flashing her teeth in a full smile, a rare event for her.
She limped on. If only she could find some way of getting over the fence on this side of the road, she’d be safe.
Beyond the fence was a steep slope down to a narrow road which ran parallel to the autostrada. Not the best place to climb over with a swollen ankle. She slipped off the rucksack and looked back.
She saw the dog leap through the oleanders and come galloping down the road.
He wasn’t black at all; he was white, his coat covered with ash. The tip of one of his ears was missing. And he was huge: the biggest dog she’d ever seen.
And if you don’t get moving he’s going to eat you.
She grabbed the mesh of the fence to climb up, but was paralysed by fear. She turned round and slid down onto the road.
The dog raced down the last few metres of the autostrada and jumped over the guardrail and ditch. Then he jumped on her – all forty stinking kilos of him.
Anna stuck out her elbow, aiming at the dog’s ribs. He collapsed in a heap. She stood up.
He lay there, an almost human astonishment in his eyes.
She picked up the rucksack and hit him on the head, on the neck, then on the head again. He yelped, struggling to get to his feet. Anna swung round full circle like a hammer-thrower, but the strap of the rucksack broke, she lost her balance and put out her foot to steady herself, but her sore ankle couldn’t take the weight and she fell to the ground.
They lay there for a moment, looking at each other, then the dog sprang at her, snarling.
Raising her good foot, Anna rammed it into his chest, throwing him back against the guardrail.
He fell down on his side, panting, his long tongue curled under his nose, his eyes narrowed.
As he tried to get up, she looked around for a stone or a stick to hit him with, but saw nothing but burnt paper, plastic bags and crushed cans.
*
‘Why don’t you leave me alone?’ she shouted, getting to her feet. ‘What have I done to you?’
The dog stared at her, baring his teeth and growling.
She stumbled away in a daze, vaguely aware of oleanders, a dark sky and the blackened roofless shell of a farmhouse. After a while she stopped and looked back.
He was following her.
She came to a blue estate car. Its front was crushed, the rear window had lost its glass and the driver’s door was open. She slipped inside and tried to close the door, but it wouldn’t move. She pulled with both hands. The door creaked shut, but bounced back off the rusty lock. She pulled again, but it still wouldn’t close, so she wrapped the safety belt around the handle to hold it. Laying her head against the steering wheel, she sat there with her eyes closed, breathing in the smell of bird droppings.
On the passenger’s seat beside her was a skeleton covered in white guano. The shrivelled remains of a Moncler quilted jacket had fused with the covering of the seat. Feathers and yellow ribs showed through splits in the fabric. The skull hung down on the chest, held up by withered tendons. A pair of high-heeled suede boots covered the feet.
Anna slipped through onto the back seat, climbed into the boot and crawled up to the rear window, hardly daring to look out. There was no sign of the dog.
She curled up beside two suitcases that had been stripped of their contents, crossing her arms over her chest, with her hands under her sweaty armpits. The adrenaline rush had passed and she could barely keep her eyes open. She tried to jam the suitcases into the window frame. One was too small, but she managed to wedge the other one into the gap by pushing it with her feet.
She ran her fingers over her lips. Her eyes fell on a dirty page torn out of a notebook. The first line read, in capital letters: HELP ME, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
Written by the woman on the front seat, no doubt.
The note said her name was Giovanna Improta and she was dying. She had two children, Ettore and Francesca. They lived on the top floor of Via Re Federico 36, in Palermo. They were only four and five years old and they’d starve to death if they didn’t get help. There were 500 euros in the hall cupboard.
Anna tossed the piece of paper aside, leaned her head against the side window and closed her eyes.
*
She woke up abruptly, surrounded by darkness and silence. It was a few seconds before she could remember where she was. She badly needed a pee, but didn’t dare leave the car. She’d be defenceless – and blind: there was no moon.
Better to do it in the boot and move over onto the back seat. She unbuttoned her shorts. As she pulled them down, a sudden noise took her breath away. The sound of dogs sniffing. She put her hand over her mouth, trying not to breathe, shake, or even move her tongue.
Dogs’ claws scratched on the bodywork, and the car lurched.
Her bladder relaxed and warm liquid slid between her thighs, soaking the carpet under her buttocks.
She started silently praying for help, to no one in particular.
The dogs were fighting among themselves, circling the car, their claws clicking on the asphalt.
She imagined thousands of them surrounding the car, a carpet of fur stretching as far as the sea and the mountains, enveloping the whole planet.
She clamped her hands over her ears. Think about gelato. Like big, sweet, multicoloured hailstones. You used to choose the flavours you wanted and they’d scoop them out into a cone for you. She remembered one visit to the ice-cream stall in the private beach area, ‘The Mermaids’. Peering through the glass top of the refrigerator, she’d decided on ‘chocolate and lemon’.
Her mother had grimaced. ‘Ugh!’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Those flavours don’t go together.’
‘Can I have them anyway?’
‘Oh, all right, then. You’d better eat them, though!’
So she’d gone to the beach with her gelato and sat by the water’s edge, while the seagulls strutted along, one behind the other.
Until the fire came, it had still been possible to find other sweet things. Mars bars, flapjacks, Bountys, boxes of chocolates. Usually dry, mouldy or nibbled by mice, though sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d find them in good condition. But it wasn’t the same as ice cream. Cold things had disappeared with the Grown-ups.
She took her hands away from her ears. The dogs had gone.
*
It was that phase of dawn when night and day have equal weight and things seem larger than they really are. A milk-white band lay across the horizon. The wind rustled between ears of wheat spared by the fire.
Anna climbed out of the car and stretched. Her ankle was numb,
