, holding her close and telling her everything was going to be okay, soothing her, making her feel like she was in the safest pair of arms in the world and passing the job on to her.

‘You are going to be safe, you are going to be okay,’ she said, over and over again. ‘There you are, little one, everything is going to be all right, everything is going to be fine, my little one, my darling, my little mouse.’

As her grandmother’s panic gradually subsided she moved closer and closer to the screen, her eyes fixed on Marisa as if she was the only person there; as if she could reach out and touch her.

‘Help is coming, I promise, we are going to make it okay, it’s going to be okay.’

And Marisa felt the strength of her grandfather go through her; felt for sure and absolutely that she was speaking to herself, not just to her grandmother – that this was something she believed and something that was within her power.

‘Andrà tutto bene, andrà tutto bene.’

And at last the ambulance men arrived.

They burst into the house, presumably simply knocking through the flimsy lock, if indeed her grandmother bothered to lock the door at all. It was quite frightening and Marisa wished she could see their faces – she could only see their middles – as they asked Nonna her name and what had happened.

‘Hello!’ she cried through the screen. ‘Buona sera! Buona sera!’ until an ambulance man bent down and listened as she went through a concise description of her grandmother’s symptoms and where to find her medication. The man nodded and then gave her a smile.

‘Signora, you have done very well,’ he said, rather flirtatiously. Or perhaps, reflected Marisa later, she had just not been talking to enough people, again. You could say what you liked about Alexei but he wasn’t flirtatious. He was simply himself at all times, which was astoundingly attractive in its own way.

‘If you hadn’t called?’ He expressively extended his arms. Marisa couldn’t bear to think about it. She nodded and watched as the stretcher came in and her nonna, her great all-powerful nonna, was raised up on it so tiny she looked like a little child lying there, intensely fragile; so close to the screen, so very far away. Marisa found herself reaching out a hand to touch her, even though it was of course impossible.

When the door of the house in Italy had finally slammed shut, everything went very quiet. Alexei went to close the computer screen, but she wouldn’t let him. They had stayed online together so often. She couldn’t bear it. She found it comforting to see the kitchen: the pots hanging on the walls, the old painted tiles, the plethora of ladles. The ambulancemen hadn’t shut off the laptop on her grandmother’s side, and, as long as it was plugged in, the connection should hold. She wasn’t going to cut hers off either. There was still a connection between them. She wouldn’t let it go.

‘I need to phone my mum again,’ she said. Alexei nodded and got up.

‘You did very good,’ he said. ‘You did not panic, you did not get upset. You were exactly in the moment and exactly right. What I tell my students. You should talk to them! Do not think of self. Just think of what needs to be done.’

‘Thanks,’ said Marisa, barely listening. She looked up at him.

‘It isn’t . . . none of this is what I thought would happen.’

‘I think it is best good think that it did.’

She nodded. ‘Oh God. I can’t . . . If we hadn’t . . .’

‘Do not think like that.’

‘No.’

She looked around.

‘I think . . . I have to plug my laptop in. I think I’d better go home. I’ll have to speak to Gino – that’s my brother – and there’s going to be lots to do.’

‘Are you sure you not want to stay here? I make tea? Help you?’

She was tempted but shook her head.

‘No, it’s . . . it’s family stuff. I should be next door, get it sorted.’

He nodded. ‘Well. I would say get some sleep but I do not think there is sleepink for you,’ he said. Then, gently, ‘I cancel my morning lessons.’

‘Oh no, don’t do that.’

‘Too late,’ he said. And he led her to the door. And carefully, and for the very first time, wrapped his huge arms around her and gave her the biggest, gentlest, sweetest hug. And she closed her eyes and leaned in to it, realising it was so long – so long, such an endless, endless winter – since someone had hugged her like that, had had their arms fully and wholeheartedly around her, a deep embrace so close she felt joined to his body. She rested her head against his chest – she only came up so far – thinking how wonderfully comforting it would be to stay there for ever.

‘I shall keep candle burnink for your grandmother.’

‘Don’t do that,’ said Marisa dreamily. ‘A fiery inferno is absolutely the last thing we need right now.’

And she held on to the hug for longer than would have been normally seemly or even necessary but it was necessary, and Alexei was steady and gentle and didn’t move or pull away, but happily stood with his arms around her, his huge hands stroking her shoulders in a comforting rhythm, his jumper growing wet with her tears.