by G. R. Gemin
“Thanks for all you’ve done, Mimi,” said Mam as they hugged.
Mimi turned to Vaughan and kissed him on each cheek. He gave her a cauliflower and said, “Promise you’ll come back to visit us.”
“I promise.”
Marta held up a small bag for Mimi. “Polish goodies,” she said. “We have lots of new Welsh customers now, because of last night. Good business!”
“Bye, Mimi,” said Combi. “I bought you some Wagon Wheels for the journey.”
She kissed him and then turned to Bonner.
“The Mawr won’t be the same without you, Mimi,” he said.
“Oh, so sweet,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
“No one’s ever called me ‘sweet’,” said Bonner. “Apart from my mam.”
Lastly, Mimi turned to Joe.
“I hope one day you find Giovanni,” he said. “Or a Giovanni.”
“Beautiful Joe,” she said as she kissed him.
Joe was sure he could hear the love duet from La Bohème as he managed to say, “Ciao, Mimi.”
The stationmaster blew his whistle and Mimi stepped up into the train doorway.
She wiped away her tears and blew them a kiss. “Ciao.”
They waved. “Ciao, Mimi.”
The train pulled out.
Joe decided he hated trains, because once they started going there was nothing you could do to stop them.
They all made their way back to Bryn Mawr in silence, and by the time they reached the High Street it had started to rain.
Mam stopped. “Joe,” she said, staring at the cafe.
“Yes, Mam.”
“Were you serious about wanting to take over the cafe when you leave school?”
“But you’re selling it.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t mind standing behind that counter eight hours a day?”
“No.”
“Looking at miserable faces and an empty High Street?”
“They’re not always miserable and the High Street is not always empty.”
Mam offered him her hand. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’re the proud new owner of Cafe Merelli.”
As Joe took her hand he was still thinking of the train door closing on Mimi, but when Mam’s offer dawned on him he burst into tears.
“What’s the matter?”
He fell into her arms. “Can’t help it, Mam – I’m Italian.”
“Oh, my God,” said Mam. “I just realised, Joe.”
“What?”
“We gotta cook lunch … without Mimi!”
“Panick-issimo!”
Joe and Mam rushed into the cafe kitchen, and pulled out pans and ingredients. They continually bumped into each other as they prepared the food. They cried as they chopped onions. They broke plates. They burned food – not to mention their fingers – and they even forgot to put the oven on.
“Everything OK?” Dad asked from the doorway of the cafe.
“NO!” snapped Joe and Mam at the same time.
“I got four orders for the pasta and two for soup,” said Dad.
Joe looked at Mam and saw the fear in her face.
There was a knock at the back door. “I’ll get it,” said Dad as he walked past them.
He opened the door.
Mimi was standing there in the rain. “I don’t want to go to London,” she said.
“Oh,” said Mam.
Mimi sniffed the air. “Something burning?”
Mam turned to Joe. “Something burning, Joe.”
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
“You want me to help?” asked Mimi.
“Well … you can give us a hand,” said Mam. “And while you’re with us I’ll split the lunch profits with you, fifty–fifty, and … and you can teach me to cook…”
“Yes,” said Joe. “I want to learn too.”
Mimi dropped her bag. “OK. Let’s begin.”
Lunch was in full swing and the cafe was packed out.
Joe was happier than he’d ever been in his life. Doctors’ announcements came regularly and bus passengers were in and out. Sometimes they decided to catch the next one so that they could stay and have the special dish of the day.
Mam stirred the contents of a large saucepan on the hob.
Nonno sat nearby and watched with Joe.
“See how thick it is?” said Mimi.
“I see.”
“Is reduced,” she said. “So the flavour is strong. Try.”
Mam tasted it. “Mmm. Joe, try it.”
“Lovely,” said Joe.
Vaughan came into the kitchen. “Your dad says he’s ready!”
“Oh, right.”
Nonno placed his old straw hat on Joe’s head, and Mam straightened his tie. “You look great,” she said.
“Thanks.” He walked into the busy cafe. “Hello, Gwen.”
She smiled. “Hello Joe. Oh, smart, you are.”
“Yes indeed,” said Vaughan, who was serving behind the counter.
“Everything OK for you?” Joe asked.
“Dandy,” said Vaughan. “Serving customers, chatting, free lunches and a minimum wage. What’s not to love – contentissimo, I am.”
Joe stopped to look at the photographs of his great-granddad outside the cafe in nineteen twenty-nine, and Nonno in nineteen fifty-three, then he went outside.
He positioned himself in front of the cafe with his arms folded. Dad looked through the camera. “You’re a bit serious.”
Joe smiled.
“That’s better. OK, hold it.”
Then Joe had an idea. “Wait, Dad!”
He went back into the cafe and behind the counter where Mam was standing.
“What have you forgotten?” she asked.
Joe took her hand. “You, Mam.”
“No, Joe. Look at the state of me.”
“You’re fine.” He led her outside and they stood in front of Cafe Merelli, together. Dad took the picture.
It was framed and hung on the cafe wall the very next day – the third and fourth generations of the Cafe Merelli management.
Joe and Combi were out of breath as they walked up the hill. The whole of Bryn Mawr lay below them. “This looks a good spot,” said Joe.
“Why so far?” asked Combi.
“D’you wanna be seen?”
Joe started undressing.
“What are you doing?” asked Combi.
“Getting my kit on. What about yours?”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Combi, when was the last time you saw Usain Bolt running in a parka and a rucksack?” Combi shrugged and reluctantly took off his bag and coat.
They stood side by side. “We’ll head towards that road sign,” said Joe.
“OK. Marks. Set—”
“No! It’s not a race, Combi! We’re jogging, all right? Limber up first.”
Joe tried to touch his toes but only got as far as his knees.
Combi watched.
“You need to stretch, Combi,” said Joe. “Otherwise you’ll strain yourself.”
“Look. Do whatever you’ve got to do but stop giving me orders.”
“Right. Road sign. Ready? Go.”
They ran, but after only a few strides both boys were leaning on each other and gasping for breath. They lay down on the road, side by side.
“I think I’m dying,” said Combi.
“Cos we ran,” said Joe. “Jogging, it was meant to be.”
Combi crawled to his rucksack. He pulled out a bottle of Coke.
“Oh, Combi!” said Joe.
“I’ve earned it – knackered-issimo!”
Joe got to his feet and gazed down on to Bryn Mawr. He could see the High Street and Cafe Merelli. “Mam said I could paint my cafe.”
Combi stood beside him. “What colour?”
“Blue, I was thinking.”
“Green would be better – warmer.”
> Joe thought about it. “Green’s not out of the question.”
He heard a noise and turned round to see two girls coming down the hill fast, on bicycles. They were screaming. Joe stared at one of the girls – she was big and angry-looking. When their eyes met Joe heard a rumble of thunder. “Pattacrack!” he said.
Combi looked at him. “What d’you say?”
“I said, who are they?” asked Joe.
“Gemma Matthews and her weird mate, Cowgirl.”
“She doesn’t look weird,” said Joe as they put their coats back on.
“You know what would go down a treat now?” said Combi.
“No. Not the Chicken Box,” said Joe.
“Yeah,” said Combi. “Go on.”
“No,” said Joe. “But I could knock up some sweet pizza.”
Combi swallowed. “Nice. With chocolate spread this time?”
“No,” said Joe. “Too sweet. But I could make one with pears, or strawberries. And I tell you what – we could cut it into triangles and sell it. Take on the Chicken Box – a healthy snack alternative.”
“Mr Patel wouldn’t like that.”
“Free market,” said Joe. “Business is business.”
“Can you make some now?”
“Only if you don’t get any chicken and chips.”
“Deal.”
Joe put his arm round Combi’s shoulder.
“What’s with the arm?”
“I’m Italian, Combi. And you’re my mate – my best mate.”
“Fair enough,” said Combi slipping his arm over Joe’s shoulder.
It began to rain as they made their way back down towards Bryn Mawr.
Joe looked up at the grey clouds and smiled.
“Bellissimo,” he said.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’m very grateful to Kate Wilson and the team at Nosy Crow for publishing my second book, with a special mention to Dom Kingston, head of publicity, for his super-efficient organisation and support of my Cowgirl school, library and bookshop events all over the country.
It was a great pleasure to work once again with my editor, Kirsty Stansfield – always so enthusiastic, patient and kind. Thanks, Kirsty, and latterly to Fiona Scoble.
I greatly appreciate the continued support and advice of my agent, Claire Wilson, together with Lexie Hamblin.
A special thanks to Paulette Pelosi and David Evans who have been extremely helpful in my research of Italians in Wales and the Arandora Star tragedy (www.arandorastarwales.us). I’m also grateful to the late Colin Hughes for his wonderful book, Lemon, Lime and Sarsaparilla (Seren Books), about the Italian community in Wales.
Thanks to Bethan Hughes for checking over the glimpse of Welsh in Sweet Pizza.
I’m grateful to my sister Barbara and my partner Isabelle for helping me with the recipes.
And a special mention to all the librarians for organising events and welcoming me so warmly in Abergavenny, Bedfordshire, Barnet, Barry, Cambridgeshire, Cardiff, Carmarthen, Cheltenham, Denbighshire, Gloucester, Haringey, Medway, Merthyr Tydfil, Oswestry, Penarth, Southend, Stroud, Suffolk, Swansea and Westminster. I’ll be happy to come back with Sweet Pizza!
G.R. Gemin
HISTORICAL NOTE
Vito Merelli is a fictional character, but his experience of the sinking of the SS Arandora Star is based on a real event that cost the lives of over 800 men.
At the end of June 1940 the SS Arandora Star sailed from Liverpool with interned Italians and Germans aboard. Its destination was Canada. Early in the morning of 2nd July it was hit by a torpedo from a German U-boat.
Figures vary but among those who died were 58 crew members, 175 Germans and 486 Italians. Fifty-three of the Italians were from Wales.
Many survivors of the sinking were brought back to the UK and put on board another ship, the HMT Dunera, which sailed to Australia just eight days after the Arandora Star sank. The Dunera was also attacked by a submarine, but it continued its voyage and reached Australia.
Memorials to the Arandora Star victims can be viewed in St David’s Cathedral in Cardiff, St Peter’s Italian Church in London, St Michael’s Church in Birmingham, the Italian Cloister Garden at St Andrew’s Cathedral in Glasgow and at Pier Head in Liverpool.
In Italy there are memorials at Barga, Bratto and a chapel for the victims in the cemetery at Bardi.
The Arandora Star website contains information, first-hand recollections and many stories: www.arandorastarwales.us.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ON OPERA
Opera is weird, but at the same time I think it’s brilliant. I say it’s weird because if you’ve never heard or seen it before, it’s basically people standing on stage and screaming. You may have seen a stage musical, like Cats or Oliver, but opera singers don’t need microphones because they train their voices to sing more loudly than normal. It’s amazing to hear, but it is a sort of controlled screaming – like I say, it’s weird.
If you can get over the fact that it’s not realistic at all, then I promise you opera is brilliant. I started listening to opera when I was only nine or ten, mainly because my dad was listening to it all the time. You can get totally absorbed in the drama. In fact, if you think about it, a good film or an animation is not real, but that doesn’t stop you watching and becoming completely drawn-in by the story.
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries there was no such thing as cinema, so people went to the theatre and the opera for entertainment. Composers like Mozart, Rossini, Verdi and Puccini composed operas based on books and plays that were popular at the time – just like today when they make films and plays based on popular books like Harry Potter. The storyline of some operas are ridiculous, but you need to bear in mind that they were written at a time when people liked melodramatic stories (that means stories that are a bit over-the-top). Mind you, I think most soap operas today are pretty over-the-top too.
Operas are nearly always about love, but a lot are also about death and murder too, so you need to be careful which one you listen to – I wouldn’t want you to be bored with the first one you try.
If you think you’d like comic opera, that’s light and easy to listen to, then you could try Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro (Le Nozze di Figaro) or Rossini’s The Barber of Seville (Il Barbiere di Siviglia). They are both full of fun, and jam-packed with lovely music.
Giuseppe Verdi is my favourite opera composer. He wanted to thrill and entertain people. You could say he was a bit like the Steven Spielberg of his day – Verdi wanted to compose operas that were fast-paced, dramatic and full of great music. So if you think you like the sound of his operas, then I suggest Verdi’s Macbeth, Rigoletto, La Traviata, Aida or Otello.
Puccini’s operas are great too – full of gorgeous music that’s moving and beautiful. You could try La Bohème or Madama Butterfly (I warn you – they are both very sad), or Turandot, which is like a fairy-tale opera.
Most operas are sung in Italian, so you’ll have to read the story before, or follow with a libretto that tells you what the characters are saying. You can also find opera recordings in English, although, to be honest, you still might not understand what they are saying. At your local library you might be able to borrow opera CDs and DVDs, or you could even find out if there are operas being performed live near you.
You can find more information at Welsh National Opera (www.wno.org.uk), English National Opera (www.eno.org), Northern Ireland Opera (www.niopera.com), Scottish Opera (www.scottishopera.org.uk), Opera North (www.operanorth.co.uk) and The Royal Opera (www.roh.org.uk).
I hope you’ll give it a try.
RECIPES
Cooking can be great fun and very satisfying. It’s also a lot cheaper and healthier than buying ready-meals. As Mimi says, “a pasta sauce is easy”, and you can use it to make lots of different types of sauce for pasta.
A basic tomato sauce (for four people)
INGREDIENTS
A tin of chopped plum tomatoes (or you can use a tin of whole plum tomatoes
and mash them with a potato masher)
Tomato purée (you get it in a tube or a small tin)
Two tablespoons of olive oil, or a knob of butter.
Half an onion
A clove of garlic
Basil – fresh or dried.
Salt and pepper.
METHOD
Dice the onion and the garlic then fry them in the olive oil or butter.
Once the onion has softened, turn the hob down to a low heat and add the tin of chopped tomatoes. Add the basil, salt and pepper to taste. I like to add a tablespoon of tomato puree to give a little more flavour and colour as well.
Stir it and then let it simmer for about 20 to 25 minutes, until the sauce has thickened. Taste the sauce as you cook it, to see if it needs more seasoning.
That’s the basic sauce, but if you want to make it a more interesting meal you could add things. For example, to keep it vegetarian, you could add a mug of frozen peas (add them after you’ve been cooking the tomatoes for about ten minutes). Frozen peas will thaw straight away, and you’ll end up with a nice tomato and pea pasta sauce.
To cook the pasta you need about 80 grams of pasta per person (it can be any pasta shape you like, such as spaghetti or fusilli or rigatoni). Remember to follow the instructions on the packet, because some pasta can be cooked in five minutes but others need ten or fifteen minutes in boiling water. The pasta is ready when it’s not too soft and not too hard, like Mimi says, “al dente”. Drain it and return it to the pot you cooked it in, so then you can mix the sauce in with the pasta. Serve it in bowls or plates and sprinkle grated Parmesan cheese over it. Then you can eat sitting around a table and practice your Italian gestures!
Here are some other suggestions:
Tuna pasta is lovely and simple – just follow the instructions for the basic sauce above, then when it’s done take the pan off the heat and mix in a tin of tuna (make sure you drain the oil or water from the tin of tuna before you mix it in).