Free Lady of Asolo by Siobhan Daiko

himself on Cecilia? It was all so strange; she couldn’t continue like this: keeping her dreams and visions from her aunt. She had to tell her.
    ‘I’m not dreaming about the fire anymore.’ She put her mug down. ‘Something very odd is happening.’
    ‘Tell me what’s wrong, my lovely. I’ll see if I can help.’
    She told Aunt Susan everything she’d told Vanessa and Luca, adding the latest incident. However the more she talked, the more she became aware of how weird she was sounding. Her aunt’s expression was indecipherable and soon Fern began to falter. ‘You think I’m crazy . . .’
    ‘No, I don’t. I think you’re still suffering from what happened two years ago. Somehow, your mind has become confused.’
    ‘But it seems so real.’
    ‘I’m sure it does.’ Aunt Susan sighed. ‘Be sensible,’ she said, her Welsh lilt even more pronounced than usual. ‘We can’t relive past lives. It’s physically impossible.’
    ‘How could I know so much about life hundreds of years ago if I wasn’t actually living it? I do know it sounds impossible. I’ve had that argument with myself, believe me. It’s just that I can smell things, taste things and even touch things, and be touched by them when I’m there.’ She shuddered. ‘You can’t do that in a dream.’
    Aunt Susan patted her hand. ‘You must have read a book or seen a film. And now your imagination is getting the better of you.’
    ‘No. I don’t think so. It’s far too vivid. I couldn’t possibly know so many details unless I’ve actually been there. Cecilia is real; she’s not just in my mind.’
    ‘Something has certainly upset you, I agree. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hospital and we’ll see if they can prescribe you something.’
    ‘No more medication, Auntie. I’m done with all of that. There’s nothing wrong with me.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘I don’t want to see a doctor. Next thing I’ll have a “mentally ill” label slapped on me again, and I’ll be declared unfit to work. I went through all that last year. I’m over it.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Absolutely. I know how it must seem, but I’m not making this up.’ She fingered her mouth, still bruised from Lodovico’s advances. How could that be? She felt exhausted, and crushed by her aunt’s lack of belief. ‘I’m sorry to have woken you up. Let’s go back to bed. I feel fine now.’
     
    ***
     
    And she was fine; she took her valerian tablets and slept dreamlessly. When she woke, the taste of Lodovico had gone. Bright sunshine lit the garden, illuminating the olive leaves and small white flowers that would later fruit. Aunt Susan had suggested Fern go for a walk after breakfast, so she set off down the road. The closer she got to the ruins of the Barco, the more she felt anxiety prickling her spine. She turned around and marched in the opposite direction, past the row of houses beyond her aunt’s, heading towards the centre of the village.
    The sun warmed her shoulders; she took off her denim jacket and bundled it into her rucksack next to her sketchpad. A watercolour sky, washed with blue, and, beyond the fields soared the Asolan hills, the towers, and the turrets of the town itself. Such light! Her fingers itched to paint it.
    A street market was in full swing when she reached the main square. She sat for a while at a café and contemplated the hustle and bustle, so different yet at the same time so familiar. Brightly coloured vegetables piled high; cheeses of every shape and variety, their rich, greasy aromas tickling her nostrils; scaly fish displayed on crushed ice, mouths gaping and eyes staring blankly. No! Nausea swept over her. Focus on the now! Keep your mind in the present!
    Her ears tuned into the cries of the vendors competing with the shouted conversations of the shoppers, haggling over every Lira. A young couple were holding hands and exchanging kisses at the next table, their backs to her, and a group of elderly men were playing cards at the