One Summer in Rome

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘People said I shouldn’t feel guilty – or blame myself because she might have died as a result of my birth. They needn’t have worried – I never did. Well, only a bit. I have her diaries, you see, and they overflow with love. Time and again she wrote that I was her best achievement. That helped a lot.’ Mary shrugged. ‘Her drug abuse had become so bad, by the end, that the doctors said her heart was in a fatal condition, anyway.’

  ‘I’m sure she’d be so proud of you now,’ murmured Natale. ‘I’d never have the guts to move abroad. You seem to have taken it all in your stride.’

  ‘You’re not at all … angry with her? For leaving you?’ asked Alfonso.

  ‘No. I was when I was younger, before I knew the full story – but hormones, well …’ Mary caught Natale’s eye. ‘Every month a woman knows how much they can affect a personality. So I can see how giving birth – especially if you already have an addiction – might eventually tip someone over the edge. Suicide is so hard to understand, but I think I do with Mum.’

  Dante held her hand more tightly. ‘We know, Mary, because …’ his voice wavered ‘… Mamma killed herself too.’

  Mary stared.

  Alfonso’s face crumpled. ‘None of us understand why. She should have spoken to us. Told us how she was feeling. We could have sorted it out. Got her counselling. We noticed she was feeling down. The, the … change … you know, menopause, so hormones too, it affected her personality. And over a period of about five years she started drinking more than she should.’

  ‘More?’ asked Mary.

  His face flushed. ‘Lots more. She was …’ he swallowed ‘… an alcoholic. Couldn’t stop. Embarrassed herself in front of the customers. Got into arguments. Kept swearing she would give it up but never could. Frequently I mentioned going to the doctor’s but she wouldn’t go. I should have forced her.’

  ‘No, Alfonso. You are wrong,’ said Mary. ‘Believe me. People have to fix themselves. If anyone knows that, it’s me. You couldn’t have helped. Not if she wasn’t ready to help herself.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ he said, with eyes that begged for an explanation.

  ‘As Dante knows, I used to volunteer for an addiction charity – it was after I left the care services, and found out the truth about my mother. I guess it made me feel closer to her. I trained as a mentor to help clients who wanted to turn their lives around. I learnt a lot about mental health. A lot about addiction. An addict has to reach their rock bottom before getting better. Rehab is gruelling. They’ve got to passionately want it for themselves. Nothing can fix them. They are the only fixers. It’s a sad truth, but that’s how it is.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Over the years my mum flunked rehab several times. By the sounds of it she was pretty independent and probably thought she could sort herself out.’

  ‘Viola was one independent lady too,’ said Alfonso. ‘When we dated she always insisted on paying half the bill and had her own way of doing things, like when she helped me with DIY around the house and …’

  ‘What do you mean helped?’ said Natale and she gave a small smile. ‘Her shelves were always much straighter than yours!’

  ‘You are right,’ he said sheepishly.

  They all sat quietly for a few moments and Dante wrung his hands. ‘I wish I’d been able to save her. Instead I made everything twice as bad.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ said Alfonso. ‘Enough of that nonsense. How many times have we been through this? You didn’t force those pills down your mother’s throat.’

  ‘But her problem … it got even worse after my accident. She started drinking before lunch, after I became blind.’ He banged the table. ‘She would have been better off if I’d never come back from hospital and had been shot dead. I heard her crying at night. Talking to you. Worrying about my future. I was her son. I should have been able to protect her – instead I did the opposite.’

  Mary touched her throat. Was that why Dante pushed her away? He blamed himself for his mother’s death? Considered his blindness a harmful tool that might damage the people he cared about?

  ‘Never let me hear you say that again,’ said Alfonso, voice shaking. ‘You are my son. I love you. Mamma and I wept tears of joy when we heard you were not going to die.’

  ‘Dante,’ said Mary softly. ‘Addicts will use any occasion to feed their habit. Highs and lows. If you’d saved Hugo, been mooted a hero, been promoted as a result, she would have drunk on that instead.’

  ‘She didn’t even leave a note,’ Natale said and let out a sob.

  Mary blinked rapidly. ‘And that must hurt. One of my clients tried to kill himself. He was an alcoholic too. I spoke to him – asked him exactly what had finally pushed him over the edge. Was it his horrible accommodation or the loss of his latest girlfriend or …?’

  The three Rossis leant forward.

  ‘He said that he didn’t really know. Didn’t understand it himself. It just seemed like the only solution possible. But one thing he was adamant about, that I’ve heard other addicts say … he was absolutely convinced that his family would be better off without him. Could lead better lives if he was dead. And he just didn’t understand their anger when they found out what he’d attempted.’ Mary swallowed. ‘If you feel angry, that is perfectly normal. I used to tell myself I hated my mother, on occasion, as a teenager. But then I was given her diaries. She lived in such a crazy, illogical, desperate place. In the end I doubt she really thought through what she did. It wasn’t anything to do with anyone else. It was all about the demons in her head.’

  Alfonso kind of gulped. Natale wrapped her arms around him. ‘But I never got to say goodbye,’ he stuttered. ‘None of us did.’

  ‘And I understand. Nor did I. But I don’t think that matters. Not for me anyway. I have my mother’s diaries. And, somehow, I feel that she’s always been around me. You see …’ Alfonso nodded. ‘I developed a bit of a habit, growing up, of talking to myself if things got tough.’

  Natale smiled. ‘I have noticed that. When you have a cross customer, sometimes you walk away and I hear you mutter something like it will be all right. Don’t react. He will be gone soon.’

  Mary blushed. ‘I shall have to talk more quietly in future. But yes and often it feels as if those words are coming from my mother – does that sound silly?’

  ‘Not at all,’ mumbled Alfonso. ‘I talk to Viola from time to time and … I really feel as if she is listening.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Natale. ‘I look at her photo and tell her about Lucia. How she is doing at school.’

  ‘So, I reckon, they haven’t really left us,’ said Mary. ‘Therefore, we don’t need to worry about not having said goodbye.’

  ‘I need to go for a walk,’ muttered Dante. Oro stood up and the two of them headed off, towards a row of larch trees.

  ‘I’ll see that he’s okay,’ Mary said and followed him. On catching up, she slipped her arm into his. They headed along the row of larch trees and finally came to a bench.

  ‘Let’s sit down for a while,’ said Mary. ‘Lucia is on the swings and doesn’t look as if she’s going to want to get off any time soon.’

  Oro lay down at Dante’s feet and as they collapsed onto the wooden seats, Mary awkwardly unlinked her arm from his.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he whispered and she put her arm back. Tears streamed down his tanned cheeks. Mary wiped them away with her fingers. Finally Dante shuffled in his seat and exhaled. Tears started to flow again, silently, with no shuddering, no visible sign that something was wrong, but Mary got a sense that this was something Dante hadn’t done for a very, very long time.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. Then she pulled him close. Wrapped her arms tightly, oh so tightly around his chest. Eventually, his arms slipped around her waist. She opened her eyes to see Natale and Alfonso doing the same. Lucia was eating something out of the picnic basket and then prised them apart so that she could join in.

  Dante pulled away. Wiped his face. ‘Grazie,
Mary,’ he said.

  She loved it when he used her English name.

  He took out his phone and pressed a button. The speaking clock told him that it was four in the afternoon.

  ‘We should get going, what with me taking Rocco to the police station, when we get back. I hope he hasn’t changed his mind.’

  ‘He’s been a good friend to you all, over the years, hasn’t he?’ she said as they stood up. Oro yawned and got to her feet too.

  ‘Si. He knew about Mamma’s drinking. Always looked out for her. Protected her in front of the customers and disguised her mistakes as his. And then when she died … it wasn’t easy. Our priest took a dim view of suicide. The priest and Papà fell out. We decided that if our local churchman had little empathy then it would be best not to tell family, friends, and regular customers the whole story. Rocco helped keep our secret.’

  ‘Like you helped keep his.’

  ‘I suppose so. You know, he was going to tell Paola the truth about himself, today. Finally.’

  ‘How do you think she’ll react? If it was me, I guess I might feel hurt that he hadn’t told me before.’

  ‘I don’t know. But if that’s the case, I’ve got a suggestion that might also solve Fortuna’s plight.’ They walked past the larches, a breeze rustling their needle-like clusters of leaves. ‘Paola hates where she lives. It is noisy and hard for her to concentrate.’

  Mary raised one eyebrow.

  ‘She works from home, you see, as a financial consultant. She only has to drop into the office a couple of times a week and go out to meet new clients. If she lived with Rocco it would mean someone was always at the flat for the dog. She always makes a big fuss of Oro when she sees her. And it might lessen the hurt about not knowing the truth, all this time, if Rocco suggests moving in to be part of his life now.’

  ‘Who’s to say she won’t take her parents’ side?’

  Dante raised an eyebrow and Mary chuckled. ‘No, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Paola gave Rocco a real telling-off at the dance class when he – rightly – assumed that couple were a mother and daughter. She told him it was narrow-minded not to consider that they might be a couple.’ They neared the picnic table. ‘And talking of dancing, I think you should partner Paola for the competition.’

  He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she is so keen to win, and with his injuries there is no way Rocco can practise properly this week.’

  ‘You don’t want to dance with me?’

  Oh yes. Yes, she did. Up close. Feeling his body and breath against her skin. But he didn’t want her, so she couldn’t put herself in that intimate position. She needed to create some distance. That meant starting to look for a flat and perhaps joining some clubs – getting a life without Dante.

  ‘Well you … we … decided that it was better to be friends and it could be awkward, so…’ she rambled.

  ‘Uncle, Uncle, bet you can’t catch me!’ Lucia had run up and grabbed his hand.

  ‘It’s okay,’ murmured Dante and scratched Oro’s head. He shot a confused expression in Mary’s direction, before passing her the lead.

  ‘Bet I can, little Missy,’ he said, to Lucia. ‘Just remember – you have to sing the whole time so that I can use my ears instead of my eyes.’

  The two of them shot off.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Natale as Mary looked worried. ‘Lucia knows the rules by now. She must never suggest playing on uneven ground and can only lead Dante towards open spaces.’

  He soon caught her up and threw her into the air. Then the two of them collapsed onto the ground. He tickled her and delighted screams filled the park. She managed to pull away and her fingers immediately went for his armpits.

  Oro tugged at her lead, clearly concerned by Lucia’s shrieks. Natale crouched down. ‘It’s okay,’ she murmured. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’ She stood up and squeezed Mary’s arm.

  Mary smiled and went over to finish packing the picnic basket. She couldn’t bear to watch Dante behaving like the perfect family man he was. The heavy medicine ball he’d talked about earlier seemed to have lodged itself in her chest. Any proximity to him felt like torture if the two of them couldn’t become one.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mary looked up at the arctic blue sky. Its icy translucence contrasted with the dusty, humid atmosphere beneath. She fanned herself with a menu, having recovered from the lunchtime rush, which had gone on until three. Mary looked around Pizzeria Dolce Vita. It was Sunday, one week on from the picnic.

  Last week Rocco and Paola had agreed it was better for Dante to replace him in the dance competition. He was at the class now. A regular customer, who knew Mary, waved and twiddled two fingers. She smiled. That was his code for coffee please, plus two of today’s biscuits, whatever they may be.

  She headed over to the silver machine and made him a cappuccino, coupled with two chewy oat and raisin cookies.

  ‘They look good,’ said Rocco as she walked past.

  ‘Hands off!’ It was great to see him smile.

  Alfonso went up to the hatch with an empty plate, having enjoyed his favourite salami pizza.

  ‘Don’t tell Natale,’ he whispered when Mary came back. A couple of days ago his daughter had put him on a diet. Said it was time to make changes. ‘A man cannot survive on vegetables alone. Now, what are tomorrow’s biscuits going to be, Maria?’ He beamed.

  ‘I’m going to make you a special batch of chocolate ones,’ she said, eyes twinkling, ‘with beetroot instead of sugar.’

  He pulled a face.

  ‘Are you sure you can spare Dante and me tonight?’ she said. ‘We’ve had a lot of time off these last few weeks, what with the dancing, and it is Sunday and the day shift has been so busy.’

  ‘Natale is working and Rocco has only just started. Then there is the new kitchen hand and our temporary summer staff members are proving reliable this year. And to be honest after … after everything it gives me great pleasure to see Dante out and about and happy. He enjoys your company. We’ll be fine. You and Dante should visit Margherita Margherita. He is keen to speak to her again, with her true identity out in the open.’ He sighed. ‘Wish I was eating more pizza tonight. Natale mumbled something about vegetarian lasagne.’ With a loud tut, he went out front.

  ‘Sneaky, no, that Margherita?’ said Rocco. ‘What did Dante say when he discovered who she really was?’

  ‘I thought he’d be annoyed that she had tried to take advantage of his blindness, but he just said he’d like to talk to her again, competitor to competitor.’ She squeezed Rocco’s arm. ‘Will you be all right without him here? Are you worried Angelo might turn up again?’

  Rocco’s face flushed. ‘No. I think Dante got the message across – and I feel okay in the flat although it is easier to sleep at night with Fortuna there.’

  Angelo had turned up last night, during the busy Saturday dinner shift. Dante had been out front as a customer wanted to compliment him on his perfect dough. Immediately he’d smelt Angelo’s overpowering aftershave and gone over. Angelo threatened him but Dante stood firm and ignored his demands to see Rocco. Mary had watched from a couple of tables away and had seen Angelo become more animated. Dante invited him to throw a punch. Said nothing Angelo could do would compare to losing his sight.

  The police had arrested Angelo after Rocco’s visit to the station, last Sunday. Fear was etched in his face. Sulkily he’d left after Dante took out his phone and made it clear how harassing Rocco wouldn’t help his case. Between gritted teeth he ended by saying Angelo shouldn’t underestimate how much Dante saw Rocco as a brother – and that as a brother he’d do anything and everything to keep him safe; that Rocco wasn’t on his own. The Rossis stood together to protect their own.

  Mary led Rocco to one of the small mahogany tables inside. They sat down. ‘How did it go last weekend, when you told Paola everything? We haven’t had much time to chat, since.’

  Rocco took off his glasses and
gave a wide smile. ‘It came as no surprise. Apparently she always knew. It’s been such a relief. She wished I’d come out earlier but decided to let me do it, in my own time. And Paola told me some stuff about herself. I had no idea that you could be so close to someone, yet in some ways, not know them at all. She’s come around twice over the last week and rang me every day.’

  Mary digested this and like so much else that had happened in Italy, it chipped away at the Disney dream she’d always had of family. The idea that every member knew everything about each other, swapped secrets, and spoke openly.

  ‘And Dante’s idea, about her living at the flat?’

  Rocco beamed. ‘She jumped at the chance and moves in next weekend. It will work so well with Fortuna. I have apologised to my new neighbours – she barks a little during the day, as she is lonely. I’ve explained it won’t be for much longer.’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘I was wondering if you could bake a batch of biscuits and I will take them around as an apology.’

  ‘My pleasure. And … what about your parents?’

  He sighed. ‘You know Paola a little – how spontaneous she is. Sunday evening she headed straight around to see them. Told them what had happened, with Angelo, even though I said not to …’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said Mamma was upset. Papà didn’t want to hear. But they both seemed pleased that their children would be living together.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Early days. What will be will be. I have enough to think about at the moment without worrying about my parents. Despite everything, I still miss them but there is no point getting upset about things I cannot change.’ He sat more upright. ‘It’s going to be great, living with my sister. Looking after her. She’s feisty on the outside but now I know she’s just as vulnerable as the rest of us.’

  ‘Good on you for changing your situation with Angelo,’ she said, gently.

  ‘Finally, I did – with your help, Maria. You are a true friend.’

  Those words still rang in her ears as she met Dante after the dance class and made the journey to Margherita’s pizza place. Dante had taken a taxi there, and just his cane, as Oro had picked up an eye infection. They approached the cute-looking building, with those cheerful daisies painted on the walls, and Dante linked his arm in hers. They waited at the front of the canopy.