Trovando una figlia

 Era giorno di mercato nella vivace cittadina mediterranea e il Bar Marché era affollato. Alessandro aspettava all'ombra di un bellissimo platano finché non vide una famiglia che si preparava ad andarsene. Si avvicinò rapidamente e chiamò Anna, che si trovava a una bancarella lì vicino, con in mano un paio di pantaloncini cortissimi, e gli sorrideva mentre lui alzava gli occhi al cielo e si lasciava cadere sul posto appena liberato. Lei pagò velocemente i pantaloncini e corse da lui, gli diede un rapido abbraccio e si sedette.

"Bravo per essere riuscito a prendere questo tavolo. È così affollato, non ci posso credere, con questo caldo, ma wow, che bel mercato, guarda quante cose ho comprato!"

Tirò fuori dalla borsa quello che sembrava un intero guardaroba di abiti estivi. Colori vivaci che si abbinavano alla sua pelle dorata e ai lucenti capelli scuri. Tutto sembrava molto succinto e lui si morse la lingua per non rovinare la sua evidente gioia per gli acquisti.

Alessandro vide il cameriere che lo osservava e capì subito cosa stesse pensando.

Un uomo più anziano, un ricco amante per una bella ragazza.

Fino a pochi mesi prima, avrebbe avuto ragione, ma l'attraente giovane donna seduta accanto a lui era sua figlia, non la sua ultima conquista.

All'inizio dell'anno, in primavera, Alessandro aveva avuto un brutto presentimento: un lieve attacco di cuore.

Il medico gli aveva detto di non preoccuparsi. Doveva solo apportare alcuni cambiamenti al suo stile di vita. Fare più esercizio, smettere di fumare e mangiare in modo più sano.

Era spaventato, però. Non aveva mai pensato alla sua salute prima d'ora. Aveva trascorso la vita senza nemmeno un raffreddore.

Amava i vini pregiati e i ristoranti stellati Michelin.

Sentirsi dire che doveva rallentare era stato un vero shock.

Aveva iniziato a riflettere sulla sua vita, su ciò che contava davvero per lui. Aveva implorato la sua ex moglie Francesca di aiutarlo a ricucire lo strappo che si era creato quando li aveva abbandonati entrambi, quando Anna aveva solo sette anni.

Il cameriere si avvicinò per prendere le ordinazioni, lanciando ad Alessandro un'occhiata furtiva. Anna sorrise raggiante al cameriere:

"Vorrei un'acqua tonica, per favore, con tanto ghiaccio e limone. E lei, papà? Niente alcol, si ricordi cosa ha detto il dottore."

Alessandro si rilassò sulla sedia, colpito dal modo in cui Anna aveva pronunciato la parola "papà". Una piacevole sensazione lo pervase e sorrise al cameriere.

"Prenderò la stessa cosa di mia figlia, grazie."

Il cameriere si allontanò, visibilmente imbarazzato, e Alessandro posò una mano sul braccio della figlia. Lei si voltò verso di lui con aria seria:

"Papà, grazie per avermi portata in questo viaggio. È meraviglioso averti come padre. Il nuovo marito della mamma si impegna molto ed è molto gentile, ma, beh, non è come te. Sai, penso sia importante che tu sappia che la mamma non ha mai detto una parola cattiva su di te, mai."

Alessandro si voltò per non farle vedere le lacrime che minacciavano di scendere. Gli si formò un nodo alla gola. Anna continuava a parlare:

"Ero io che non volevo vederti, pensavo: che razza di uomo abbandona sua figlia? Pensavo che non mi volessi bene. Pensavo che non volessi bene alla mamma."

Si interruppe, e sembrava che anche lei stesse lottando per trattenere le lacrime.

"Comunque", continuò, illuminandosi e schiarendosi la gola mentre arrivavano i loro drink,

"Sono così contenta che mi abbia convinta a farti tornare nella mia vita."

Anna sollevò il suo bicchiere e guardò suo padre negli occhi:

"Salute papà."

Speranza e gioia erano nella sua voce mentre rispondeva con emozione:

"Salute, davvero, mia cara figlia."

Mentre la guardava tracannare il suo drink, ripensò al motivo per cui si era innamorato di Francesca. Entrambi avevano lo stesso entusiasmo, la stessa passione e lo stesso atteggiamento gioioso verso la vita.

Si chiese, non per la prima volta, perché non fosse durato.

Ora Francesca aveva un nuovo marito e due bambini piccoli, ogni rancore si era ormai dissolto. Anna studiava Archeologia all'Università di Roma. Era stata Francesca a proporle un viaggio insieme. Aveva detto che viaggiare in auto insieme era il modo migliore per avere una conversazione che potesse anche diventare emozionante.

Alessandro aveva pianificato un itinerario che partiva da Roma e toccava Arles, Orange, Nîmes e il Pont du Gard. Si erano fermati per la notte nella piccola città di Frèjus e si erano dedicati ad approfondire la sua storia romana.

Il luogo in cui si trovavano, nella piazza del mercato, un tempo era un porto romano in riva al mare. La sera prima erano stati a uno spettacolo all'Arena. Avevano riso moltissimo per il Toro Piscine e si erano chiesti cosa ne avrebbero pensato gli antichi romani.

Non aveva mai apprezzato così tanto la compagnia femminile. Avevano così tanto da dirsi, e trovava affascinante tutto ciò che Anna diceva. Condividevano gli stessi interessi. Lei pendeva dalle sue labbra mentre lui le raccontava tutto ciò che sapeva sui Romani. Quel giorno avevano visto le colonne del Foro e visitato un museo con una mappa del porto romano. Ogni cosa era protetta ed esposta con amorevole cura.

Anna gli diede una gomitata:

"Papà, sembri perso nei tuoi pensieri. Ti chiedevo cosa ne pensassi se mi candidassi per studiare qui o magari meglio in Italia, dove abbiamo tanta arte?"

Alessandro era assorto nei suoi pensieri mentre rifletteva su tutti i tesori d'Italia. Si diceva che circa l'ottanta per cento dei tesori artistici del mondo si trovasse lì. Non c'era da stupirsi che gli italiani a volte sembrassero compiacenti. Erano circondati ogni giorno da tanta bellezza. Non potevano scavare una buca senza trovare qualche tesoro nascosto. Solo per costruire un parcheggio vicino al suo appartamento ci erano voluti anni, con tutta la burocrazia che ne conseguiva quando gli operai avevano trovato un'antica latrina romana. La pizzeria dietro l'angolo dal suo ufficio aveva una vasca romana accuratamente restaurata ed esposta sotto un pavimento di vetro. Probabilmente era un bene che i francesi avessero la Gioconda. Le code per entrare agli Uffizi o alle Gallerie Vaticane erano già abbastanza lunghe.

Alcuni giovani passarono accanto al tavolo e lanciarono un'occhiata ad Anna. Riconobbe quello sguardo, era lo stesso che aveva spesso rivolto a una ragazza, e capì cosa stavano pensando quei giovani, sentendo un'ondata di rabbia.

Alessandro era sempre stato un donnaiolo, non poteva farci niente. Una sola donna non gli era mai bastata. Era sempre stato attratto da gonne corte o scollature. Amava la morbidezza e il profumo di una donna, ma al mattino preferiva svegliarsi da solo.

L'unica donna che avesse mai amato veramente era Francesca, ma anche lei lo aveva logorato. Tutte quelle lamentele e quelle regole. Vietato fumare in casa, niente scarpe da esterno in camera da letto. Tutte le domande quando faceva tardi. Gli era sembrato meglio andarsene.

Non si era reso conto di quanto stesse rinunciando, di quanto stesse rinunciando a una famiglia.

Sospirò, Anna stava ancora parlando.

Anna gli stava raccontando della sua tesi di laurea. Aveva pensato a un titolo e le serviva solo l'approvazione del professore.

Gli mise una mano sul braccio, con un'espressione estasiata sul viso:

"Sai cosa, papà? Sarà ispirata al nostro viaggio."

Lui guardò il suo bel viso e una strana sensazione lo pervase.

"Andrà tutto bene, papà", gli disse lei guardandolo negli occhi. "Starai bene".

Lui le mise un braccio intorno alle spalle e la strinse a sé, inalando il profumo dei suoi capelli appena lavati. Gli era piaciuto tanto farlo quando era piccola.

Pensò a tutti i bagnetti e alle favole della buonanotte che si era perso. Pensò alla famiglia che aveva perso e che ora aveva ritrovato. Tirò fuori delle banconote e le posò sul tavolo per il cameriere.

Si alzò e tese la mano ad Anna; un profondo senso di gratitudine lo pervase: gli era stata data una seconda possibilità.

L' Abbraccio del Ippocastano

 Per più di due cento anni, maestosi alberi di castagno hanno confinato il parco della villa di una famiglia nobile.   Le chiome ampie e rotondeggianti e i grossi rami dei castagni erano stati per secoli rifugio per soldati stanchi e affamati grazie al loro squisito frutto e alla loro ombra rassicurante. Viaggiatori e pellegrini li avevano trovato sollievo per il corpo e lo spirito .

Immerso nella vegetazione del parco c'era un unico ippocastano. Una leggenda diceva che poiché le sue ghiande non erano commestibili gli gnomi per consolare gli ippocastani impartirono proprietà magiche ai loro frutti. 

Ora mai soldati e pellegrini non passavano più e il parco era diventato il regno dei bambini del paese che lo animavano in tutte le stagioni. 

Ottobre segnava il periodo  delle 'battaglie' con le cosiddette castagne matte, le giornate si accorciavano e all'imbrunire le mamme chiamavano i bimbi a rientrare .

 

Gli alberi del parco facevano frusciare le foglie in saluto, pronti ad avere il parco tutto per se e gli scoiattoli si rincorrevano indisturbati prima che cadesse la notte. 

L'Ippocastano agitò i suoi rami in segno di addio pieno di gioia per tutti gli abbracci ricevuti. Amava la sensazione delle braccia dei bambini intorno a lui, i loro piccoli piedi che si arrampicavano sui rami grossi e robusti .  Gli alberi di castagne ,sentendosi superiori , lo prendevano in giro perché le sue castagne erano pur sempre matte.

I rami del Ippocastano frusciarono e sussurrarono nell' aria tiepida della sera. Egli era molto fiero del suo tronco e dei suoi rami. In due cento anni aveva visto bambini crescere e invecchiare, soldati partire e non tornare, promesse d'amore, lacrime e risate e aveva cercato di consolarli tutti.

Ogni emozione umana gli era passato intorno e l'ippocastano sentiva una grande empatia.

Vide una donna che camminava verso di lui e scosse i rami allarmato, era troppo tardi per una donna sola.

La donna si inchinò e prese una ghiande lucente, trattenendola nel palmo della mano, stava piangendo e quando alzò lo sguardo l'Ippocastano la riconobbe. 

L'aveva vista crescere, innamorarsi, invecchiare e ora era sola.  La donna lo abbracciò e lui sentì la sua solitudine, la sua tristezza. Le sue braccia si strinsero attorno a lui poi sospirò girandosi verso il cancello notò una figura immobile e la guardò allontanarsi in fretta.

Lidia aveva sempre amato questo parco, i magnifici castagni ma sopratutto l'ippocastano, solo come lei. Da quando aveva perso suo marito la solitudine e il dolore l'avevano travolta e sentiva un grande vuoto. Appoggiò la testa al tronco e si ricordò i momenti felici, voleva tornare in dietro, voleva suo marito. 

Alzando la testa, vide una persona che si affrettava verso di lei, udì una voce che la chiamava 

'Sei tu Lidia?'

Era la sua vicina Elena, provò un senso di sollievo.

' Scusami non volevo spaventarti ,ti ho visto entrare nel parco da sola e mi chiedevo se potevo offrirti un caffe.' sorrise timidamente.' 

Elena sembrava cosi preoccupato che Lidia le posò la mano sul braccio e gli sorrise. Le faceva piacere che qualcuno si preoccupasse per lei.

Si rese conto che teneva ancora in mano la castagna e gliela tese.'Mia madre diceva che le castagne matte portano fortuna ....'

Seduta al bar con la sua gentile vicina Lidia sentì un calore diffondersi nel suo cuore . Dopo tanto tempo stava riassaporando la magia del cambiamento della stagione che tanto amava. Alzò gli occhi verso gli alberi del parco, maestosi, magnifici, secolari ed era sicura che la stessero salutando.

L'Ippocastano scosse i suoi rami, le foglie frusciarono e i castagni si inchinarono verso di lui consapevoli che era successo qualcosa di magico.

aIt was late afternoon and the playground at the edge of the park was almost empty. Mothers were calling their children to go home. The trees in the park were rustling their leaves, ready to have the park to themselves so the squirrels could run about before night fell.

The horse chestnut in the middle of the park waved his branches in a farewell, full of joy for all the hugs he'd received that day. He loved the feel of the children's arms around him, their feet on his branches climbing upwards and then calling out that they were on top of the world. In spring they marvelled at the white flowers and in autumn they collected the conkers lying at his feet. The chestnut trees often teased him., especially when the mothers told the children  to throw away the conkers because they couldn't eat them, not like the proper chestnuts which could be taken home and roasted by the fire.

He sighed and his branches rustled and whispered. He was very proud of his branches, he was about two hundred years old and sturdy and strong.  The park used to belong to a villa and he had seen so families grow up and grow old, go to war and come home again, lovers' vows, tears and laughter. He had comforted them all.

Now the park belonged to the town and he revelled in the children's laughter and their antics running round and climbing onto his branches. Every human emotion had passed around him and he felt he had developed a special sense although the other trees made fun of him.

 He saw a woman walking towards him and he shook his branches in alarm, it was late and he knew she should be going home.

The leaves lying around him crackled as she scuffed them up with her boots and she picked up one of his shiny conkers caressing it in the palm of her hand. He could see that she was crying  and as she looked up into his branches and stroked his bark he recognised her. She'd played here as a child and come here as a young woman stealing kisses in his shade then with her own children and then with a man. He'd watched them grow old together and now it seemed she was on her own again. He hadn't seen her for a long time. She put her arms around him and he felt her sadness, her loneliness. The park had gone very still and it was getting dark. Her arms tightened and he heard her sigh and turning towards the gate she noticed a figure standing there.

He watched as she hurried off. 

Lidia had gone to the park on a whim. Since losing her husband loneliness and pain had engulfed her.  She had always loved this park in every season thrilled by each change throughout the year. She felt a lump in her throat and fought back tears .

The park seemed very quiet and she realised there was no-one left and the dusk was settling with an eerie mist.

The tree felt comforting and warm but she'd always been afraid of the dark and hurried towards the gate. She could see a figure by the gate and fear gripped her. Then a voice boomed out, 'Is that you Lidia?'

She stopped as recognition dawned, it was her new neighbour a man of about her age. She felt relief wash over her.

He carried on, apologetic now,

'I didn't mean to frighten you, It's just I saw you going into the park and you looked upset and I wondered if you would like a cup of coffee.'

He looked so worried that she laid her hand on his arm and smiled at him. It seemed so long since anyone had noticed her.

She realised that she was still holding the conker in her hand and  held it out to him.

My mother said conkers bring good luck, would you like to keep it? It's from the Horse chestnut tree in the centre of the park. I love that tree.'

Sitting in the coffee bar with her kind neighbour Lidia felt a warmth spread around her heart. Finally as she held her hot coffee she could feel the magic of the changing seasons that she loved so much returning. She raised her eyes to the trees in the park , majestic against the setting sun and was sure they were waving at her.

The horse chestnut tree bowed and swirled and the other trees in the park waved aware something magical had happened.

Draft - Trees that grow roots - Il bosco dei ricordi

Un albero una storia

As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air Elizabeth felt her heart soar with it up above the clouds, a feeling of joy that emanated from within, spreading warmth and comfort around her aching heart.. She was going home. A lump came to her throat and tears threatened to spill because there was joy but sadness too. It was her first trip back without her beloved husband Jacques. She shook herself and sat up straighter as the steward handed out water and peanuts. The woman in the seat next to her passed them across and she automatically replied 'merci'. The woman smiled and asked her if she was French. Elizabeth took a breath and recited as she had for so many years,'I'm English but have lived in France for many years '

 I have two grown up children, a daughter and a son and five grandchildren.' She could hear her daughter Delphine's voice and  imagine the rolling of the eyes and saying something like 'TMI mum you don't have to tell everyone your life story.'

Delphine wasn't here though and the woman looked interested and introduced herself as Pauline. then she smiled and returned to her book, joining the army of thousands of travel companions that had lightened her journeys over the years with their smiles.

Elizabeth looked out of the window waiting for the moment when she could easily make out the English channel and as the coast of England came into sight her heart soared again.  It was always such an emotional moment for her and along with the joy there was deep pain. the years of  heartbreak of leaving her ailing parents and then the pain of knowing they were not waiting for her anymore. Her father had always told her never to organize a surprise visit, that for him there was so much joy in the preparation for her visit. He said there was a word for it in German 'Verfreude' a sense of joyful anticipation.

It was spring and she revelled in the atavistic pleasure of the passing of the four seasons. Each one had its charm, but in spring there was the added magic of her beloved bluebell woods in the Beech woods around her childhood home.

As a child she had picked bluebells with her sister Kathy and her mum had arranged them together with the first bright green beech leaves dipped in glycerine to keep them fresh. Picking wildflowers was frowned upon now and flowers like cowslips flourished on all the banks.

As the plane landed and there was a flurry of movement as overhead lockers were opened and a rush to exit the plane  she felt again a sense of delightful anticipation mixed with the heartache of loss, pain and joy and then she saw her sister waiting by the Costa coffee her face lit up with love and arms enveloping her in a warm healing embrace. No words were needed between the sisters to express their deep emotions, the great love for their parents and each other, the sorrow of losing them and now Jacques, all these emotions were contained in their hug.

Kathy nuzzled into Elizabeth's  neck, then mumbled  'cup of tea and the bluebell woods?'  Struggling with her tears Elizabeth nodded, 'Perfect.'

Buoyed up by her sister's presence and the hot cup of tea she changed into boots and a jacket for their walk. Kathy let her two dogs off the lead the moment they entered the wood. 

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks as they approached the sea of purple bluebells, breathing in the scent and watching the shafts of sunlight thread their way through the crisp clean green of the beech leaves. She turned to Kathy,

'It's life-affirming, it's magical, it never fails to bring me joy and now will help with healing. It's that feeling of joy that's a type of fulfillment that transcends fleeting moments of happiness.'

Her sister giggled, 'oh Lizzie you and your flowery words, I just love it.'

They linked arms and trod gently through the wood keeping to the path. Elizabeth thought to herself, not wanting to sound gushing but feeling that this joy was giving her the confidence to know that all is well regardless of external circumstances.

Here in these woods she had always felt, since she was a child ,a joy, a sensation that was the ultimate pursuit and realization of life's purpose. She felt Jacques' presence, her parents love for her, her grandparents who had trod these woods facing great challenges , the men to the trenches and Africa, the women finding solace in these woods.

Kathy stopped and called the dogs to heel and put her arm around her sister, 'I'm not as good as you with words, but listen '.  In the silence that followed they heard the first gentle song of the cuckoo.

Elizabeth's phone rang, making them jump and startling a squirrel that darted up a tree.  

Cheerful voices rang out as she looked at her daughter Delphine and her son Jean-Paul with their partners and all her lovelygrandchildren, jostling to see her on the screen, cries of 'mami, maman, chèrie, tu me manques.' they were blowing kisses and the baby was chuckling at the bundle of cousins.

She laughed and waved at them and reassured them she would be home soon and then swung the camera round the wood to show them the beauty..More cries of wonder and 'ooh la la, la mer.' 

As they walked back to Kathy's house they reminisced and turning to each other their eyes glistening they spoke in unison, their mother's words, 'roots to grow, wings to fly and a reason to come home.'

5300 caratteri. 

Autumn leaves, Autumn magic

    The park was full of children running around and tossing leaves, many dressed in Halloween costumes. Mavis had forgotten it was half term and the happy sounds of their chatter was at odds with her gloomy mood. Life had become just too lonely, too difficult, too fraught with problems since her husband Les had died just as they had both retired from their teaching jobs.

    A little girl rushed past, her witches cape flying and the sparkly hat catching the sun.

    Mavis walked towards the big horse chestnut trees in the centre of the park and the carpet of leaves crackled and rustled as she scuffed them up with her boots. The sun caught the yellow and gold leaves as she spied a shiny brown conker nestling beneath them. She picked it up and caressed it in the palm of her hand. Its smooth round solidness comforted her. In a moment, she was ten years old again, running through the park, delighting in the piles of autumn leaves as she kicked them up in the air and watched them twirl and dance around her. How she had loved the Autumn, conker time, bonfire night and the smell of woodsmoke. Her mother, with her Celtic roots, way before the commercialism of Halloween, had always insisted on putting a carved pumpkin in the porch to ward off the evil spirits.

    Why, she wondered,were childhood memories so much more focused, limpid, clear and sharp? She had loved this park in every season, thrilled by each change throughout the year, but it was Autumn that awoke her senses making her feel fully alive. 

    It was something she hadn't felt for a long time. She had hoped that by coming here she would find again a feeling of hope, of life being good and of being whole. 

     There was always something so magical about the golden glow of autumnal light and for a moment she was transfixed by the beauty of the park. Her sister Edna, long gone to live in Canada, had loved the park too. On a whim, Mavis took out her phone to call her on Facetime. Her sister's lovely face framed by her curly grey hair soon smiled back at her.

    'Hi there sis, I was just making coffee,' Edna grinned as she lifted up a cup which read "World's best granny". 

    As always, Mavis felt a lump in her throat and fought back tears, she had never stopped missing her sister who had been swept off her feet by her handsome Canadian husband when she was a teenager and now had six children and a huge amount of grandchildren all living near her in Ottawa.

    Mavis turned the camera round, 'Look where I am! Do you recognize the trees? Do you remember the conker fights and building the bonfire?'

    Edna sighed, 'Oh gosh yes, what fun we had, Fall is our season Mave, oh whoops, sorry, gotta go, little Amelia wants her potty.' And just like that, she was gone. Mavis sighed, a deep feeling of loneliness sweeping over her.

    The park seemed very quiet once her sister had gone and Mavis started to walk to the entrance. There was a figure standing by the gate and she became aware of being alone.

    She shivered as the wind turned cold and swept through her thin cardigan, she realized there was no-one left in the park and the dusk was settling with an eerie mist. She took out her phone again and called her daughter Jessica who lived in Australia. It went straight to voice mail as it usually did.

    She hurried towards the car park and the figure moved too, a fear gripped her, she'd always been afraid of the dark. She picked up her pace and was alarmed to hear steps close behind her, but then a booming voice called out, 'Hey is it you Mavis?' she turned to see a man about her age and stopped, recognition dawning, it was her neighbour. She felt relief wash over her.

    He carried on, apologetic now, 'I didn't mean to frighten you. It's me David. It's just that I saw you leave the house before and you looked upset and weren't wearing a coat and it's very chilly and now it's getting dark so early and I just wondered if you would like to have a cup of tea.' His words came out in a rush and he looked so worried that she laid her hand on his arm and smiled up at him. It seemed so long since anyone had noticed her.

    'Oh, thank you David. How silly of me, I hadn't realised. I suppose it has got colder in the last few days.' 

    'Don't worry, Mavis.' his tone was warm and kind as he offered her his coat.

   Mavis realise she was still holding the conker in her left hand. She popped it in the pocket of David's coat. 

    'My mother used to say conkers bring good luck and she'd always put one in our coat pocket to protect me and my sister during the Winter months. Would you like to keep it?' 

    'Fancy that, my  mother did exactly the same thing. I would love to keep it, thank you.' replied David turning towards the gate of the park. 'Look, that café over the road is still open. How about you tell me more about your childhood traditions over a cup of tea. My treat'.

                                                                                  ***

    Sitting in the coffee bar with her kind neighbour, Mavis felt a warmth spread around her heart. Finally, as she held her hot cup of tea, she could feel the magic of Autumn she loved so much returning.

 

   

 

 

 

Missing you

 

Mi manchi era cosssssi difficle

per me da imparare

in un tempo tanto lontano

quando volevo parlare

L'Italiano,

Molto piu facile 'I miss you'

Per esprimere quanto ti amavo

E che a te pensavo

Ogni momento e ogni istante

Volevo dire ti manco

Eri troppo distante

E ti volevo intorno

Di notte e di giorno

E quando ami davvero

L'amore quello vero

Vuoi stare insieme per sempre e per sempre

Mi manchi il tuo profumo

Di dopo barba e di fumo

Mi manca il tuo calore

Mi manca il tuo amore

Mi manca la tua camicia

che profumi di ammorbidente

Mi manca tanto la tua mente

I tuoi discorsi intelligente

Mi mancano i biglietti d'amore

scritto a mano e pieni di  cuore

Mi manca la tua voce

Suadente e profondo

La mattina presto

e nella notte fonda

Mi manca tanto tenerti per mano

Piegarti la camicia e l'asciugamano

Mi manca mangiare insieme la pasta

Mi manchi.. e basta

 

 

Mi mancano le tue mani

 

 

 

 

With love on Fathers' Day

 To my dad

How I wish that I could say,

'I'll go and see my dad today',

He'd welcome me with a cheery grin

His arms outstretched to pull me in

We'd sit right down to have a chat

I'd tell him this, he'd tell me that,

A rich tea biscuit and a cup of tea

He'd always see the best in me,

Whenever I would ask advice

His replies were always really nice

Look for the good in everyone

It's always there, just like the sun.

He'd make me laugh, I'd make him smile

I'd hug him hard for quite awhile,

He might recline in his favourite chair

I'd gently stroke his silver hair.

We'd go for a drive and take the dog

Then sit and chat on a wooden log

Such wisdom I have never heard

I would hang onto every word.

Forgive, don't judge, be very kind

Enrich your soul , your heart, your mind

It's a long time now since you went away

But your voice is with  me every day.

 

 

 

E tu?

 Ma quanto sei bello stasera,

Anche tu

Mi piace questa atmosfera

E tu ?m

Voglio andare al mare

Anche tu?

Nn

Angie's short story blog: Contrasti

Angie's short story blog: Contrasti:  La voce della guida turistica svegliò Lindy di soprassalto. Era seduta sul lato soleggiato del pullman e sentiva il sudore colava lungo il ...

Contrasti

 La voce della guida turistica svegliò Lindy di soprassalto. Era seduta sul lato soleggiato del pullman e sentiva il sudore colarle lungo il collo. Guardò Ben che era andato a sedersi all'ombra quando si erano fermati per pranzo.

La guida turistica, Giulio, era un bel giovane con corti ricci scuri e un'abbronzatura dorata. I suoi occhi erano di una tonalità di blu sorprendentemente brillante. Un' elegante signora anziana, un'americana con i capelli rossi tagliati corti e orecchini pendenti di turchese brillante, li aveva notati prima. Giulio le aveva sorriso raggiante, i denti bianchi e abbaglianti sul viso abbronzato. Il suo accento quando parlava in inglese era quello che sua madre avrebbe descritto come "affascinante".

'Molti siciliani hanno gli occhi azzurri, è a causa dell'invasione normanna, ne troverete molti anche con i capelli rossi. Siamo stati invasi in continuazione attraverso i secoli e cosi qui troverete caratteristiche di molti popoli, nel nostro aspetto e nella nostra cucina.'

Ben si era alzato per prendere la borsa dall'armadietto. I suoi avambracci erano diventati rosso fuoco e quando si allungò la parte superiore delle sue braccia brillava di un bianco brillante. Lindy sospirò, aveva rinunciato a fargli mettere la crema abbronzante.

Tutti si accalcarono davanti al pullman in fretta per scendere. Giulio alzò la mano,

«Adesso avete due ore libere per visitare la città e io sarò in questa piazza per chiunque abbia bisogno di assistenza. Ho già segnalato le principali attrazioni, per chi è interessato alla storia qui ce n'è in abbondanza. Per gli altri che vogliono semplicemente curiosare tra i negozi o sedersi in un bar e guardare la gente, c'è l'imbarazzo della scelta. E' quello che gli italiani sanno fare meglio. Non dimenticate di assaggiare la granita, rinfresca ed è buonissima.'

Lindy sbatté le palpebre mentre scendeva dalla carrozza. La luce era abbagliante. Prese gli occhiali da sole dalla borsa e si mise il cappellino in testa. Ben apparve accanto a lei, sbuffando e socchiudendo gli occhi, con la faccia stravolta. Si asciugò il sudore dal viso con un fazzoletto fradicio,

'Non avevo idea che sarebbe stato così caldo. Mi sento come se uscissi continuamente dal frigorifero e entrassi nel forno.'

  Si grattò vigorosamente il braccio e apparvero macchie rosso fuoco,

  «E tutte queste zanzare sono insopportabili. Cerchiamo un posto dove sederci finché non sarà ora di risalire sul pullman.'

«Buona idea», Lindy fece spallucce , «forse possiamo provare la granita di cui ha parlato Giulio. Nella mia guida c'è scritto che il sapore di mandorla è il migliore.'

  Ben gemette e cercò di grattarsi la schiena, sussultando per il dolore

"Non mi ispira per niente. Farei qualsiasi cosa per una bella birra fresca, sono stufo di tutto questo vino e il caffè è così forte che mi dà davvero il mal di stomaco".

Lindy alzò gli occhi al cielo, Ben non faceva altro che lamentarsi.  Era stata una sua idea fare una vacanza in Sicilia. Ben aveva sempre amato l'archeologia e la storia romana e  Lindy aveva sperato in lunghe discussioni su come scavare la terra avrebbe potuto svelare i segreti del passato e della storia greca e romana.

Entrambi si guardarono intorno nella piazza, il pullman se n'era andato e così anche tutti gli altri turisti. La luce era davvero accecante. Gli edifici erano tutti dipinti di un bianco brillante e il cielo era di un profondo blu cobalto, senza una nuvola in vista.

Nell'angolo della piazza c'erano alcuni tavoli e sedie soleggiati mentre dietro di essi l'ingresso buio di un bar. Giulio era fuori e mentre Ben e Lindy lo guardavano, una ragazza gli si avvicinò e

lo baciò su entrambe le guance. Aveva lunghi capelli castani lucenti che scendevano in riccioli lungo la schiena. Indossava un vestito di lino bianco e sandali d'argento che scintillavano alla luce del sole. Giulio le disse qualcosa e lei gettò indietro la testa e rise, poi scomparvero tutti e due nel buio del bar.

Ben si allontanò bruscamente da Lindy,

"Vado lì. Fai quello che vuoi."

Mentre lo guardava allontanarsi, Lindy pensò che forse aveva bisogno di un po' di spazio. Era così preoccupata per lui, ma forse un po' di tempo da solo gli avrebbe fatto bene.

  Giulio aveva raccontato loro della chiesa nella piazza e lei salì i gradini fino all'ingresso.

  Per un po' non riuscì a distinguere nulla all'interno della chiesa, reduce della luce accecante di mezzogiorno, ma poi vide una figura venire verso di lei, un uomo, sui settant'anni , con capelli ricci sfumati di grigio, e un sorriso molto gentile.

'Sei inglese? Sei del gruppo turistico di Giulio?' Tese la mano. «Mi chiamo Ezio. Io sono la guida di questa bella chiesa.' C'era orgoglio e amore nella sua voce.

Lindy lo guardò a bocca aperta: "Il tuo inglese è perfetto, mi vergogno così tanto di non parlare l'italiano, solo poche parole  grazie, ciao, per favore".

Ezio le fece l'occhiolino: «È un buon inizio, sono parole molto importanti.  E, ovviamente non dimenticare le più belle di tutte, Ti voglio bene, Ti amo.' Lindy si sentì arrossire e fu grata per l'oscurità della chiesa.

«Vieni», le fece cenno.

'Vi racconterò la storia di questa chiesa. Comunque il mio inglese è buono perché mia moglie è finlandese, ci siamo conosciuti tanto tempo fa, è una lunga storia, ma posso dirvi che è stato molto più facile per noi parlarci in inglese. Il finlandese è... diciamo molto difficile.'

Girarono intorno alla chiesa e Lindy ascoltò incantata mentre Ezio raccontava tutta la storia della città, della gente e della chiesa, con passione ed entusiasmo in ogni parola. Mentre tornavano verso l'ingresso si fermò davanti a una grande teca di vetro e vi mise dentro una moneta. La teca era illuminata per mostrare un'enorme statua di una donna a cavallo che brandiva una spada.

 Ezio fece un inchino, 

'Questo è il nostro orgoglio e la nostra gioia. Lei è la nostra protettrice.'

Fece una pausa e si rivolse a Lindy, i suoi occhi brillavano come oro.

"Cosa noti in lei?"

Lindy fece un passo avanti e scrutò la statua. Le ricordava qualcuno, erano i capelli, i lunghi riccioli lucenti. Si morse il labbro concentrandosi. Era la ragazza fuori dal bar. Quella che aveva visto baciare Giulio.

Si rivolse a Ezio, sorridendo,

"Ha i capelli veri."

Ezio sorrise,

' Esattamente. E' unica al mondo. Le ragazze del posto hanno donato i loro capelli alla statua. Lasciate che vi parli ora della nostra celebrazione annuale in cui tiriamo fuori la statua e sfilamo per le strade. Prima di tutto viene il parrucchiere a preparare i capelli, mettendo i bigodini per esaltare le belle ciocche ...'.

Quando Ezio ebbe finito di raccontare della sfilata, le diede un biglietto e una foto della statua. Lindy la ripose nella borsetta e fece discretamente un'offerta. Tornò a guardare la statua. Si sentiva in qualche modo più leggera, voleva ridere. Uscì quasi ballando giù per i gradini della chiesa.

La piazza si era trasformata, il sole era tramontato dietro i palazzi ed era in ombra. I bambini correvano e giocavano, gruppi di giovani stavano insieme chiacchierando e mangiando gelati, una banda di musicisti suonava in un angolo e tutti i tavoli e le sedie del bar erano occupati. Guardò oltre per vedere se Ben fosse lì. Era seduto a uno dei tavoli con la ragazza che aveva baciato Giulio. Osservò con stupore la ragazza buttare indietro i capelli e spalmare lentamente un po' di unguento sulle braccia bruciate dal sole di Ben, guardandolo negli occhi con quello che poteva essere descritto solo con tenerezza. Ben la guardava , incantato. Anche da lontano poteva dire che era più rilassato, il suo viso era radioso. La sua mano era sul braccio della ragazza. Lindy si avvicinò a loro e quando Ben la vide balzò in piedi,

'Oh eccoti Lindy, non indovinerai mai, c'era una partita di calcio su un grande schermo all'interno del bar e mi sono divertito moltissimo. I ragazzi qui sono così cordiali e amichevoli e hanno anche birra artigianale, e io.. '. guardò la ragazza: "Ho anche conosciuto Serena, la sorella di Giulio che sta per fare un dottorato in Archeologia a Oxford e la porterò a fare visita al mio college." poi rise imbarazzato: "Non so cosa mi prende, mi dispiace".

Lindy sorrise sollevata. Aveva avuto così tanta paura per suo fratello che a volte aveva pensato che non lo avrebbe mai più sentito ridere. Da quando sua moglie lo aveva lasciato le cose erano andate davvero male. Il dottore parlava di grave depressione e raccomandava che non fosse lasciato solo. Lindy aveva riposto così tanta speranza in questa vacanza e ora in questa città piena di contrasti, di luci accecanti e interni bui e ombrosi, qualcosa di buono era successo, qualcosa che era vecchio di secoli aveva spostato l'oscurità dalle loro vite.

Guardò di nuovo verso la chiesa, Ezio era in cima ai gradini. Lui salutò e lei rispose con sorriso illuminante 

Deep Roots to Grow

 As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air Elizabeth felt her heart soar with it up above the clouds, a feeling of joy that emanated from within, spreading warmth and comfort around her aching heart.. She was going home. A lump came to her throat and tears threatened to spill because there was joy but sadness too. It was her first trip back without her beloved husband Jacques. She shook herself and sat up straighter as the steward handed out water and peanuts. The woman in the seat next to her passed them across and she automatically replied 'merci'. The woman smiled and asked her if she was French. Elizabeth took a breath and recited as she had for so many years,'I'm English but have lived in France for many years '

 I have two grown up children, a daughter and a son and five grandchildren.' She could hear her daughter Delphine's voice and  imagine the rolling of the eyes and saying something like 'TMI mum you don't have to tell everyone your life story.'

Delphine wasn't here though and the woman looked interested and introduced herself as Pauline. then she smiled and returned to her book, joining the army of thousands of travel companions that had lightened her journeys over the years with their smiles.

Elizabeth looked out of the window waiting for the moment when she could easily make out the English channel and as the coast of England came into sight her heart soared again.  It was always such an emotional moment for her and along with the joy there was deep pain. the years of  heartbreak of leaving her ailing parents and then the pain of knowing they were not waiting for her anymore. Her father had always told her never to organize a surprise visit, that for him there was so much joy in the preparation for her visit. He said there was a word for it in German 'Verfreude' a sense of joyful anticipation.

It was spring and she revelled in the atavistic pleasure of the passing of the four seasons. Each one had its charm, but in spring there was the added magic of her beloved bluebell woods in the Beech woods around her childhood home.

As a child she had picked bluebells with her sister Kathy and her mum had arranged them together with the first bright green beech leaves dipped in glycerine to keep them fresh. Picking wildflowers was frowned upon now and flowers like cowslips flourished on all the banks.

As the plane landed and there was a flurry of movement as overhead lockers were opened and a rush to exit the plane  she felt again a sense of delightful anticipation mixed with the heartache of loss, pain and joy and then she saw her sister waiting by the Costa coffee her face lit up with love and arms enveloping her in a warm healing embrace. No words were needed between the sisters to express their deep emotions, the great love for their parents and each other, the sorrow of losing them and now Jacques, all these emotions were contained in their hug.

Kathy nuzzled into Elizabeth's  neck, then mumbled  'cup of tea and the bluebell woods?'  Struggling with her tears Elizabeth nodded, 'Perfect.'

Buoyed up by her sister's presence and the hot cup of tea she changed into boots and a jacket for their walk. Kathy let her two dogs off the lead the moment they entered the wood.

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks as they approached the sea of purple bluebells, breathing in the scent and watching the shafts of sunlight thread their way through the crisp clean green of the beech leaves. She turned to Kathy,

'It's life-affirming, it's magical, it never fails to bring me joy and now will help with healing. It's that feeling of joy that's a type of fulfillment that transcends fleeting moments of happiness.'

Her sister giggled, 'oh Lizzie you and your flowery words, I just love it.'

They linked arms and trod gently through the wood keeping to the path. Elizabeth thought to herself, not wanting to sound gushing but feeling that this joy was giving her the confidence to know that all is well regardless of external circumstances.

Here in these woods she had always felt, since she was a child ,a joy, a sensation that was the ultimate pursuit and realization of life's purpose. She felt Jacques' presence, her parents love for her, her grandparents who had trod these woods facing great challenges , the men to the trenches and Africa, the women finding solace in these woods.

Kathy stopped and called the dogs to heel and put her arm around her sister, 'I'm not as good as you with words, but listen '.  In the silence that followed they heard the first gentle song of the cuckoo.

Elizabeth's phone rang, making them jump and startling a squirrel that darted up a tree.  

Cheerful voices rang out as she looked at her daughter Delphine and her son Jean-Paul with their partners and all her lovelygrandchildren, jostling to see her on the screen, cries of 'mami, maman, chèrie, tu me manques.' they were blowing kisses and the baby was chuckling at the bundle of cousins.

She laughed and waved at them and reassured them she would be home soon and then swung the camera round the wood to show them the beauty..More cries of wonder and 'ooh la la, la mer.'

As they walked back to Kathy's house they reminisced and turning to each other their eyes glistening they spoke in unison, their mother's words, 'roots to grow, wings to fly and a reason to come home.'

 

Il Pranzo della Domenica

 Forti grida di imprecazioni irruppero come scoppi di tuono nell'aria tiepida primaverile riempiendola di paura e terrore. L'aggressività e la violenza delle parole gelarono Deborah. Le si gelò il sangue come sempre quando sentiva grida di rabbia.

Stava salutando sua figlia e la sua famiglia. L'ora di pranzo della domenica era per lei come un bozzolo, che avvolgeva la sua famiglia in una maratona senza sosta di deliziosi piatti fatti in casa, giochi e cartoni animati per tutta la famiglia.

Ogni domenica si sforzava di ricreare i suoi ricordi d'infanzia. È stato da sempre un momento con cui rigenerare la sua anima e arricchire le sue figlie e nipote di ricordi preziosi.

Quando si stava per sposare, tanti anni prima, sua madre le aveva detto che un matrimonio è fatto di tanti pasti felici e della condivisione del cibo in famiglia. Deborah sospirò pesantemente pensando a quanto fosse stato difficile, una sfida costante.

Niente andava mai bene per il suo marito Fabrizio in quei primi anni del loro matrimonio. Trattenne le lacrime ricordando i suoi capricci e mal umore, tutte le critiche del suo modo di cucinare.

Quando Deborah era bambina, il pranzo della domenica era sempre stato un'accogliente bolla di felicità, con i suoi nonni che ricordavano la loro giovinezza e suo padre che li intratteneva con storie e la sua famiglia cullata in un rifugio sicuro di amore e buona volontà.

Deborah si scosse e sbirciò dal balcone. Della figlia Anna e del compagno Claudio e dei due figlioletti Leo ed Emma nessuna traccia.

  Un sentimento di sollievo la invase per il fatto che le urla non provenissero dalla piccola famiglia di sua figlia, una paura profondamente radicata e sempre presente che la storia si ripetesse per poi essere sostituita da una profonda tristezza per chiunque si trovasse in un tale stato di angoscia. Le urla continuarono, angoscia e disperazione si riversano nella notte oscura. Lei si irrigidì. Il suo cuore si spezza come se fosse ieri, riportandola nell'inferno di viscere provocate da Fabrizio. Sentimenti di dolore, paura e devastazione la attraversarono.

Si udì un forte scoppio mentre la porta d'ingresso dell'appartamento accanto veniva chiusa di colpo' poi passi veloce sulle scale e poco dopo il rumore di un'auto che andava su di giri. Movimenti aggressivi arrabbiati. Tornò dentro e chiuse la porta, si rese conto che stava tremando e fece dei respiri profondi per calmare il battito del cuore.

  Il pranzo della domenica le era sembrato andato bene ma erano bastate le urla per ricordarle di non abbassare mai la guardia. 

Il rumore doveva provenire dalla porta accanto, erano  vicini nuovi  che si erano trasferiti lì poche settimane prima e negli ultimi giorni l' apartamento era rimasto silenzioso. Devono essere andati via qualche giorno e sono appena tornati.
Deborah andò in cucina e si preparò una tazza di caffè da accompagnare con una fetta di torta, ma la spensieratezza della giornata si stava affievolendo. Guardò il telefono e vide due messaggi delle sue figlie. Uno era della figlia minore Cristina, partita presto per tornare a Firenze dove lavorava come infermiera e uno di Anna, "siamo a casa mamma, grazie per un'altra splendida domenica, sei la migliore".

. Dopo anni passati a cercare di tenere unita la sua famiglia e di trovare sempre speranza e luce, Deborah dava mai nulla per scontato. Fabrizio era ormai sposato con un'altra donna, piu tosta e molto benestante e da fuori sembrava di aver trovato un po di serenità Era gentile con le figlie e uno nonno affettuoso.

Però a che costo per lei.  

Pensò ai nuovi vicini, forse poteva andare a presentarsi. Non voleva intromettersi, però forse sarebbe andata domattina.

Portò il caffè e la torta in salotto e si sistemò per guardare un film.

La magia di quel giorno, tuttavia, era scomparsa, l'ombra sempre presente che il comportamento rabbioso e offensivo di suo marito aveva gettato sulla sua vita. Si era sempre sentita così indegna di amore, inutile e priva di talento.

I suoi pensieri furono interrotti da un forte bussare alla porta di casa. Si avvicinò e guardò attraverso il spioncino e vide una giovane donna che teneva in braccio una bambina. Deborah fece un respiro profondo e apre la porta con un sorriso luminoso sul viso. Sembrava che la giovane donna avesse pianto e la bambina aveva un'aria sconvolta.  Quando la donna parlò era un sussurro e Deborah dovette andare vicina per sentirla.

"Mi dispiace tanto disturbarti di domenica, ma ci siamo appena trasferiti e non ho latte e mi chiedevo solo..."

Deborah spalancò la porta e li invitò a entrare. "Entra, ho appena fatto il caffè, ne vuoi una tazza?"

La giovane donna annuì e sorrise: "Sarebbe bellissimo, grazie. Comunque io sono Silvia e noi, io e il mio compagno Massimo, siamo appena tornati dai suoceri e un sacco di cose sono andate storte. Doveva essersi saltato la corrente perché la casa è gelida e il cibo nel frigorifero è andato a male quindi non c'è latte per Sofia qui e poi Massimo ha ricevuto una chiamata dal suo capo che gli diceva di andare a lavorare domani e poi...' lei non finì la frase e Deborah le toccò dolcemente il braccio: 'Ecco, io prendo la bambina e tu ti rilassi e ti riscaldi. Se mi dici cosa fare, preparo una bottiglia e mi avanza molto cibo dal pranzo della domenica e quindi per favore dì a tuo marito di venire a cena da me.  Guarda che volevo invitarvi da quando vi siete trasferiti qui.'

Silvia passò delicatamente la bambina e poi chiuse gli occhi sollevata.

Una sensazione di grande tristezza passò nel suo cuore. Non poteva dimenticare di aver sentito gli urli di prima e sapeva il danno che potevano fare. 

La violenza e le aggressione di Fabrizio avevano distrutto qualcosa di prezioso dentro di lei. La prima volta che l'aveva colpita è stato cosi scioccata e spezzo qualcosa di fondamentale dentro di lei. Il loro rapporto cambio per sempre. Tutta la sua spontaneita svani e le cose in lei che l'avevano attratto si sono scomparse per sempre.

La piccola comincia a svegliarsi e apri la sua piccola bocca alla ricerca di cibo e poi aprì gli occhi e sorrise a Deborah che esclamò

 'Oh, è bellissima Silvia!'  e poi stringendola forte sussurrò "Ciao tesoro" e le offrì la bottiglia preparata. Guardò Silvia che si era addormentata di colpo. Deborah la copri con il plaid e continua a coccolarre la piccola.

 D'un tratto qualcuno bussa alla porta e Deborah  andò cautamente ad aprirla reggendo Sofia e la bottiglia, e vide un uomo bello e elegante con un sorriso affascinante sul volto,

 ' Buon giorno, sono Massimo il nuovo vicino.  Mi dispiace che ci incontriamo così ma grazie mille  per aver preso  cura delle mie preziose ragazze.'

Deborah si portò il dito alle labbra e indicò Sofia addormentata.

«Sono molto felice di potervi aiutare.'  Massimo prende in braccio la piccola Sofia e Deborah gli fa accomodare in poltrona. ' La mia figlia é appena andate via e ho tante cose dal pranzo della Domenica. Per favore, fermatevi a cena e fatti come se fosse a casa tua.'

Mentre Deborah  era impegnata in cucina a preparare la cena per i suoi nuovi vicini, poteva sentirli parlare a sotto voce tra loro, ammirare la loro bambina, sussurrare parole di tenerezza, sentiva alcune scuse  e lei sospirò profondamente. Vorrebbe di non aver sentito le urla, avrebbe voluto liberarsi di tutto il dolore dentro di sé, desiderava così tanto poter aiutare Silvia, proteggerla in qualche modo come aveva sempre cercato di proteggere le sue figlie dall'ira del padre.

  Il telefono di Deborah squillò, due messaggi dalle sue figlie, "ti vogliamo bene mamma, grazie" da Crristina e "Il miglior giorno di sempre dalla migliore mamma di sempre", da Anna. Questa era la sua ricompensa, la sua vittoria.

Deborah sfornò le lasagne. Mise i piatti davanti a Silvia e a Massimo che cullava Sofia.

Avrebbe fatto tutto il possibile per proteggerli. Forse, sperava, forse la sua esperienza potrebbe salvare un'altra famiglia, non sapeva proprio come, ma forse era questa la sua missione.- spezzare il spirale di violenza e dolore.

Dopo cena, accompagna alla porta la piccola famiglia, salutando Massimo lo guarda fissa negli occhi..

'Qui si sente tutto in questo condominio, mi raccomando,'  poi sorrise e aggiunse' ben venuti e se avete bisogno sono sempre qui.'

 

 

Bianco e nero - Luce e buio -

 Loud shouts of swearing broke like peals of thunder into the balmy spring air filling it with fear and dread. The aggression and violence of the words turned Deborah to ice. Her blood froze as it always did when she heard angry shouting.

She had been waving goodbye to her daughter and her family.  Sunday lunchtime was like a cocoon for her, enveloping her family in a non- stop marathon of delicious home-cooked food and family games and cartoons.

Every Sunday she tried so hard to recreate her childhood memories. It was a time with which to regenerate her soul and enrich her family with precious memories.

When she was getting married all those years ago her mother had told her that a marriage was made up of many happy mealtimes and sharing food as a family. deborah sighed heavily thinking how hard that had turned out to be.

Nothing was ever right in those early days of her marriage. She fought back the tears remembering her husbands tantrums and moods and criticizing her cooking.

When Deborah was growing up Sunday lunch had always been a cosy bubble of happiness, wuth her grandparents reminiscing about their youth and her father entertaining them with stories  and her family lulled into a safe haven of love and goodwill.

Deborah shook herself peered over the balcony.  There was no sign of her daughter, Anna  and  her partner Claudio and the two little children Leo and Emma.

 A feeling of relief washed over her that the shouting hadn't come from her daughter's little family a deeply embedded fear ever present of history repeating itself  to be replaced by a deep sadness for whoever was in such a state of distress.The shouting continued, anguish and desperation pouring into the dark night. She tensed up. Her heart breaking as though it was yesterday taking her back to the gut twisting hell caused by her husband Fabrizio. Feelings of hurt, fear and devastation coursed through her. 

There was a loud bang as the front door of the apartment next door was slammed shut and the noise of a car revving up. Angry aggressive movements. She ran back inside and closed the door, she realized she was shaking and took some deep breaths to calm her thudding heart. 

 Her Sunday lunch had seemed to her to have gone well but all it had taken was the shouting to remind her to never let down her guard. The noise must have come from next door, they were new neighbours who had moved in just a few weeks ago and it had been in darkness the last few days. They must have gone away  and just returned.

She went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea to have with a slice of  cake but the light-hearted joy of the day was receding. She looked at he.r phone and saw two messages from her daughters. One from her younger daughter Cristina, who had left early to drive back to  Florence where she worked as a nurse and one from Anna, 'we're home mum, thanks for another wonderful Sunday, you're the best'. 

.  After years of trying to keep her family together and always trying to find hope and  light  Deborah never took anything  for granted.

She thought about the new neighbours, maybe she could go and introduce herself .She didn't want to interfere though maybe she would go in the morning.

She took her tea and cake into the sitting room and settled down to watch a film.

The magic of the day had gone however, the ever- present shadow that the angry hurtful behaviour of her husband had thrown over her life.  She had always felt so unworthy of love, useless and lacking in talent.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on her front door. She crept towards it and looked through the spy glass, she could see a young woman holding a  baby. She took a deep breath and opening the door put a bright smile on her face . The young woman looked as though she had been crying and was jogging the baby up and down. When she spoke it was a whisper and Deborah had to move forward to hear. 

'I'm so sorry to bother you on Sunday but we've just moved in and I haven't got any milk and I just wondered..'

Deborah opened the door wide and beckoned them inside. 'Come in, I've just made some coffee, would you like a cup?' 

The young woman nodded and smiled, 'That would be lovely. By the way I'm Silvia and  we, my partner Massimo and I, have  just got back from my in-laws and all sorts of things have gone wrong. we must have had a power cut because the house is freezing and the food in the fridge has gone off so there's no milk for Sofia here and then Massimo got a call from his boss telling him to go to work tomorrow and then..' she didn't finish the sentence and Deborah touched her gently on the arm, 'Here I'll take the baby and you relax and warm yourself up. If you tell me what to do I'll prepare a bottle and I have lots of food left over so please tell your husband to come and join us. I've been wanting to ask you over since you moved in.'

Silvia gently handed over the  baby and closed her eyes in relief as she took a sip of coffee.

Deborah felt a wave of sadness pass over her. She'd heard the angry shouting and she knew what harm it could do.  Fabrizio's violence had destroyed something precious deep inside her. The first time he hit her had been such a shock, she was stunned and their relationship was never the same again,all the spontaneity was gone and all the things about her that had attracted him to her had shrivelled away.

The baby started to wake up, her little mouth opening in a quest for food and then she opened her eyes and smiled at Deborah, 'Oh she's beautiful Silvia!' She cooed  gently 'Hello little darling,' and offered her the prepared bottle. She looked across at Silvia who had fallen asleep. There was a knock on the door and she gingerly went to open it holding onto Sofia and the bottle,to see Silvia's partner Massimo standing there with a charming smile on his face, 'hello I'm sorry we meet like this but thank you so much for looking after my precious girls.' 

Deborah beckoned in him and settled him in a chair with Sofia She held her finger to her lips and indicated the sleeping Sofia.

'I'm very glad to be able to help. Please stay for supper and make yourself at home.'

While she was busying herself in the kitchen preparing a supper of cold ham and jacket potatoes for her new neighbours she could hear them quietly talking amongst themselves, admiring their baby daughter, whispering words of endearment, she heard some sorrys and some never agains and she sighed deeply. She wished she hadn't heard the shouting, she wished she could get rid of all the pain in her, she wished so hard maybe she could help Silvia, protect her somehow as she had always tried to protect her daughters from their father's wrath.

 Deborah's phone pinged, two messages from her daughters, 'we love you mum, thank you,' from Christina and 'The best day ever from the best mum ever,' from Anna. This was her reward, her victory.

Deborah took the lasagna out of the oven and served them on plates. She handed them round to Silvia and then Massimo who was cradling Sofia.

. She would do all she could to protect them.

Luci e ombre

    Ogni giovedì mattina alle undici del giorno di mercato Rosa si faceva strada tra i tavoli del Bar del Mercato e si sedeva al suo tavolo preferito salutando Franco il proprietario. Sapeva quanto le piaceva il cappuccino e le teneva sempre un cornetto alle mandorle. La faceva sentire al sicuro. Il suo istinto le diceva che poteva fidarsi di lui. 

    Non aveva sempre avuto questo dono, il dono di sapere di chi ti puoi fidare. Camminando lungo la navata al braccio di suo padre tanti anni prima aveva davvero creduto che sarebbe vissuta per sempre felice e contenta. Era così innamorata di Alberto, non poteva sopportare di separarsi da lui e voleva essere la moglie perfetta e renderlo felice...
     La prima volta che accadde pensò di essere inciampata in qualcosa e di aver sbattuto la testa. Stordita si era voltata e aveva tremato quando aveva visto il volto distorto di suo marito. Occhi freddi e duri dietro una maschera di furia feroce. In quel momento qualcosa di profondo e importante cambiò per sempre. Qualcosa si ruppe nel profondo della sua anima, un sentimento insopportabilmente doloroso di perdita e disperazione le squarciò l'anima. Un'oscurità scese su di lei. Da quel momento in poi capì che non avrebbe mai potuto abbassare la guardia. Realizzare che suo marito era capace di colpirla con violenza cambiò tutto. Mentre cercava di rialzarsi, era vagamente consapevole del loro bimbo Giulio che piangeva al suono della voce arrabbiata di suo padre e istintivamente allungò la mano per prenderlo in braccio e consolarlo.
     Le ferite sulla sua anima non si riemarginarono mai. Aveva solamente imparato a oscurarle. Le ci era voluto molto tempo e invece di cercare di rendere felice suo marito, aveva dedicato tutta la sua energia per non farlo arrabbiare, con scarsi risultati. Un giorno in cui gli attacchi erano particolarmente frequenti si era confidata con la suocera per chiedere aiuto. Lo sguardo supplichevole e disperato che aveva ricevuto le aveva detto tutto quello che c'era bisogno di sapere. In quel momento prese la sua decisione. Era intrappolata nel suo matrimonio, ma sapeva di dover far entrare un po' di luce nella sua vita per sopravvivere.
     Sapeva che doveva interrompere il ciclo. Doveva proteggere suo figlio, dimostrargli che esisteva un altro modo di essere uomo. Quella sarebbe stata la missione della sua vita. Le sue armi diventarono umorismo, amore e gentilezza. Era come remare in una barca su un lago, sapendo che sotto c'era un mostro che poteva colpire in qualsiasi momento. 

    Ora, Giulio era laureato in medicina ed viveva con la sua ragazza, Mia. La ricompensa di Rosa era sperare che il ciclo fosse definitivamente stato spezzato...
 
     Rosa sospirò, seduta al tavolo in piazza, e guardò il cielo grigio sopra di lei, ascoltando il chiacchiericcio delle altre signore al bar come un dolce suono rassicurante. Rivolse lo sguardo alle bancarelle. La vista delle donne che curiosavano tra i banchi reggendo sciarpe e giacche dai vivaci colori primaverili le aveva sempre dato gioia. Una sensazione di sollievo la avvolse, ma provava ancora un'immensa tristezza. Non avrebbe mai immaginato che il suo matrimonio sarebbe stato così. Un corso di sopravvivenza.
     Per tutti quegli anni aveva pensato che fosse tutta colpa sua. Dopo ogni esplosione di ira si sentiva sporca e inutile. Quando Alberto perdeva il controllo, urlava con rabbia che le sue erano solo reazioni alle azioni sciocche di lei. Ogni volta si ritraeva in se stessa senza mai capire veramente cosa aveva fatto di male.
     Anni più tardi, e ormai di violenza domestica si parlava tantissimo, sui giornali, sui social. Ogni anno c'era un giorno speciale ad essa dedicato, in tutto il mondo, con scarpette rosse e panchine rosse ovunque. Una volta in un programma televisivo Rosa aveva sentito qualcuno dire che era sempre inaccettabile, non era mai colpa della donna, un uomo non doveva mai picchiare una donna. Sentendo queste parole, aveva pianto singhiozzi profondi e strazianti, trent'anni di lacrime in un solo pomeriggio.
     

    Franco le appoggiò sul tavolo il caffè e il cornetto, con un gesto elegante. Rosa alzò lo sguardo per ringraziare e notò uno squarcio azzurro nel cielo.

     "Grazie Franco," sorrise con gratitudine.
 
     Franco ricambiò il sorriso, con saggezza e gentilezza nei suoi occhi. Conosceva Alberto dai tempi della scuola e senza parole sembrava comprendere il suo dolore.
 
     Qualche minuto dopo passarono Giulio e Mia e esclamarono:
 
     'Ehi mamma, possiamo unirci a te, sapevamo che ti avremmo trovato qui in un giorno di mercato?'
 
     Mentre accostavano le sedie il sole uscì dalle nuvole, raggi luminosi che illuminavano Giulio e Mia.

     L'oscurità che sarebbe stata per sempre in agguato nella sua anima si spostò e si aprì come le nuvole nel cielo per rivelare uno spiraglio di speranza e gioia per il futuro a venire.

Letting in light to hide the darkness

    Every Thursday morning at eleven o' clock on market day Rosa would weave her way through the tables of Il Bar del Mercato and sit at her favourite table waving at Franco the owner. He knew how she liked her cappuccino and always kept her an almond croissant. He made her feel safe. Her instinct told her that she could trust him. She hadn't always had this gift, the gift of knowing who you can trust. 

    Walking down the aisle on her father's arm all those years ago she had really believed she was going to live happily ever after. She had loved Alberto so much, couldn't bear to be apart from him and wanted to be the perfect wife and make him happy...

    The first time it happened she thought that she had tripped over something and bumped her head. Feeling stunned, she had turned round and shuddered in fear when she saw her husband's face. Cold hard eyes within a mask of vicious fury.  In that moment, something profound and important changed forever. Something broke deep inside her, an unbearably painful feeling of loss and hopelessness ripped through her very soul. A darkness descended on her.  From then on she knew she could never let down her guard. Knowing her husband was capable of hitting her changed everything. As she stood there, she was vaguely aware of their baby son Giulio crying at the sound of his father's angry voice and in a trance she instinctively reached out to pick him up and console him.

    The wounds on her soul never healed. She had just learnt to manage them. It had taken her a long time and instead of trying to make her husband happy, all her energy had gone into not making him angry. One day when the attacks were particularly frequent she had confided in her mother-in-law to seek some help. The beseeching desperate look she had received had told her all that she needed to know. 

    At that moment she made up her mind. Although she was trapped in her marriage, she knew she had to let some light into her life in order to survive. She knew she had to break the cycle. She had to protect her son, to show him that there was another way of being a man. That would be her life mission. Her weapons became humour, love and kindness. It was like rowing a boat on a lake knowing that a monster lay beneath and could strike at any time. 

    Now Giulio had graduated and left home to live with his girlfriend, Mia. Rosa's reward was to hope the cycle had been broken...

 

    Rosa sat back in the chair at the table, looking up at the grey sky, the chattering of the other customers a light reassuring sound. The sight of the women perusing the stalls holding up scarves and jackets in bright spring colours had always given her joy. A feeling of relief swirled around her. But the tears came to her eyes and she felt immense sadness too. She hadn't imagined her marriage would have been like this. A survival course.

    For all those years she had thought the violence was all her fault. With every rage she felt dirty and numbed. Every time he lost control, Alberto would shout angrily that his were only reactions to her actions. She cowered every time never really understanding what she had done wrong.

 

    Now this sort of thing was talked about a lot, it was all in the open, in the newspaper, on social media. There was even a special day each year dedicated to it, world wide, with red shoes and red benches everywhere. Recently, on a television chat, show someone had said that it was always unacceptable, it was never the woman's fault, a man must never ever hit a woman. She had cried then, deep body -wracking sobs, thirty years of tears in one afternoon.

    

    Franco came up and placed her cappuccino and almond croissant in front of her, with a flourish. She looked up into his warm brown eyes and noticed a patch of blue which had just appeared in the sky.

    'Thank you Franco,' she smiled with gratitude.

 

   Franco smiled back, wisdom and kindness in his eyes. He knew Alberto and without words he seemed to understand her pain.

 

    Just then Giulio and Mia passed by and called out,

 

    'Hey mum can we join you, we knew we'd find you here on market day?'

 

    As they pulled up their chairs the sun came out, its bright beams shining on Giulio and Mia.  

    The darkness that would forever be lurking in her soul shifted and parted like the clouds in the sky to reveal a chink of hope and joy for the future to come.

 

 

 

Would you like a coffee means I'd like to be with you

 Come and have a coffee

Or a cup of tea

All that really matters

Is you spend some time with me.

The joy of those occasions

When you sit down with a friend

A neighbour or a daughter

Who has an ear to lend.

 

That first delicious moment

When you both pull up a chair

Leaning forward to listen carefully

You've got so much to share.

 

As we sip our cappuccinos

And enjoy a chocolate bun

Our joyous conversation

Is always so much fun.

 

We might become more serious

Expressing hopes and fears

Laying bear our deepest thoughts

We sometimes shed some tears.

 

Sometimes we might disagree

About what's on the News

But always we appreciate

Hearing different views.

 

Respectfully we listen

To what's on each other's mind

And if advice is offered

It's always very kind.

 

Then , when it's time to say farewell

And wend our way back home,

We know our friendship follows us

Wherever we may roam. 

Poems By Angie B January 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clinging to Traditions to Heal Wounds

 The loud shouts of swearing broke like peals of thunder into the crisp winter air filling it with fear and dread. The aggression and violence of the words turned Deborah to ice. Her blood froze as it always did when she heard angry shouting.

She had been standing in the porch waving goodbye to her daughter and her family. Two days of festive cheer had been like a cocoon for her, enveloping her family in a non- stop marathon of Christmas fare, family games and cartoons.

Every year she tried so hard to recreate her childhood memories. Two days with which to regenerate her soul and enrich her family with precious memories to warm them throughout the year.. Those two days had always been a cosy bubble of happiness of tangerines at the bottom of stockings, tins of Quality street to share,carols round the piano and crumpets by the fire and her family lulled into a safe haven of love and goodwill.

Deborah shook herself and tiptoed to the end of her garden path and peered down the lane. there was no sign of her daughter Cheryl and her family. A feeling of relief washed over her that the shouting hadn't come from her daughter's little family a deeply embedded fear ever present of history repeating itself  to be replaced by a deep sadness for whoever was in such a state of distress.The shouting continued, anguish and desperation pouring into the dark night. She tensed up. Her heart breaking as though it was yesterday taking her back to the gut twisting hell caused by her husband John. Feelings of hurt, fear and devastation coursed through her. 

There was a loud bang as the front door of the house next door was slammed shut and the noise of a car revving up. Angry aggressive movements. She ran back inside and closed the door, she realized she was shaking and took some deep breaths to calm her thudding heart. 

The two days of feasting and party games had seemed to her to have gone well but all it had taken was the shouting to remind her to never let down her guard. The noise must have come from next door, they were new neighbours who had moved in just a few weeks before Christmas and the house had been in darkness the last few days. They must have gone away for Christmas and just returned.

She went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea to have with a slice of Christmas cake, but the light-hearted joy of the past two days was receding. She looked at her phone and saw two messages from her daughters. One from her younger daughter Chrissy who had left early to drive back to Birmingham where she worked as a nurse and one from Cheryl, 'we're home mum, thanks for another wonderful Christmas, you're the best'. Cheryl and her partner Jack and their toddler twins had walked the short distance from their house so they could enjoy a glass of fizz or two.  After years of trying to keep her family together and always trying to find hope and  light  she never took anything  for granted.

She thought about the new neighbours, should she go and ring the bell and wish them a merry Christmas? She opened the back door and peered down the garden but could see no lights on . No, she would be safer to go in the daytime.

She took her tea and cake into the sitting room and settled down to watch a Christmas film. The magic of the day had gone however, the ever present shadow that the angry hurtful behaviour of her husband had thrown over her life.  She had always felt so unworthy of love, useless and lacking in talent.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on her front door. She crept towards it and looked through the spy glass, she could see a young woman holding a  baby. She took a deep breath and opening the door put a bright smile on her face . The young woman looked as though she had been crying and was jogging the baby up and down. When she spoke it was a whisper and Deborah had to move forward to hear. 

'I'm so sorry to bother you on Boxing Day but we've just moved in and I haven't got any milk and I just wondered..'

Deborah opened the door wide and beckoned them inside. 'Come in, I've just made some tea , would you like a cup?' 

The young woman nodded and smiled, 'That would be lovely. By the way I'm Allie and  we, my partner Matt and I, have  just got back from my in-laws and all sorts of things have gone wrong. we must have had a power cut because the house is freezing and the food in the fridge has gone off so there's no milk for Sophia here and then Matt got a call from his boss telling him to go to work tomorrow and then..' she didn't finish the sentence and Deborah touched her gently on the arm, 'Here I'll take the baby and you relax and warm yourself up. If you tell me what to do I'll prepare a bottle and I have lots of food left over so please tell your husband to come and join us. I've been wanting to ask you over since you moved in.'

Allie gently handed over the  baby and closed her eyes in relief as she took a sip of the tea.

Deborah felt a wave of sadness pass over her. She'd heard the angry shouting and she knew what harm it could do.  John's violence had destroyed something precious deep inside her. The first time he hit her had been such a shock, she was stunned and their relationship was never the same again,all the spontaneity was gone and all the things about her that had attracted him to her had shrivelled away.

The baby started to wake up, her little mouth opening in a quest for food and then she opened her eyes and smiled at Deborah, 'Oh she's beautiful Allie!' She cooed  gently 'Hello little darling,' and offered her the prepared bottle. She looked across at Allie who had fallen asleep. There was a knock on the door and she gingerly went to open it holding onto Sophia and the bottle,to see Allie's partner Matt standing there with a charming smile on his face, 'hello I'm sorry we meet like this but thank you so much for looking after my precious girls.' 

Deborah beckoned in him and settled him in a chair with Sophia, She held her finger to her lips and indicated the sleeping Allie.

'I'm very glad to be able to help. Please stay for supper and make yourself at home.'

While she was busying herself in the kitchen preparing a supper of cold ham and jacket potatoes for her new neighbours she could hear them quietly talking amongst themselves, admiring their baby daughter, whispering words of endearment, she heard some sorrys and some never agains and she sighed deeply. She wished she hadn't heard the shouting, she wished she could get rid of all the pain in her, she wished so hard maybe she could help Allie, protect her somehow as she had always tried to protect her daughters from their father's wrath.

 Deborah's phone pinged, two messages from her daughters, 'we love you mum, thank you,' from Chrissy and 'The best Christmas ever from the best mum ever,' from Cheryl. This was her reward, her victory.

Deborah took the baked potatoes out of the oven and arranged them on plates with grated cheese and chilli, pickled onions and ham as she always had done every Boxing Day. She handed them round to Allie and Matt who was cradling Sophia. She would do all she could to protect them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dressed in Pink to make the boys Wink

    The strong smell of Italian coffee that pervaded the apartment every morning reminded Yvonne, as she woke up, that she was in Italy, staying with her son and his family. The bedroom was in complete darkness, the shutters tightly closed, but it was the aroma of coffee that told her it was morning. The door opened a crack letting in some dazzling sunshine and she sat up as her little granddaughter Ginevra came to stand by her bed,

    'Nonna,' she whispered, 'Are you awake?' 

Without waiting for an answer she carried on, trying hard to speak in English, 'Papa says you want tea because you're English, mamma is making it and she says you can meet me from school tomorrow, she's going to tell the teachers that you're coming , you'll meet my best friend Olimpia and her nonno Bruno.'

    The door opened further and the room was flooded with light as her daughter-in-law Carlotta rolled up the blinds with a flourish and handed Yvonne a mug of pale tea,

'Here Vonny, I hope this is ok, Paul said the Italian coffee was giving you heartburn.' 

She held out the mug and Yvonne took it gingerly in her hands.

 Inwardly she grimaced at being called 'Vonny'. All her life she'd been Mrs. Shaw at the school where she'd worked and Yvonne for her family and close friends. 

Ginevra bounced onto the bed snuggling up to her, 'Oh Nonna you smell like violets, the ones mamma puts in the cupboards to stop moths eating our clothes.' Mamma says we can go shopping today, just you and me.' Her eyes grew huge and she bounced harder on the bed.' We can have jeans and pink sparkly tops and nail varnish and lipgloss.'

Carlotta looked a bit embarrassed. ' It's just an idea I had Vonny, there's a film Paul and I would like to see and we thought we could drive into town and go to the cinema while you two go to the new department store,' she stopped and grinned, 'If that's ok with you.'

Ginevra covered Yvonne's cheek with litle kisses and she felt something shift inside her heart, a lump came to her throat and she thought she would cry. It was a new sensation and she turned away, put down her mug and swung herself out of bed.

At nearly seventy Yvonne was very proud of how agile she still was and put it down to long walks and good genes. She lay back on the pillow feeling bemused and reflecting on where life had taken her.

 Here she was in Italy staying with her son Paul and his Italian wife Carlotta and their four year old daughter Ginevra. 

Yvonne's husband Ted had died when Paul was just ten and she had sent him to boarding school thinking he would be better off there than on his own with a grieving mother. She had dedicated her life to her teaching and never looked at another man. 

Paul had been working as a sports journalist in London when he met Carlotta, a nurse from Italy who had come to improve her English.  When they had had Ginevra they decided they wanted to bring her up in Carlotta's home town surrounded by her vast extended family.

 Then there was Covid and lockdown and only zoom and Skype for her to see the little girl and now Paul and Carlotta had asked her to stay for a few months to get to know her. She smiled to herself remembering the warm and enthusiastic welcome she had received on her arrival.

She washed and dressed quickly and joined the family for breakfast.

Ginevra was dipping a croissant into a bowl of milky coffee and glanced up at her as she sat down.'You wore that jumper yesterday Grandma and that skirt. ' She held out her free hand wriggling her fingers which sparkled with pink nail polish. 'Look! Would you like me to do your nails before we go shopping.?'

The little girl sounded so eager, her curly hair bounced and shone and her dark brown eyes gleamed with excitement, Yvonne didn't know how to react. She heard her mother's voice from her  childhood. She'd been a dour woman, always seemed to be disappointed in something or other. She had spent a lot of time at the kitchen sink looking out of the window, commenting on the neighbours as they walked past their house. 'Look at Dorothy, she's no better than she ought to be. ' 'Look at Mrs so and so, mutton dressed as lamb. Look at that Molly, she's no better than she thinks she is, all these mini skirts and beehive hairdos, she's asking for trouble.She'll have to get married, mark my word.'

Lost in her thoughts she realized that Ginevra was holding her hands and she looked down to see her nails painted a bright pink. Before she could stop herself she snatched her hands away and called out aghast 'Oh my goodness, ' Carlotta laughed and said in a soothing tone, 'No worries Vonny, it's only Barbie polish, it just peels off.'

Yvonne was dismayed to see Ginevra's bottom lip trembling. She put her arm round the little girl and whispered in what she hoped was a soothing tone, 'It's lovely Ginny, I love my nails like that, thank you.'

Ashamed of her reaction she stood up and said, 'Right everyone the cinema and shopping  my treat.'

When they arrived at the department store Ginevra lead her to the children's department and proudly told the assistant that this was her grandma from England and she was learning Italian and was coming to live with her. The assistants immediately warmed to the litle girl and helped her pick out a pair of jeans and a pink top with unicorns and sequins. She tried them on and twirled around in front of the mirror beaming at her reflection. Yvonne couldn't help thinking of how her mother would have pursed her lips and mumbled about  being vain. 

With their purchases in a smart colourful bag Ginevra tugged at Vonny's arm and pointed to the Ladies section, 'Now you Nonna,we must get you some jeans then we can go running and climbing because that long skirt is no good.' In a whirlwind Yvonne found herself trying on a pair of jeans and a plain pink jumper. Ginevra clapped her hands, 'oh Nonna you look beautiful just like Barbie.' Yvonne felt ridiculous and glanced at the assistants to see if they were laughing at her.  To her surprise they were looking at her with admiraion and muttering about her'linea bella'. Ginevra whispered to her in English, 'Nonna they are saying you look like a model and have got a beautiful bottom.'

Yvonne chuckled and stroked Ginevra's curls, 'Well nobody has ever said that to me I'm sure.' Ginevra beamed, 'Keep them on Nonna they're much nicer than that brown skirt.'

As Yvonne and Ginevra were walking across the square to join Paul and Carlotta at the coffee bar a little girl and an elderly man walked up to them. Ginevra jumped up and down waving, 'Look Nonna it's Olimpia and her Nonno Bruno,' Olimpia ran towards them and there were cries of 'Ginny' and 'Ollie' and a lot of embracing.  Then somehow they were all walking together across

the square and Olimpia's nonno was telling her about how he used to work in London but had retired to Italy when his wife died.

Paul and Carlotta were sitting at one of the tables in the square and they stood up when they saw Ginevra running towards them. When they caught sight of Yvonne their mouths dropped open and Paul came towards her beaming, 'oh mum, you look great, I knew there was a butterfly in there somewhere and I knew that Ginny would find her.' He enveloped her in a bear hug and whispered,' Welcome to Italy mum, we're  going to have a lot of fun.'

Yvonne had to hold her breath to stop the tears. Bruno pulled out a chair for her and tipped his head towards her and smiled in a way that made her feel something wonderful stir deep inside her

.  Her  mother's voice  came to her again but it sounded different. her gloomy disapproval was gone and instead it was like a gentle caress full of warmth and hope, 'That's my girl dear Vonny.'

 

 

 

 

Italian stories

 

Northern Italy, October 1935

 
    Toni looked at the back of his mother's head as she turned to stir the risotto. He was filled with such tenderness and he was glad that she couldn't see because she would have broken down. He wanted to stroke her hair and hold her but knew that would alarm her. She would see it as a sign that he would not return.
His father burst into the room relieving the tension and bringing an atmosphere of normality as he sat at the table and poured himself some wine.

'So you're going then? Off to fight for a worthwhile cause, following the path of the great Roman emperors, conquering the world. Building an empire. I can tell you, all your great ideals will be left behind once you see the reality of war.'

Toni ignored the sarcasm in his father's voice. He joined him at the table, poured some wine and raised his glass.

'Lucio will be in my regiment. We're leaving next week. We're stopping at Tivoli and then on to Africa where we'll be trained in artillery.'

His mother, Lucia,  slammed the saucepan of risotto on the table and served it out with her ladle beating on the bowls.

'Men have such short memories, it's all madness. All that suffering in the Great War was meant to end it all. It was terrible for me, going off on my own with a small boy, not knowing if I'd ever see my husband again, losing my brother, nothing to eat and making clothes out of old bits of material and never knowing when it would end.' She paused and held out her left hand. 'They want my wedding ring, to fight for what? Well they can have it for what it's worth'.

Toni and his father looked at her in astonishment, their spoons in mid air. She never talked about the Great War and seemed to pretend it have never happened. 

Lucia had grown up in the last years of the Belle Epoque before all illusions were swept away for ever.

 She had been the most elegant, sweet and dainty young woman, her head full of romance and deeply in love with her dashing husband, Filippo, who showed such promise as a brilliant Penal Lawyer. When the war arrived in their Northern Italian own she was forced to go away to Genoa to stay with distant relatives for the war years. Toni's father had stayed behind in their home own. His high standing in his profession meant he was needed there, he dealt with the toughest cases and the most hardened criminals. Filippo  was a handsome man and there were many women left behind seeking male company and a warm companion to comfort them amidst the harsh realities of life in war time. 

When Lucia and Toni returned the marriage was never the same again and Lucia had poured all her love ono her young son, stifling him.

Lucia  went back to the stove and brought out plates of polenta and salami. She handed round Filippo's favourite spinach with ham and cream and poured herself a small glass of wine.

'Well I'm glad that Lucio will be with you. He is so big and strong and will surely look after you. Though I can't think why he wants to leave that lovely girlfriend of his, Betti.'

Toni rolled his eyes.
'Oh mamma, you are funny, look don't worry, I'll look after myself. I'll be back soon with lots of interesting things to tell you.'

  Lucia breathed in deeply and went back to the kitchen to return bearing her speciality 'Tirami su' and setting it on the table with a flourish.

'Tuck in now, they won't have this in Africa.

 Toni was about to reply when he noticed his father's expression. He was looking at his mother with such love and a sort of regret. Toni could see  what might have been between them if the war hadn't got in the way. The moment passed and his father got up whistling an American yankee tune from the war, Over there, over there'.

 
He felt that his father was making fun of him and went to help his mother clear the table.
Toni had recently qualified as a lawyer, following in his father's footsteps. Instead of Penal law however he had decided to specialise in Civil Law. For once his father had supported him and they worked together in the same studio. Toni had always loved learning and finding things out. He had sailed through school and university with the greatest ease. His school friends had often teased him and called him a swot but it really was just what came naturally to him. Toni's excellent results gained him an award and a prize trip to The United States.He was fascinated by the American way of life, the democracy, the variety of races all working together and the efficiency. On his return he had found that his friends were all talking passionately about politics in a way that made him deeply uneasy but he went along with them for friendship's sake.

 

 Lucio had talked him into going off to fight for Italy in this African campaign but Toni wasn't looking forward to it at all. Part of him though wanted the young girls to see him as more of a man and admire his strength instead of always being in awe of his academic brilliance. Part of him felt that with him out of the way his mother and father might rekindle their relationship.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The station was swarming with young men in uniform trying to find their groups. Toni soon spotted Lucio, smart in his brand new kit and his hair full of Brilcream. He went over to him and was soon joined by a few more friends from university smoking their free cigarettes.

They were told to get in the second carriage.




The whistle blew and Toni leaned out of the window to wave to the people who had come to see them off. 

Toni felt sick but pulled his cigarette packet out and tried to stop his fingers from shaking as he lit  one.They were on their way, there was no going back.

XXXXXx

The train stopped in Tivoli and they were taken to accommodation and told their training would begin the next day. The training was tough and  Toni was relieved when they were told they were going on a sightseeing trip to the Villa Adriana. Lucio had already seen it and was enthusiastic.

 
'You'll love it Toni, a brain box like you. All I can remember is that it was built between 118 and 138 BC by the emperor Hadrian.'

The villa Adriana was indeed magnificent. Toni wandered around taking photographs and imagining himself as an emperor creating such a beautiful place. The layout of the rooms could still be seen and it was evident that Hadrian had a great love of architecture. There was even a room that looked as though it had been specially designed for romance. It was at this moment that Toni decide to grow a moustache. He would go back home as a conqueror and an emperor.
While they were at Tivoli letters started arriving from home. Lucio quickly gathered a whole pile from Betti, all scented and sealed with hearts. He told Toni they were full of passion and her undying love for him. Toni felt embarrassed about his letters. They were also full of passion and undying love but they were from his mother. Luckily they weren't scented.
Up until the visit to Villa Adriana, apart from the training Toni and Lucio had almost felt like tourists.
'Italy is such a beautiful country. Everywhere you look there is something,' Lucio was reading a guide book and started talking about studying Archeology when they came home.
'Well the Romans certainly did all the hard work for us,' Toni grinned at his friend.
'I think you'd be interested in the Etruscans Lucio, I'll lend you a book about the Necropolis at Tarquinia.
Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from a young skinny boy from Milan.
'We're off lads. They're sending us to Maddaloni tomorrow ready to embark for Africa next week.'
All thoughts of studying and home were put aside, they were on their way.
Maddaloni was a lovely town built on a hill near Caserta, from there they were taken to Naples and marched onto their ship.
As they left the port, Toni looked at the spectacular view of Vesuvius in the distance. Lucio came up to him looking nervous.
'Well Toni, this is it. We're following the steps of our forefathers, Hadrian and Caesar.'
Toni thought how his father would laugh if he heard that.
 He took one last look at his homeland laying there before him in the setting sun and followed Lucio to their bunks.


xxxxxxxxxxx

The Field Hospital in Somalia was full of wounded soldiers. Toni didn't dare lie down in case the sickness came over him again. His temperature was still very high and he couldn't stop shaking. His eyes were glued together. He felt terrible. Physically he was so weak he could hardly stand up and had to rely on the auxiliaries for everything. He just couldn't remember what it felt like to feel normal and his father's words kept ringing in his ears. He couldn't think what he had been fighting for.

Most of all he felt wretched and completely useless.

 Just after a week's training Toni had caught the dreaded African sickness. Two  men had already died from it in the same room and he felt doomed.

The doctor came to stand by his bed. He was wearing a mask in the hope of keeping the deadly virus away. The doctor was a kind man from Cosenza. He had served in the Great War on the frontline in the mountains near Toni's home town.

He spoke softly, occasionally throwing in some words in Toni's local dialect.

 

', You're over the worst now Toni. If you can survive the first few days you'll be alright.'

 

He paused and cleared his throat, 'You won't be able to fight ever again. This infection leaves a weakness in the stomach that would make military life impossible. Although I don't understand soldiers, you're very brave but I just want to save lives.'

Toni didn't feel brave and he didn't want to fight any more. He just wanted to cling onto life and go home.

'Thank you doctor but you're the brave one, not me.'

The mere effort of talking had worn Toni out and he collapsed against the rough pillow. There was a commotion as a young man was brought in screaming in agony and calling for his Betti. It was Lucio.

Toni turned to the doctor in alarm.

 

'What's happened to him ? He's my friend from home.'

 

The doctor shrugged  'he shot himself in the leg. '  He sighed heavily, 'It happens more often than you'd think.'

 

The doctor walked over to Lucio and whispered some soothing words. Lucio immediately calmed down and looked around the makeshift ward. His haggard, dirty face lit up when he saw Toni but was soon replaced with an expression that looked to Toni like shame.

'Hi mate, good to see you,' Toni struggled to reassure his friend. 'Welcome to the world of the walking wounded.'

Lucio pointed o his shattered leg.

'I'm not walking anywhere right now. What a couple of heroes eh? Whatever shall I tell Betti?'

Tony lay back and tried to quell the sickness that was washing over him.

'No need to tell her anything Lucio. I'm not telling and neither is the doctor. Let's concentrate on getting better.'

Toni's eyes closed with the effort and he fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed that he was a hero, that he had a pile of scented letters from a girl who adored him. He was walking round Pompeii and impressing her with stories of daring escapades  and then he dreamed that he was home. When he awoke he was relieved that the horrible sick feeling had at last disappeared. He looked across at Lucio who was studying  the bandages on his leg.

'I can't wait to draw some funny faces on that.' Toni smiled and Lucio grinned back.

 

xxxxx

As the train drew into the station of the Northern Italian town the passengers could hear a deafening cheer. They hung out of the windows waving their hats and scanning the crowd for their loved ones.

Betti was at the front waving a red scarf. Toni could see his mother hovering at the next to his father. They were standing apart from the screaming girls with their arms round each other. Toni caught his father's eye and saw him lift his hand in a salute . Toni grinned to himself and looked across at Lucio who was struggling with tears.

Toni handed him a handkerchief.

'Chin up mate, Betti will never know. We're heroes right? Go to your Betti and have a happy life.'

Later, at home in the kitchen Toni gave his parents the gifts he had brought for them. Some beads for his mother and a leather pouch for his father.

Her mother put her necklace on her and admired herself in the mirror.

'Lucio looked fit and well. I knew he'd take care of you. Such a brave young man. What a pity he and Betti are going to live in Milan.'

Toni caughte his father's wry glance as he poured himself a glass of wine and raised it to Toni.

'Welcome home son. '

He smiled at Toni and for the first time he felt as though his father was proud of him.

 

 

'

Northern Italy, October 1935

    Toni looked at the back of his mother's head as she turned to stir the risotto. He was filled with such tenderness and he was glad that she couldn't see his face, because she would have broken down. He wanted to stroke her hair and hold her but knew that would alarm her. She would see it as a sign that he would not return.
    His father burst into the room relieving the tension and bringing an atmosphere of normality as he sat at the table and poured himself some wine.

    'So you're going then, Toni? Off to fight for a worthwhile cause, following the path of the great Roman emperors, conquering the world. I can tell you, all your great ideals will be left behind once you see the reality of war.'

    Toni ignored the sarcasm in his father's voice. He joined him at the table, poured some wine and raised his glass.

    'Lucio will be in my regiment. We're leaving next week. We're stopping at Tivoli and then on to Africa where we'll be trained in artillery.'

    His mother, Maria, slammed the saucepan of risotto on the table and served it out with her ladle beating on the bowls.

    'Men have such short memories' she said, 'It's all madness. All that suffering in the Great War was meant to end it all. It was terrible for me, going off on my own with a small boy, not knowing if I'd ever see my husband again, losing my brother, nothing to eat and making clothes out of old bits of material and never knowing when it would end.'

    Toni and his father looked at her in astonishment, their spoons in mid air. She never talked about the Great War and seemed to pretend it have never happened. 

    Maria had grown up in the last years of the Belle Epoque before all illusions were swept away for ever.

    She had been the most elegant, sweet and dainty young woman in her town, her head full of romance and deeply in love with her dashing husband, Filippo, who showed such promise as a brilliant Penal Lawyer. When the war arrived in their Northern Italian town she was forced to go away with a two year old Toni, to Genoa to stay with distant relatives for the war years. Toni's father had stayed behind in their home town. His high standing in his profession meant he was needed there, he dealt with the toughest cases and the most hardened criminals. Filippo was a handsome man and there were many women left behind seeking male company and a warm companion to comfort them amidst the harsh realities of life in war time. 

    When Maria and Toni returned the marriage was never the same again and Maria had poured all her love onto her young son, stifling him.

    Maria went back to the stove and brought out plates of polenta and salami. She handed round Filippo's favourite spinach with ham and cream and poured herself a small glass of wine.

    'Well I'm glad that your best friend Lucio will be with you, son. He is so big and strong and will surely look after you. Though I can't think why he wants to leave that lovely girlfriend of his, Betti.'

    Toni rolled his eyes.
    'Oh mamma, you are funny. Don't you worry, I'll look after myself. I'll be back soon with lots of interesting things to tell you.'

     Maria breathed in deeply and went back to the kitchen to return bearing her speciality 'Tirami su' and setting it on the table with a flourish.

    'Tuck in now, they won't have this where you're going'.

    Toni was about to reply when he noticed his father's expression. He was looking at his mother with such love but also regret. Toni could see what might have been between them if the war hadn't got in the way. The moment passed and his father got up whistling an American yankee tune from the Great War, 'Over there, over there'.
    He felt that his father was making fun of him and went to help his mother clear the table.
    Toni had recently qualified as a lawyer, following in his father's footsteps. Instead of Penal law however he had decided to specialise in Civil Law. For once his father had supported him and now they worked together in the same studio. Toni had always loved learning and finding things out. He had sailed through school and university with the greatest ease. His school friends had often teased him and called him a swot but it really was just what came naturally to him. Toni's excellent results gained him an award and a prize trip to The United States. He was fascinated by the American way of life, the democracy, the variety of peoples all working together and the efficiency. On his return he had found that his friends were all talking passionately about politics in a way that made him deeply uneasy but he went along with them for friendship's sake.

 

    Then Lucio had talked him into going off to fight for Italy in this African campaign but Toni wasn't looking forward to it at all. Part of him though wanted the young girls to see him as more of a man and admire his strength instead of always being in awe of his academic brilliance. He also hoped that with him out of the way his mother and father might rekindle their relationship.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

    The station was swarming with young men in uniform trying to find their groups. Toni soon spotted Lucio, smart in his brand new kit and his hair full of Brilcream. He went over to him and was soon joined by a few more friends from university smoking their free cigarettes.

    They were told to get in the second carriage and soon the whistle blew. Toni and Lucio leaned out of the window to wave to the crowd who had come to see them off. 

    As he sat down, Toni felt sick but pulled his cigarette packet out and tried to stop his fingers from shaking as he lit  one. They were on their way, there was no going back.

XXXXXx

Tivoli 1935

 
    The train stopped in Tivoli and the men were taken to accommodation and told their training would begin the next day. The training was tough and a few days later Toni was relieved when they were told they were going on a sightseeing trip to the Villa Adriana. Lucio had already seen it and was enthusiastic.

 
    'You'll love it Toni, a brain box like you. All I can remember is that it was built between 118 and 138 BC by the emperor Hadrian.'

    The villa Adriana was indeed magnificent. Toni wandered around taking photographs and imagining himself as an emperor creating such a beautiful place. The layout of the rooms could still be seen and it was evident that Hadrian had a greatly loved architecture. There was even a room that looked as though it had been specially designed for romance. It was at this moment that Toni decide to grow a moustache. He would go back home as a conqueror and an emperor.
    While they were at Tivoli, letters started arriving from home. Lucio quickly gathered a whole pile from Betti, all scented and sealed with hearts. He told Toni they were full of passion and her undying love for him. Toni felt embarrassed about his letters. They were also full of passion and undying love but they were from his mother. Luckily they weren't scented.
    Up until the visit to Villa Adriana, apart from the training Toni and Lucio had almost felt like tourists.
'Italy is such a beautiful country. Everywhere you look there is something,' Lucio was reading a guide book and started talking about studying Archeology when they returned home.
    'Well the Romans certainly did all the hard work for us,' Toni grinned at his friend. 'I think you'd be interested in the Etruscans Lucio, I'll lend you a book about the Necropolis at Tarquinia'.
     Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from a young skinny boy from Milan.
    'We're off lads. They're sending us to Maddaloni tomorrow ready to embark for Africa next week.'
    All thoughts of studying and home were put aside, they were on their way.
 

    Maddaloni was a lovely town built on a hill near Caserta, from there they were taken to Naples and marched onto their ship.
    As they left the port, Toni looked at the spectacular view of Mount Vesuvius in the distance. Lucio came up to him looking nervous.
    'Well Toni, this is it. We're following the steps of our forefathers, Hadrian and Caesar.'
    Toni thought how his father would laugh if he heard that.     

    He took one last look at his homeland laying there before him in the setting sun and followed Lucio to their bunks.

xxxxxxxxxxx

 

    Africa, December 1935

 

     The Field Hospital was full of wounded soldiers. Toni didn't dare lie down in case the sickness came over him again. His temperature was still very high and he couldn't stop shaking. His eyes were glued together. He felt terrible. Physically he was so weak he could hardly stand up and had to rely on the auxiliaries for everything. He just couldn't remember what it felt like to feel normal and his father's words kept ringing in his ears. He didn't even know what he had been fighting for.

    Most of all he felt wretched and completely useless.

    Just after a week's training Toni had caught the dreaded African sickness. Two men had already died from it in the same room and he felt doomed.

    The doctor came to stand by his bed. He was wearing a mask in the hope of keeping the deadly virus away. The doctor was a kind man from Cosenza. He had served in the Great War on the frontline in the mountains near Toni's home town.

    He spoke softly, occasionally throwing in some words in Toni's local dialect.

    'You're over the worst now Toni. If you can survive the first few days you'll be alright.'

    He paused and cleared his throat, 'You won't be able to fight ever again. This infection leaves a weakness in the stomach that would make military life impossible. Although I don't understand soldiers, you're very brave but I just want to save lives.'

    Toni didn't feel brave and he didn't want to fight any more. He just wanted to cling onto life and go home.

    'Thank you doctor but you're the brave one, not me.'

    The mere effort of talking had worn Toni out and he collapsed against the rough pillow. There was a commotion as a young man was brought in screaming in agony and calling for his Betti. It was Lucio.

Toni turned to the doctor in alarm.

 

    'What's happened to him ? He's my friend from home.'

 

    The doctor shrugged 'He shot himself in the leg.'  He sighed heavily, 'It happens more often than you'd think.'

 

    The doctor walked over to Lucio and whispered some soothing words. Lucio immediately calmed down and looked around the makeshift ward. His haggard, dirty face lit up when he saw Toni but was soon replaced with an expression that looked to Toni like shame.

    'Hi mate, good to see you,' Toni struggled to reassure his friend. 'Welcome to the world of the walking wounded.'

    Lucio pointed to his shattered leg.

    'I'm not walking anywhere right now. What a couple of heroes, eh? Whatever shall I tell Betti?'

    Toni lay back and tried to quell the sickness that was washing over him.

    'No need to tell her anything Lucio. I'm not telling and neither is the doctor. Let's concentrate on getting better.'

    Toni's eyes closed with the effort and he fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed that he was a hero, that he had a pile of scented letters from a girl who adored him. He was walking round Pompeii and impressing her with stories of daring escapades and then he dreamed that he was home. When he awoke he was relieved that the horrible sick feeling had at last disappeared. He looked across at Lucio who was studying the bandages on his leg.

    'I can't wait to draw some funny faces on that.' Toni smiled and Lucio grinned back.

 

xxxxx

 

 Northern Italy, May 1936   

 

    A few months later, as the train drew into the station the passengers could hear a deafening cheer. They hung out of the windows waving their hats and scanning the crowd for their loved ones.

    Betti was at the front waving a red scarf. Toni could see his mother hovering at the front next to his father. They were standing apart from the screaming girls, their arms round each other. Toni caught his father's eye and saw him lift his hand in a salute. Toni grinned to himself and looked across at Lucio who was struggling with tears. He handed him a handkerchief.

    'Chin up mate, Betti will never know. We're heroes right? Go to your Betti and have a happy life.'

    Later, at home in the kitchen Toni gave his parents the gifts he had brought for them. Some beads for his mother and a leather pouch for his father.

    His mother put her necklace on her and admired herself in the mirror.

    'Lucio looked fit and well. I knew he'd take care of you. Such a brave young man. What a pity he and Betti are going to live in Milan.'

    Toni caught his father's wry glance as he poured himself a glass of wine and raised it to Toni.

    'Welcome home son.'

    He smiled at Toni and for the first time he felt as though his father was proud of him.

 

 

'