Suddenly a long sigh came from the bed. As they watched she threw back the blanket and eased her legs over the side.
Vincenzo tensed, about to speak to her, but then something in her demeanour alerted him and he stopped. She stood for a moment, staring into the distance with eyes that were vague. Slowly Vincenzo got to his feet and went to stand before her. 'Julia,' he said softly.
She made no response and he realised that she was still asleep. When he spoke her name she did not see or hear him. After a moment she turned away and began to walk slowly to the door.
She seemed to know her way as well in the darkness and in the light. Without stumbling she opened the door, and went out into the main hall.
At the foot of the stairs she stopped, remaining still for a long time. Moonlight, streaming through the windows, showed her shrouded in a soft blue glow, like a phantom. She raised her head so that her long hair fell back and they could both see that her eyes were fixed on the picture of Annina, at the top of the stairs.
'Can she see it?' Piero muttered.
'It's the only thing she can see,' Vincenzo told him. 'Nothing else exists for her.'
She began to move again, slowly setting one foot in front of the other, climbing the broad stairs.
'Stop her,' Piero said urgently.
Vincenzo shook his head. 'This is her decision. We can't interfere.'
Moving quietly, he began to follow her up the stairs until she came to a halt in front of the fresco showing the distraught Annina. It too lay in the path of the moonlight that entered through windows high up in the hall.
'Julia,' Vincenzo said again, speaking very quietly.
Silence. She was not aware of him.
'Dammit, that's not her real name,' Vincenzo said frantically. 'How can I reach her with it?'
'There's another name you might try,' Piero murmured.
Vincenzo shot him an uneasy glance. 'Don't talk like that, Piero. Enough of superstition.'
'Is it superstition?'
'You know as well as I do that the dead don't come back.'
'Then who is she?'
Vincenzo didn't reply. He couldn't.
A soft moan broke from her. She was reaching up to touch the picture, beginning to talk in soft, anguished tones.
'I loved him, and he shut me away-for years-until I died-I died-'
'Julia,' Vincenzo said, knowing it would be useless.
Instead of answering she began to thump the wall.
'I died-' she screamed. 'Just as he meant me to. My baby-my baby-'
Abruptly all the strength went out of her and she leaned against the wall. Vincenzo grasped her gently and drew her away.
'It's all right,' he said. 'I'm here. Don't give in. Stay strong whatever you do.'
She looked up at him out of despairing eyes, and he knew that she couldn't see him. For her, he didn't exist.
'Let's go,' he said.
She shook her head and tried to pull away. 'I must find him,' she said hoarsely. 'Don't you understand?'
'Of course, but not tonight. Get some rest, and later I'll help you find him.'
'You can't help me. Nobody can.'
'But I will,' he insisted. 'There has to be a way if there's a friend to help you. And you have a friend now.'
Whether she understood the words or whether it was his tone that reached her, she stopped struggling and stood passive.
It was the first time he'd seen her face turned towards him without suspicion or defensiveness. But he could still feel her trembling, and it made him do something on impulse.
Putting his hands on either side of her face, he kissed her softly again and again, her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth.
'It's all right,' he said again. 'I'm here.'
She did not reply, but her eyes closed. He wrapped his arms right around her, leading her carefully down the stairs. She held onto him, eyes still closed, but moving with confidence while he was there.
Step by step they made their way to the bottom of the stairs, then back into the little room, where Vincenzo guided her to the bed so that she could lie down again.
She murmured something that he could not catch, then seemed to relax all at once. Vincenzo pulled the blanket up and tucked it tenderly around her.
'Not a word of this, my friend,' he said, joining Piero. 'Not to anyone else and especially not to her.'
Piero nodded. 'We wait until she mentions it.'
'If she ever does.'
'You think she won't remember what happened tonight?'
'I don't think she even knows what happened tonight. She wasn't here.'
'Then where was she?'
'In some far place where nobody else is invited. It's dark and fearful, and it's from there that she draws her strength.'
'Her head must be very muddled if she thinks she's Annina.' Piero sighed. 'It was like meeting a ghost in the flesh.'
Vincenzo raised an eyebrow. 'Rid yourself of that idea my friend. She is no ghost.'
'But you heard what she said. She was buried-she died-the child-she was speaking as Annina.'
'No,' Vincenzo said sombrely. 'What's really horrifying is that she was speaking as herself.'
At last Julia awoke to find everything clear. Her body was cool again and the inside of her head was orderly.
'Have you come back to us?'
Looking around, she saw Vincenzo sitting nearby, and wondered how long he'd been there.
'Yes, I think I have,' she said. 'More or less. I may even be in one piece.'
She swung her legs gingerly to the floor and began to ease herself up. He crossed the floor quickly and held out a hand.
'Steady,' he said as she clung to him. 'You haven't been eating enough to keep a mouse alive. No wonder you're weak.'
'I'm not weak. You can let me go.'
He did so and she promptly sat down again.
'OK, I'm weak.'
'Give yourself time. Don't rush it.'
He spoke in his normal way, but she had an odd sensation that something was different. He was looking at her curiously, with a question in his eyes.
'What's the matter?' she asked. 'How do you mean?'
'You're giving me a strange look.'
For once she seemed to have caught him off guard. 'I was just-wondering if you're really better. You certainly seem-' He seemed to be searching for the right words. 'You seem more like your normal self.'
'That's how I feel,' she said, wondering what he was implying.
'Good,' he said, sounding deflated. 'Stay there while I
make you some soup.'
The hot soup was straight from heaven. When she'd eaten she went down to the pump for a wash.
She returned to find Vincenzo still there. He was sitting by the window, sunk in his own thoughts, and didn't at first hear her. When she hailed him he seemed to come out of a dream. 'OK?'
'Yes. Who'd have thought washing in freezing water could, feel so good? How long was I out of it?'
'Just over a week.'
'Not all the time. You kept recovering slightly, then you'd insist on getting up and walking around before you
