by Prosecco
It occurred to me that though I didn’t look very much like my grandmother at first glance, we had the same way of dealing with things. Be cold, be sharp, be strong, so as not to let the hurt in. Angry and spiteful was better than in pain. A jaw locked in seriousness could stop you from crying.
I patted her hand, the veins gnarled into pale green knots. She grasped my hands, and said something in Italian.
Allegra was hovering in the doorway, and my nonna’s eyes slid to hers in a request.
‘She said she sees you, Mia. She sees you.’
My aunt looked back to her mother, expecting more, and my grandmother seemed to expand now that a translator was offered. The door was open already, the dam had broken – so why not continue?
Nonna spoke to Allegra, wiping her face as she explained something, using her hands to illustrate.
‘Your mother broke a vow when she left, Mia.’ Allegra struggled to find the right words, trying to give the same gravity to them that my grandmother was. ‘She had said yes to a life on the island, a life with her family, with Niccolo, and we all thought we knew what life would be like. And then your father came along, and your mother changed, almost overnight.’ Allegra paused. ‘At least, that’s what it seemed like to Mama. The rest of us knew Isabella wanted more, but Mama… she was shocked. She was truly shocked that her daughter could be so… selfish. To put her wants above her family.’
Nonna said a few more words, softer this time, her fingertips tapping on the table in agitation.
Allegra nodded at her. I saw Nikki stir on the sofa, but she didn’t wake, and I was relieved. This was our moment. A three-way conversation that was finally getting somewhere.
‘Mama didn’t talk to Isa, not from the moment she came home and announced she was leaving. She stood right there and said she wasn’t marrying Niccolo, she was marrying an Englishman we had never met, and she was leaving the island in a week.’ Allegra wiped her hands, to show how final it was. ‘That was it. And Mama was stubborn and never said goodbye, or good luck, or that she loved her. She didn’t go to England for their wedding. She didn’t call when her grandchild was born…’
Allegra paused, her teeth gritted. ‘And then her daughter died, and she had never made amends. Never said she was sorry.’
My nonna reached across the table then, grasping my arm with surprisingly strong bony fingers. ‘Sorry.’ She nodded. ‘Very, very sorry.’ She turned to her daughter once more, the words choking from her throat as she hung her head.
Allegra walked across to her mother, put a hand on her shoulder, those dark eyes kind and worried.
‘Mama says she wasn’t angry at you, Mia. She just misses your mother. And you look so much like her… it was like Isabella was back again. Except she wasn’t.’
I nodded, trying not to shake.
‘You are so much like her, Mia. Blunt and honest, and strong. What you did today, running straight into danger to help other people… that was like her. Reckless but brave.’ Allegra smiled at me.
My nonna laughed then, tapping under my chin with the backs of her fingers. She said something to Allegra, the laugh a welcome break from all the emotion.
‘Mama said she realized today when you shouted – you stick your chin out like Isa did, like you’re daring someone to fight you. She realized it was a chance not to make the same mistake again.’
There were too many eyes looking at me with kindness, it was a little overwhelming.
‘Tell her I wish I could speak Italian, to communicate properly.’
I watched her eyes as Allegra spoke, saw the grin as she patted my hand triumphantly. My grandmother raised an eyebrow as her daughter laughed.
‘She said she would love to teach you.’
Chapter Fifteen
The lessons began that evening. I had an old notebook of Nikki’s and a teacher who didn’t mess around. Within a few hours I had basic phrases, the words for animals, important dishes and any object we could see in the house. It didn’t mean I would remember any of them, but I took joy in repeating her words, trying to get the inflection just right. I liked seeing her nod in that slow, solemn way she had when she was pleased, and bite her lip whilst I was searching for the right word, as if she was rooting for me.
Something had lifted: a fear that I wasn’t really part of this family, I supposed. Suddenly, I was in the centre of all of it – the noisy arguments and laughter and teasing. There was no pity in Nikki’s eyes when she asked for stories about my father, and I enjoyed telling them.
We carried on late into the night, and we only realized how the time had passed when there was a knock at the door. It was frantic, unyielding, the person on the other side not caring if they woke up the whole street.
A small part of me wondered if it might be him. Perhaps he was taking up the fight for me again. I couldn’t even imagine what I would want him to say, what there was to say. I just knew that I suddenly really wanted to see his face on the other side of the door.
But it was Enzo.
He rushed in, searching for Nikki, who blinked at him in surprise. Enzo clasped her in his arms, lifting her almost off the ground as he seemed to yell, in a constant stream of spiky Italian.
But Nikki didn’t yell back, just rocked and hushed him as he held her.
I looked to Allegra for some sort of explanation.
‘She messaged him that she was going to the hospital when the earthquake happened. Didn’t think to tell him that she was not hurt, that everyone was fine. She hasn’t answered her phone since then.’ Allegra paused, then shook her head, smiling. ‘He’s been at the hospital looking for her.’
I looked at my cousin’s face then, suddenly so gentle and protective of this man who would do anything for her. I could see the look of certainty, a decision being made.
Nikki leant back in the circle of his arms and said something softly. Enzo looked at her, unsure, until she nodded and smiled. It was the sweetest, gentlest smile I’d ever seen from my sassy cousin. She nodded, almost shy, unrecognizable in her joy.
And then I saw Enzo sink down to his knees, still holding onto her, gripping her hands tightly.
This was unlike every other proposal he’d made. And not only because she said yes. Enzo jumped back up and swung her around in happiness. Not flashy, or public, or over the top. Just simple words: I love you, marry me.
* * *
Even though it was late, the family opened the wine and decided to celebrate. It was a strange feeling – that the island had shifted, things had changed. There was destruction and there was rebirth. Everything had shifted, rearranging itself with the shockwaves of the earthquake. Later, when we were bringing through another bottle of prosecco from the kitchen, I asked Nikki:
‘Why now? A couple of days ago he asks and you say no without a glance. Why now?’
‘Because of many things. The earthquake, what you said about your father. How Nonna has changed. Life is short. Love somebody.’ She shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s simple. We just think too much.’
I snorted, recalling the first thing my cousin had said to me, going on and on about how marriage destroys men, turns them into husbands who expect dinner on the table and babies in their cots. I said nothing, but followed her into the living room, topping up people’s glasses.
‘Who thinks too much?’ Allegra asked.
‘Mia.’ Nikki stuck out her tongue at me, before settling back against Enzo on the sofa. He was following our conversation, but was more distracted by Nikki. He just kept looking at her in surprise and delight.
‘You definitely think too much,’ Allegra nudged me, winking at her mother, before repeating it in Italian. My nonna nodded, before responding in gruff Italian. The room erupted into laugher, and the little old lady shrugged. I looked to Allegra.
‘Salvatore’s gorgeous and Nonna says you need to get on that,’ Nikki squawked.
‘She did not,’ I said, but the mischievous look on my grandmother’s face told me otherwise. She clasped h
er hands together and made a lovestruck face. I laughed along until I thought of Salvatore, standing in front of me, confused as to why I had suddenly changed.
‘Go to him,’ Allegra said, but I shook my head, taking a sip of my wine.
‘I didn’t come here for that. I came here to be sad and mourn and prepare myself.’
Allegra made a hissing noise. ‘You think people choose when to fall in love? You think Nikki looked at Enzo when they were twelve years old and said, “No, I’m meant to be playing now, not being with this person”? You think I looked across the table of a restaurant one night as the waiter winked and thought, “No, not now”? Your nonna! You think she sat there looking after her seven brothers and sisters and thought, “No, this must wait”? Love is a duty, Mia. And a gift.’
‘I know that. And that’s why I want to focus on the love I have for my family,’ I said, squeezing her hand. ‘It’s just not the right time. I’m not even sure I’m myself when I’m here.’
‘So?’ Nikki asked.
‘I’m… I’m going through stuff. So is he. It’s just… not the right time.’
‘Codardo,’ my nonna said sadly, shaking her head.
Nikki pursed her lips, like she was in agreement. ‘Nonna says you’re a coward.’
‘Nonna’s probably right,’ I said, ‘but I’m a coward who will not change her mind. I can’t lose anyone else. I’ve already lost enough.’
‘And look at what you’ve gained, eh?’ Nikki gestured around herself, encompassing the room and our family.
‘I’m very lucky.’ I nodded. ‘But please drop this Salvatore thing or I’m going to make Enzo act out every one of your proposals.’
She held her hands up in surrender, but I didn’t miss the look she shared with her mother. I’ve seen that look a hundred times on the faces of teachers or boyfriends or bosses – stubborn cow.
There was something comforting about that look. Maybe I was my real self on the island.
I fell asleep that night – slightly drunk – with a smile on my face. I had forgotten that sometimes change could be good.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day was Sunday, and there were whispers about what the town would do about the church and the day’s service. I hadn’t been before, but now there was a fighting spirit amongst the locals: natural disasters could take away buildings, but they couldn’t take away faith.
In the end, they had a service outside, around the remains of the church. It was a curious sight and the local police seemed exhausted trying to keep people away from the dangerous areas. But something about it brought a lump to my throat. I wasn’t religious, but I believed in the power of history, and community. And here, people were paying homage to their village, to its hardiness, something that had been there for generations.
Everyone was solemn, and I stood, letting the priest’s words wash over me. It didn’t matter what he said, it just mattered that I was there, with my family. Allegra put her arm around me, squeezing my shoulder, and smiled. It felt right, to be there, the sun shining down on a Sunday on the island.
I tried not to, but I caught Salvatore’s eye across the square. He stood straight backed, staring intensely at the priest. His dark hair fell into his eyes in that way it did, and I could see the fight in his fingertips as he refused to push it back. There was tension in his jaw. He knew I was looking, and after about three seconds, he turned and stared straight back. I had no idea what those eyes were saying, whether he was angry or sad or didn’t care at all.
Antonio was a different story. He waved and smiled widely, but didn’t come over. I was relieved. I felt like I’d destroyed something there – I’d found my own memories with my family, and had taken away Antonio’s in the process. I’d come, destroyed his shop and hurt his grandson. Well done, Mia.
I waved back awkwardly, and bowed my head. My nonna took my arm and shuffled along beside me, pointing out the names for things and expecting me to repeat them. The distraction alleviated the guilt slightly.
Back at the house, Allegra had decided a Sunday family lunch was in order, to celebrate Nikki’s engagement. We set up the long table outside, looking over the town and down the mountain to the sea. The sun was glorious and everyone suddenly appeared to eat lunch, my uncle and my other younger cousins gathering around to be together, each sharing stories of the earthquake.
Nikki and Allegra took pains to translate for me, but I was starting somehow to understand the meaning behind the words. A little phrase here or there, that I could hook on to and figure out at least what the conversation was about, if not the details. Nonna sat next to me, pointing out different things, naming the ingredients in each dish. She patted my hand and smiled every now and then. When I looked away I felt her eyes still on me, tracing my image for my mother. I pretended I didn’t notice.
The food blew me away, endless courses, and such fresh vegetables, grown in Allegra’s garden. The wine flowed and my little cousins were endless performers, mischievous kids who liked to play to a crowd. The older ones laughed and teased them, sitting back with their glasses of wine, somehow so grown up.
Enzo even stood up and made a speech, carefully pausing to address me and personally thank me for being there. He spoke in very careful English, and said how happy Nikki was that I had visited, and how he hoped I would be there for their wedding.
I pushed back thoughts of life beyond that moment, not allowing thoughts of my dad to surface. It was about Nikki and Enzo and my family.
It was a perfect meal, and I guessed that across the island, most people were huddling together with their families, breaking bread, singing songs, telling stories. Showing their love after a natural disaster. Rebuilding in the light of day. This was not the same as in the UK, where everyone had an opinion, everyone calling and texting to make sure others were all right. They knew, on the island, who was where and what was happening. Allegra had already sent down cakes to those who had been in hospital, but she knew they were at home now. I imagined every other family in Ischia had sent a care package, too. There was community, and a similar sort of London defiance in the face of adversity. But it was no one’s fault – it was their home; the land did what it liked, and they had to survive alongside it. There was no use in complaining. It was comforting.
I found myself sitting, looking out at the scenery, glass of wine in hand, just enjoying the moment. I felt like I could fall asleep then, like slipping into a warm bath, completely content, the sound of Italian voices in the background. A pure, perfect moment in time. Making a memory.
And then there was Allegra, a concerned look on her face as she walked over, handing me my ringing telephone. And somehow I knew. It would not be like every other time – me getting panicked and wound up for no reason, only to attack Marjorie and feel pissed off. It wouldn’t be Savvy asking how I was, or Jacques telling me he was bored.
I didn’t want to answer.
I held the phone and did nothing, staring at the name flashing insistently.
I didn’t want to go now. I still had things to do here. There were all the rooms in the museum that I hadn’t seen, and there would be chatting with Nikki about her wedding, and finally getting to know Nonna, finally speaking properly. The family had talked about taking me on a trip down the Amalfi Coast, with Enzo promising to drive when I’d made a terrified face at Nikki’s offer.
But it wasn’t going to happen. I just knew, this time. The weight of the phone, the slightly different tone of the ring, as if it was far away, underwater.
Allegra’s face was tight, her lips thin as the voices at the table quietened. They could tell, as well. A cloud over the table. An end to our fun.
‘Hello?’
‘Mia,’ Marjorie said clearly, her throat scratchy and dry. ‘It’s time to come home now.’
Chapter Seventeen
On the plane, I sat in a cramped window seat next to a cheerful Italian woman who wanted to show me pictures of her grandchildren and feed me biscotti for the four-
hour flight. It was actually pleasant, or as pleasant as a journey home like that could be. I don’t know what I’d been expecting – some sort of release, a moment of understanding and peace, maybe. But all I was left with was the feeling that I’d done what my dad’d asked, and I’d done the right thing. I was angry at him, but I had done what he wanted.
The flight was fine. Standing in a queue for passport control was fine. Scrambling through the Tube with my suitcase and growling at anyone who got in my way was more than fine – it was normal. It was only when I sat in the taxi on the way back from the Tube and tried to count up how many days I’d been away that I started to have trouble breathing. And then I was standing outside my house, with the higgledy-piggledy garden, all wild and colourful, and the blue-grey shutters either side of the windows all at slight angles, looking like elephants’ ears. Home.
I could almost pretend he was still inside.
I took a deep breath, and put my key in the lock. I walked inside gently, not wanting to make a sound. The morning light streamed in through the windows, and I toed off my shoes, leaving them neatly in the shoe rack. His were still there, obviously. The scruffy trainers and the shiny smart work shoes. Even those ridiculous wing tips he had made a habit of wearing last year, when he’d briefly tried a swing dance class and declared himself ‘retro-vintage cool’. He’d worn those shoes every day for a week, and then Marjorie had brought him a fedora as a joke, and he’d grumbled and stopped wearing them. I remember that moment as one of the few times Marjorie and I were on the same page, our eyes meeting as he opened his present, the look of shock on her face as I laughed. We hadn’t always been this way. I hadn’t always been cruel to her.
I wondered if she was in the garden meditating, or waving joss sticks around their bedroom, removing all the negative energy from his illness. Perhaps she was at one of her ‘positive thinking’ circles, or a seminar on healthy living. Each time Dad had another round of chemo, or another bad test result, she would launch herself into something to do with health. A juice fast, or vitamins, or a trauma-release yoga workshop. It was like she couldn’t bear to accept that sometimes, sickness just got you. It wasn’t personal, it wasn’t even necessarily about lifestyle. It was just life.