Every Mother's Son

by Val Wood

  Leo beamed. ‘That’s perfect. We don’t catch her on the hop, and we don’t risk letting her down either. So – we plan for December!’

  The next morning they were up early to catch the first ferry back to Genoa. Calypso was thrilled to be going and Daniel, Charles and Beatrice again promised her father that they would take great care of her. However, once they were on their way down the hillside and heading towards the harbour, they discovered that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

  ‘Papa treats me like a child,’ she complained. ‘He doesn’t know that I often come down to the town and meet friends.’

  ‘Oh,’ Charles said. ‘Do you have any special friends?’ Male friends, he wanted to say, but thought better of it. It would be prying.

  ‘Oh, lots,’ she said gaily. ‘We sit on the harbour wall and discuss so much. If we see any of them, I will introduce you. They will be intrigued by you, Beatrice, and the girls will fall in love with Charles,’ she said slyly, looking at him from beneath her lashes. ‘But my cousin Daniel, they will think he is Italian and will want to know if he is promised.’

  ‘Promised?’ Daniel repeated. ‘How do you mean – promised?’

  ‘Promised in marriage, Daniel,’ Beatrice broke in lightly. ‘The same as in England. You’re not, are you?’

  He gazed back at her and slowly shook his head. ‘Nothing to offer, I’m afraid. I’ll have to stay single all my life, like Uncle Tom.’

  ‘Ah.’ Calypso shook back her long dark hair. ‘But you are an Orsini, yes? We will find you a reech Italian woman who won’t mind about you being poor if she can have your name.’

  ‘And what about you, Calypso?’ Charles cleared his throat, and dared. ‘Are you promised?’

  ‘No.’ She laughed. ‘My papa won’t let me go.’

  She was so much merrier and more light-hearted away from her father and grandfather, had so much more to say when out of their earshot, that although they were not so very strict with her it was obvious that she was expected to conform as a young lady should.

  ‘The ferry it is coming, see.’ She pointed. ‘I am so looking forward to being with you. What would you like to see? The Duomo, of course, and the Sottoripa galleries when we get to the waterfront – oh, and you must look inside the San Giovanni church. It was a – what you call, a Knights Hospitaller of St John; pilgrims on their way to Rome and the Holy Land would rest there.’

  ‘You’re very well informed, Calypso,’ Charles said, paying for the tickets as they boarded.

  ‘Oh, I was at school in Genoa,’ she explained. ‘And our teachers take – took us to see all these places. It was our history lesson. And then I will show you where Papa and I used to live.’

  She took them on a tour of the city whilst the morning was still cool, Calypso and Beatrice walking in front with their arms linked, Daniel and Charles close behind. They attracted much attention and curious glances were directed at them; Beatrice with her fair skin and elegant demeanour and Charles, so obviously her brother, tall and slim, with the bearing of a gentleman, and a neat beard and sideburns, for he had paid particular attention whilst using the blade this morning, and his fair hair tucked beneath his hat. Calypso, vivacious and ‘italiana’ like the young man behind her, who was an inch shorter than his male companion but broader in the shoulder and lithe as a cat, hatless, with dark curls falling about his face and a silk scarf knotted around his neck.

  Calypso guided them down narrow and ancient winding streets, bringing them out to face the church of San Giovanni. ‘It is a most ancient church,’ she told them. ‘Two churches – Romanesque.’ They had a look inside, at the statuary and the wide hall with black walls and arches and the wooden ceiling that once sheltered the pilgrims, and admired the bell tower.

  Then she led them on to the ducal palace, and showed them the palazzi built by bankers and rich traders, until by mutual consent they stopped to rest their legs and drink coffee.

  When they had finished, she urged them on uphill to see the villa where she and her father had once lived. It was set high on the hillside, a tall house with shutters at the window, and she told them it had a private terrace at the back. She led them towards an open area next to the villa, where from a low wall they looked down over a panorama of the city below them; the Duomo and the ducal palace and in the distance the busy waterfront and ships from the world over, the jetty where small boats were being unloaded and, standing tall, La Lanterna, the old lighthouse, that was said, she told them, to have been built by a relative of Christopher Columbus.

  ‘I love it here,’ Calypso said softly. ‘Of course I love my nonno’s house too and the mountains, and Rome where Papa took me a few years ago.’ She turned to Beatrice. ‘But, do you not think, Beatrice, that women should be allowed to travel more? I would so like to see more of my own country, as well as others.’

  Beatrice nodded. ‘It will come in time,’ she said. ‘English women are travelling more. Independent women who perhaps don’t have husbands, who dare to travel alone or with only a female companion.’

  ‘Not yet in Italy,’ Calypso murmured.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Charles suggested, hoping to plant the idea of himself in her mind, ‘you will find a husband who wants to travel too, and you can go together.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘It would be very nice to find someone compatible.’

  ‘But are you not too young yet, Calypso?’ Daniel asked anxiously.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Soon I will be eighteen. Perfect marriageable age.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  From the top of the hill they walked down to a restaurant where Calypso’s father was known. Calypso was greeted effusively and volubly by the proprietor, who kissed her on both cheeks and tapped the top of her head to indicate that she had grown since he had last seen her. She laughed and introduced her inglese companions, telling them breathlessly that Giuseppe Cerutti didn’t speak any English.

  He invited them to sit down and eat and brought them a small carafe of wine, touching the side of his nose as if to say to Calypso, Don’t tell your father. Then he brought water and fresh warm bread and olive oil, a dish of sliced tomatoes, and cloves of garlic that Calypso showed them how to eat, peeling and slicing, then pouring the olive oil into a dish, dipping in a piece of bread and rubbing the garlic on to it.

  ‘Delicious!’ she said, and they smiled and tried it and the oil dripped down from their lips to their chins.

  Giuseppe brought them pasta with tomato and olive oil and salad, and after eating they all lifted their hands and said, ‘No more, Calypso.’

  ‘We have to fetch the ponies,’ Beatrice reminded her.

  ‘It’s a good walk from up here,’ Daniel said.

  ‘Pah!’ she admonished. ‘I know a quick way. Giuseppe will be upset if you don’t eat another course.’

  But she told Giuseppe to bring only a small dish, and he brought cold meat with salad, saying something to Calypso that they couldn’t understand, and shaking his head and waving his hands in a decided negative.

  ‘He say we must not pay,’ she laughed. ‘That the English have an appetite of sparrows!’

  ‘He’s very generous,’ Beatrice said, and murmured, ‘Grazie mille, signor,’ which Daniel and Charles repeated.

  Giuseppe kissed Calypso again on both cheeks and Beatrice on the hand, and shook hands with Daniel and Charles, talking loquaciously as he did so.

  ‘Grazie,’ they repeated. ‘Most enjoyable,’ Charles added. Daniel grinned and to outdo him said, ‘Molto grazie,’ vowing to himself that one day he would learn to speak Italian.

  Charles was lost in admiration as Calypso led them down and across the hillside, through side streets and then back up the hill again.

  ‘She must have known this area since she was at school,’ he told Daniel. ‘How else would she know the way? She is more than capable of looking after herself, and Leo is quite unaware of it.’

  Daniel agreed, and commented that they were he
ading more or less in the direction of the lodgings. And so they were. Ten more minutes and they were standing at the gate to the meadow where the Haflingers and the donkey were placidly grazing. ‘Let’s see if they recognize us,’ he said, and putting his fingers to his lips blew several piercing whistles. The mare looked up and shook her thick flaxen mane, and the stallions followed suit, snorting. The mare kicked up her heels and began to trot towards them, the stallions following, leaving the donkey braying at them.

  ‘Come on, old gal,’ Daniel crooned to the mare and she snickered at him, nuzzling his hair, whilst the two stallions jostled for position behind her.

  ‘Oh, but they’re beautiful,’ Calypso murmured. ‘How can you think of selling them?’

  ‘How can we get them home?’ Daniel answered, thinking that he would love to take at least one of them back to England if only he could. ‘Besides, we must sell them and put back the money.’

  ‘I shall ask Papa if he will buy me one.’ Calypso ran her fingers through Blaze’s mane. ‘He has hair like yours, Beatrice,’ she giggled.

  ‘When would you use him?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘I would ride in the mountains, or to Prevo, or even to Genoa. It’s a good road for riding.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s not enough, Calypso. They’re not onny for pleasure-riding. They’re working hosses; they need to be used.’

  They went to search out the landlady, the padrona, and told her they were moving on and wished to pay her what they owed. She asked them in and gave them coffee and cake and then went to wake her husband, who was having a sleep. When he came in he said he’d like to buy the donkey and the mare. Calypso negotiated a fee for the donkey but shook her head over the sale of the mare.

  ‘I have told him we need three ponies now, but that you might be willing to sell one of them before you return to England. But I don’t think he has enough money for them. He does not seem like a rich man.’

  ‘We onny want what we paid for them,’ Daniel said practically. ‘No more; they’ve worked well for us.’

  Charles laughed. ‘You’re too honest to be a horse dealer, Daniel.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I suppose I am. But I’m not a dealer. I’d try for more if I were.’

  They all patted the donkey goodbye and rode back into Genoa, Calypso behind Beatrice. It was very hot but the sky had darkened. ‘We will have rain,’ Calypso said. ‘We must look for shelter before it starts.’

  ‘It will be a relief to have rain.’ Beatrice took a deep breath. ‘I don’t mind getting wet. It will cool us down.’

  ‘I think you will,’ Calypso said, and suggested they shelter beneath the old portico of Sottoripa, the wide covered galleries that held shops selling fruit and spices and art. ‘Come quickly,’ she urged, digging her heels into the pony’s flanks. ‘The rain, it comes.’

  They were no sooner beneath the stone shelter than the storm began, torrential rain thundering on the road, a drenching deluge that fell like a curtain – and had they been out in it would have soaked them in seconds.

  Ten more minutes and it had stopped, and the shoppers who had taken shelter with them came out and went about their business. The sun shone anew and the road began to steam. ‘Goodness,’ Charles commented. ‘I’ve never seen rain like that before.’

  ‘I have, in Switzerland.’ Beatrice wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘But I’ve never been out in it. Still, it’s cleared the air; it’s much fresher and cooler now.’

  Daniel glanced at Beatrice and then up at a clock on a nearby building. ‘What time does ’next ferry leave?’ he asked. ‘There’s one coming towards ’harbour. I think we should try to get on board.’ He’d noticed whilst they were sheltering that Beatrice had looked ill, and he thought that they ought to be getting back to Marco’s.

  They rode swiftly towards the landing place, and when the ferry had docked and passengers disembarked they led the ponies clattering up the gangplank. Charles said he and Calypso would stay with them and Daniel found Beatrice a seat; she leaned her head back, catching the breeze as they steamed out of the harbour and turned towards the Cinque Terre.

  ‘Are you all right, Beatrice?’ Daniel asked. ‘You seem unwell.’

  ‘Y-yes, I am,’ she said in a breathless whisper. ‘Just very hot, that’s all.’

  He sat beside her whilst Calypso and Charles stood near the stern holding the ponies’ bridles, she pointing out various things which seemed to be of great interest to Charles.

  Beatrice gave a small smile. ‘Charles has fallen in love,’ she said.

  Daniel nodded and turned towards her. ‘I believe he has. But Calypso is too young to realize.’

  ‘She’s not much younger than we are,’ she said softly.

  ‘She’s been sheltered by her father and grandfather,’ he answered, thinking that it was just as well that Beatrice couldn’t read him as easily as she could her brother, or that would be the end of their friendship.

  Beatrice didn’t answer but closed her eyes and Daniel stood looking down at her, at her fine-boned face, flushed now because of the heat, and the wisps of hair that strayed from beneath her hat and wafted gently, tickling her face until she brushed them away with her fingertips.

  Abruptly she opened her eyes and found him gazing at her. ‘You were watching me,’ she whispered.

  He swallowed. ‘I was. I – I thought that you were not well.’ But that wasn’t the reason, he thought. I merely wanted to feast my eyes upon her, to register her face so that I never forget it, because once we are home again she’ll be gone from me. We’ll never get another opportunity of being together like this, ever again.

  She sighed. ‘Why?’ she said wearily. ‘Do I look terrible?’

  He gave a sudden laugh. ‘Beatrice, you could never look terrible!’

  She shook her head, not believing him, and closed her eyes again.

  When they reached Vernazza, Daniel and Beatrice were amongst the first of the passengers to disembark, and Calypso and Charles, leading the ponies, were last. Beatrice held on to Daniel’s arm as they waited for them and he thought that she trembled.

  He bent and cupped his hands to give her a leg-up to mount White Socks, but she hesitated. ‘I’m not sure that I can ride,’ she muttered, swaying into him. ‘I feel dizzy.’

  ‘Oh, Bea, what’s up, old thing?’ Charles said. ‘It’s not like you.’

  ‘Too much heat,’ Daniel said. ‘Calypso, are you happy to ride White Socks so that Beatrice can come up with me?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘I can do that. He’s not too big for me.’

  ‘Bea can come up with me,’ Charles suggested.

  ‘You’d be better riding alongside Calypso,’ Daniel told him. ‘She might be headstrong and the road is rocky. We’ll go ahead at a steady pace.’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘If that’s all right, Beatrice?’

  ‘I think so,’ Beatrice uttered through pale lips. ‘Though I do feel rather sick.’

  Calypso looked about her and saw a kiosk meant for the ferrymen to sit in when they came ashore. ‘This way,’ she said. ‘Out of the sun.’

  Daniel lifted Beatrice off her feet and into his arms and followed Calypso, who had already commandeered a seaman’s seat inside the kiosk where he gently put her down.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘How silly of me.’

  Daniel turned to Charles. ‘See if you can get some water. Mek sure it’s clean!’

  ‘Limonata!’ Calypso shouted, and was off down the quayside with Charles running after her to a small café, returning a few minutes later with a jug and a cup.

  ‘Just a drop at a time,’ Daniel told Beatrice, holding the cup for her. ‘We’re not used to this kind of heat and we haven’t drunk enough water today. Onny wine and coffee.’

  Beatrice took a sip and screwed up her mouth. ‘Sour!’ she shuddered. ‘Try it!’

  ‘No thank you,’ he smiled, putting the cup to her lips again. ‘I could murder a pot o�
�� tea. Strong, a drop of milk, with sugar like we have at home.’

  She took a few more sips and gave a weak laugh. ‘Pale with a slice of lemon for me,’ she said. ‘How English we are.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I feel a little better.’

  ‘We’ll wait another five minutes,’ he said, ‘and see if you’re fit to travel.’

  ‘Yes, doctor.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Daniel.’

  He shrugged. ‘I do it all ’time,’ he joked. ‘Helping maidens in distress. It’s ’onny way I can get them into my arms!’ Then, because he thought she might think him presumptuous, he said, ‘Sorry, Beatrice, I didn’t mean …’

  ‘You don’t have to apologize to me,’ she said softly. ‘I know already what a gentleman you are and that you’d never take advantage of any young woman.’ She saw his embarrassment and joked back. ‘And I’m quite sure that there’s many a young lady who’d be pleased to be swept into your arms if you did but know it.’

  He stood up. ‘I reckon you’re fit to move on now,’ he said. ‘The old Beatrice is back.’

  As if they had both overstepped the mark, there was a diffidence between them as Daniel lifted her on to the saddle and, with Charles’s hands to his foot, hoisted himself up behind her and took the reins. In a chivalrous manner he asked if she was comfortable, and taking the scarf she had given him from his neck he placed it round hers to keep the sun off her skin.

  Beatrice adjusted her hat so that it covered her forehead. ‘Perfectly,’ she said graciously, taking hold of the pommel. ‘Thank you.’

  They moved steadily up the mountain path. The sun was lower in the sky and with a cool breeze blowing off the sea it wasn’t as hot as it had been. They rode right on to the terrace rather than leave the ponies at the gate, so that Beatrice wasn’t put to any further exertion. Calypso went to ask Sophia to bring cold water for Beatrice to drink, Daniel tied the ponies in the shade and then, with the others, went into the cool and dark living room with its closed shutters.