Last Train from Liguria

by Christine Dwyer Hickey

  '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 è 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.

  'Sì, 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. 'È carina – non è vero, Mamma?'

  'Sì, è 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! È 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'è 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.

  'Sì, 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 è guisto! Alec whines. 'È 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 pìu 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 cafés, 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?'

  'Certo, Padre,' Bella agrees, not knowing how to refuse his kind eyes.

  The schoolboys duck under the priest's arm, throw a Roman salute her way and sit down beside Alec. As they sit, Alec rises. He takes a place next to Bella.

  The priest stays out in the corridor, opens his newspaper and leans against the glass in the compartment door. One of the boys takes out a book and opens it – Il primo libro del fascista. He begins reading aloud: 'Guidelines for the Treatment of Jews'. He reads each rule then closes his eyes and repeats it until he knows it off by heart. The other boy pushes his finger along the lines in the book and whispers the words disconnectedly as if he hasn't a clue what they're supposed to mean. So this is their homework. She feels Alec fidget beside her. He takes out his harmonica and mashes it into his lips.

  Bella looks away. Out in the corridor, the priest catches her eye and smiles. She nods and makes an effort to smile back. He turns to the side, leaving the front page in her sight. She reads a headline: 'FRANCIA E INGHILTERRA RICHIAMANO TRUPPE'. France and England recall troops.

  He shakes the paper out, turns it so the back page is now on view and she can see what appear to be columns of advertisements from Italians denying they are Jews. 'LA FAMIGLIA TREVISI NON È CONTAMINATA! – the Trevesi family is not contaminated!

  She abandons all thoughts of getting off at Bordighera.

  *

  Taggia station. The boys thank her on the way out and salute again. The priest steps in to say goodbye, leans into the Moses basket to lay his hand on the baby's head and then moves to touch
Alec. Alec folds himself into the corner.

  'È timido, Padre, scusi,' she says.

  *

  Now San Remo. Smartly dressed women appear through the steam; travelling suits, hats and high heels. Anxious faces – obviously in a hurry to get away. Around them hotel porters fuss. Men in sports jackets carrying bags of fruit and magazines come and go from the Informazioni window.

  A good twenty minutes' delay. The compartment is beginning to feel like they're being cooked inside a casserole dish. Alec takes off his jacket and begins whinging for his portafortuna.

  She sees a group of middle-aged women, stout shoes and sketch pads under-elbow, form an orderly queue behind a drawing master and climb onto the train. Bella recognizes them as English Dots, making a point of not being flustered or feeling compelled to go anywhere. She tells Alec to pull down the reserved blind on the door of their compartment so they can remain alone and undisturbed.

  The early start is beginning to show in his eyes. She tells him the portafortuna will keep the bag safe, then tells him to lie down. 'No!' he argues, but they have barely left the station when his head and his eyelids begin to yoyo in time with the train. He slides down, lays his head on the seat and sleeps. Bella stands for a moment and stretches out her back.

  *

  Ospedaletti. Just one stop away from Bordighera. She hopes Alec will stay asleep as far as the checkpoint at least. But then a bicker of English voices breaks out in the corridor. One high-pitched woman: 'And not even a bloody seat to be had. Honestly, Peter, you're such a bore, we might have stayed one more night, it's not as if rotten Hitler is going to come and personally drag us out of our beds, after all we did pay for it and how! It's supposed to be our honeymoon. If this is what—'

  'Oh, do shut up, Audrey. Your voice is piercing my head!'

  'Well, I can't believe—'

  The voices are cut by the shudder and slam of the connecting door to the neighbouring carriage. Alec's eyes open and he sits back up. Bordighera. He stays with his forehead butted into the window, gazing out through the blurts of steam.

  'Ricorda-ti, Alberto?' she warns. 'Silencio.'

  He nods tiredly against the glass and for a moment it looks as if he's about to slip back down into sleep. But then he's jumping up and down and gasping out the window. His head jerks around and looks at her. She signals for him to be quiet and stay out of sight. But he looks back to the window, craning his neck, pressing his face against the glass. Any second she expects him to start shouting that this is Bordighera and they are home.

  She sees the English Dots follow their drawing master out of the station. Bella stands up and pulls him away from the window. Alec's face is flushed, his eyes wide awake. 'L'ho visto! L'ho visto!'

  'Yes, I know it's Bordighera, now for goodness sake sit down and be quiet.'

  Alec looks shocked. 'Hai parlato in Inglese!' he chides, which surprises her, as she had felt sure he had forgotten their little game. The door of the carriage opens behind her.

  'Sì, sì,' Alec shouts. 'L'ho visto, l'ho visto!'

  Bella looks around as Edward steps into the carriage. 'Sorry I'm late, dear,' he says.

  She can't bring herself to look at him and turns her face away to the window. Her heart is so loud she feels sure he can hear it. Edward nudges her.

  'Look at me,' he says.

  'No.' She can see the imprint of his face behind hers on the glass of the window, the side of her face resting under his beard.

  'Look at me, Bella.'

  'No.'

  She waits until the train begins to warm up.

  'Will you be getting off at Menton?' she asks after a moment.

  'No.'

  'Monte Carlo then?'

  'No. Not Monte Carlo.'

  'Oh? How far are you going?'

  He says, 'All the way – if I'm allowed.'

  Edward is beside her. She tries not to remember last night, what she said or almost did. Her feelings switch one second to the next; now shame, now regret, now not giving the slightest damn beyond wondering how soon they can do it again, this time to the finish. Then elation because he has risked so much for them, followed by – for the very same reason – fear.

  'The thing is—' he begins, but she puts her hand up to stop him.

  'Let's just get through today, Edward.'

  'You're right. Of course.' He throws his knapsack onto the rack. 'How's the baby?'

  'Edda – you mean?'

  'Yes. Edda.'

  'Drugged, actually.' Bella turns around but doesn't quite look at him yet.

  'Scandalous!' he says. 'What have you done to her?'

  'Not me, Sorella Ursula. Just to give me a start, I suppose.'

  'Well, I can help you now. If you show me how.'

  'Actually, I wouldn't mind a stretch. My back has been at me.'

  'Off you go.'

  'Do you want to come with me, Alec?'

  'No!' Alec pouts.

  'What's the matter, Allo?' Edward asks him.

  'You ruin our game. We won't get the surprise now. Because you make us speak English.'

  'Ah, scusa mi, Allo, sono un papà stupido,' Edward says.

  'You're not my Papa.'

  'Only for the game, Al. After that I'll just be your friend again.'

  'And you fight last night with Signora Bella and I don't love you now any more.'

  'She fought with me! She's quite rough you know. I'm badly bruised. Ought to be a law against it.'

  'I'll be back soon,' Bella mutters and ducks out.

  She sways up the corridor clutching on to the rail, bumping past or dancing against oncoming passengers. Finally she finds herself alone outside the lavatory on a clanking floor between carriages. A sweet cool breeze crosses from the open windows on both sides. She dips her head out the sea-side window. The start of the promenade ambles by; just a distant glimpse of the roof on the Kursaal now, and a clumsy glint from the one-man band as he totters down to his usual post. She comes back to the middle.

  Now leaving Bordighera, really leaving it. The sea on her left, the last stretch of town on her right, the hillside rising behind it. Between its rocks and its olive groves, its light, numerous balconies, there is always that dark green hillside. She looks down through the gap in the floor, watches Italy slip away under her feet.

  When she comes back to the carriage Alec is standing face to the window, his reflection like a little ghost looking back at her. Edward has taken off his coat and, sleeves rolled up, is turning a penknife over the peel of an orange.

  'See, Allo,' he says, 'not a nick.' He holds the bare orange up and drops the twirl of peel onto a handkerchief.

  Alec turns around. 'Where are we?'

  'Near Ventimiglia, the frontier.'

  Out in the corridor the voice of a conductor is pacing. 'Documenti!' it calls. 'Documenti!'

  Bella takes the envelope from the side pocket of the baby bag. She pulls out the papers and quickly arranges them. The papers that will take them out of Italy first: certificate of family status, passports, workbook for her husband, the carpenter Marco Magrini. Beneath them the papers that will take them into France: carte de tourisme, visas. Between the two lots she places the letter to the hotel, which may be useful in both cases. She knows it's unlikely that the Sorella would have forgotten anything, but checks it all again anyway, then hands the papers to Edward, so he can do all the showing and talking.

  'I think we should put the reserved blinds back up,' he says, 'or they might think we have something to hide.'

  'As if!' Bella says, releasing the cord, revealing an empty corridor.

  He parts the segments of the orange and lays them on top of the curled peel on the hanky, then puts it carefully on the seat beside Alec. The train begins to slow down.

  'Well, here goes,' Edward says.

  Alec picks up his harmonica.

  Blackshirts all over the platform. Polizia di frontiera with guns to their shoulders. Small groups of people being led this way and that. There is a
long, low, flat-roofed building parallel to the train where officials pass in and out. Through one of its windows she sees the open mouth of a suitcase, hands rummaging through. Further down the building a queue bends through an open door.

  The train comes to a complete stop and a line of officials approaches, then divides into shorter lines to stand before each door. Bella feels the carriage rock as they climb on.

  The capotreno comes back to clip their tickets. 'Ahh il marito!' he begins when he sees Edward, but as two officials push in behind him, he hands the tickets back without another word.

  The first official is all chat, looking in at the baby, asking her name and going, 'Ah che bella.' The other official just stands there. Out in the corridor soldiers pass by.

  Bella notices Alec's eyes are beginning to flutter. He runs the harmonica over his lips, backwards and forwards, again and again.

  The official goes through the papers, pausing to ask a question or make a comment at each one: 'Vacanze? Bellissimo. A Nizza? Mi piace Nizza. Solo per una settimana?'

  'Sì.' Edward smiles.

  'Un po d'aria fresca per i bambini, eh?'

  Edward agrees.

  The official hands back the papers, then his eye catches sight of Alec gnawing his lips on the harmonica. He puts a hand to his ear and says, 'Allora, Maestro? Non posso sentire la musica.' He laughs, delighted with his joke.

  Alec drops the harmonica with fright. Bella is horrified to see squirts of blood along his chapped lips. She pulls a hanky from her sleeve. 'Vieni qui, a Mamma,' she says.

  But Alec won't move.

  The custom official looks at him for a moment then picks up the harmonica and hands it to him.

  Alec puts his hands behind his back and shakes his head.

  Bella stands up and takes it instead.'Grazie, Signore. È molto timido.'

  The customs official nods, then sullenly wishes them buon viaggio and closes the door behind him.

  'Jesus,' Edward says.

  Alec starts crying. 'Mi scappa cacca.'

  'Oh, Alec, I asked you if you wanted to go just a little while ago. Can't you wait?'

  'È diarrea. Penso.'

  'Diarrhoea! Oh no, Alec.'

  'Mi dispiace.'

  'It's all right, Alec,' she says. 'Be a big boy now, we just have to think.'