The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  Luisa smiled. “I love Ernesto, Mamma, I have since the first time I saw him. I know he’s the one for me, and I’ll love everything about him, even if he does pick his nose.”

  “We’ll see if you still feel the same in thirty years’ time.” Emilia’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed upon her daughter. “Look at you in that dress, it reminds me of when I got married to your father.”

  Luisa looked down at the lace dress she was wearing, slightly yellow after so many years of being in storage. Her mother’s dress fitted her perfectly, so no wonder it was taking her back to her own wedding day. Luisa wondered what being married to Ernesto would be like. Her courtship had been fun, walking through the village holding hands, stealing kisses whenever they could, and sometimes more if the opportunity presented itself. She’d never seen her parents kiss or even hold hands, but they’d respected and supported each other through the good times and bad. And even though they rarely showed affection to their children, they all knew they were loved and protected. She hoped that she and Ernesto could be like that.

  “I still remember when I first held you, you were so tiny and helpless,” Emilia said, shaking her head. “Now look at you.”

  Luisa smiled. “Not so tiny now, am I? And definitely not so helpless.”

  “This is my gift to you,” her mother said, gesturing to the parcel.

  Luisa opened it, holding her breath. She’d waited nineteen years for this moment. “Is it…?”

  “The book? Yes, the same one that has been passed down from generation to generation, from eldest daughter to eldest daughter, on her wedding day.”

  “Just like the cottage,” Luisa murmured. It was a family tradition; the cottage where Luisa had grown up would become her and Ernesto’s home, and her mother would move in with her sister in the village.

  “That’s how it must be,” her mother smiled. “I’m glad to leave, to be honest... since your brothers and father went off to war, it hasn’t been the same. But promise me you’ll look after the Grove, Luisa.”

  Luisa nodded. The Grove was as old as the cottage itself, with fruit trees and bushes that had been planted many centuries before. She’d always helped her mother tend the plants and use the fruit to make delicious jams and healing remedies that people would come from all the valley to buy, and now it would be her turn to teach her children.

  “I promise, Mamma,” she said.

  “Good. You must read the book, it is full of recipes for using the fruit from the Grove, but also for making cordials, wine, and many other things. People in the village swear by the medicines I make for them, and they will come to you as well.”

  Luisa looked at the worn book in her hands, hardly daring to believe it was hers at long last.

  Emilia took hold of her hand. “You must also experiment and add your own recipes. Every healer in the family has written in this book.”

  “Oh, Mamma, thank you.” She placed it carefully in the drawer of her bedside table, eager to start reading it later on. “Come on, otherwise Ernesto will think I’ve jilted him!”

  Luisa sighed now as she remembered the conversation with her mother. She had had hopes for the future, and dreams, all of them shattered due to Ernesto. If only she’d known, she thought, but he’d kept that side of himself hidden until after the wedding. She’d wanted to enjoy her time as a newly-wed woman, and had found a recipe in the book for preventing pregnancy. She’d carefully brewed the cordial and taken it religiously every day, and the first year had passed without any surprises.

  Until Ernesto had found the bottle she hid at the back of the pantry and had demanded to know what it was. She’d told him, thinking he’d have been as happy as she was that they’d been able to spend a whole year getting to know each other, without the stress and tensions a baby would have brought. But Ernesto had finally unleashed his dark side, the part of him he’d carefully kept hidden during all those long months of courtship and then marriage. He’d shouted at her, saying that she wanted to take away his virility, make him a laughing stock in front of the whole village when he didn’t produce an heir, that she was a witch, just like the rest of the women in her family. And when she’d tried to protest, he’d pushed her to the ground and threatened to hit her.

  Shaking and whimpering in fear, she’d promised to never make the cordial again, and watched as he poured the mixture down the sink and then threw the bottle against the kitchen wall. That was the first time he’d hurt her physically during sex, pinning her to the floor with his body on top of hers, gripping her so tightly that he left marks. She’d felt humiliated afterwards, her scratched skin on fire from the rough floor, her dress torn where he’d pulled at it to get to her more quickly. He’d gone to the bar straight afterwards, and left her there, lying on the floor, sobbing in shock and pain. Somehow, she’d found the strength to get up and have a bath, to wash away the touch of him on her skin, the stinging soap cleansing her wounds and bringing her back to her senses. She’d been wary of him after that episode, but had never imagined that just three months later she would have found him in the act that would change her life forever.

  Bruna awoke with a sudden wail, announcing that her hunger was more important than anything else. Luisa kicked a stone at her feet, watching it bounce down the street until it hit a wall and stopped. She put the book back in her bag, and stood up with a sigh. She shushed her daughter as she hurried along to her mother’s house.

  “Morning Mamma,” she called out cheerfully as she entered. Doors were never locked in the village; everyone came and went as they pleased, dropping in for a coffee or with a plate of freshly-made biscuits. No-one was ever turned away or made to feel unwelcome, it was a part of village life.

  “Morning, darling,” Emilia called back. “Come through to the kitchen, I’m in here.”

  Luisa picked up Bruna and left the pram in the corridor. “I’m sure she knows when we’re going to Gran’s,” she joked, walking into the kitchen. “She always wakes up and starts screaming as soon as we get close.”

  Emilia took the baby in her arms. “Of course she knows where she is, don’t you, sweetie? You know that Granny’s going to spoil you rotten as soon as you’re old enough.” She smiled at Luisa. “How are you feeling today? You don’t look as tired; did you get a good night’s sleep?”

  She sighed. Bruna was only three months old, but she was definitely making her presence felt in the cottage, especially at night. Luisa had resorted to sleeping downstairs on the sofa with the cradle next to her, so that Ernesto could get some sleep. Even so, he usually came downstairs grumbling that the baby had kept waking him up. But she’d finally managed to get a few hours in a row that night, for the first time since she was born.

  “Did the cordial work, then?”

  “Oh Mamma, it was fantastic,” she enthused. “I put a few drops on her lips just before feeding her, like you said, then put some on her forehead and pillow. She went out like a light and didn’t wake up till four this morning.”

  Emilia gave Bruna a big kiss. “There’s a good girl, I knew it would work. I can’t understand why you didn’t want to do it earlier, Luisa.”

  “Well, you know... she’s so little, I was scared of getting the dose wrong. And I hoped she’d sort herself out, like you said we did.”

  Emilia looked slightly ashamed. “I know I always said you were good babies, but it was all thanks to the cordial. I wouldn’t have got through those first months without it.”

  “Mamma!” Luisa laughed. “I can’t say I blame you, going without sleep is torture. At least madam here will hopefully get through the night now.”

  Emilia noticed the dark rings under her daughter’s eyes. “Is everything else all right?”

  “Yes, fine. I just need to catch up on some sleep, that’s all,” Luisa replied, her eyes not quite meeting Emilia’s.

  “And Ernesto? Everything’s all right with him?”

  “Yes, he’s fine, Mamma.” Luisa was starting to get irritated. “He manages to
sleep through anything, even though he always moans the baby kept him awake.”

  “I know, men are usually lucky like that. I meant you and Ernesto, are you all right?”

  “Of course,” Luisa replied, but her voice quavered a little.

  Emilia looked at her, frowning. “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it, young girl,” she said. “Just like I told you on your wedding day, it’s for better or for worse, there’s no going back now.”

  Luisa hung her head. “I know, Mamma,” she mumbled. “It’s just when he drinks…”

  Emilia opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the front door bursting open.

  “We’re back,” came a voice from the corridor. There was a commotion as coats and shoes were removed, then a rush of confusion and noise as Luisa’s aunt and cousins poured into the kitchen, all talking at once. The moment passed; Luisa clenched her fists in frustration, and never spoke of it again.

  When Luisa found out she was pregnant once more, she lay on her bed and cried for hours. Little did she realise that this was to become the pattern of her life for the next three years. After Bruna came Teresa, and then Antonio. Ernesto was over the moon that he finally had a son.

  “Every man needs a son to carry on the family name,” he said, proudly holding Antonio in his arms while Luisa quietly suffered the attentions of the midwife. She leaned her head back on the pillow, exhausted, as her husband took the baby to show everyone waiting outside. She could hear exclamations of joy as he was passed from person to person. Tears filled her eyes.

  “I know, you’re tired, aren’t you?” the midwife said kindly. “It’s normal after giving birth, and you’ve delivered three in the last three years. And with all that’s going on with the war, too. You should get a bloody medal! Go ahead and cry, it’s fine by me.” She smiled at Luisa and passed her a handkerchief. “I always keep one on me, most new mums need it sooner or later.”

  Luisa dabbed at her eyes, grateful. But how could she explain that feeling of emptiness she had inside her in only a few minutes to the midwife?

  The door opened and Ernesto waltzed in, the baby in one arm, a glass of whisky in his free hand, and an unlit cigar between his lips. He plucked the cigar out of his mouth, sloshing whisky on the floor, and burst into song.

  Bruna came running in behind him, and threw herself at his legs. “Papà, can I hold him, please? Papà, let me,” she squeaked, breathless from excitement.

  Ernesto held the baby up high out of reach, and shook his head. “You’re too little, Bruna, you’ll drop him,” he barked, pushing her away with his leg.

  She fell back onto her bottom, a shocked look on her face. “B-but I only want to see him,” she wailed.

  Luisa beckoned her over. Bruna stood by the bed, a couple of large tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “If you’re really good, you can hold him later on, after you’ve had a bath. What do you think?” She didn’t dare look at Ernesto. She could feel his fury from the other side of the room.

  “OK, Mamma, I promise I’ll sit still and I won’t drop him.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’ve never dropped Teresa, have I?”

  “No, you haven’t,” Luisa said. “You’re a big girl, I know you’ll be careful.”

  Bruna ran out of the room to the waiting relatives, laughing and skipping. The midwife glanced at Ernesto.

  “Baby needs to eat now, if you’d like to hand him over to Mum,” she said quietly.

  Ernesto hesitated, then passed the baby to Luisa. She put him to her breast, smiling as he hungrily latched on and started sucking. She lay her head back against the pillow, fighting the urge to fall asleep.

  “I’ll just take away these things, then I’ll be back to see how you’re doing,” the midwife said, gathering up a bundle of soiled sheets and clothes.

  As soon as she left the room, Ernesto started talking, forcing Luisa to open her eyes again. “You shouldn’t let her hold him, she’s too young,” he said angrily. “Now that I’ve got a son at long last, I don’t want anything happening to him.”

  “What? Is that all that matters to you? Having a son? Don’t your daughters matter any more now?”

  “My son comes first. I’ve waited too long for this moment,” Ernesto replied. “Oh, I thought you could start making your special cordial again now. I don’t think we need any more kids, do we? Three’s more than enough. And now the factory’s closed,” he paused and rubbed his arm where he’d had a ten-centimetre piece of shrapnel removed after the bombing, “we can’t keep on having kids. God only knows when I’ll start working again.”

  “I see.” Luisa didn’t care; after giving birth three times her body desperately needed a rest, and she was more than happy not to have to go through a fourth pregnancy. “You’re right. We’ve already got three hungry mouths to feed, so let’s stop there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  1951-1959

  While Luisa worked in the Grove, Bruna, Teresa and Antonio laughed and shouted as they played in the other part of the garden. She loved listening to them as she tended her plants, delicately pruning here, tying back shoots there, and digging out weeds with her trowel. Somehow the cottage had survived the war, its distance from the village sheltering them from the more brutal attacks and devastation that had hit the others further down the valley. She would be forever grateful that the Grove hadn’t suffered any damage.

  During the years, she had worked her way through the book, learning how to make each recipe, and her herbal medicines were popular with the villagers. The dry atmosphere of the pantry was perfect for storing them, and was filled with bunches of drying herbs. There was always a pot bubbling on the stove, and the sweet aroma of herbs wafted around the house, permeating the walls and infusing everything with their perfume. Labelled bottles were lined up on the pantry shelves, ready for the villagers who travelled every day to the cottage with their complaints.

  “Mamma, signora Conti’s arrived,” Bruna called. She loved to greet her mother’s customers, and chatted gaily to them while Luisa prepared their cordials.

  “All right, I’m coming,” Luisa called back. She carefully shut the gate behind her, making sure the latch was down. Teresa and Antonio were throwing a ball to each other, giggling. “Be careful you two,” she said, ruffling Antonio’s hair as she walked past him.

  “Mamma,” he said crossly, shaking his head, and ran off to the other side of the garden.

  Luisa went into the house, where Signora Conti was already sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of water in front of her. Bruna was spooning coffee into the percolator, concentrating hard on not spilling any.

  “Morning, Luisa.”

  “Have you come for your usual?” Luisa asked. Signora Conti suffered from piles and had already explained to Luisa in great detail the exact effects of this affliction. Luisa had listened intently, nodding her head every now and then and trying not to show her revulsion at the particularly intimate details. She’d found a recipe for a cream in the book, and now Signora Conti was a regular customer, telling anyone who would listen that if it wasn’t for Luisa’s knowledge, she’d never have been able to sit down again.

  “Ooh, yes please, Luisa,” she said, leaning back. The chair creaked under her considerable weight, the wooden back bending dangerously beyond its limit.

  “And how is your... erm, problem?” Luisa asked.

  “Oh, me piles are much better, thanks for asking.” She shifted in her chair and grinned. “See, I can move about now without any more pain. They’ve shrunk to half the size. I don’t even need me cushion no more!”

  Luisa saw Bruna open her mouth to speak.

  “That’s fantastic news. And after only a couple of weeks’ application, I’d say that was a miracle,” she said quickly, knowing only too well what her ten-year-old daughter’s curiosity would lead to.

  “So, tell me what you put in that stuff. Even the doctor couldn’t believe it, had to see it with his own eyes.”<
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  “Oh, you know, the usual ingredients,” Luisa replied. “A bit of burdock and lungwort, with a sprinkling of sage and a little something else.” She didn’t mention the final ingredient, the one that was in every single one of her home-made medicines. The secret of the centuries-old plant was passed down through each generation, only the eldest daughter knowing its properties and uses, its name lost over the years.

  Signora Conti laughed. “I get it, there’s a secret ingredient and you don’t want to say what it is. Otherwise we’d all be making our own creams, right?”

  “Of course,” Luisa replied, smiling sweetly. She glanced at her daughter. “Bruna, isn’t that coffee ready yet?”

  From the noise of the percolator on the stove, it had been ready for a few minutes but Bruna had been too busy following their conversation. She turned around and quickly poured two steaming cups of coffee.

  “There you are, Signora Conti, sorry about that,” she said.

  The woman sipped her coffee and sighed deeply. “Ah, I really needed this, you have no idea what a morning it’s been. I met Carla in the shop and she kept me there for ages, telling me all about the sickness down in the valley. Says lots of children are ill, and a few adults too.”

  “What sickness is that?” Luisa asked, alarmed. She hadn’t heard anything.

  “Oh, what did she say it was?” Signora Conti gulped down the rest of her coffee, a pensive expression on her face. “You know, that one with the high fever and cough, then they get a rash. Said they’re falling like flies, the schools are half empty…”

  “Measles?” Luisa asked, dreading the answer.

  “That’s the one. Trust you to know what it was. But you can just prepare one of your cordials if it arrives in the village, can’t you? You’re bound to have something to cure it.” She looked expectantly at Luisa.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Luisa replied sadly. “I don’t have anything that will cure those sorts of diseases. Just compresses to ease the pain of the rash and cordials to bring down the fever.”