Secrets in Sicily

by Penny Feeny

  ‘Okay, then, I will.’ Harry marched up to the fisherman and began to speak in slow, oddly accented Italian. Lily was proud of him for trying and Peppe’s mouth twitched into a smile.

  Carlotta, somewhat calmer, said, ‘For this afternoon, Lily, what do you prefer? Do you like to walk to the other side of the island or to the fort on the top of the hill? Or do you prefer the beach?’

  The hill rose on the butterfly’s spine, and the fortress was perched at the top, dominating the view. Lily didn’t fancy such a trudge in the heat. ‘I like the beach,’ she said. ‘But I haven’t got my swimsuit.’

  ‘Maybe we can find a secret place,’ said Carlotta. ‘With no other people. Would you like that?’

  When Lily nodded she stalked over to Peppe and Harry. Her demeanour changed. She caressed each of them on the upper arm, in that intimate, cajoling way she had, and neither shook her off. Lily could see Peppe begin to soften. After a while, Carlotta called out, ‘We have a deal!’

  The deal was that Peppe would take Lily and Carlotta for a brief ride on the Donnafugata until they found a quiet cove. He would drop them off there and motor further out to sea with Harry to lay his nets; whatever they caught they would be able to take home for supper.

  Peppe couldn’t be as old as he looked. His movements were agile as a young man’s and he swung Harry over his head and deposited him on the deck as easily as if he were a kitten. He held Lily by the elbows and lifted her aboard and then stretched his hand out to Carlotta, but she waved away his help. Peppe cast off the mooring and started the engine with Harry attentive beside him. The two of them were developing their own personal sign language.

  ‘They become friends,’ said Carlotta. ‘This is good.’ She played with one of Lily’s curls. ‘We become friends too, no?’

  ‘If you like,’ said Lily.

  The boat couldn’t get up to the shore because the water was too shallow. They had to climb out onto some rocks and take off their sandals and paddle through the final few inches. Peppe and Harry cruised merrily away with the gulls circling their wake, on the lookout for pickings.

  The cove was one of the prettiest Lily had seen, protected by a low outcrop of lustrous rock and flanked at the rear by a cliff that looked like the curtain wall of a castle. The sea was crystal deepening to turquoise and the sand it lapped was soft as silk – much finer than the gritty golden grains of Roccamare. High up the cliff wall were darker gaps and hollows. Carlotta told her these were caves; bats hung upside down in them and came out at night. Lily tried not to let the creepy prospect of bats frighten her: she would be gone before nightfall. Of more concern was her lack of a swimming costume.

  ‘We have no towel either,’ said Carlotta.

  ‘I don’t mind. I can dry in the sun.’ Grown-ups in general made too much fuss about the things you needed on a beach. She whipped off her tee shirt and wriggled out of her shorts but when she was standing in her knickers, she felt she was being examined, like undressing in front of the doctor.

  ‘Look how pale your tummy is,’ Carlotta said. ‘Compared to the rest of you, your lovely tanned arms and legs.’ She reached out as if she couldn’t stop herself and laid her palm lightly against it.

  Lily’s tummy always grew rounder and fuller during the month in Sicily. She didn’t mind its plumpness, but she didn’t like the way the extra girth exaggerated her belly button. She was ashamed of the way it protruded, it was so ugly – unlike everybody else who had a nice little dent. Carlotta’s thumb grazed the edge of the small blunt knob and Lily pushed her angrily away. Carlotta blushed and whispered, ‘Please don’t be upset.’

  ‘I hate it,’ Lily declared, much as she had done in the past, to Jess. ‘I hate the way it sticks out. I don’t see why people have to have belly buttons anyway. After you’re born, they’re pointless, they’re no use at all.’

  ‘Tesora,’ said Carlotta. ‘This is a precious part of you and you should not be ashamed.’

  Jess had told Lily that a small percentage of babies was born with the same problem and it usually went away as you got bigger and your stomach got flatter and the muscles stronger. It was rare, but it didn’t make her a freak.

  ‘I bet you’ve got a normal one,’ said Lily. She didn’t know why she was being so truculent.

  Carlotta said softly, ‘I’m sorry, you are right. It’s not fair for me to inspect you like this.’

  She was wearing a sleeveless dress, which flared to the knee. It was a rosy pink, fastened down the front with pearly buttons. She stood up and undid them all, shrugging off the dress like a coat. She had a fancy lacy bra to hold her breasts up (Jess often didn’t wear one at all) and, yes, much as Lily suspected, her navel was a neat dimple.

  ‘It used to stick out when I was younger,’ Carlotta said. ‘Truly, carina, you must believe me.’

  Then she took off the bra because she didn’t want to spoil it in salt water. She said it was expensive because she couldn’t afford to buy cheap things (which didn’t make sense to Lily). She, too, had pale patches left behind by her bikini top.

  ‘Are you going to swim with me?’ said Lily.

  ‘I have to make confession,’ said Carlotta. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer. I tried to learn in America. My boyfriend, Ricky, was supposed to teach me, but he yelled so much and I yelled at him. He was Sicilian too and we are not like the English. We can’t bite our tongues.’

  ‘I can help you,’ said Lily. ‘My dad says I’m as nimble as a porpoise and I won’t shout at you.’

  They held hands and ran together across the sand into the warm translucent water. Once they were up to their waists, Lily demonstrated the different strokes but she soon decided to abandon crawl in favour of breaststroke. This was easier because you could pretend you were a frog and Carlotta’s hair, slick and straight now it was wet, would be less likely to get in her way. In the beginning she floundered and splashed too much and Lily said, ‘You mustn’t panic, the salt will help you float. Do you want me to support your middle while you practise with your arms and legs?’

  Carlotta said, ‘Yes, please.’

  When she was brave enough to strike out on her own, Lily stayed close by and if she began to sink too low, Lily would thrust her arm beneath her waist to lift her up. Once, her head went under and she thrashed about as if she were afraid of drowning, although she wasn’t out of her depth. Lily rescued her that time too. They reached a rock that had a flat surface to sit on and they pulled themselves onto it to rest. They sat side by side and Carlotta twisted her hair into a rope and wrung out the water. ‘If anyone sees us they will think we are mermaids,’ she said. She looked very young without her sunglasses and with her make-up washed off.

  ‘Mermaid sisters,’ said Lily.

  Carlotta put her arm around her and nearly squeezed the breath out of her. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Teaching me to swim like this in the sea.’

  ‘It’s easier to learn in a pool,’ said Lily. ‘My dad taught me.’

  ‘You have a special relationship with your father, I think?’

  Lily considered. Alex was a source of stories, of treats, of wild ideas for practical jokes; he was also a climbing frame, a chauffeur, a magician and a hero. ‘I expect that’s because he saved my life,’ she said. ‘He saved my mother’s too, the same year. She was going to be trampled to bits by a horse and he whisked her to safety just in time.’ In Lily’s imagination the horse’s hooves were flailing in the air like great iron clubs, even though she knew that most police horses were steady and docile.

  ‘But with your mother not so much?’ said Carlotta.

  ‘Not so much what?’

  ‘A special relationship.’

  ‘Oh, no! That’s not right…’

  Quickly Carlotta changed the subject. ‘If we are mermaids, we should sing. This is what they do, is it not? The sirens sit on their rocks and comb their hair and sing songs that will capture hearts.’ She began to hum some notes and her
voice flowed into a yearning melody. This was followed by a brighter catchy tune, then another that was slow and sweet. She sang in Sicilian dialect and the rhythms and cadences reminded Lily of folk songs or playground rhymes or mothers lulling their babies to sleep.

  Carlotta broke off. ‘You want to join in?’

  ‘I don’t know the words.’

  ‘You don’t recognise any of these songs?’

  There had been music in the convent. Lily could remember lining up with the other children, the sweeping movements of Sister Imelda’s arms as she conducted the choir, but mostly they chanted. ‘Not really,’ she said.

  ‘Not one song?’ persisted Carlotta.

  ‘I know plenty of English songs.’

  ‘Would you like me to teach you something?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Lily.

  ‘This one is very simple,’ said Carlotta. ‘Listen carefully.’ She folded her arms into the shape of a cradle and swayed as if she were rocking a baby to sleep. She sang, ‘Fa la ninna, fa la nanna/ Nella braccia della mamma/ Fa la ninna bel bambin/ Fa la nanna bambin bel/ Fa la ninna, fa la nanna/ Nella braccia della mamma.’

  The words were easy for Lily to understand (Go to sleep, beautiful baby, in the arms of your mother) and the tune wasn’t difficult either. She enjoyed harmonising with Carlotta and cuddling her make-believe infant and she soon mastered the lullaby. There were other versions of Ninna Nanna and Carlotta taught her some of these too, until Lily began to muddle the lyrics. Then Carlotta said abruptly, ‘This rock is hard! And now you learn the song and I learn to swim and so we are quits. Shall we go back in the water?’

  They fooled around for a while, splashing each other’s faces and diving for shells, which they pretended were coral or pearls. Then they struck out to shore and Lily noticed Carlotta’s swimming was much stronger and more confident than it had been before. This nagged her and when they were lying on their fronts on the beach, toasting in the sun, she said, ‘Why did you tell me you couldn’t swim?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When we were going out to the rock you were a bit hopeless. I had to show you how. But on the way back you were faster than me.’

  Carlotta rolled onto her side, propping herself on her elbow. ‘I have not much practice,’ she said. ‘You have helped me, Lily. You have made me a much better swimmer. I cannot do it without you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Lily.

  ‘Don’t you believe me? New skills are not so easy when you are an adult. If I was not in America I would have no chance at all. How old were you when you learned?’

  So Lily told her and Carlotta asked lots more questions about her life in England, about her friends and her school, and whereabouts she lived and what she liked to do and how well she got on with Harry. Lily did her best to answer and to talk about her favourite books and board games and TV shows and sports, but most of these topics came to a dead end because they were so foreign to Carlotta. She hadn’t even heard of rounders, which Lily was quite good at, so Lily started asking her questions instead. ‘Why did you quarrel with Peppe?’

  ‘Ouf…’ said Carlotta, wriggling. ‘The men in this country, you wouldn’t believe. They always have to be in charge.’

  ‘How could Peppe be in charge of you if he was a cousin?’

  ‘A very distant cousin,’ she said with emphasis. ‘He wanted to marry me.’

  Lily’s eyes widened. ‘Wasn’t he much too old?’

  ‘It is customary for the man to be mature. Some people think it is better. And ten years ago, if you can believe it, he was more of a catch.’ She scooped up a handful of sand and let it cascade through her fingers like silver rain. ‘I was too young to know what I was looking for. Also I was a country girl. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to live by the sea. Besides, there was somebody else.’

  ‘Who?’ Lily was alert to romance.

  ‘Francesco. His family were not very kind to me but if you don’t know any different you put up with things. And, of the two, I chose to marry Francesco.’

  ‘Why did you have to marry anybody?’

  ‘A baby has to have a father,’ said Carlotta. ‘And it was right that he should be Francesco.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘After I lost him, Peppe again expected to be my protector.’

  Lily remembered how tearful Carlotta had been when she’d first spoken of the horrendous consequences of the earthquake. She didn’t want her to start crying now; it would spoil things. Carlotta said, ‘I was like an animal who struggles to get out of a trap.’ Lily pictured a soft brown rabbit with a white bib and fluffy bobtail, but Carlotta said, ‘A fox, I think. You know, if a fox is caught it will bite off its own leg to escape?’ She sat up and squinted out to sea. ‘Peppe was cross with me for running away. To be rejected twice is not good. But he should know how hard it is for me to come back to my homeland. How it takes much courage.’

  My homeland too, thought Lily, though Carlotta wouldn’t know this.

  ‘They are coming now,’ said Carlotta, spying the boat. ‘We should dress.’

  Hurriedly they scrambled into their clothes and Lily, who was quicker, helped Carlotta with all her tiny buttons. Because they were preoccupied with the buttoning, they didn’t see the Donnafugata drop anchor.

  Lily hadn’t been concerned about Harry; she hadn’t expected him to come to any harm in the company of an experienced fisherman like Peppe the protector. But when it came down to it, she had messed up. She hadn’t been a responsible sister, she hadn’t taken good care of her brother or let her parents know where they were. And this failure struck her forcibly – like being knocked down by a wave – when she saw Peppe jump off the deck with Harry limp in his arms.

  13

  Peppe stumbled as he came towards them but he didn’t let go of Harry until he reached the shallows. Then he lowered him into the water; Harry had vomit all down his front. Carlotta shouted and Peppe shouted back and soon they were at it again, hammer and tongs. Lily ran to her brother, who was sitting up feebly. ‘Take off your tee shirt,’ she said. ‘It’s disgusting.’ She tugged it over his head and swirled it about until the vomit was rinsed off and sinking into the sand. Then she plunged him into the water too, to get rid of the stench. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was sick.’

  ‘I can see that!’

  Harry revived a little. ‘We caught some sardines,’ he said. ‘I helped to pull up the net.’

  ‘Before you threw up?’

  ‘Yes. But it took a long time to catch anything. I don’t think I should go fishing if it makes me sick.’ He said this so solemnly that Lily laughed, although her laugh came out as a high-pitched giggle. Harry was like a drowned rat, with his hair cleaving to his skull and his thin bare chest trembling with an agitation he couldn’t control.

  Carlotta joined them. ‘He should wear a hat,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘When you out at sea there is too much sun all around. There is too much exposure. He should wear a hat.’

  ‘That’s not my fault!’ said Lily, who didn’t think it was fair for Carlotta to criticise her.

  ‘No, carina, I am explaining, is all. Your brother has sunstroke and maybe also the waves get wild where there is more wind, so he is seasick. Is he clean?’

  ‘Are you clean, Harry?’

  Harry staggered to his feet. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Carlotta. ‘This is not a good outcome. You must sit in the shade and rest before we leave. You are very weak.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve nothing in my tummy,’ he said.

  Peppe and Carlotta conferred again. Lily borrowed Carlotta’s comb and tidied her own hair and her brother’s. She found some sweets in Carlotta’s handbag and gave them to Harry to suck. She also found the Polaroid photograph taken three weeks ago in Villa Ercole: the one of herself and Carlotta with their arms entwined as if they were good friends although she’d scarcely known her then.

  When Harry finished the sweets, he announced he felt be
tter and should be able to walk normally. They set off in a cautious procession to the boat: Peppe leading, Lily following with Harry at her side, and Carlotta at the rear, bunching her skirt in one hand and her wedge sandals in the other. Peppe helped the three of them clamber on deck and motored round to the harbour. He chugged slowly but there was no doubt the wind was increasing. Harry clutched the rail as the boat tilted and tipped and his face took on a greenish tinge. Fortunately, they docked before he could vomit. He was still soaking wet, so anyone who saw him might think he’d fallen overboard, but otherwise he didn’t look too peculiar. Lily reckoned he’d have dried off by the time they got home.

  But they had failed to take into account the ferry timetable. When they got to the landing stage the ship was already on its way to Marsala, visible, but no use. ‘When’s the next one?’ said Lily, annoyed they would have to hang about. (All because of Harry and his stubborn refusal all summer to wear a hat.)

  ‘Tomorrow morning,’ said Carlotta. ‘There isn’t another today.’

  ‘What are we going to do? Can’t Peppe take us?’

  ‘No!’ said Harry vehemently.

  ‘Why not? It’s the same as a ferry.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. The ferry was much bigger and I wasn’t sick.’

  ‘Also, I don’t want to ask him,’ said Carlotta. ‘I have made him too much trouble today.’

  Lily was aghast. ‘But the morning is hours away. Where will we sleep? And Jess and Alex will be worried.’

  Carlotta said, ‘There is a pensione in the piazza, next to the gelateria. Did you see it when you chose your ice cream? We can stay there. And we can go to the restaurant and ask them to cook Harry’s sardines. I know it’s difficult because we have no spare clothes with us, but we will pretend it’s all part of our adventure. We will make the best of our circumstances. And you must telephone your parents to explain.’

  From the bar, Lily spoke to Gerald again. ‘You’ve given us the most tremendous fright,’ he said. ‘We thought you were with the Campiones. Your parents have gone down to the harbour to look for you.’