by Helen Spring
Anna nodded. 'Clancy, you don't mind sending so much money to my family? The annuity you arranged for Will was very expensive...'
Clancy laughed. 'Of course not. Will is a good fellow, I always thought so. Anyway, what are families for? If my cousins needed money we'd help them too, but they seem to have fallen on their feet, Heaven alone knows how! We have been so lucky Anna, it's good to share it around a little.'
Anna frowned. 'We have not been lucky at all, we have been hard working and imaginative. We made our own luck.'
'Rubbish!' Clancy took a large bite of bread pudding. He ate appreciatively, saying, 'This is delicious!' before he replied, 'We have worked hard certainly, but can you honestly say you have worked harder than you did at Sandley Heath?'
'No,' Anna said, remembering suddenly. 'Not as hard as that. But this is a different country.'
'Of course, that is where the luck comes in, we were lucky to be here at such a time, when things were expanding so fast. No matter how hard they work, Will and Mary will never have the chance to do what we have done.'
'That's true,' Anna admitted. 'But they could have joined us here, we asked them often enough.'
'I know you would have liked that, darlin'. I think their decision not to come was more because of your Dad being left alone than anything else.'
'You're probably right,' Anna said. 'He's seventy four now and still putting his spoke in. Will said in his last letter they had endless trouble getting him to agree to move with them.'
'Yes, and that surprises me,' Clancy said. 'He always longed for the countryside so much.'
'Did he? I never heard him say so.'
'Perhaps he didn't talk about it to his family, but I remember once, in the Sandley Arms when he was the worse for drink...'
'Which was very often...'
'He told me about Worcestershire, and about his childhood.' Clancy hesitated, remembering. 'He spoke about it so... so... movingly...'
'Dad? Spoke movingly?' Her tone was contemptuous.
'Yes, truly.' Clancy smiled gently. 'I know you've never really forgiven him, but he had a terrible life you know.'
'What about my mother?' Anna retorted. 'It was worse for her.'
'Perhaps it was. But he had a point of view as well. He left everything he loved to be with your mother, and then found he couldn't provide for her as he wanted to.'
Anna's face was tight and closed. 'Anyway,' she sighed, 'It's all water under the bridge now.'
'Yes. I only wanted to make the point that it isn't easy to feel like that. To know that your wife wants something else, something you can't give her, no matter how hard you try.'
Something in Clancy's voice touched a nerve, and Anna got up and went over to him. She stroked his temples gently and said, 'You have always been so good to me Clancy. If it wasn't for you, where should I be now I wonder?'
He caught at her hand, opening her palm and raising it to his lips. Then he said simply, 'But it's not what you really wanted is it?'
'How can you say that? It is due to you that we have the business. If you hadn't got me the position as cook at Hampsons we should never have got off the ground. I didn't dream we should ever be so well off, and able to help Will and the family. It's all due to you.'
Clancy was engaged in kissing her fingers one by one. When he raised his head Anna thought she saw tears in his eyes. He smiled. 'Oh yes,' he said, 'We have money, more than enough, and we made it together. But as I said before, it's not what you really wanted, is it?'
~
Anna started. She listened intently, and after a moment she heard the sound again. There was someone... or something... out there, at the rear of the premises.
She put down her pen, and moved quietly out of the office and across the darkened restaurant kitchen towards the window. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest as she peered out into the blackness. At first she could see nothing, but then discerned a shadowy figure poised on the fence at the back of the restaurant, and heard the slight thud as he jumped to the ground. Holding her breath, Anna moved across the kitchen, carefully opened a drawer, and extracted a large torch.
Momentarily she cursed herself for working so late alone, she had promised Clancy to be home an hour ago. Deciding surprise was the best form of attack, with one quick movement she unlocked the door and directed the torch straight at the intruder.
For a few seconds they stared at each other in frozen silence. He was young, perhaps in his early twenties, and in spite of the look of shock he wore, Anna was immediately conscious of his startlingly handsome features. He moved slightly to avoid the beam of the torch in his eyes, but not before Anna had seen the startled look change to one of embarrassment, and a deep flush suffuse his face as he turned away.
‘What are you doing here?’ Anna said sharply.
‘Nothing.’ The quiet reply was superfluous. In spite of his attempt to hide it, the torch had already picked out the chunk of French bread in his left hand. He saw she had noticed it and said sullenly, ‘Not doing any harm.’
Stealing from the rubbish bin! Anna’s heart lurched, and she was back in Sandley Heath, desperately filling a bucket with ‘sleck’ from the waste tip... not exactly stealing, but not really allowed either...
‘Are you hungry?’
The young man stared. The light was still in his eyes and he couldn’t see properly. ‘No,’ he spat out sarcastically, ‘I do this for fun, I like eating out of rubbish bins...’
‘Put the bread back and come inside.’ Anna said.
He hesitated, but only for a moment. He followed her into the kitchen, and Anna motioned him through to the restaurant. The chairs had been stacked on the tables for the night, but she got one down and said ‘Sit down. The table isn’t laid but you can use a tray. Scrambled eggs all right?’
His look of blank surprise changed and he nodded quickly.
Anna returned a few minutes later with a tray carrying a plate of bacon and eggs, a pot of coffee and a large piece of pie. She set the tray in front of him and said ‘There was bacon in the ice box, you’re not Jewish are you?’
‘Er... no. Italian.’ He stared at the tray.
‘Well eat up. I’ll get some bread.’ She caught his eye. ‘Some fresh bread,’ she added pointedly.
He needed no urging, and Anna left him and returned to the office. Through the small security window she watched him eat, he was obviously famished. An immigrant perhaps, who had been unable to find work? He spoke excellent English, she had noted, with only a faint trace of an accent. She inspected him closely, noting his dark curly hair and broad shoulders, he had the Italianate good looks for which the nation is famous. His clothes intrigued her, there was something which did not match with her notion of the penniless immigrant. He looked as if he had been sleeping rough, but his suit was of good quality and his shoes, though dirty, were of fine leather.
As the young man finished his pie Anna put away her menu book and went to join him in the restaurant.
‘More pie?’
‘No, thank you.’ As he saw her smile he added, ‘Well... yes, that is... it’s delicious... if you don’t mind...’
Anna fetched another slice of pie and a cup. ‘I think I’ll join you for coffee.’
In an instant he had placed a chair for her. ‘Please do!’ His smile was a revelation, radiant with charm, and infectious with impish familiarity, as he waved her to her seat with an expansive gesture.
Anna hid a smile, wondering who was doing the entertaining here. He was certainly someone to turn heads, and what was more, he knew it.
‘What is your name?’ she asked, as he filled her coffee cup.
‘Of course! Where are my manners? I do apologise...’ He rose to his feet, the food had turned him into a different person. He made a low bow. ‘Vetti. Paolo Vetti. Recently arrived in your great country.’
Anna smiled. ‘It isn’t really my country. I’m an immigrant too.’
‘You?’ He seemed amazed. ‘But you... you wo
rk here? When you gave me food I thought...’
‘You thought correctly. I own the restaurant, or at least my husband and I do.’
He frowned. ‘Your husband should not allow you to be here alone, and so late!’ he pronounced. ‘I might have been anyone. A thief perhaps...’
‘And you are not?’ Anna asked innocently, smiling to herself as she watched outrage and disbelief struggle for supremacy in the handsome face.
‘Of course not!’ He coloured slightly. ‘Because someone has... has hard times it does not mean...’
‘I know. I was only teasing.’
For a moment he looked resentful, and then the stunning smile lit up his features again.
‘Well, you are my guardian angel and I will never be able to repay you. Why are you so kind to me?’
Anna hesitated and then said slowly, ‘Perhaps because I can remember what it is like to be hungry.’
‘You? But you own a restaurant! You were never hungry surely?’
‘In my childhood, yes, quite often.’ She smiled at him. ‘And you, Paolo Vetti? How does it come about that you are hungry?’
He did not answer at once, as if considering the question. At last he said, ‘I am tempted to lie to you, because I would like you to think well of me.’
‘I shall only think well of you if you tell the truth,’ Anna responded gently.
‘You are right. I shall tell you. I am hungry because of my own fault, my own stupidity.’ He took a deep breath and then continued, ‘Since my father was... died, three years ago, my uncle Vittorio has been in charge.’
‘In charge of what?’ Anna asked.
Paolo looked perplexed. ‘I mean... responsible for me. It is my English,’ he explained lightly. ‘Uncle Vittorio has plans to come to America, he will be here in about three months time, and I was to come with him. I couldn’t wait. I was not so happy at home... I did not get on well with my cousins and begged my uncle to let me come right away. He was against it but I told him I would be alright...’
Paolo took a deep breath, and suddenly crashed his fist onto the table ‘When I think of it now!’ he almost groaned, wincing at the memory. ‘When I think of all the disasters my uncle warned me against, and how I laughed at him and told him such things could never happen to me... Oh no! Not me! I was far too smart!’
The bravado of a few moments ago was gone, he looked deflated and bitter as he said slowly, ‘You can guess I am sure. Against his better judgement uncle Vittorio allowed me to come on ahead, with enough money to last until he joined me. I arrived a week ago and the first night I met some men who said they would help me find a good place to stay. They were friendly... I was grateful...’ His voice was explanatory, pleading with her to understand. He sighed. ‘I got drunk of course, and woke next morning in an alleyway. I had a bump on the head and not a penny left.’
‘Did you go to the police?’
His eyes opened wide. ‘Of course not.’ Realising she expected an explanation he added, ‘They would have laughed at me.’
‘Yes, they might.’
‘I have been trying to find a job, but I do not have much experience...’
‘What experience do you have? What did you do in Italy?’
‘Do?’ He seemed to find the question strange. ‘Well, I... I was at University, and at Language school...’
‘How old are you Paolo?’
‘Twenty.’
Anna sipped her coffee slowly. Twenty years old and obviously this young man had never done a hand’s turn. How much chain had she made by the time she was twenty she wondered? She put down her cup.
‘I’m afraid I can’t do much to help Paolo, but if you are prepared to work hard I can offer you a job as a kitchen hand for the next three months, until your uncle arrives.’
‘A kitchen hand! That will be marvellous!’ He seemed delighted.
‘No it won’t. It’s menial work and very hard. Washing up, scouring pans, scrubbing floors, that kind of thing.’
‘Paolo Vetti is not afraid of work,’ he said proudly.
Anna gave a wry smile. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. The pay is low but you will have all your food provided, which helps.’ She felt in her reticule. ‘A few dollars advance pay,’ she said, holding it out to him. ‘Enough to find a cheap room.’
He seemed embarrassed. ‘Thank you... I will repay one day for your kindness.’
‘No need. As I say it is an advance on pay. Report here at two in the afternoon tomorrow. You will work from two until ten or eleven in the evening.’
‘I have to work in the evening?’
‘Yes. It may surprise you but that is when the customers dine,’ Anna responded a little acidly.
‘Of course, I didn’t mean... I am so grateful.’
‘Don’t be grateful. Just be on time and work hard.’ Anna said. She got to her feet, suddenly very tired. ‘I am going to take a cab home now,’ she said. ‘You can come with me, and I will ask the driver to take you on to find a room. He will know where.’
A few minutes later as Anna alighted from the cab, Paolo caught her arm.
‘You have not told me your name,’ he said, the huge smile lighting up his face.
‘Sullivan,’ Anna said. ‘Mrs. Sullivan. It’s in large letters over the restaurant.’ This young man needed taking down a peg or two, she thought.
He did not turn a hair. ‘But you have a Christian name also?’ he asked softly, his beautiful dark eyes liquid in the half light.
Anna gave in. ‘It’s Anna.’
‘Anna...’ He spoke the name slowly, lovingly. ‘Yes, it is beautiful, like the lovely guardian angel who bears it...’
Anna got out of the cab hastily. The impudence! In spite of herself she giggled slightly. The front door opened and Clancy stood there, looking anxious.
‘I was just about to come for you. Where on earth have you been?’
‘Sorry Clancy, I was delayed.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, I was taking on a temporary kitchen hand.’
~
Paolo Vetti proved as good as his word. He performed the most menial of duties with enthusiasm and good humour, and his friendliness and outgoing personality brought an atmosphere of cheerful industry to the Sullivans kitchen. Even the dour faced vegetable chef, whom Jennie McCormack called 'old sourpuss' behind his back, pronounced the new boy 'O.K. I suppose,' which was high praise indeed.
The only person who seemed impervious to Paolo's charm was Jennie herself. She kept him hard at work continually and rarely spoke to him. When Anna entered the kitchen at noon one day and found Paolo scrubbing the floor underneath the ovens, she took Jennie aside.
'What is Paolo doing here? I thought he didn't start until two?'
'He doesn't normally,' Jennie said defensively. 'I was not satisfied with the state of the kitchen floor, so I told him to come in early to do it again.'
Anna frowned. 'We cannot afford to pay...'
'No extra pay,' Jennie interrupted. 'He should get it right in his normal working hours.'
Anna looked at her in surprise. Although Jennie was strict, it was unlike her to be unfair.
'What is it Jennie? Why do you dislike him so much? I thought he was doing a good job, he certainly works hard.'
Jennie flushed. 'Yes, I suppose he does work hard.' She bit her lip. 'I don't dislike him Anna, but he's just so... so conceited and arrogant.'
Anna laughed. 'Yes, he is, I agree. Back home we would say he was "full of himself" but that is only on the surface. Think how kind he has been to James, playing football with him and taking him to the park... Come on Jennie,' she added in a conciliatory tone, 'Paolo is a young man! He's out to prove himself, to impress everyone...'
'Well he doesn't impress me!' Jennie snapped, a little too sharply.
Anna smiled. 'Are you sure?' she asked, with sudden intuition, and watched the slow flush suffuse Jennie's pale face, as she raised a nervous hand to tidy her already immaculate fair hair. She remained silent, and Anna
put her arm around her.
'Oh Jennie, my dear girl, you shouldn't feel embarrassed because you find yourself attracted to him! He's the most good looking young man I've ever seen.'
Jennie smiled uncertainly. 'Yes, he is, isn't he?'
'Hasn't he asked you out yet?' Anna probed gently.
'Yes! The very first day he was here!' Jennie burst out. 'I said no, of course.' she added primly.
'And he hasn't asked you again?'
'No.' Jennie's lips were tight. 'He's found other fish to fry. I've seen him talking to that new girl at the delicatessen. Joe Kowalski had to speak to him for wasting staff time.'
'But that doesn't prove anything. He's probably a little lonely, he has no-one in New York. What do you expect him to do if you sent him away with a flea in his ear?'
Jennie's eyes were round. She thought a moment and then blurted out, 'It's too late now anyway. In a couple of weeks his uncle will be here. Paolo will leave and I shall never see him again...' her voice tailed off in despair, and she began to cry.
'What nonsense! I didn't think you were a girl to give way to such silly imaginings.' Anna chided gently. 'All you need is a plan of campaign. I'll help you.'
'How?' Jennie sniffed, wiping her eyes.
'Next Monday evening, come to dinner. I'll invite Paolo too, and you can get to know each other a little better.'
'Dinner? At your house? But Anna, your dinner parties are famous! Everyone says...'
'Everyone won't be there. Just you and Paolo, and Clancy of course. A nice quiet dinner, and I'll cook for you myself.'
As Anna made her way home a few hours later she reflected sadly on the weakness of womankind. How vulnerable we all are, she thought, when we meet that certain man, the one who has the power to make our heart race the moment we see him. Who would have thought that Jennie, prim, practical, down to earth Jennie, would have been so affected by a bumptious young Italian with a heavenly smile?
How well she remembered that feeling, the delicious excitement and anticipation, mirrored by the agonies of self doubt which inevitably accompanied the early stages of love. How long ago it seemed now, and yet... the feeling had never left her, that deep seated longing for... she knew not what. All she was sure of was that it was gone. Gone for ever.