by Fiona Palmer
‘Bloody hell.’ Toni had stopped, pointing to a compact car parked in the street. ‘How in God’s name did they get that in there?’ The little white car was in a space between two trees with an inch either side.
Flick laughed. ‘And look at that one.’ She pointed to a black VW Beetle. All the cars around it were parked horizontally while it was vertical, making the most of a tiny space. ‘You couldn’t pay me to drive here. Look at them, they’re nuts!’
People stopped next to parked cars and just left their cars, while others tried to drive around them. It was a free for all; you did what you had to. They noticed a car that had been parked in the middle of an intersection.
‘He’s probably gone for coffee, or picking something up. They all drive around it and he won’t be long,’ said Stefano.
‘You lot crack me up,’ Flick said teasingly, and squeezed his hand.
It was a feast for the senses: clothes shops, little delis, divine restaurants and many well-dressed locals speaking Italian. It was such a vibrant, modern city yet it held so much history, with ancient ruins scattered unexpectedly about. Flick felt like pinching herself. She was really in Rome.
‘Do you know where we are?’ Stefano asked eventually.
Flick walked to the edge of the nearby wall and looked down. She could see rows and rows of steps cascading down like a waterfall to a street at the bottom, where a fountain in the shape of an old boat seemed to sit in the middle of the road. People sat on the steps, not doing anything in particular, just enjoying the view or the feel of the place.
‘The Spanish Steps,’ said Toni. ‘Amazing.’ She headed off down the steps first; Flick followed and was glad she’d changed out of her thongs, as the steps would have been slippery.
Near the bottom she sat down with Stefano while Toni went to look at the fountain. He put his arm around her and Flick snuggled close.
‘Sometimes I think this must all be a dream,’ she said, smiling up at him.
Stefano played with a long strand of her hair. He let it fall before touching her lips with his finger. ‘If it is, then don’t wake me.’
She was drowning in his dark eyes and it felt as if they were the only two on the steps. Even the noise seemed to fade away, except for the faint thud of her heart. He was watching her, glancing at her lips. Her pulse quickened.
‘What are you thinking about, bella?’ he whispered.
‘Baciami,’ she said. Kiss me. It was the one word she’d looked up in the Italian dictionary after their night together in Montone.
Stefano smiled, delighted with her words. His eyes went to her lips again. ‘You are so hard to resist,’ he said, dropping his head so their lips met.
Flick closed her eyes, her fingers reaching up through his hair at the base of his neck. Her other hand rested against his chest as he pulled her closer. His tongue brushed across her lip and she welcomed his taste. Nothing was more powerful than this moment. It felt like she’d been waiting forever for this kiss, this overwhelming kiss in this perfect location, and with it she knew she’d just lost a little bit of her heart.
Stefano leant his forehead against hers and murmured something. Flick thought she could make out the words, ‘É stato stupendo.’
‘Whatever you said, I agree,’ Flick replied. With her lips still tingling, she tried to catch her breath. She’d never been kissed like that before. How was she going to be able to walk away from this guy?
‘Smile, you two,’ said Toni. She’d made her way back to them and stood poised with her camera.
Stefano kissed her cheek as Toni snapped a few photos. Flick knew she would be grateful to have this moment captured, especially when she was home and back to reality.
They walked on, past a man roasting chestnuts on a street corner, past shops overflowing with leather bags. Small streets crisscrossed and the buildings all towered many storeys above, giving the sensation they were in a maze. Flick found it somewhat unnerving that she couldn’t see the horizon, that the only way to see the sky was to look straight up. But that only made things more spectacular when they opened into a square to find the Pantheon. It was as if they’d found the cherry in a pacman game.
‘Stefano, can you take our picture, please?’ Toni held out her camera to him, then grabbed Flick’s hand and dragged her to a column, wrapping her girl tightly in her arms.
‘You don’t mind Stefano being with us?’ Flick whispered.
‘Of course not. Think of all the photos we’ll have together now,’ Toni teased.
The last stop was the magical Trevi Fountain.
‘Is that Neptune?’ Flick asked, pointing to the beautifully carved man in a shell-like chariot.
‘No, Ocean, son of Sky and Vesta,’ replied Stefano.
Like that clears it up, thought Flick, who didn’t know much about the gods.
She turned back to the statues of two men with fish-like tails, holding a horse each. She was transfixed. How did they make the horses so lifelike? She could see Contractor’s strength and spirit in both of them, inexplicably carved into the marble.
‘Here,’ said Stefano, handing Flick and Toni some money. ‘Throw a coin in.’
Standing at the edge of the huge fountain, Flick gripped her coin. Others around them were doing the same thing; coins glittered at the bottom of the fountain like scales on a fish. She glanced at Stefano. He winked at her, kissed his coin and threw it in. She wondered if he’d wished the same thing as her: to be together again someday. Kissing her own coin for extra luck she threw it in, watching it glide through the clear water to the bottom.
Toni held out her hand, coin still sitting on it. ‘I don’t know what to wish for,’ she told Flick. ‘I just realised I have everything I could possibly want.’
‘Aw, Mum.’ Flick touched her arm. ‘Well, then wish for a fantastic harvest.’
‘Yes, yes, you’re right.’ Toni scrunched her eyes and threw in the coin, but it didn’t look like she was thinking of the harvest.
Stefano tucked Flick back against his chest. His chin rested against her neck as he whispered, ‘A coin in the Trevi means you will return to Rome. I hope you and I can be here again sometime.’
Flick tilted her head towards him. ‘So you don’t actually get a wish?’ She felt a little disappointed.
Stefano shrugged. ‘But that is my wish. That we would both return here.’ He kissed her cheek.
Flick nuzzled in close. Yes, that was her wish too.
Before Flick knew it they were sitting on the steps of the hotel, waiting for Stefano’s sister. Toni had stayed in the room, giving them some time together.
Time together. Time had gone too fast. Flick just wanted to hold him close and kiss him forever. His lips were never far from her skin, and they made as much contact as possible, right down to their feet.
‘I do not regret meeting you, Felicity. You are not like any girl I have met,’ he said softly.
‘That’s because I’m an Aussie country gal,’ Flick said flamboyantly.
‘Maybe. You are funny, beautiful, you have life and you are gioia mia. My joy.’
Flick wrapped herself around him, wanting to tell him what he meant to her, but she knew the words would catch in her throat and she didn’t want tears. Not now.
‘We will stay in touch, Stefano, won’t we? Email me when you can.’
‘Si.’
Flick nestled into his neck. Stefano smelt like rosemary and maybe cardamom, fresh and outdoorsy. Was she in love with him? Was that possible after just a few days? Or was it just the excitement of Italy and Stefano’s good looks mixed in with his Italian accent? But they had talked like she had never talked with a guy before. And he hadn’t pressured her for anything more, seeming content just to be in her company.
The violent sound of a horn tooting made them jump. A car had pulled up behind the row of parked cars and was waiting.
‘That’s Martina.’ Stefano threw his arms around Flick. ‘I will miss you.’
‘Me too.’ Som
eone had reached into her belly and was twisting her insides. The lump in her throat was so big she couldn’t speak. But she didn’t have to. Stefano found her lips and kissed her. Flick clung to him desperately. They must have been a sight, standing in the street, cars passing by, but all she could think about was the taste of his lips and the strength of his embrace. Pressed so close she could feel him and his hunger for her.
‘Bella, I must go,’ he said between kisses. ‘Have a good time tomorrow, stay in touch, si? Arrivederci. I will miss you.’ After one last kiss he turned and was in the passenger seat before Flick had time to register his absence. Stefano stuck his arm out the window and waved goodbye, and the little black car shot off down the street, mingling with the chaos of Rome.
30
‘HAVE you finished darning those socks yet?’ asked Phyllis as she picked up another box of plates and things from the cottage. Today was moving day.
‘Nearly done.’
‘Good. Then you can help me carry the treadle Singer to the house after you’ve brought this over.’ She gestured to the last box on the table.
Phyllis strutted out of the cottage like the Queen. The day before, Charlie had come to get them, and they’d watched as Giulio had handed Father the doorknob, the item they’d especially left until last. They’d all applauded as Father has screwed it in. Then there was a frenzy of handshaking and back-patting. All Mother had mustered was a mumbled ‘thank you’ to Giulio and Rocco. She’d thanked Father and Charlie, of course, but they’d only helped with the roof and inside. It was Rocco and Giulio who had made every brick, built every fireplace and given two years of their life for it.
‘Ouch.’ Maggie accidently pricked herself. Blood spotted her fingertip, her anger making her careless. She shouldn’t dwell on it, but her mother’s treatment of Rocco and Giulio always made her temperature rise.
Maggie finished off the socks then packed up the sewing gear. She’d have to come back for the machine. Snapping the lid on the tin of buttons, cotton and needles, she placed it in the box her mother had left. Maggie fixed her skirt straight, pinched her cheeks and checked her soft curls were in place before picking up the box and heading to the new house. The only things left were the beds and tables, the sewing machine and the meat safe. Charlie and Father were bringing the ute around to load up shortly, after they’d finished erecting the new fence by the house.
Outside, she squinted until she’d adjusted to the bright light of the sun. She paused to look back at the cottage. Weatherboard and tin, hessian and wood, dusty floorboards and cold dirt. She would miss it; it had been home since she could remember, but at least the new house had no holes for snakes and mice to come through. That was something she wouldn’t miss.
Now that the house was finished, Rocco and Giulio were back doing farm work, probably out in the paddock building fences or tending to the horses. But just in case she bumped into Rocco, she always checked she was presentable. Although they never had much time alone together, just being around each other was enough. Charlie and Giulio knew of their affections and would turn their backs while they stole some moments to talk. Both men had promised to keep the secret, and Maggie worked hard on not being caught by her parents, although Charlie believed that Father had an inkling. If he did, he never said anything.
It was a fair walk to the house, and Maggie kept her pace steady and slow so not to raise a sweat.
‘Maggie!’ yelled Charlie as he jogged towards her. ‘Something’s happening. I have to get Rocco and Giulio.’ He brushed past her, like a brewing storm.
She spun as he continued towards the paddock, watching his retreating body. Hugging the box to her chest, she quickly picked up her pace. Father would tell her what was going on.
She walked through the gimlet trees and around the corner of the new house, where she saw her father leaning against his shovel as he spoke to a man beside the all too familiar truck covered with canvas. Mr Tweedie. Was it canteen day already? Maggie placed the box by the front door and walked over to where her father stood. He’d been working hard this morning on setting out a garden area for Mother. They were halfway through erecting a small fence.
‘Hello, Miss Margaret.’ Mr Tweedie nodded his head towards her; he was still in his green uniform, which always reminded her of her brothers. She’d be happy if she never saw it ever again.
‘Mr Tweedie. Father,’ she said, ‘is something happening?’ Her heart was beating faster.
‘He’s here for the lads,’ said Father with a glum expression.
Her stomach cramped and her panic rose. Now? No, they couldn’t be. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t said goodbye. They couldn’t leave like this. She needed more time with Rocco.
John frowned and Maggie instantly tried to retract all her fearful thoughts from her face. Had he sensed her panic and seen her devastation?
She swallowed and tried to smile. Turning to Mr Tweedie she asked, ‘Are you taking them now?’ Hopefully no one had noticed the small tremor in her voice.
‘No, lass. Not yet. I’m just here to tell them the good news. Ah, here they are.’
Charlie returned with the Italians, all jogging to join them by the truck, dust lifted from their heavy steps.
‘Sir,’ said Rocco and Giulio, greeting Captain Tweedie.
Maggie was watching Rocco, waiting for the quick glance her way. When his brown eyes found hers, so much passed between them in that tiny moment: how much he longed to reach for her, his desire, his happiness, to be near her. She saw his face change instantly when he noticed her terror. He was no doubt wondering what could be so bad.
‘You’re going home, boys,’ said Mr Tweedie, drawing Rocco’s attention back to him.
‘Truly?’ said Giulio. He rubbed his hands together, his grin huge.
‘When?’ asked Rocco, who didn’t exude the same excitement as Giulio.
‘There’s a ship that’s coming in next week, The HT Chitral. I will come to collect you on Monday. We will go back to Northam, where we’ll process your papers before loading you up on the ship. Then it sets sail on Friday to Naples.’
Giulio thumped Rocco on the back and spoke to him in Italian.
Rocco smiled. ‘Yes, it will be great to be home.’
No one but Maggie noticed the lack of excitement in Rocco’s eyes, and part of her was relieved to know he wasn’t so eager to leave.
‘Good. Have your stuff packed and ready. I’ll be here Monday morning,’ said Mr Tweedie.
That gave Maggie almost three days. Her stomach flipped and a wave of dizziness flushed through body. Scrunching her toes, she willed herself to stay upright and fight the faintness. She could not go to pieces here in front of them all. Tilting her head up, she forced herself to focus on the cockies screeching in the trees above her head. She let the noise drown her thoughts. Later she would cry; now she must stand strong.
The leaves flittered on the small hint of a breeze, sun danced on the eucalyptus leaves like diamonds while the conversation continued. She felt like she was slowly dying while life went on around her. She couldn’t even risk glancing at Rocco. Seeing his face would be too much. Those lips, his eyes – oh, she would never feel his fingers caress her skin again.
Backing away from the group, Maggie picked up the box then headed inside to hide. Phyllis was walking down the wide corridor, her shoes clicking against the wooden floors. Maggie was growing weary of that sound already, her mother strutting the rooms as if on a routine inspection. It was a house of beauty, its high ceilings giving a feeling of space, and the brick walls felt safe and solid.
Maggie hoped the click of Mother’s shoes would hide the awfully loud sound of her heart pounding – and possibly breaking. Maggie forced herself to hold it together until she was alone.
‘They leave back to their families yet where are my boys? When do they get to come home? It will be a relief to have the prisoners gone.’ Phyllis smiled and Maggie resisted the urge to slap her across the face.
For two year
s, Rocco and Giulio had been like family. Even Charlie regarded them as brothers. He’d once told her it was like having Thomas and George with them. Even Father treated them with such kindness, joking and laughing with them. Maggie knew he would miss them. It was only Mother who had never let them into her heart.
In her head, Maggie was screaming at her, telling her exactly how mean and horrible she was. For the moment she relished the anger, helping to control her heartbreak and tears.
‘Just put that in the spare room, please,’ said Phyllis as she continued out the front door.
Maggie dropped the box in the room as a sob broke free. She ran out the back door, tears already falling. She weaved her way through the gimlets and gum trees. Branches slapped at her face and shrubs scratched at her legs but she ran with blind fury. Nothing was more painful than how she felt now.
Contractor neighed as she ran into the thatched stables and headed straight for the first stall, where they stored some of the hay. The smell of horse manure and the leather from the harnesses had a calming effect. She climbed up the pile of straw, then lay down so her hand fell through the gap into Contractor’s stall. As if being called, he wandered over and nuzzled her hand. Just the feel of him helped as the tears came in big howls.
When Charlie found her half an hour later, her face was still damp but her body had stopped shaking. Contractor had not left her side the whole time. She’d stared at the white blaze on his nose as if it were a hypnotic fire that held all the answers.
‘Maggie?’ Charlie sat down in the straw next to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m going to miss him too.’
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘What am I going to do, Charlie? I love him.’ She’d never spoken those words out loud before, had never told Rocco, but now it all seemed pointless.
‘Oh, sis,’ he said and reached out for her.
She cried some more in his arms, glad that someone was on her side and understood. ‘I don’t want to say goodbye, Charlie. I wish I could go with him or that he could stay.’