The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  Mario watched from the back door as his father stroked Bruna’s hair, his arms holding her tightly to him, and noticed the tension in Bruna’s body, as if she wanted to run away. He clenched his fists, willing himself not to make any noise, knowing how his father might react if he discovered him watching. Mario was an observer, he noticed things about people and animals that no-one else did, and gauged their feelings from their subconscious actions. But when he saw his father lead Bruna up the stairs, he couldn’t explain the uneasy feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong.

  That evening at dinner, everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Luisa was planning some new cordials and was jotting down notes on a pad, her lips pursed as she tried to think which ingredients would be best. Bruna quietly handed round the plates of pasta, adding an extra spoonful to Mario’s. He smiled gratefully at her, and she ruffled his hair as she passed. Ernesto shovelled forkfuls of food into his mouth, glaring at them all.

  “What is wrong with everyone tonight?” Teresa said, tactful as ever. “It’s like eating in a morgue.”

  “Teresa!” Luisa said, shocked.

  “Well it is,” she replied, pouting. “Bruna looks like a wet weekend, you’re busy with your witches’ potions, and Mario never talks anyway. My family is so boring.”

  “Go and find another one, then,” Ernesto bellowed at her, fed up with her whining. “If we’re so awful, you know where the front door is.”

  “I might just do that,” Teresa shouted back, tears springing to her eyes. “You’re all so horrible to me, I don’t know why. It’s like you hate me.”

  “Ask yourself why,” Ernesto said harshly.

  “Ernie!” Luisa finally put her pen down and took notice of her family. “Don’t say things like that. Teresa, dear, your father didn’t mean it, he’s had a long day. Of course we don’t hate you, we’re all just tired. Let’s finish up here and things will look better in the morning.”

  Teresa didn’t seem convinced. “Every day it gets worse in this house. You know Emiliano, the baker’s son? He’s asked me to go out with him, everyone says he’s madly in love with me. I’ll probably marry him.”

  Everyone looked at her, stunned.

  “Ah, that got you, didn’t it?” she sneered. “What, didn’t you think anyone could fall in love with me?”

  “No, of course not, Teresa,” Luisa said. “It’s just a bit… sudden, that’s all.”

  “Not really. If any of you ever took any notice of me, you’d have noticed that I’ve been talking about Emiliano for a while now,” she retorted. Their blank faces stared at her. “See. That’s exactly what I mean. Nobody cares.” She burst into tears and ran upstairs. They heard her bedroom door slam loudly.

  “She never changes,” Ernesto said, shaking his head.

  Luisa bit back her reply. She hated what was happening to her family, but felt powerless to change it. Ever since Antonio’s death, it was as if a bitter poison had seeped into their lives, eroding the closeness they’d once had, creating discord wherever possible.

  “What do you mean, you’re pregnant?” Luisa screamed. She felt as if she were going to faint, and had to hold on to the edge of the table to stop herself falling. Bruna stood before her, her head bowed low.

  “I-I’m sorry, Mamma,” she whispered.

  “Pregnant? How could you be so stupid?” Luisa narrowed her eyes. “Who is he? The father, who is he?”

  Bruna shook her head. “I c-can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Or maybe you don’t know who he is, maybe there’s more than one candidate, is that right?” Luisa was bright red in the face, panting as she faced her daughter. Mario sat in the corner of the living room where he’d been playing with his toy cars, forgotten by both his sister and his mother as the argument continued.

  “No, it’s not like that,” Bruna protested. “Th-there was only one, but I can’t tell you who… please, Mamma, don’t be so angry with me. I-it was a mistake.” She burst into tears. She hadn’t known how her mother would react, but she had expected a bit more support.

  “Young lady, if you think I’m going to be lenient with you, you’ve got another think coming! After all the talks we had, you knew about the cordial… did you even use it, you stupid girl?” Luisa yelled.

  “Of course I did.” Bruna burst into tears. “I-it mustn’t have worked, I did exactly as you told me, Mamma.”

  Mario sucked his thumb as his mother continued to yell at Bruna, no signs of the storm abating. Suddenly the front door slammed open.

  “What on earth is going on here?” Ernesto demanded to know. “I could hear the shouting out on the road. What’s happened?”

  “What’s happened?” Luisa shrieked. “I’ll tell you what’s happened. Young missy here has only gone and got herself pregnant, that’s what’s happened.”

  “Mamma,” Bruna pleaded, tears streaming down her face. She sat down heavily on a chair, all energy suddenly gone.

  “What?” Ernesto said, walking over to her. He sat down on the chair opposite her and rested his arms on the table. “Is it true? What your mother said, is it true?” There was no anger in his voice, only concern.

  “Y-yes,” Bruna snivelled, wiping at her nose with her cardigan sleeve. She wouldn’t look her father in the eye.

  “Whose is it?” he asked quietly.

  “I-I can’t say,” she replied.

  “She won’t say, more like,” Luisa interjected angrily.

  “Hush, woman,” Ernesto said, slamming his fist on the table. “At this point, the damage is done. It doesn’t matter who did it, Bruna is the important thing now.”

  Luisa raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It doesn’t matter who did it?” she repeated. “So who’s going to pay for it when it’s born, eh? If it’s someone from the village, he has to be forced to face up to his actions and support his child… and preferably marry our daughter.”

  “I-I don’t want to marry him,” Bruna said.

  “What you want isn’t important, you must do the right thing by the baby and by yourself,” Luisa snapped.

  “Enough,” Ernesto said. “I’m still the man of the house here, and what I say goes. We’ll help Bruna and take care of her and the child when it’s born. If she doesn’t want to marry the man, then she doesn’t have to.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Ernesto looked sternly at his wife. “We will help Bruna.”

  “You’ll never find a husband after this,” Luisa spat, glaring at her daughter. “Be it on your own heads, then.” She stormed out of the kitchen, fury emanating from her every pore.

  Ernesto glanced at Bruna. “She’ll calm down, you’ll see,” he said.

  “I know,” Bruna replied.

  “Bruna, is it…?”

  Bruna stood up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her father’s question unanswered. Mario looked up from his cars as she passed by.

  “I still love you, Bruna,” he whispered, but she didn’t hear him. He could see his father, sitting at the kitchen table, his back straight as a ramrod, his shoulders taut. All sorts of thoughts ran through Mario’s mind, ugly thoughts that he pushed away as soon as they appeared.

  Mario became Bruna’s shadow during her pregnancy, never leaving her side whenever she went out. The villagers smiled at the sight of them; Bruna waddling down the street cradling her expanding stomach while little Mario skipped along beside her, carrying her bags.

  “Stop glaring at every man I speak to, Mario,” she whispered to him as they walked out of the butcher’s.

  “Was that him?” Mario replied fiercely.

  “Who?”

  Mario stared at her large stomach. “Him,” he said, gesturing towards the shop.

  Bruna stopped in surprise, then wrapped her arms around him in a huge bear hug. “Oh Mario,” she said, holding him as he struggled to escape from her grip. “Please don’t do this. Who the father is isn’t important, I just want you to carry on loving me and looking after me.”


  He stopped wriggling and frowned. “If I find him…”

  “Come on, little Mario, help me get these things home to Mamma, she said she needed them pronto.” Bruna smiled at her brother, but he noticed that her eyes didn’t sparkle any more, like they used to.

  Mario spent the afternoon showing her all the interesting things he’d found in the garden. The enormous, black and yellow spider with its beautifully intricate web, the hole under the pine tree that was certainly a snake’s nest, the thrush family that was raising a solitary cuckoo chick that had invaded their nest. When Bruna got tired, they lay down on a grassy patch and watched the clouds float by overhead.

  “Do you ever see faces in the clouds?” Mario asked.

  “Faces? No, I can’t say that I do,” Bruna replied.

  “I do. All the time. See there…” He pointed at a grey cloud that was passing close by the sun. Bruna nodded.

  “Don’t you think it looks a bit like Papà? With his hair going in all directions, like when he gets up first thing, and that pointy bit just below could be his beard, when it’s all trimmed and tidy.”

  “No, I don’t see it. It doesn’t look anything like him.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

  He turned and looked at her. “You don’t like to talk about Papà just lately,” he remarked.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Every time I mention him, you change the subject,” he insisted.

  “You’re imaging things,” she retorted. “I’m getting cold lying here, let’s go inside and get something to eat.” She got clumsily to her feet, dusting off her skirt, and headed towards the kitchen. Mario slowly followed her indoors, lost in his own thoughts.

  Luisa stood at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in soapy water as she washed the plates from the evening meal. She glanced over at Bruna next to her, noticing how pale she was. No matter how much the end of the pregnancy weighed on her, she still insisted on helping her mother around the house. Not like that snooty sister of hers, who considered herself above such trivial things. Luisa snorted as she remembered how Teresa had come running down the stairs just an hour earlier, dressed to the nines, enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume, while declaring that she would be ‘dining out’ that evening. Luisa didn’t understand how Teresa had ended up like that, she definitely hadn’t put those grandiose ideas in her head.

  “Go and sit down, Bruna, you’re looking tired,” she said gruffly to her daughter.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, Mamma, I’d like to go and lie down for a bit,” Bruna replied gratefully. She put the drying-up cloth on the draining board and leaned over to give her mother a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Night, make sure the bed bugs don’t bite,” Luisa said, smiling. Now that her initial rage over finding out that her daughter was pregnant had passed, Luisa admitted to herself it would be wonderful to have a grandchild to coo over.

  She watched as Bruna waddled clumsily across the room, her enormous stomach making it difficult to manoeuvre through the furniture. As she passed near Ernesto’s armchair, he reached out and brushed his hand against hers. Luisa frowned when she saw Bruna retract her hand as if she’d been burnt.

  “Bruna, sweetheart.” She saw Ernesto’s mouth form the words, then noticed an expression of pure hatred come over Bruna’s face. Luisa felt herself recoil from it, even though she was all the way across the other side of the room. She turned back to the sink with her heart pounding furiously in her chest, rage building up deep inside her, threatening to explode. Her hand closed tightly around the blade of the knife she was washing, until she looked down and saw the water had turned red. Swearing, she pulled the plug out and ran her hand under cold water, feeling as though her soul was flowing out of her body along with her blood. She picked up the drying-up cloth with her free hand and threw it at Mario, who sat in his usual corner on the floor, hitting him on the head.

  “Don’t just sit there, come and help me finish,” she snapped. Mario jumped, a puzzled look on his face as he stared at his father. He slowly picked up the cloth, went over to his mother, and silently started drying the plates.

  Bruna’s screams echoed around the house as her stomach contracted yet again. Beads of sweat burst out on her forehead and her face was contorted with agony. Luisa dripped water onto her lips from a wet sponge and ran her hand soothingly over her forehead, brushing back her sweat-soaked hair.

  “Am I going to die, Mamma?” Bruna groaned, trying to find a comfortable position.

  “Sssh, of course not,” Luisa replied. But she was worried. Her daughter had been in labour for almost two days now, things were not progressing as they should. She leant over and kissed Bruna’s cheek. “I’m just going to the kitchen to get some things, I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She ran down the stairs and found Emilia already preparing a tray. The sharp knives glinted in the morning light, winking their joy at Luisa. She shook her head.

  “No, Mamma, we can’t,” she whispered.

  “I’ve done this hundreds of times, Luisa, I could do it with my eyes closed,” Emilia replied, but her hand trembled slightly as she put some clean cloths on the tray.

  “You know the risks as well as I do. She’s nineteen years old, she can do this by herself without your interference.” Luisa stepped around the table and took hold of her mother’s arm.

  “She’s been in labour for almost two days now,” Emilia snapped. Then her face softened. “I’m sorry, I’m worried. She’s not dilating enough, and that baby isn’t going to come out by itself.”

  “Can’t we try the…?” Luisa began, but Emilia interrupted her.

  “Hush. Ernesto said we weren’t to use our potions on her.” Emilia looked around nervously, as if expecting to see Ernesto glaring at her from his armchair.

  Luisa shuddered, recalling her husband’s face a few hours earlier, black with anger, refusing to listen to their explanations. “But it will work. She’s my daughter, your granddaughter… do you really think it’s better to cut her open before at least trying the remedy? We could give it a couple of hours, and if things don’t improve, we’ll use...” She gestured at the tray, swallowing hard. The thought of her mother using the sharp kitchen knife on her daughter’s belly made her feel sick. She took the recipe book out of the cupboard where she usually stored it and flipped through the pages until she found the right one.

  “Black cohosh, blue cohosh, ginger,” she read. “Just the roots, mind. And lobelia, steeped in hot water until concentrated, then add a few spoonfuls to a glass of water. Everything’s in the Grove, you just need to prepare the mixture. And add some…” she paused, but her mother understood and nodded. The special ingredient from that one ancient plant in the Grove.

  Mario came running towards them, his shirt half untucked and his shoelaces undone.

  “Why aren’t you at school, young man?” Luisa demanded to know.

  “I-I can’t find my books, Mamma,” he stammered, going bright red in the face.

  Luisa took a deep breath, ready to shout at him to go to school, but her mother stepped in.

  “Maybe he should stay home today, what do you think Luisa? I don’t think he’ll be able to concentrate anyway.” She paused as a loud moan came from upstairs. “Now, why don’t you go back up to Bruna, and Mario and I will go out to the Grove and pick some herbs.”

  Luisa looked at her mother in surprise. “You mean…?”

  “Yes. You’re right, we’ve got to try everything before… that.” She glanced over at the tray. “Ernesto’s already gone to work, he won’t know. I’m sure Mario won’t say anything, will you?”

  “About what?” he asked innocently, then burst out laughing.

  “See,” Emilia said. “We’ll prepare the infusion, you just keep Bruna calm for now.” She gave Luisa a hug, then took hold of Mario’s hand and the pair went out into the garden. Luisa sighed, and made her way upstairs.

  Emilia stood back and wiped her brow, gla
d that it was finally over. As the baby’s wails filled the room, she felt like crying along with her new great-granddaughter. She smiled as she watched Luisa clean the baby and wrap her up in a warm, fluffy towel. The tray was on the chest of drawers in the corner of the room, the knives still clean and unused.

  Luisa went over to Bruna, who lay exhausted on the bed, and held the baby out to her. Bruna gently brushed her hand against its cheek.

  “I can’t, Mamma, I’m too tired.”

  “Just hold her for a moment,” Luisa insisted.

  “Later, please. Let me sleep for now.” Bruna turned her head away from her child and closed her eyes. Luisa frowned, but left her to sleep undisturbed.

  “She’ll pick up after a good rest,” Emilia tried to reassure her. Luisa wasn’t so sure.

  As she sat in the sofa with the baby sleeping in her arms, Luisa tiredly went over the events of the last few days in her mind. Seeing her daughter suffering so much pain had reignited all the fury she’d tried to bury since witnessing the scene between Ernesto and Bruna. Now that it was all over, her mind started to wander, thinking about things she’d rather not. She remembered the look of anger on Bruna’s face, the way she’d snatched her hand away from her father’s touch… and she knew the reason why.

  She gazed down upon her granddaughter in her arms, trying to feel some love for her, but there was nothing there. Just a vast emptiness deep inside her that would slowly fill with hate for this child as she grew up, looking more and more like her grandfather every day. She could already see some similarities: the double crown in the middle of her already thick mop of hair that would be impossible to dominate and would drive her crazy as it spread in all directions. The little snub nose that would grow broader and bigger. Those pale blue eyes that would probably turn into her grandfather’s hazel brown eyes in a matter of weeks, eyes that would remind Bruna every day of what she’d been through. Luisa looked hastily away, a tear running down her cheek as she thought of the future and what it would hold for all of them.