The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  I saw the desolation on her face and crumbled. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Mum, you’ve done everything right. It’s me. I can’t… face life any more. Ever since… you know… the babies…” I stopped, unable to go on. The mouth of the pit yawned before me, daring me to jump in.

  She scratched at her neck, looking at me as if she wanted to say something. I looked at the red marks her nails had left, wondering if this was going to be the moment of truth. Then she coughed and glanced away, and the moment passed. The pit closed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  We’d never spoken about the babies again. I never told Mum about the pit, and how close I’d been to falling into it, never to come out again. We’d simply skipped over the important bits and concentrated on the silly, superficial things, putting a temporary bandage over all my problems so that I could travel to Italy and ‘find myself’. Stumbling upon the grave had led to me picking at the bandage, slowly unravelling it, until the unhealed wound was once more out in the open, ready to start festering if I didn’t take care of it. I thought that if I found out what had happened to Bruna’s baby, perhaps I could find the strength to face my own demons. I knew that I couldn’t put it off forever.

  Chapter Six

  Giulia and Agnese brought Bea to the cottage the next day after school. She entered the front door like a whirlwind, running excitedly through all the rooms, chattering non-stop. As far as I could make out, she was telling me all about her day at school, her friends, how she loved to come and visit Luisa when she was alive…

  “Bea, enough now,” Giulia said finally, exasperated with her daughter. “Go out in the garden and pick some flowers for Jennifer, so she can put them in the kitchen.”

  We all breathed a sigh of relief as she ran out of the back door. Giulia turned to me with an apologetic expression on her face.

  “She’s great, but she can be a bit much at times. She’s been so looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” I replied. “It’s like a breath of fresh air after the weekend I’ve had.”

  “Jennifer said it was quiet here by herself,” Agnese quickly explained to Giulia.

  I nodded, relieved. “After having all of you here last week, I felt bit lost by myself, I have to admit.”

  Giulia laughed. “I’ll leave her with you for a couple of days, if you like. That’ll cure your need for company.”

  I made a coffee for the three of us, which we took into the garden. Watching Bea running around, picking flowers and chasing butterflies, made me wonder what it had been like for my mum when she’d come to visit Great-grandmother Luisa. The garden must have been incredible back then, if Luisa had been dedicated to living naturally. And the Grove, why hadn’t Mum told me about that? I was sure she would have mentioned the child’s grave if she’d known about it.

  “No, Bea, not in there,” Agnese called. Bea stopped outside the gate to the Grove and turned to us, pouting.

  “Why not? Grandma Luisa used to let me go.”

  “Only if she was with you, remember? She told you some of the plants are dangerous, you can’t go in alone.”

  “So, come with me.”

  Agnese glanced at me. “I don’t know which plants you can touch, sweetie. Just stay in the main garden for now, OK?”

  Bea grumbled and stamped her feet, but soon got distracted by a lizard scuttling past her and started chasing it through the long grass.

  “Thanks, Agnese,” I said.

  Giulia looked at us curiously. “Have I missed something?”

  “Jennifer found the grave the other day, and it shook her up a bit,” Agnese replied.

  “Of course. We all take it for granted, it’s just a part of the garden,” Giulia said. “We forgot to tell you about it. I guess it could be quite a shock if you don’t know it’s there.”

  “Just a bit.” I was glad I hadn’t told Agnese about the dragonfly leading me to the grave, they’d have thought I was mad.

  “So, what have you got planned for this week?” Giulia asked. “I know Liliana is going to insist you go around for dinner every day, so you won’t have a chance to feel lonely again.” She winked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “I’d like to find someone to give me a hand to sort out the garden, and I thought I’d go visit Uncle Mario to get some advice about the Grove. I’d like to bring it back to its former glory.”

  “Good luck with that,” Giulia sniggered.

  “What, sorting out the garden or Uncle Mario?” I asked.

  “Hmm, both. I’ll ask Davide if he knows someone who can help out. You’d better prepare yourself before going to Mario’s, he’s quite a character.”

  “So everyone keeps saying,” I remarked. “But I think I’m going to need his help, there are so many plants and bushes that I’ve never seen before, and I’ve no idea how to look after them.”

  “Mario hasn’t been back since Luisa died, he says there are too many ghosts here for him. But give it a go… who knows, maybe he’ll change his mind.” She smiled encouragingly at me. “Well, at least you’ve got plenty to keep you busy. Otherwise it can get a bit boring, there’s not a lot to do up here in the mountains.”

  “I like it, the peace and quiet,” I said. “It’s so different from where I lived in England. I like being able to do things at my own pace, when I want, without all the hustle and bustle of the town, the constant traffic, people everywhere, deadlines. This is exactly what I need right now.”

  “Look, look, Jennifer, here’s a bunch of flowers for you.” Bea came running up with her arms full of brightly-coloured weeds, some dropping to the ground as she careered towards us.

  “They’re beautiful, Bea. Come, let’s go and find a vase, then you can decide where to put them.”

  I helped her carry everything back to the house, glad that the conversation with Giulia and Agnese was over. I got a glass vase out of one of the cupboards and put it on the table. Bea carefully arranged the flowers, moving them about until she was satisfied with her composition.

  “There,” she declared.

  I added some water from a jug. “Where do you want them, Bea?”

  She picked up the vase and put it on the windowsill by the sink. “Here’s perfect, they’ve got plenty of light and you can see them when you wash up.” She turned and smiled at me, and I gave her a big hug.

  “Thank you, now it really looks like home in here,” I said.

  A little while later they left, promising to visit again. Bea took hold of my hand, suddenly shy, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, and then scampered down the path, waving goodbye without turning back.

  Agnese and Giulia both kissed me goodbye, then raced off down the road after her, shouting at her to stop and wait for them. Laughing, I went back into the kitchen.

  Sitting at the table, I looked at the flowers on the windowsill, delicate pale blues clashing with vivid greens and yellows, and the occasional red poppy in amongst them all. Bea had created a stunning arrangement, she definitely had an artistic eye for colours. A bee flew in through the open window and landed on one of the flowers, making it bend slightly under its weight. Its quiet hum and vibrating wings reminded me of the dragonfly, which made me think of Mark’s visit. Maybe a date with him wouldn’t be so bad, I thought. Just a coffee, get to know him. I got my handbag and rooted around for his business card, shoving everything aside until I found it right at the bottom. I grabbed my mobile and dialled his number.

  We met at ten o’clock the next morning in the town square of Gallicano, in front of the only newsstand in the place. He was dressed casually in beige chinos and a polo top, a faint shadow of stubble covering his chin.

  “No work today?” I asked.

  “Nope. I’m a freelance translator, so I work when I want. I decided to take the morning off so we don’t have to rush.”

  “So, where are you taking me, then?” I wondered if we
’d have to walk past the elderly gentlemen already sitting outside the bar, but Mark took hold of my arm and steered me in the other direction.

  “We’re going to see the Chiesa di San Jacopo,” he informed me.

  “A church? I thought we were going for coffee,” I replied. I’d only had one at home, and had been looking forward to another two, at least.

  “It’s right at the top of the town and the views are incredible. It’ll be worth it. And there’s a bar next door,” he added, winking at me.

  I relented. “OK, let’s go and see this church.”

  It was a steep climb up the narrow streets, and my calves were protesting once again by the time we reached the top. Mark pointed out various places of interest, laughing at my red face and gasped comments.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” he said.

  “I’ll have to,” I retorted, “or I’ll die from a heart attack.”

  He was right; the view from the church was truly incredible. I could see the town spread out below, the narrow streets winding among the clustered houses, people taking a morning stroll, stopping to greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, gesticulating while chattering excitedly. I tore my eyes away from the fascinating sight of Italian social behaviour and gazed at the half-tamed mountain opposite. Dense forests crowded around small patches of cultivated land, interspersed with the occasional house, as if the locals were determined to fight nature and claim any piece of ground they could. I marvelled at how anyone could dream of taming this wild region, and why they’d even want to try.

  Mark’s voice suddenly brought me out of my reverie. “Was I right or not?” He grinned. I imagined the answer was obvious from the expression on my face.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful. I never thought it would look like this.” I turned towards him. “What about some coffee, now?”

  “Just one more thing, then I promise we’ll get that coffee,” he said. He led me along the side of the church to a large iron gate. Inside was a cemetery, the headstones just visible among the long grass and weeds. I shuddered, but it didn’t have the same effect on me as the grave in the garden at the cottage. Here there was a feeling of serenity, of long-dead people slumbering under the earth, content with leaving behind their bleak earthly lives in exchange for an untroubled, eternal rest.

  “This isn’t used any more, but there are graves in there dating from the 1300s,” Mark said. “It’s usually locked, but every now and then the priest will let a few people in to have a look around. There’s a crypt right at the back that belonged to your aunt’s family, the Innocenti. They were a rich, influential family in medieval times, they controlled the whole area back then.”

  I pointed at a statue of an angel, hidden behind a tall, leafy weed. “That’s unusual.”

  “Now that’s a mystery waiting to be solved. It marks an unnamed grave, no-one has ever discovered who’s buried there. But there are a couple of the Innocenti who are missing from the crypt, so it’s presumed that it’s one of them. No-one knows for sure, though…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes glinted mischievously. “So, shall we go for a coffee? Or do you prefer a glass of wine?”

  I followed him back towards the church, debating with myself whether to tell him about my drinking problem or not. I turned around a couple of times, my eyes searching until the angel was out of view, strangely drawn to it.

  “Mark.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Wait, I need to tell you something.” I took a deep breath, uncertain as to how he would take it. “I can’t drink alcohol, none at all,” I told him, watching his face.

  “Ah. Because…?”

  “Because I’m an alcoholic.” There, I’d said it, for the first time ever.

  “I see. Well, thanks for telling me.” There was an awkward silence, then he straightened his shoulders and offered me his arm. “Coffee it is, then,” he declared. I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful it had been so easy.

  We sat outside a characteristic bar, watching the world go by as we drank our coffees and quietly chatted. I liked Mark, but there was something about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something that triggered my warning bells. The odd comment here and there, an irritable expression flitting over his face at something I said, interrupting me if I spoke for too long… I decided he’d be all right as a friend but nothing more.

  “We could go sight-seeing tomorrow, if you like,” he said, after a long pause turned into an embarrassing silence. “There’s plenty to see around here. We can go to Lucca for a cultural outing, or we can go further up in the mountains. There’s a sanctuary, or a river where we can have a picnic, or…”

  “What about the caves?” I interrupted him, remembering Marcello’s advice. “I’ve heard they’re quite spectacular.”

  “La Grotta del Vento?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yes, the taxi driver told me all about them. I’d like to go and see them.”

  He frowned. “Sure you don’t want to see the sanctuary. The monks will take you on a guided tour, it’s very spiritual.”

  “I’m not all that keen on monks and sanctuaries,” I said, laughing. “I’d much rather go to the caves.” I saw a look of anger pass over his face, but it was gone before I could ask him what was wrong.

  He snorted. “All right, the caves it is. It’ll be an early start, though, better to get there before the crowds. Now drink up, we’ll take the scenic route home so you can see the rest of Gallicano.”

  I was so tired by the time we got back down to the square that I refused his offer of lunch. “No thanks, I think I’ll make my way back to the cottage and have a rest.”

  He frowned. “If you’re sure. I’ve got to get back anyway, get some work done so I can take the day off tomorrow.”

  Confused by his hot and cold behaviour, I clutched my handbag closer to my body and stepped back. “OK. What time tomorrow?”

  He glanced around, as if checking whether someone was listening to us. Satisfied that we were alone, he leant forward. “About half past eight. That way we can do the first tour at ten.”

  “Fine, see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Great. Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, already turning to go. Frowning, I started on my long walk back to the cottage.

  I spent the rest of my day with my laptop down in the Grove, googling the various plants to try and identify them. It was a long, laborious task, but it took my mind off Mark and his mood swings, and kept me from thinking about my stash of wine bottles. I was determined to stay off the drink this time, especially as I kept having nightmares. By the end of the afternoon, I had a long list of plants, which I would then have to research individually to find out how to care for them. I sighed. It looked like I’d need Uncle Mario after all, it would take me months to learn everything I needed to know.

  I stood up and contemplated the Grove, trying to imagine Great-grandmother Luisa diligently tending the plants, choosing the various parts for her herbal remedies, carrying her wicker basket full of sweet-smelling cuttings back to the cottage to start turning them into ointments and salves that would cure the locals. How did she know which ones to use? Agnese had said Grandma was a healer, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be.

  I swayed, my legs wobbling as the long day caught up with me. I left the Grove, closing the gate behind me, and made my way up the garden to the cottage. It was only when I got to the back door that I realised I hadn’t seen a single dragonfly all afternoon.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark arrived the next morning at eight thirty on the dot with a squeal of brakes, horn blasting, just as I was finishing getting ready.

  “Hi, Jennifer,” he called as I locked the front door behind me.

  “What’s all the noise about?” I grumbled. “You’ll have the neighbours complaining.”

  He looked around, puzzled. “What neighbours? You live in the middle of nowhere, the most I’ve done is scare a few sparrows. I guess they’ll be ‘tweeting’ y
ou any moment now.”

  I groaned. “It’s far too early for that sort of pun.” He held the door open for me as I got into the car. “You are taking me for a coffee first, right?”

  He got in the other side. “There’s a bar up at the caves. There’ll be time for quite a few coffees.” I was glad to see he was in a better mood than the day before.

  “As long as it’s within the next hour,” I said, trying to add some levity into my voice.

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “The caves are up in the mountains. It’s a bit of a tortuous road, but it only takes about half an hour to get there.”

  “Great,” I said. “Let’s go and see these caves, then.”

  He wasn’t joking about the tortuous road. It wound around the side of the mountain, huge boulders suspended above us, only held back by what looked like chicken wire. I gulped each time we passed under one, terrified that the wire would break just at that moment and completely flatten the car, with us in it. At least it would be quick and relatively painless, I thought as I looked at the outer edge of the road. With no barriers, it would be easy enough to go over the edge as we went around one of the hairpin bends, especially at the speed Mark was going. And that, I imagined, would be relatively slow and extremely painful, as the car rolled over and over down the steep mountainside, banging and thumping its way to a gradual stop in the valley below. I closed my eyes and tried to stop imagining so much.

  We finally arrived at a parking area with a touristy restaurant on one side and a drab-looking building on the other. We seemed to be the only ones there. I got out of the car, my body stiff with tension after the terrifying drive.

  “Is this it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I agree it doesn’t look like much, but if you turn around…” he paused dramatically, so I did as he said. And gasped. I hadn’t really taken much notice of the scenery around me, scared as I was of becoming an indelible part of it. I saw that we were surrounded by mountains, woods, rocky tors and that wonderful tranquillity you only find when immersed in nature.