Torn
Page 7
Ceri opened the lounge window and called down to him: “Ciao, Sergio. Wait there, we’re on our way down.” And to Hanna: “I’ll take the case if you can give me a hand with the rest.”
“No problem. Are you sure you’re only going for a few days?” asked Hanna, surveying the sizeable suitcase sitting ready in the hall.
Ceri laughed. “I’d intended just to take a carry-on bag, but I couldn’t fit all the presents in,” she said, struggling to manoeuvre the suitcase down the narrow staircase. “I’ve never been one for travelling light.”
“As long as you’re coming back!” said Hanna. She followed with the rucksack she’d seen Ceri stuff full of Christmas goodies, including a king-sized chocolate panettone and boxes of the local buccellati biscuits filled with nuts and dried fruits.
“Eh, ragazze, let me take those bags off you,” said Sergio, meeting them halfway up the stairs. “I hope this little lot will all fit in the car!”
Fortunately, the car was one of the larger Fiat 500 models that fitted it all in with ease. Sergio pulled out into the traffic which was building as last-minute shoppers descended on the town centre. Festive lights adorned the streets, and shop windows tried to outshine each other with their seasonal displays. Families thronged the streets, more jovial and noisy than usual, stopping to buy roasted chestnuts from the outdoor vendors. Soon, the three friends left the town behind as the car headed towards Palermo airport.
The journey took about 45 minutes. The roads were quiet, only getting busy as they drew near the city and on the approach to the airport. Chaos reigned at International Departures, it seemed as if half the city had chosen to spend the Christmas vacation abroad.
Sergio managed to find a slot in the drop-off area outside the terminal building. No sooner had he pulled in than a taxi and two other cars blocked his exit. He swore quietly in dialect at their dilemma.
“Don’t worry about seeing me off,” said Ceri. “You won’t be able to stay here, and it’ll be a nightmare finding a parking space in this scrum. Just leave me here, I’ll be fine.”
“Sicura? Are you sure? I don’t like leaving you like this, but I don’t know what else we can do. As you say, it could take ages to find a parking space,” said Sergio, opening the car door and getting Ceri’s luggage out of the boot.
“Yes, I need to check in pretty smartly anyhow,” said Ceri, giving Sergio a hug. “I’ll miss you loads. Have a good Christmas. Not long until New Year!”
Sergio murmured something in Ceri’s ear.
Hanna slipped out of the back seat and hugged her friend. “Have a good flight and have fun. Give my love to your family and don’t forget to keep in touch!”
“Will do, if I ever get a moment to myself! It’ll be great to see everyone again. Just wish that you could come, too, Sergio. That damned job of yours again!”
“Someone has to be here to report on what Sicily’s up to, even over the festive period!” Sergio replied with a grin.
“Never mind, it’s not for long and we can see the New Year in together,” said Ceri, pausing to give Sergio a long, lingering kiss before collecting her luggage and waving merrily, then she disappeared into the throng of people in the terminal building.
Hanna and Sergio returned to the car. She climbed into the passenger seat, looking forward to seeing the newspaper offices where Sergio worked. She’d expressed an interest in the paper and Sergio had offered to show her round. The stance of La Gazzetta della Sicilia was that the island had to change and turn its back on some of the accepted traditions such as the pizzo – protection money paid to the Mafia by many businesses just to be able to trade. That and the bribes paid to officials in return for lucrative contracts. She’d jumped at the chance when he suggested that they could do it on the way back from the airport after dropping Ceri off, as offices would be less frantic than usual.
“Fancy a quick aperitivo first before we hit the office? There’s something I want to talk to you about,” said Sergio, as he pulled away from the airport.
Chapter Fifteen
North Wales, Thursday 9th November, 2017
A sense of foreboding remained with Hanna despite everything. Washing up the breakfast things, she kept a watchful eye on Eva through the kitchen window. It was a blustery day and Eva was chasing leaves round the back garden, observed lazily by Cosmo, their adopted cat. He had taken to spending more and more time with them but still disappeared for days on end. Now, he was lying on his side in a sheltered spot next to the privet hedge, grooming himself in slow motion. Bursting with toddler energy, Eva ran around in circles, shrieking in delight every time a fresh gust whipped up the leaves.
“Look at me, Mammina!” she cried, her arms held wide at her sides. “They’re running away from me!”
Hanna watched Eva’s antics in a distracted way, her thoughts elsewhere. She had been mulling over Rhys’s proposition. Although there was no longer any immediate threat, she knew that the more they resumed some semblance of normal life, the more exposed they would be. But they couldn’t always live in isolation. Eva needed friends of her own age and Hanna’s finances wouldn’t last forever.
And she might be able to work from home if they could get the phone line installed and the broadband connection set up. Rhys had promised to check this out.
She wiped her hands on a tea towel and picked up the leaflet again to look at the details of the previous year’s festival. It seemed to be a major event – two weeks in late May/early June, packed full of organised walks and cycle rides, something for all ages and all the family. It wouldn’t harm to talk to the organisers about what would be involved. Decision made, she picked up her mobile from the kitchen worktop and sent Rhys a text to confirm the meeting.
At the top of the old town hall steps, Hanna looked around in vain for Rhys and Eva. They’d dropped her off in good time for her appointment and had arranged to come back and meet her there afterwards. A sea of people greeted her. It was market day in Llangefni, the chief town of Anglesey, and the main square heaved with stall holders selling local produce and shoppers jostling to buy their wares.
As if from nowhere, she suddenly heard a prolonged cry of “Mamm…a!” and saw Eva slip away from Rhys’s grip and rushed towards the steps as if her life depended on it. Rhys looked mortified. He called after her, Bryn straining on his lead to follow. Eva clambered up the steps to join Hanna, joined shortly afterwards by a slightly out of breath Rhys and a panting Bryn.
“I’m so sorry, she just bolted as soon as she saw you,” he said.
Hanna picked up her daughter and hugged her. “Don’t worry, no harm done. Just as well there’s no traffic around. You’re not to do that when you’re with Uncle Rhys,” she said, turning her attention to Eva. “You have to keep hold of his hand and be a good girl.”
Eva’s face fell. “Sorry, Mamma,” she mumbled. “I won't do it again.”
“She’s not used to being without me. Probably just a natural reaction. Has she been okay otherwise?” asked Hanna.
“She’s been fine, except for making me buy her an ice cream, despite the fact it’s freezing! And she’s even taught me how to ask for one in Italian: un gelato, per favore.”
Hanna laughed and tousled Eva’s hair. She tried to picture the scene with some difficulty. Rhys was more used to looking after livestock than children, after all. He even seemed to be having a hard time controlling Bryn at the moment. The dog wasn’t used to being on a lead and was trying to jump up, eager to join in the reunion.
“So, how did it go?” he asked.
“Really well,” replied Hanna. “More like a done deal than an interview. You must have put in a good word for me. It was more about agreeing the working arrangements. They want me to do three days a week between now and the festival, putting together the brochure and doing PR to promote the event. The only stumbling block was my lack of Welsh.”
Rhys’s face brightened. “Well, I can help you with that. It’s not a deal-breaker though, is it?”
“No, they seem to think my experience more than makes up for my lack of Welsh-ness!”
"That’s great news. I’m really pleased for you.” Rhys smiled.
“I’ll be able to do some work from home once we get the broadband sorted out. When I need to come into the office, there’s a crèche nearby that will look after Eva. All sorted.”
“Well, the phone company has promised to come next week, so that won’t be a problem. This calls for a celebratory lunch. I know a quaint little pub on the coast that serves up the best freshly caught fish for miles around. What d’you say?” Bryn started to bark excitedly before Hanna could reply. “Yes, and it’s even dog-friendly so you’re allowed. too!”
Dark storm clouds were gathering over their heads and the first hailstones started to fall, little white bullets striking their faces. Hanna shivered. She’d left off her usual layers and plumped for a burnt-orange sweater dress and knee-high mocha suede boots, topped off with a shaggy chocolate angora-mix coat, all from her Sicilian wardrobe. Smart for her meeting but no match for this weather.
“Brrrr, I’m freezing!” she said, taking Eva’s hand and setting off at a gallop. “C’mon, gang. Let’s find the car and head for that lunch!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Hanna caught what she thought was an appreciative glance from Rhys. It was probably just a reaction to her enthusiastic response to his idea of lunch.
Lunch was everything Rhys had promised. Massive pieces of cod in light, crispy beer batter, served with chunky chips and minted mushy peas, washed down with a strong Scrumpy-like cider. Rhys stuck to an alcohol-free beer as he was driving. Sitting at a corner table in the little pub, warmed by a roaring log fire, they tucked in heartily, talking little as they ate. Eva had a kiddies’ portion which she struggled to finish. Bryn came to the rescue and polished off the remains, licking his lips and wagging his tail contentedly.
By the time they’d finished and left the pub, darkness was already setting in. The wind had strengthened, the hail now interspersed with sleet. Rhys’s brow furrowed.
“C’mon, we need to get home before it gets any worse,” he shouted above the howling wind. “If it’s like this here on Anglesey, it’ll be worse up in the hills…” His voice trailed off. He must have seen the look of concern on Hanna’s face. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. We’re used to it.”
They made a dash across the car park to Hanna’s old Peugeot and piled in.
The drive home took about forty-five minutes. Eva and the dog both fell asleep in the back of the car. Rhys concentrated on the road ahead while Hanna sat in silence in the passenger seat, mesmerised by the driving snowflakes battering the windscreen. She felt uneasy, as if the weather was conspiring against them, trying to prevent them from getting home. She shivered and turned the heater up, but it seemed to make little difference.
At last, they drew up at the small stone cottage which lay in darkness. A sprinkling of powdery snow covered the ground. Hanna felt relieved as she unlocked the front door and switched on the lights. Rhys carried a still-sleeping Eva inside and Hanna put her to bed while Rhys busied himself lighting a fire in the wood-burning stove.
“Can I make you some coffee or hot chocolate before you go?” she offered.
“Thanks, but I’d better get home,” he said. “I’ve got a few things to check on and an early start tomorrow. Bad weather usually means we’re busier. Stranded animals, stranded people, that sort of thing. It’s been a great day, though. I’ll give you a ring to confirm when they’re coming to install the phone line and broadband. I can always drop by with provisions if conditions get worse and you’re getting short. That’s the only problem with the cottage. It’s a bit isolated and you haven’t got a four-wheel drive.”
“We should be able to manage. Anything we haven’t got, we’ll either do without or improvise,” said Hanna. “I haven’t got much bread but I’ve got flour so I can always make some. Is the weather likely to get worse?"
“Well, it wasn’t actually forecast. The predictions we get at work are usually much more accurate than the general ones on TV. I’ll check tomorrow and let you know. C’mon, Bryn, let’s get going!”
Bryn rose reluctantly from where he was stretched out in front of the fire. Rhys kissed Hanna on the cheek and opened the front door to be met by a gust of wind and a flurry of snowflakes which settled on the stone floor. From the window, Hanna watched the tail-lights of his Land Rover disappear into the distance. The only sound was the intense howling of the wind which now seemed to have reached gale force.
She turned on the early evening television news to blot out the sound. Images of tearful women and children in lifejackets being helped ashore by aid workers flashed across the screen. Hanna turned up the volume to hear the reporter say:
“…In yet another rescue attempt in stormy conditions in the Mediterranean Sea earlier today, a number of women and children have been found in in the water a long way from land. It is believed that they are the lucky ones and that as many as fifty others may have drowned following their boats capsizing off the east coast of Sicily. They are believed to be the latest wave of migrants from the Middle East and Africa trying to reach Europe. Investigations are underway into the organised networks responsible for this continuing trafficking.”
Hanna watched the images with growing dismay, her blood turning to ice. So, these atrocities were continuing. Now that she and Eva were relatively safe, she had to do something. She couldn’t just ignore what was happening; her conscience wouldn’t let her. She had to make a decision quickly before more people perished. But it had to be one that wouldn’t compromise or bring harm to either themselves or their friends.
Chapter Sixteen
Sicily, Wednesday 18th December, 2013
Sergio pulled off the autostrada at the slip road for Capaci just outside Palermo. Hanna looked at him questioningly.
“It’ll be quieter here and we’ll be able to talk more freely,” he explained.
Hanna wondered why he was going to such lengths. No doubt she’d find out soon enough.
Having parked the car in a side street, Sergio led the way to an unassuming bar with a striped awning situated on the main road through the little town. The interior of the bar was cool and dark, illuminated by rows of glass shelves groaning with cakes of all shapes and sizes, some glazed with fruit, others with a minimalist shiny ganache, each one a mini work of art.
“Wow, these cakes are incredible! Are they all made here on the premises?” asked Hanna, staring at the enormous range in amazement.
“Yes, the bar was taken over by a friend of mine about eighteen months ago and he’s been building himself a bit of a reputation ever since. People come here from miles around to buy his cakes, especially at the weekend. Ah, talk of the devil, here he is. Ciao, Fabio, come va?”
A stocky, middle-aged man wearing a turquoise T-shirt that barely covered his ample stomach, appeared from the back of the bar. He hugged Sergio warmly as they exchanged pleasantries in thick dialect. Reverting to more mainstream Italian, Sergio introduced him to Hanna.
“So, ragazzi, what can I get you? Anything you like – it’s on the house,” said Fabio.
“Maybe you’d prefer coffee and a cake to an aperitif?” Sergio asked Hanna.
“No, an aperitif will be fine. I’m not actually very hungry but I’ll certainly buy a cake to take to Luciano’s family tomorrow. It’d be rude not to – they all look so exquisite,” Hanna replied with a smile.
Sergio ordered two Aperols and they moved to a table at the far end of the bar, away from the few remaining customers.
“So, what are you doing for Christmas, Sergio? Ceri said you might be working as normal.”
“Well, I’ll be pretty much working right through. That’s what prompted Ceri to go home. She’d have been on her own otherwise, with you at Luciano’s family place. There’s a lot going on right now; you’ll have heard how bad…” His voice trailed off as Fabio approached, bearing a tray.
Fabio set the drinks down on the table with a flourish, along with a little bowl of juicy black olives in a herb, garlic, and chilli marinade, and another full of salted almonds and pistachios. Hanna marvelled yet again at the Italian obsession with food and drink.
Sergio waited until Fabio was out of earshot before continuing. “As I was saying, you’ll have heard how bad the situation is getting with regards to the refugees who keep landing in Sicily in ever-increasing numbers?”
Hanna nodded, helping herself to an olive.
“Well, it’s not by chance that it’s happening. It looks as if there are organised networks behind it all, though it’s difficult to pin them down. There are enormous profits to be made from this people trafficking. The problem is it’s not just about the illegal transport of migrants. There’s so much more at stake.”
Hanna listened attentively, wondering where this was going and what it had to do with her.
“Some of the men are recruited into extremist groups, others are used as cheap casual labour, and others, alarmingly, are starting to form their own gangs to rival our own home-grown variety. Many of the women, and even children, end up in prostitution or are used as drug mules. That’s if they arrive here alive. Many die en route, especially now the weather’s bad. The boats are overcrowded and badly maintained so they often capsize. If it wasn’t for the patrols, many more would perish.”
Images of dead bodies washed up on the island’s shores, children and babies in orange life jackets being plucked from small overcrowded fishing boats, and dark-skinned men, their faces twisted with torment, flashed through Hanna’s mind.
“It’s a massive problem, not just for Sicily and the rest of the country but for the whole of Europe and the West. It poses a massive security threat as well as being an economic and political problem, to say nothing of the wide-scale human suffering,” he continued.