She left the house, utterly defeated. She had known she would have to justify the scheme, but she hadn’t imagined meeting such fierce opposition. She felt like the morning after a party – sick and hungover from the heady intoxication of the night before. She could do nothing for the workshop without the agreement of her mother and sisters. They had demolished her castle in the air. Her tremendous enthusiasm had been eroded, and fear and doubt – the enemies of good judgement – had taken its place. She would take refuge at the hospital, at her father’s bedside. What would he have said? What would he have done? She wanted so much to shelter in his arms, to cry for ages like a little child. Her faith was deserting her; she no longer knew what to do, whether to persevere with the plan, or bury it, burn it on the altar of reason, in the name of traditions that were slowly dying. She felt beaten, exhausted, so tired from her sleepless nights that she could fall asleep there and then, on the hospital bed, next to Papà. She could sleep for a hundred years, like him. Yes, that was what she wanted.

Giulia closed her eyes.

Suddenly, she was up there under the eaves, in the laboratorio. Her father was there, too, sitting and gazing out at the sea, like he always did. He didn’t seem to be in pain. He looked serene, at peace. He smiled at Giulia as if he had been expecting her. She sat beside him. She told him all her troubles, her sorrow, the feeling of powerlessness that gripped her. She told him she was sorry about the workshop.

Don’t let anyone divert you from your path, he said. You must keep believing. You have great determination. I believe in your strength, your abilities. You must persevere. Life has great things in store for you.

A sharp noise rang out. Giulia woke with a start. She had fallen asleep right there, sitting beside her father in his hospital bed. Around him, the machines that kept him alive were sounding their alarms. Nurses were hurrying to his bedside.

At that moment, at that precise instant, Giulia swore she felt her father’s hand move.

Smita

Tirupati, Andhra Pradesh, India

Dawn is breaking over Tirumala mountain.