Last Train from Liguria (2010)

by Christine Dwyer Hickey

  ‘Were you crying?’

  ‘I was not!’ And it crosses her mind more than once that she would have been better off had they decided to dress Elida up as a husband to go with her instead. Elida’s hard-working hands would have been more convincing than the lily-whites on that. Coward. The word bounces off the walls of the room, and goes silently screeching through the house.

  She says no to dinner and asks Elida to look after Alec and put him to bed. Then she goes to her room. First she writes a letter to Elida explaining matters, insofar as she can do, and telling her to stay here in the house for as long as she wishes or as long as it remains safe to do so, also to use whatever money remains that she finds in the house, to keep herself going. She finishes by asking Elida to hold on to the envelope with all her documents until Sorella Ursula comes to collect it. Then she promises to telephone as soon as she can and signs off the letter to her friend.

  Bella then removes piles of magazines and linen from the bottom of her wardrobe and takes out a box, which she lays on her bed. She pulls out the money-tucks - these days made from men’s long merino wool stockings; sturdy yet light. Bella drops them on the bed, picks out the ones full of lire and, pinning the letter to Elida onto one of them, slips them under her pillowcase, where she knows by next washday Elida’s hand will find them.

  She writes Edward a note next, digging the pen into the paper so hard it makes a tear and she has to start again, this time forcing herself to calm down, then printing her message in a careful, lighter hand. She thanks him for his kind offer to go as far as Menton or Monte Carlo and says that she’s decided to go it alone. Coolly she wishes him the best with whatever he decides to do and whatever direction he happens to take.

  She goes upstairs and puts the letter under his door.

  Coming back to her room she lifts two suitcases onto the bed, begins to arrange money-tucks full of English money around the edges of their bases, then disguises them with piles of clothes and toys. She wraps a diamond tiara in a nightdress and packs it in, then stuffs four diamond rings into the toes of shoes. She closes the suitcases, straps them up and slides them in behind the door. Bella then takes her mother’s old green alligator-skin travel bag out of the cupboard and, tilting it to the light, cuts an incision into the lining. She wraps a diamond necklace and bracelet belonging to Signora Tassi in a silk handkerchief along with a coil of pearls and three rings belonging to her mother. She works them into the hole and stitches it up. Pressing the last three money-tucks into the travel bag she stuffs it up with a few remaining bits and pieces belonging to Alec: his pyjamas, a pair of plimsoles, a sketchbook, a tennis sweater, a bucket and spade. Then she puts it with the cases behind the door all ready for tomorrow.

  Bella locks her bedroom door behind her, then goes upstairs to Edward’s room and walks straight in. He is by the window reading her letter. ‘Do you mean this?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s better if I say my husband has been delayed in work and I decided to take the holiday anyway rather than disappoint Alec or Alberto as I must now call him. I can say you - I mean he - will join us at the weekend. Also that your, I mean his, boss paid for a first-class train because he felt bad about postponing your holiday. It won’t matter so much when it comes to leaving France or entering England. In any case, I’ll think of something.’

  ‘You seem to be taking it all very well,’ Edward says.

  ‘Yes I am - don’t you think?’

  ‘You’re sure you’re—’

  ‘Oh please, don’t give it another thought.’

  He looks at her carefully. ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you, Edward? Do you see?’ She walks across the room and slaps him across the face.

  Even in the blindness of her temper, his head seems surprisingly light as if she could have, with a bit more effort, whacked it away from his neck. She tries it again.

  ‘Leaving me on my own with two children.’ Her voice is dry but still not raised.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

  ‘You could have told them. You could have said it there and then, in front of that lawyer, in front of Tassi. Given them a chance to come up with something else. Coward. I hope you get whatever you deserve. I hope they catch you and that whatever you’ve done is so bad, they hang you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It is. They will.’

  She goes to the door, opens it, takes a step out and in a matter of seconds loses all of her composure. When she comes back to him she’s crying. ‘I don’t even know one end of a bloody baby from the other.’ This time she punches him on the arm. ‘You never cared tuppence for me, Edward.’

  ‘I did. I do.’

  ‘Never enough to trust me. Never enough to allow me to get to know you. Every time you shut the door in my face. You never cared. And I cared, and you’ve always known it. You’re a coward, that’s what you are, after all. A bloody lousy coward. Whatever it is that you’ve done, I wouldn’t have minded. I wouldn’t have minded in the least - if only you had trusted me.’

  ‘You would have minded,’ he says. ‘Bella, you would.’

  She hits him again, this time repeatedly on the chest and head. ‘You bastard, you lousy bastard. I hate you.’

  She throws herself at him and now she’s down on the floor with him. Still hitting him, not sure if he’s hitting her back or if she’s hitting herself. Hitting each other, then kissing each other, sucking and biting lumps out of faces, necks, arms. She is clutching his hair and he’s pulling at her clothes and she’s tearing at his beard. She is drowning and he’s on top of her. And she wants to kill him, and she wants him to kill her back, but more than that, she wants him to do whatever he does with the whores he visits in brothels. There are sounds shared between: breaths, grunts, sobs. And she can hear the words, ‘This changes nothing, it changes nothing,’ over and over and she thinks it might be her voice that’s speaking.

  Then somewhere outside of them there’s another sort of screaming and Edward is rising into the air and falling away from her and her arms are lifting to drag him back down to her, and she’s screaming, ‘Leave him! Leave him!’

  Alec sobbing in the doorway. Elida barking like a bereft goose. ‘Maestro Edward! What are you doing to her? What are you doing to her? Basta, basta, basta.’

  Bella looks down and sees her dress is opened and torn, the skirt of it up around her hips. She tries to catch her breath. ‘Elida. It’s all right. Really, it’s all right.’

  She gets up. At the door she looks back at Edward. His back is to the wall, head bent, hair fallen over his forehead, shirt open and hanging to one side, hands pressed down on his legs. He looks up at her through his hair, breathless.

  ‘It changes nothing,’ she says.

  *

  The priest lets himself into the hall the next morning and she watches from the kitchen while he picks up the luggage she has hauled down the stairs in the middle of the night. He beckons, and she follows, dragging a still sleepy Alec behind her. When she gets to the gate Bella stops to take one last look at Villa Lami. She sees Elida standing in her nightgown at an upstairs window. They look at each other for a moment, then Bella blows a kiss and Elida nods and smiles to show she understands.

  In the back of the car Sorella Ursula waits, the baby in a Moses basket beside her. She tells Alec to sit on the other side of the basket. ‘Come, Alec, see your new sister.’

  Alec peeps into the bundle and nods. ‘Which part of her is the Jew part?’ he asks.

  Sorella Ursula looks over his head at Bella.

  ‘What’s her name - is it Leah?’ Alec asks then.

  ‘Oh no. It’s Edda, like il Duce’s daughter.’

  ‘Then is she not a Jew?’ he asks. ‘But that’s not fair! Why do I have to be one, and she is not?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sister.’ Bella begins taking her place beside Alec. ‘I had a little talk with him a few days ago about why he couldn’t go back to school, and ever since he’s been going on non-stop about what’s Jewish and not.’


  ‘Alec,’ the Sorella says, ‘you must not say that word again.’

  ‘You see?’ he says to Bella. ‘I told you it was bad to be a Jew. That’s why il Duce doesn’t like them.’ Then he turns and sulks out the window.

  ‘I haven’t explained things properly to him yet, where we are going or how,’ Bella says. ‘I thought we could use the car journey to do that.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sorella Ursula says, then looks out the back window. ‘Where’s Edward?’

  Bella shakes her head.

  ‘He’s not coming? He has changed his heart?’

  ‘His mind.’

  The nun makes a move for the door.

  ‘It’s no use, sister, he left late last night. He could be anywhere by now. But it’s fine. We’ll manage, really. I have it all worked out.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Oh, sister, what choice do we have?’

  The priest has turned and is resting his elbow across the back of the seat looking at Sorella Ursula. After a few second she nods and the car moves away.

  Somewhere after San Stefano they turn into a quiet side road so that Sorella Ursula can give her a quick lesson in changing and feeding the baby. ‘Everything you need is in this bag,’ she says, ‘also the envelopes with your papers. The Italian papers are in this side pocket here so you can easily put your hand to them. The English papers for the next part of the journey are hidden under all the things for the baby, at the bottom of the bag. Also the money we spoke about. Now - I have put a little something in the bottle to keep baby asleep for some time so you shouldn’t have to worry until you get to France. Hopefully there won’t be too much of a delay at the frontier near Ventimiglia.’

  ‘Hopefully,’ Bella agrees.

  *

  They pull up at the side of a small country station. A porter, who looks as if he’s been expecting them, rushes forward and the priest gets out of the car to have a word. Bella takes the Moses basket from Sorella Ursula, then the baby bag. She tells the porter she’ll keep the alligator bag with her, but then finds after all she can’t manage it along with everything else. In the end she gives it to Alec to carry. They walk into the station, Alec tilted to one side by the weight of the bag. She does not say goodbye or look back.

  Ten minutes to go before the train.

  She sits on the end of a bench away from the other passengers. Alec stands beside her, keeping a watch for the train.

  ‘Remember all we said in the car? In a minute we’re going to stop speaking English. Will you be able do that, keep it up until tomorrow?’

  ‘What time tomorrow?’

  ‘Well, it depends, but I’ll give you plenty of notice. You call me Mamma and I call you Alberto. If anyone speaks - don’t answer. I’ll say you’re shy and answer for you.’

  Alec smiles, liking the game.

  ‘And I’m going to have to leave you in charge of this bag. This was my mamma’s bag and for now anyway it’s yours. Look, it’s made out of an alligator.’

  ‘An alligator! Where’s his teeth?’

  ‘The dentist took them out,’ Bella says and Alec laughs.

  ‘Are my things in it?’

  ‘Actually yes, some of your things are in there. So you must carry it on and off the train, and keep a good eye on it at all times.’

  ‘Should I put my portafortuna in it?’

  ‘If you like - where is it?’

  ‘In my pocket - here.’

  Bella takes the tennis ball from him and slips it into the bag.

  He cups his hand over her ear. ‘May I play my harmonica on the train?’ His voice drifts into her head. ‘May I? Please.’

  ‘No, Alec, it will only annoy people. And we want to be invisible - remember?’

  ‘I mean silently play it. You know, like pretend.’

  She whispers back down into his ear, ‘All right then, but only pretend playing. Absolutely no sound.’

  He lifts his shoulder and stretches his neck at her whisper.

  ‘Tickly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And no questions about Maestro Edward.’

  ‘Signora Bella - why were you fighting?’

  ‘Aha, what did I just say?’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot.’

  ‘One more thing - you must say nothing when we come into Bordighera station. You must act as if you’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we don’t want anyone to know we live there. We are pretending to be from a place called Oneglia. Oh Alec, wait till you see where we’re going! It will be such a surprise. A wonderful surprise. You won’t believe it until you see it. Your eyes will pop out of your head! But you must be patient or it will never happen. All right?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘One, two, three,’ Bella begins. ‘Allora, solo Italiano - d’accordo?’

  ’D’accordo!’

  Two minutes to go.

  ’Andiamo,’ she says and stands as the signal post drops.

  They find their carriage, the luggage already racked and the porter the priest had earlier spoken to waiting in the corridor to guide them in. He tells them they can pull down the blind if they don’t want to be disturbed although it will be quiet enough until San Remo. After that, he says, dipping his knees and throwing his head back, hands up - the train will be crazy. Like a hive full of bees. ‘Un alveare d’api!‘ He makes a buzzing noise as he takes the bag from Alec and swings it overhead.

  Alec laughs. ‘Questa e la mia valigia - solo per me,’ he says proudly, watching the bag being jostled into place.

  ’Che bravo!‘ the porter says, then winks and leaves them.

  Alec sits opposite her. ‘Mamma?‘ he says.

  ’Si, figlio mio?’

  ’Niente.’ He grins.

  The train begins to move and Alec picks up his comic book. He seems happy enough, now and then heeling the riser under his seat, or lifting his head to look out the window or getting up to take a peep into the basket at the baby.

  ’Ciao, Edda,’ he whispers. ‘E carina - non e vero, Mamma?’

  ’Si, e vero.’

  She is hopeful that today will be one of his better days.

  A few minutes later the porter returns. ‘Mi dispiace Signora,’ he says, joining his hands as if to beg forgiveness. Bella sees there’s a man in uniform behind him. Her mind turns white. The porter is explaining something she can’t even try to understand, all she can think about is the uniform out in the corridor.

  Until Alec stands up. ‘No! E la mia valigia.’ He is pointing to the alligator bag and she realizes then that the porter has been telling them that all luggage must be labelled and checked into the baggage car. A new rule, he is very sorry.

  ’Non c’e problema,’ Bella says. The other man steps in and she sees it’s only the inspector after all, the capotreno.

  ’Uno, due, tre - ci sono tre valigie, Signora, vero?‘ he asks her.

  ’Si, tre.’

  He sits beside her, pulls a pen from his breast pocket and leaning the labels against a raised thigh begins, ‘Allora - nome, cognome?’

  ’Non e guisto! Alec whines. ‘E la mia!‘ He folds his arms and flings himself back down on the seat with an angry little bounce.

  The porter explains they are going to write his name on a label and put it on the bag so everyone will know it belongs to him. No one will touch it, he promises.

  ’Mi chiamo Anna Magrini,’ she says.

  ’Da?’

  ’Via Torino, Oneglia.’

  Now the capotreno is asking if her husband is not with her.

  ’Sta lavorando in questo momento - ci raggiunge piu tardi.’

  He begins rolling one hand, unfortunate men, always working, always having to come along later. The women have it easy enough. He smiles and tells her he’s only joking, then looks at Alec. ‘E il tuo nome, Signor Bravo?’

  Alec presses his lips together and looks over at Bella with two startled eyes.

  ’Alberto Magrini,�
� she says. ‘Mio figlio.’

  The capotreno ties the labels on the two suitcases and the alligator bag. When he turns around he notices the baby bag on the seat beside her.

  ’E questa, Signora?’

  ’Cose per la bambina, anche per il viaggio.’ She opens the bag to show baby bottles and nappies. Fruit and panini.

  He nods, takes an admiring look at the baby, tells Alec to be a good boy for his mamma, then apologizes for taking their bags but with so many illegals smuggling money out of the country - what can be done? He wishes them, ‘Buon viaggio e buone vacanze,’ then signals for the porter to take out the luggage.

  When they are gone Alec looks at her with sheepish eyes and she knows he is worried that he’s let her down. She smiles to let him know that everything is fine, then reaching into the end of the Moses basket wipes the sweat from her palm on a fold of the baby’s eiderdown.

  The train pushes on. Contadini with crates of fruit and vegetables to sell in the markets, farm labourers and flower pickers on their way to work. As the morning progresses each station becomes brighter and busier, each delay that little longer. The sun is beginning to warm the windows. The shape of the passengers changes. Now office workers and schoolchildren, women with shopping baskets, old men on the way to funerals. Everything so normal, people chatting, smiling; children running out of waiting rooms shouting, ‘Arriva il treno!‘ Men leaning on counters in station cafes, throwing back a last-minute espresso. She begins to think how ridiculous all this is, to be here on the Milan to Paris train, pretending to be Italian, smuggling two children out of the country. Diamonds sewn into the lining of her bag, for God’s sake! This is Italy, after all. These are children - who could possibly want to harm them?

  She begins to seriously consider getting off at Bordighera, returning to Villa Lami. She could pay a visit to the British Consul, find a lawyer for the hearing, put in a call to her father for advice. She could do all she should have done in the first place and forget about this foolish charade.

  San Stefano station. A young priest comes to the door of the carriage and asks if she could endure two of his pupils, just as far as Taggia. The school inspector arrives today, the priest explains, and these birbanti need to look over their homework, the train so full and noisy. ‘Molte distrazioni - prego, Signora, per cortesia?’