Ulysses woke to a day of firsts: first trucks brought water into the city, for cleaning and not for drinking, but that was something. And the first wave of young people gathered outside the Biblioteca and formed a human chain to clear the mud from the entrance. And the first of the telegrams started to get through and Ulysses received one from Rome. It had been sent the day before, and was handed to him as he was shovelling mud out of the cortile.
ROADS IMPASSABLE WILL TRY AGAIN TOMORROW HOME SOON LOVE YOU
The tears came then. He turned away from the group because he couldn’t stop.
That afternoon, having kept close behind a bus chartered by the Grottaferrata monks, Betsy rolled into Santo Spirito square, muddied and worse for wear. Alys, close to the windscreen, tried to absorb the broken lives in front of her. Ulysses saw them first and oh, the look on his face – the look on hers. （Click.） Caught forever. He’d been standing outside the café with Michele and Giulia and the elderly contessa, who said, About time. I hope they’ve brought food.
Of course they had. Wine and water too, and it would be the first time in days that anyone would eat eggs or bread or drink milk. Alys climbed out of the van and Ulysses went towards her. Arms around him, she said, If anything had happened to you …
What’s that jukebox doing over there, Michele? said Cress. You bring it in from the cold and I’ll have it cleaned up and fixed in no time. Giulia said, Can you do the same for my heart, Signor Cress?
Alys was waiting at the rail station. She was muddied from head to toe and wearing jeans, jumper, smock. Hair up, sunglasses and a cigarette in her mouth. Massimo called her the epitome of cool. Elongating the double vowel, of course.
It was the third time in as many days that she’d been there, and despite the afternoon cold she liked it. Direct connection to the outside world, what with trains coming and going, and newspapers, and a chance to stock up on cigarettes. Standing above the height of the flood, the place retained an air of normalcy. If you could ignore the mud-streaked floors, that is, and the posters telling people to BOIL ALL WATER due to the latent danger of typhoid and cholera. A stink of diesel streamed out from the generator keeping the telegram office alight. Alys lit a cigarette and watched a train pull in.
Hundreds of students were arriving daily, and the city was finding it hard to house them. Youth hostels and dormitories were overflowing and the empty sleeping cars and coaches in the railyard had now been commandeered. Cress and Ulysses had agreed to open up the pensione for whoever needed a place to stay and so far it was working well. Some of the kids had even taken it upon themselves to help Michele and Giulia clean out the bar. Alys watched a young woman pass in front of her. Made it quite obvious she couldn’t take her eyes off her. It was easy to flirt when you had rooms to offer. The woman ran on ahead, though, and put her arm around a man. Ah well, win some lose some, and Alys inhaled on her cigarette. And then she noticed him. A bit lost, a bit older than the rest. Nice smile.
’Scuse me! she said, running up to him.
He stopped. Me?
Have you come to clean up?
I have, actually.
D’you need somewhere to stay?
Yes. I s’pose I do, really.
I’m Alys, and she offered her hand.
Jem. Jem Gunnerslake.
Follow me, Jem.
And they left the station concourse, down the steps to the mud-covered square. Tarred cars and huge piles of detritus gathering outside. The watermark at 6 feet.
Jesus, said Jem.
Careful where you tread, said Alys. You can’t see, but a lot of the paving stones are up.
Was it worse than this?
Hard to say. Down by the river it’s as bad as ever. In Santa Croce. Gavinana, San Niccolò. Cellars are still flooded because there’s not enough pumps, and you’ll see thousands of cars like that. They’ve got the Army shovelling this shit but apart from that, there’s not much that will make a difference right now.
Jem rubbed his nose.
Chlorine. I’m getting used to it. They’ve covered the city with it.
I saw the posters.
Vaccination centres are open now. You need one, Jem?
I’m fine, and he patted his arm.
Walking across Santa Maria Novella square, Alys said – and she pointed to the church – If you need candles, you can buy them off a priest over there for 100 lire apiece.
Do I need some?
Not for now, we have plenty. But they’re always welcome.
And if I want to make a telephone call?
No chance. Telegrams are OK. International go through the central post office. Be prepared to queue for hours, though. We have no lights, no heating, no water at the moment. We flush the toilet with a bucket twice a day – when we all leave for work and when we go to sleep. Unless it’s really necessary. You know.