We all need a Rock to Lean on

    The problem was obvious. Tom scratched his head and glanced sideways at his wife Susie who was glaring at the red car that had parked next to them. Two cars squashed into the only space available for expectant mothers.

    Susie and Tom were heavily laden with shopping bags overflowing with baby paraphernelia. Susie had been in her element in the store but now he sensed her angry tension. He was still wary of Susie's temper, it seemed to come out of nowhere. Anything could trigger it off. An hour before she had been so happy buying everything their daughter Samantha could possibly need for her baby. Now on their return the other car was parked so close they couldn't open the door.

    A beautiful dark skinned woman eased herself out of the driving seat and smiled at them. She was wearing a very short dress stretched over a slight bump. 

    Susie stamped her feet and shouted, 'We were here first, you must move.'

    Tom cringed at the sound of his wife's shrill angry voice and braced himself as she threw down her shopping bags and scowled at him. He knew what that look meant, it was up to him to sort it out. Good old Tom, solid as a rock. He smiled at the woman in what he hoped was a friendly way and stepped forward, 'I'm so sorry we're blocking your way,' he said, as he heard Susie hiss behind him. Then he added 'If you could please move, we can put our shopping away.'

    The woman smiled back and shrugged her shoulders, 'I will, although, may I say, I don't think your wife is pregnant.'

    Tom shivered in fear as Susie blurted out 'Of course I'm not! Not at my age!  But our daughter....' she faltered and Tom could hear doubt along with the anger in her voice.

    Just then a big handsome man appeared and put his arm round the woman. Tom shrank back. He had always been in awe of tall men and this one towered above him. He grabbed Susie's hand and was dismayed when she shook it away and fairly snarled at the man, 'We were here first.'

    Tom held his hands up as though in surrender. He did what he always did when he sensed Susie panic, he sought safety in a cup of tea. 'Please, please, please let's all calm down and could we offer you a drink and sort it out,' he nodded towards the cafè next to the car park.

    To his great surprise, Susie picked up her bags and smiled at the couple who grinned back and they all walked towards the cafè. Tom sighed in relief and followed his wife who was now chatting animatedly to the woman.  His heart ached for Susie. Sometimes it seemed nothing he could do would ever heal her.

    Only he knew the pain that lay within her. He looked up at the man, craning his neck, he tried to sound light and breezy, 'Women eh, nothing a cup of tea won't fix I say.'

    The man chuckled and stuck out his hand, 'Jules, pleased to meet you.'

    Tom felt a warm reassuring sensation as he shook Jules's hand. For the first time ever he felt he wanted to confide in someone. He had always shunned counselling and Susie would never admit she had a problem.

    'My wife wasn't always like this.' he hesitated, 'I felt so lucky that she wanted me, she was the most beautiful girl in town, sweet, gentle and kind. We married very young and were so happy together just the two of us. Susie was on the pill for years and we thought there was plenty of time to start a family, but then..' he stopped, he couldn't believe what he was saying, he'd never spoken to anyone like this before.

    He glanced sideways at Jules and was surprised to see he was smiling, in a reassuring and encouraging way. There was such warmth in that smile that Tom carried on,

    'After some years when we did decide to have a family everything went wrong. Nothing happened for ages and when it did..' he paused again and took a deep breath, 'well eight miscarriages and a stillborn and then severe depression.' he stopped embarrased and ashamed. 'Gosh, I'm so sorry, I am so insensitive, there's your wife pregnant and me telling you horror stories. It's just Susie never got over it and in the end we did manage to have a little girl and we love her so much and Susie was a great mum in spite of her depression and then Samantha, that's our daughter's name, got married and then was told she couldn't have children and then.... she tried all that new stuff, IVF and all sorts of things I don't understand and ...' Tom stopped, he felt drained but also a strange relief. After so many years of not talking about these things to anyone it was all coming out, and to a complete stranger. He didn't even know that he could express such thoughts. For years he had tried so hard to keep their little family together, being the strong one, he had tried so hard to deal with Susie's terrible moods and depression. How strange that someone he had only just met should make him pour out all this pain.

    Jules took Tom's arm and propelled him to the table where Susie was proudly displaying the baby clothes and plonked him down on the chair, called the waitress and ordered the drinks.

    'Let's introduce ourselves properly, I'm Jules and this is my wife Priscilla, and you are Tom and Susie, right?'

    The two women turned to smile and then continued admiring Susie's purchases. 

    Tom took a gulp of his tea and felt himself relax. This lovely couple, his wife's enthusiasm, a whiff of bonfire smoke in the air, the golden October light, hope stirred in his heart. 

    Susie's phone pinged and she exclaimed in delight as she read the message, 'It's Samantha, she's here in town with Anthony. I'll tell her to come here.'

    She caught Tom's eye and lowered her voice, 'Shall I Tom?'

    Tom nodded as he glanced at Jules and Priscilla. He felt safe with them for the first time in years. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be fine.

     Just then, Susie shrieked as she caught sight of her daughter weaving her way across the carpark to the cafè. She stood  up, a pink babygro in her hand and waved it around her head. Tom felt a chill as he saw Samantha slow her pace and stare at Priscilla and Jules, confusion on her face.

    'Sam darling come and see what we've bought and look what a lovely couple we have met and ..' Susie stopped, noticing the worried look on her daugheer's face, 'Is everything alright, darling?'

    Samantha slumped into the chair next to her mother, she looked up through her hands at Priscilla and Jules, her voice was soft and full of emotion when she spoke, 'These are my parents, I'm really sorry I haven't told them yet. It's such a sensitive subject for them, so Anthony and I have been trying to find the right moment to explain everything to them gently..'

    Susie screamed, 'What? What haven't you told us, what's wrong?' the she turned to Tom and said 'Do you understand what's going on?'

    Tom put his arm round her and she shook it off, angry and frightened. Jules leaned forward and when he spoke a calm descended on the table.

    'There's nothing wrong, absolutely the opposite, everything is just fine. Priscilla is Samantha's surrogate mother, she's carrying Sam and Anthony's baby.'

    Tom tensed at the sight of his wife, her eyes wild, her hands crunched up. He didn't know how to keep on protecting her from her anguish. Jules moved across to stand by Susie and, to Tom's surprise, she smiled up at Jules, her voice soft and gentle as she spoke, 'What wonderful people you are, what a miracle. I don't know what to say.'

    Samantha took her mother's hand, 'It's ok Mum, nobody should have to go through what you did to have me. Dad and you have come a long way and I am so thankful. We hadn't told you yet, knowing what you went through, but it's going to be alright, you're going to be grandparents!'

    Tears were falling down her face as Susie went to Priscilla and gently touched her bump. 

    Jules and Priscilla smiled at each other and Priscilla stroked Susie's hair, 'This is my second time as a surrogate. We have three lovely children of our own and we are happy to be able to bring happiness to others.' 

    Anthony and Samantha, Priscilla and Jules stood up. They looked at each other aware of the enormity of what was happening and held hands.

    Later, at home Tom made a cup of tea and took it to Susie. He felt shaken but happy. Their daughter was going to be a mum, they were going to be grandparents. A glimmer of hope shone into his heart. Susie stared up at him as he handed her the tea, she was holding a crumpled piece of paper. 'Look Tom, I wrote this when I was a little girl. I desperately wanted a little brother and I wrote this...' She straightened out the paper and read aloud, 'Dear Shopkeeper of babies, please send me a little brother.'

    Tom held her tight as she sobbed. All those years that had battered her body and her mind and now because of his constant love and care she was almost whole again. He sighed and thought to himself if only things had been that easy.

 

 

 

 

Jubilee Reverie

 After four days of Jubilee events I feel a bit drained, so imagine how the Queen feels. She's probably having a nice cup of tea and a marmalade sandwich. The sketch with the Queen and Paddington Bear was arguably the most inspired and uplifting moment of the Jubilee.

Being in Italy and not having Sky I was limited in what I could watch. A friend invited us to her house to watch the trooping the colour and turned it into a very special event for us. We started with morning coffee then later prosecco and sandwiches and then when those who weren't British had had enough of watching what was for them rather monotonous we turned off the television and had lunch outside and admired her roses called Queen Elizabeth.

On Friday I rushed home to watch the service from St.Paul's cathedral. The cameras zoomed in on the family members and we were able to forget about covid, not a mask in sight and people singing their hearts out. It was moving, no doubt about it, the archbishop reminded us of the Queen's love of horse racing, using Ainstree and Epsom as examples of different races.

The women were impeccably dressed in ice cream colours and the men smart and groomed to perfection. I thought Prince Charles looked rather sad and of course the Queen is his mother and she wasn't there and it was about her, so all sorts of thoughts must have been going on in his head.

As the congregation filed out I thought the absence of the Queen made them appear vulnerable and my heart went out to them all, they remind us that all families are fragile.

The concert on Saturday wasn't televised here but friends sent photos and videos and of course the highlight of the whole four days was the Queen having tea with Paddington Bear and taking a marmalade sandwich out of her handbag which raised a smile and warmed our hearts.

On Sunday while watching the parade and drinking at least three cups of tea to feel the part I wandered down memory lane and re-lived some of the happiest moments of my youth. My cousins in the fifties dancing rock n roll, the morris minor of the people next door, Cliff Richard on the bus and remembering the film 'Summer Holiday' which perfectly captured that magical feeling of going from a rainy day in England to the warmth of the Mediterranean sun, the music that accompanied our youth, Carnaby Street and is that Bill and Ben going past? Memory is such a mystery, I could remember every programme of 'Watch with Mother' from when I was three or four. Monday-Picture Book, Tuesday- Andy Pandy, Wednesday- Rag, Tag and Bobtail, Thursday- Bill and Ben, Friday- The Wooden Tops. No nonstop television for us, just a few programmes sealed in our memories.

 The parade went on, and then Oh  my !when I saw the minis my heart exploded, I had a mini, my dad bought it for me, he brushed this generous gift aside telling me the roads were dangerous, a car is a weapon, I had to have a car that was safe on the roads. his generosity was overwhelming, I was a bit embarrassed having my own car but I loved the mini, I was at one with my mini, living in the countryside having my mini gave me freedom , I was like a bird that had learnt to fly, my heart was filled with gratitude to my dad.

The roads were easier then, patrol for 35p a gallon, traffic jams were rare, we could drive up to London and park in Trafalgar square. There with my cup of tea and watching that parade I was catapulted into my youth, my mum and dad were at home waiting for me, my heart was light and loving.I thought of all the people that I have known and loved, each decade that went past was full of the people that I loved and loved me, my aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbours, friends and my dear precious family and all the people that came into my life along the way and enriched my life.

 

The first Jubilee I was aware of was 1977, my uncle gave me a present of a glass dish made to commemorate the Jubilee. 'Do you believe it?' he kept saying and when the penny dropped 'Do you believe it? Jubilee it?' we giggled for ages at his wit.

Ed Sheerhan came on and sang 'Perfect', which was the perfect choice of course for all of us glad and grateful for those years. 

It was perfect.

Changes at The Walnut Tree

 

The first thing that Linda did every morning was to write the specials on the board at the front of the cafè.

 She smiled at Mr. Roberts the owner who was putting out a tray of freshly baked croissants and Danish pastries. He smiled warmly and she had to fight back a tear. This was to be her last day working at 'The Walnut Tree' cafè. 

Linda glanced at the piece of paper that Doreen from the kitchen had handed to her and wrote down the dishes. There was always a traditional one like Shepherd's pie or Steak and Kidney pudding, then a salad of the day and something  like a Thai curry or Fajitas. Linda thought how the menus had changed since she started working as a waitress over thirty years ago. Back then it was all baked potatoes and cheese on toast.

Doreen called out from behind the kitchen door,

'Linda add home-made Salted caramel ice cream with Pecan fudge sauce to the specials will you please? Piotr has excelled himself today, it's delicious. He's also made some sort of Polish carrot cake that's got a whole day's calorie allowance in it.'

She smiled at Linda and patted her ample stomach.

Piotr was the young chef from Poland and Doreen looked after him like a son, teaching him English and inviting him round for meals at the weekend and to watch the football with her husband Eric.
They'd even been out to Krakow for a holiday with Piotr's family. Borscht soup made with beetroot was a regular dish on the menu. It was very popular with the older customers as it was easy to eat and highly nutritious.  Piotr followed a recipe handed down from his great- grandmother.

The mothers from the playgroup came bustling in. Without their small charges they were self conscious, not having little hands to hold and pushchairs to manoeuvre they danced about laughing and chatting and finally came to rest in the two large sofas by the window. One of them Tamara, had been at school with Linda's son Matt and she put her hand on Linda's arm as she came to take their orders.

'Oh Linda, you must be so excited. It's your last day isn't it? Matt told me that you'll be looking after little Markus when Eva goes back to work. You can come have coffee with us and bring him along.'

The other mothers all shouted out their approval. Linda went to give their orders to Samira the lovely young woman who was going to take over as head waitress.

Linda thought of how not only the menu had changed over the years but the people she worked with. At first they had all been young women like her, who hadn't got qualifications and needed to earn some money. Then along came a steady stream of young people wanting to learn English. Many of them were qualified as doctors and teachers in their home countries and hoping that by learning English they would have a better chance of employment. Linda now had friends from all over the world. Matt had taught  her how to use Facebook and she loved seeing all their photos.

Linda had been working at 'The Walnut Tree' since Matt started school. It was her doctor's idea. When he told her that she wouldn't be able to have any more children she'd broken down. As she sobbed and told him that she felt so useless, she wasn't good at anything, she was a real nobody, he had cleared his throat and said that he'd seen a notice on the window at the Walnut Tree for a head waitress. The doctor knew the owner and said he was sure she was just who they needed. Linda went along to the café straight away and was amazed when she was offered the job. The hours meant she could pick up Matt from school. It was perfect, she got out of the house and was in contact with lots of people. The depression that was threatening to take a hold on her had melted away.

Mr. Roberts came out from his office with the daily papers to arrange on the oak table at the front.

'You can leave early today Linda,' he said briskly and she had to turn away to hide the hurt at his tone as a wave of emotion hit her. She remembered one of her Italian grandmother's favourite sayings that had always made her feel sad and she never understood why until now, 'we're all useful but no-one's necessary.' No-one would even notice that she'd left.

A young couple came in and sat down facing away from each other, their expressions angry and drawn. Linda handed them the menu and two chocolate hearts wrapped in silver paper.
They looked up at her surprised and then smiled at each other. Linda saw their hands reach across the table and a warm glow filled her heart as they held onto each other.
She went to check on the old people who were sitting on their own by the window. Sometimes when the cafè wasn't busy she would sit down beside them and ask about their grandchildren and talk about the changes in the town.

Over in the Free Wi Fi section there was a group from the university. She knew it was exam time. They were all quiet and busy concentrating. She had seen so many students over the years. She had consoled them when they had been homesick at the beginning of term and reassured them when they had disappointing results. Many of them came to her for comfort and advice. She thought of their hopes and dreams and what she would have done if she' d gone to university.

 Linda had got in with the 'wrong crowd' when she was fifteen and failed all her 'O levels' as they were called then. Her parents had been so angry it had frightened her so much and she had lost all interest in studying. They had kept on comparing her to her sister Jean. They couldn't understand her. They had washed their hands of her. Jean was now a top manager in  a bank in London. When Matt had turned out to be so clever and got his PhD in Bio Physics, her parents just said how he must have taken after Jean. Her sister had laughed and assured Linda that Matt's success was all down to his own parents.

Just before closing time the cafè door opened and a handsome man with silver streaks in his thick curly hair walked towards table six. As he passed through the cafè the mothers stopped their chattering, the women with their bright shopping bags sat up straighter and patted their hair. Linda smiled and walked towards him. Her heart gave a lift as it always did when she saw him, her husband Andy, her love.

'Would you like your usual sir,' she gave a saucy wink.

She loved the way he was so completely unaware of the effect he had on women.

'Oh yes please, you know just what I like.' he grinned up at her and she felt herself blush.

Table six was Linda's special table, she felt it was enchanted, a magic table where dreams come true. It was where she had first seen Andy. It had been love at first sight.
Three years ago her son Matt had sat there and told her that he had fallen in love with a nurse from Estonia called Eva. He said that he knew it was Linda's special table and it seemed the best place to tell her. Mr.Roberts had opened some fizzy wine and offered round the last eclairs.

Matt and Eva had sat there and told her they were expecting Markus and then again when they had asked her if she would consider looking after him when Eva went back to work at the clinic. They said they knew it would be a change for her and they would understand if she said no.
Linda hadn't hesitated. The thought of her little grandson, his warm sweet smelling chubby little body, his soft brown hair and ready smile. The thought of cuddling him, washing him and playing with him. Nothing had prepared her for the force of her love for her grandson. For Matt it was natural, a given. She had loved him from the moment she knew she was expecting him. The moment she had set eyes on her grandson she was bowled over by the full force of her love for him.  Andy was due for retirement from his job at the local Garden centre and they were both looking forward to looking after Markus.

Samira came over to Linda. 

'Thank you for all the help you've given me Linda. You'll be a hard act to follow.'

'Samira you're lovely, you'll be fine. I've loved working here and I can't believe that it's been thirty years. It's like a chapter closing and part of me feels sad but I 'm so looking forward to looking after Markus  and spending more time with Andy. I'll go and change now but I'll be coming in regularly.'

Linda took off her waitress uniform for the last time. She brushed her hair and put on a new lipstick that Eva had given her. She looked at herself in the mirror. She smiled at herself to try and cheer herself up, 'You're going to be fine Linda, a chapter is closing and a new one beginning.' Then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

She pushed open the door into the café and was totally overwhelmed by the loud cheer that went up. 

'Surprise!!'

 

Balloons and streamers filled the air and before her she saw the regular customers, the students, the mothers, her sister Jean, Matt, Eva and Markus, Samira and Mr. Roberts, Doreen and Piotr, then at the front her mother and father holding up a banner saying 'We love you Linda,' her mother was crying and looking proud,  and at table six her dear Andy, on all their faces, reflecting back at her, was all the love and kindness that she had given over the years.

Qb: la magia della Torta Paradiso

Oggi ho preso in mano un libro di ricette e aprendo le pagine un foglio di carta è caduto e si è adagiato per terra.

L'ho preso in mano e mettendolo davanti al naso inspiravo profondamente. Mi tornavano alla mente profumi di vaniglia, torte nel forno che fanno allegria e danno speranza. Torte che simboleggiavano la vita di famiglia, soffici, leggere e profumate, da dividere con allegria e gioia.

Il mio cuore si è riempito di commozione guardando la calligrafia della mia nonna, una calligrafia che faceva pensare al libro 'Cuore', a un epoca tanto diversa, a lettere scritte a un amato fratello al fronte, a una mamma lontana, a parenti cari, lettere di ringraziamento, auguri per le feste.

C'erano scritti solo i cinque ingredienti per fare la sua torta delle feste: la chiamava 'Torta Paradiso'..

cinque uova

250g burro

250g zucchero

250 g fecola

un pizzico di sale 

Poi in forno a 180° qb

Non c'erano alre indicazzioni.  Mi faceva sorridere il qb. Quando ero bambina mi aveva insegnato a fare questa torta per le feste e mi diceva, strizzando l'occhio, che qb era magia, era l'ingrediente segreto.

Di solito la preparava il sabato cosi per la domenica c'era sempre una torta da condividere con chi veniva a trovarla.

Mettevamo gli ingredienti sulla tavola in ordine. 

Prima il burro e lo zucchero con accanto un mestolo di legno. Poi le cinque uova e una forchetta. Per ultimo la farina. E un cucchiaio.

La nonna si metteva un grambiule bianco che profumava di vaniglia e prendeva una grossa insalatiera a righe. Sembrava un direttore di orchestra, con il mestolo in mano. Il forno era acceso e la tortiera da forno gia preparata e ben imburrata.

Per prima metteva il burro a pezzetti e lo zucchero e cominciava a mescolare con il mestolo di legno. All'inizio si faceva fatica, ma man mano che si mescolava, il tutto diventava cremoso e soffice e allora passava a me la insalatiera.

'Cento volte, e sempre nella stessa direzione',  mi bisbigliava, come fosse una fata che preparava un incantesimo.

Mi ricordo i desideri che facevo con gli occhi chiusi tenendo il mestolo stretto, come una bacchetta magica.

Quando la nonna era soddisfatta della consistenza, rompeva le uova in un 'altra ciotola e con la forchetta le sbatteva, finchè c'erano bolle in superficie e poi io pian piano versavo le uova  nell'di burro e zucchero mentre lei mescolava in continuazione.

Poi toccava a me setacciare la farina, mi sembrava polvere di stelle e la versavo con cura e l'impasto diventava sempre piu soffice e cremoso.

Ero io che avevo sempre l'onore di versare la miscela nella tortiera, e facevo in modo che ne rimanesse nella ciotola abbastanza per me da "ripulire".

Quando il nonno sentiva il profumo della torta nel forno arrivava anche lui in cucina e mi guardava con gli occhi che brillavano,

'Dai! Pulisci bene la tortiera, che la nonna non deve neanche lavarla!'

Ridevo con gioia e il mio cucchiano ripuliva la ciotola, facendola tintinnare.

Mentre la torta si cucinava, e il profumo avvolgeva la casa di dolci promesse, mettevamo in ordine, e la nonna preparava il caffe per il nonno.

Un giorno il nonno mi aveva chiesto, 'Ma tu sai cosa vuole dire qb'' e io fiduciosa avevo risposto, 'Ma certo, è l'ingredienti segreto!'

Lui strizzava l'occhio e bisbigliava, 'Il vero ingrediente segreto è l'amore', e ci gurdavamo negli occhi e sentivo una forza che da allora mi ha sempre accompagnata.

 La nonna, quando era arrivata al qb, toglieva la torta dal forno, inseriva una stuzzicadenti, e quando vedeva che era pulito, sapeva che la torta era pronta. Non si sbagliava mai, la torta era sempre perfetta.

Concludeva sempre con le sue raccomandazioni: fare sempre una torta la domenica, avere una cosa di dolce da condividere, colmare di amore i bambini, aiutare i grandi a rilassarsi dopo una settimana di lavoro, togliere l'amaro dalla vita degli anziani: ecco quello che ci vuole! 

Ed è subito festa.

Adesso sono una nonna anch'io. Penso che chiederò a mia figlia di "prestarmi" la mia nipotina questo sabato, così insegnerò anche a lei la magia della Torta Paradiso.

'

 

Conserva le memorie

Il sole splendente filtrava tra le tende e, attraversando la stanza, arrivava a riscaldare il viso di Snezana.

Qualcuno bussò alla porta e Snezana aprì gli occhi. Suo figlio Bojan entrò portando un vassoio di caffè alla turca.

Bojan posò il vassoio, le porse una tazza e si sedette sul letto.

'Ho cercato di farlo bello forte: ho pensato che ti avrebbe fatto sentire a casa.'

Snezana sorseggiò il caffè e gli accarezzò la mano.

"Sei nato con il  cuore gentile Bojan: pensavo che bastasse, ma poi ti sei rivelato anche così intelligente e bello, sono così orgogliosa di te."

Bojan si alzò ridendo,

 ‘Mi basta che tu lo pensi. Preparati con comodo, poi Emma ti mostrerà la campagna e poi pranzerete insieme. Io devo andare in ambulatorio, ma stasera sarò a casa e poi avremo tutto il weekend. E’ meraviglioso averti qui.'

Snezana finì il caffè e andò a guardare fuori dalla finestra. Era una bella giornata di primavera e poteva vedere lungo la strada. C'erano molti alberi pieni di fiori, rosa o bianchi, aprì la finestra per respirarne il profumo.

Per un momento le parve di essere a Smederevo, sul Danubio, vicino a Belgrado, il luogo della sua infanzia. Quanto aveva amato il periodo della fioritura!

La voce di suo nonno risuonava intorno a lei, 'Vedi Snezana, i fiori fanno il pieno di sole primaverile e quando cadranno, presto ci saranno ciliegie e prugne carnose. Se osservi i fiori da vicino, puoi dire quale è il ciliegio e quale il prugno’. A questo punto raccoglieva un fiore e glielo porgeva. ‘C'è una piccola fessura all'estremità di ogni petalo del fiore di ciliegio che quello di prugno non ha. I fiori sarebbero caduti come neve e suo nonno le disse che il suo nome Snezana significava Principessa delle Nevi. Sua nonna le aveva insegnato a fare la marmellata con tutta la meravigliosa abbondanza di frutta che cresceva nella loro campagna. Ciliegie, susine, prugne, ma erano le fragole che amava di più. A Snezana piaceva immaginare che le fragole fossero delle principesse con coroncine verdi e facce dolci. Sua nonna diceva sempre che fare la marmellata di fragole era come conservare amore e sole per l'inverno. Diceva che anche i bambini erano un po' così, avevano bisogno di tanto amore quando erano piccoli per essere pronti per ciò che li aspettava. Snezana non poteva immaginare un'altra vita, allora. Rabbrividì pensando alla sua vita e come si sarebbe spezzato il cuore ai suoi nonni se avessero saputo.

Snezana sospirò e andò a prepararsi per raggiungere Emma, la sua nuora inglese.

xxxxx

Emma aprì la portiera della macchina per sua suocera. L'aveva vista tante volte su Skype, e Bojan aveva insegnato a Emma a dire frasi semplici, ma sapeva che sarebbe stato un problema comunicare, così aveva chiesto a Bojan di dire a sua madre che aveva deciso di portarla in campagna e farle vedere gli alberi in fiore e i prati di campanule. Si sarebbero fermate per un panino in un pub e poi lo avrebbero incontrato di nuovo a casa al suo ritorno dall’ambulatorio.

Era una bella giornata ed Emma sorrise a Snezana e indicò gli alberi in fiore dalla macchina. Snezana poté solo annuire e ricambiare il sorriso. Dopo un po' passarono davanti a una grande fattoria con un cartello con una foto di fragole che diceva "Raccoglile da te" e Snezana fece cenno a Emma di fermarsi.

Parcheggiarono l'auto presso il negozietto della Fattoria e scesero. C'era una pila di cestini e un bancone con una bilancia. Snezana andò verso di essi, mostrando chiaramente la sua intenzione. Emma sorrise e la seguì. Non aveva fatto niente del genere da quando aveva otto anni, quando era andò a stare da sua nonna nel Suffolk.

Le due donne presero un cesto ciascuna e andarono verso il filare di fragole più vicino. Emma osservò sua suocera chinarsi e riempire il cesto di fragole, con perizia e rapidità.

Somigliava così tanto a Bojan quando era eccitato per qualcosa, che Emma non poteva fare a meno di ridere. Era stato l'entusiasmo di Bojan ad averla fatta sentire attratta da lui, fin dall’inizio. Quello, e il suo bel viso gentile. Adesso poteva vedere come aveva preso da sua madre, e non sembrava esserci traccia del padre che li aveva abbandonati.

Avevano gli stessi occhi azzurri intelligenti e i morbidi capelli biondi, la stessa corporatura alta, ma la sera prima Emma aveva notato un’espressione seria negli occhi di Snezana, che faceva intuire il suo profondo dolore nascosto.

Tutto quello che sapeva da Bojan era che Snezana era andata a lavorare in Italia e in Germania come badante, lasciandolo alle cure della nonna, come tante altre giovani donne del suo villaggio. Aveva mandato così tanti soldi a casa per i suoi studi e lui aveva lavorato sodo sapendo istintivamente che quel denaro era soprattutto un  dono per lui.

Bojan l'aveva ricompensata vincendo una borsa di studio per un'università britannica e ora era un medico di successo a Oxford.

Emma lo aveva conosciuto mentre lavorava come fisioterapista ed era stato amore a prima vista per entrambi. Si erano sposati cinque mesi dopo il loro primo appuntamento. I genitori di Emma si erano ritirati per vivere nello Shropshire e avevano aperto un Bed and Breakfast. Erano venuti al matrimonio civile, e avevano regalato loro una luna di miele in Scozia.

C’era voluto molto tempo a Bojan per ottenere i permessi per la visita di sua madre e non vedeva l'ora di mostrarle la bellissima campagna inglese.

Il cesto di Snezana era ormai pieno e andò a prenderne un altro. Emma non riusciva a pensare a cosa avrebbero fatto con tutte queste fragole e poi, come se le leggesse nel pensiero, Snezana prese un barattolo vicino alla cassa vi mise dentro una fragola e le fece segno.

Emma si mise a ridere: 'Marmellata! Vuoi fare la conserva! Certamente! Che bella idea!'

Quando ebbero pagato le fragole, Emma guidò fino alla città e le mostrò il supermercato dove Snezana prese zucchero, limoni e dei vasetti di vetro da marmellata. Volle pagare lei, spingendo Emma da parte gentilmente ma con fermezza.

A casa Emma mostrò a Snezana la cucina tirando fuori pentole e mestoli e poi si sedette a guardare, mentre Snezana preparava abilmente la frutta e tutti gli ingredienti. Ben presto la cucina si riempì dell'odore dell'estate, di promesse di sole, di crostate di frutta, e di allegra compagnia. Emma preparò del caffè per entrambe e si sedettero ad ammirare i vasetti pieni di marmellata di fragole.

La porta si aprì ed entrò Bojan. Il suo viso si illuminò alla vista delle donne che amava così tanto, sedute insieme in modo così amichevole.

Emma corse da Bojan, lo baciò e lo abbracciò, quindi fece cenno a sua madre di unirsi a loro. I tre rimasero lì, abbracciati, a guardare la marmellata. Emma si allontanò e li guardò raggiante. Poi si accarezzò la pancia piatta e mimò di dondolare un bambino. Bojan e sua madre la fissarono, poi scoppiarono simultaneamente in un cicaleccio nella loro lingua, ridendo e parlando allo stesso tempo.

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Mentre Snezana si preparava per andare a letto quella sera, nella casa tranquilla e silenziosa, pensò a suo figlio e alla sua adorabile moglie inglese nella stanza accanto, che sussurrava con tono gioioso del bambino in arrivo e, per la prima volta nella sua vita, si sentì orgogliosa di se stessa.

Aveva lavorato così duramente per guadagnare i soldi in modo che suo figlio potesse studiare ed essere libero, perché potesse fare qualcosa d’importante della sua vita. Nessuno avrebbe mai saputo quanto le era costato, come il suo spirito fosse stato sul punto di spezzarsi tante volte, ma il pensiero di Bojan l'aveva fatta andare avanti.

Il pensiero di Bojan, e la gioia e il sole che i suoi nonni le avevano regalato tanto tempo fa a Smederevo. Come la marmellata di fragole, pensava, dobbiamo imbottigliare la luce del sole finché possiamo, per farci superare i tempi bui.

Caratteri (spazi inclusi): 7750

Spring Sensations

 

How I love the springtime, in the Autumn of my years:-

The depth and clarity of memories is moving me to tears.

A carpet of blue violets is lying at my feet,

I bend and draw a deep breath

Their perfume is so sweet.

Memories come rushing back of  woods so fresh and green,

Of primroses and mossy banks

Where I could sit and dream

Of fairies, elves and little folk

That lived among the trees,

Knocking on a tree trunk

Asking whose cosy homes are these?

A little blackbird with the sweetest song

 Outside the kitchen door,

Golden rays from the setting sun

Stream across the floor.

Winter tips his hat as he bids us all goodbye,

Sweeping rose and silver hues 

Caress the evening sky

The frogspawn in the garden pond, 

The tadpoles soon come out

Swimming in the little stream

Impossible to count.

Their transformation into frogs

Never ceases to enthral

Bringing back dear memories

Of Biology at school.

I love the changing seasons 

But Spring has a special charm

Making us feel young again

It reminds us who we are.

 

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