The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  Bruna felt a lot better after a few hours’ sleep, her young body quickly recovering from the traumatic labour. She went downstairs to get a drink and something to eat, and found her mother fast asleep on the sofa with the baby held firmly in her arms. She stopped to watch them, her heart pounding as she realised that she was now a mother herself. The baby snuffled in its sleep, its mouth opening in search of food. She reached over and gently picked her up, then sat down in one of the armchairs and pulled open her nightgown. The baby hungrily latched on, making soft sucking noises, its eyes closed in contentment. Bruna lay her head against the back of the chair and sighed.

  “She’s a strong eater, isn’t she?” Luisa said softly.

  Bruna opened her eyes, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Luisa smiled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better now. Would you like a tea, or a coffee? And something to eat?”

  “A tea would be fantastic, with some biscuits,” Bruna replied gratefully.

  Luisa busied herself in the kitchen. As she placed everything on the tray, ready to take over to the coffee table, she caught the expression on Bruna’s face as she looked down at her new-born daughter. There was love there, but also something else… an uncertainty; no, it was deeper than that, it was that pitying, contemptuous look people gave to the runt of the litter, knowing that it would never be accepted or loved by anyone. Luisa wasn’t shocked, she knew exactly how Bruna felt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I don’t know what I’m going to call her, Papà,” Bruna repeated, getting irritated. It was the fourth time that day her father had asked her the same question.

  “She’s two days old, she should have a name by now,” Ernesto grumbled. “What about Gilda, after my grandmother?”

  “Oh Ernesto, really?” Luisa said. “That’s awful. Bruna will decide when she’s ready, won’t you dear?”

  Bruna nodded. “There’s plenty of time, the christening’s not for a while. Actually, I was thinking maybe Mario could choose her name.”

  “Me?” Mario exclaimed, jumping up. He already adored the baby, and couldn’t wait until it was old enough to play with.

  “Humph.” Teresa looked at him with disdain. “I dread to think what the poor thing will be called, then. You’ll probably regret not calling her Gilda.”

  Mario threw a cushion off the sofa at her. “I’ll think of a great name for her,” he said, leaping out of the way as Teresa threw the cushion back at him. He poked his tongue out at her and ran out into the garden, laughing.

  “He’ll end up calling her Lizard or something stupid like that,” Teresa commented.

  Bruna shrugged her shoulders. “Well I can’t think of anything, so whatever he comes up with will be OK with me.” She jumped as she heard the baby’s cries coming from upstairs. “God, is it time to feed her again already? All right, all right, I’m coming.” She wearily stood up and went to tend to her daughter.

  Ernesto snorted. “Can’t see what’s wrong with Gilda, it’s a fine name that’s been in my family for generations.”

  “That’s why it’s time to have a change, maybe,” Luisa retorted, going outside to check on Mario.

  There was silence as the back door closed behind her. Teresa and Ernesto exchanged a look of fake surprise.

  “I don’t know what’s up with your mother, she’s been like that since the baby was born,” Ernesto said.

  “Baby hormones,” Teresa replied, making them both laugh.

  “Just be nice to everyone until things settle down,” Ernesto told her. “Your mother and Bruna are like two bombs that are about to go off at any moment.”

  By the afternoon, everyone’s nerves were frazzled. The baby had cried all day long, and they’d taken turns in trying to calm her down. Except Ernesto. He’d gone to the bar to ‘cure his headache’. Luisa walked around the living room, singing softly, the tiny baby bawling in her arms.

  Bruna threw herself down on the sofa. “Will it ever stop? I’m starting to wish I was still in labour.”

  Luisa laughed. “All babies cry a lot at the beginning, she just needs to settle down. Give her a few days.”

  “It’s probably because she wants a name,” Teresa muttered. She mimicked a little child’s voice. “All the other babies have a name, but I’m just known as ‘it’. All I want is a name…”

  “That’s enough, Teresa,” Luisa warned, seeing Bruna’s expression. “Your sister’s exhausted, leave her be. She’ll name her when she’s ready.”

  “Why do you always defend her? She can’t even bear to look at her own daughter,” Teresa retorted.

  “That’s not true,” Bruna said, and burst into tears. “And what do you care, anyway? Since when has naming the baby been so important to you?”

  “Papà says…”

  “Fuck what Papà says,” Bruna snarled.

  “And fuck you,” Teresa yelled. She stormed out of the house.

  “Teresa!” Luisa got up and followed her outside. “Where are you going?”

  “To Emiliano’s, at least I don’t get shouted at there,” she said, hurrying down the path towards the gate. “And I won’t be back until tomorrow,” she added, without turning around.

  Luisa stopped by the front door, watching her daughter until she disappeared down the road. Sighing, she went back indoors. “I need to get dinner ready,” she said, feeling drained.

  “Give her to me, Mamma.” Bruna held out her arms to take her daughter. “It’s not true, you know. What Teresa said. It’s just…”

  “I know,” Luisa reassured her. “It takes time to adjust, for all of us but in particular for you. You’ll be fine.”

  That night Luisa lay in bed, listening to Bruna walking round and round her bedroom, trying to soothe her daughter’s crying. Ernesto lay with his back to her, snoring softly in his sleep, his bulk barely visible in the dark room. Luisa listened to his rhythmic breathing, wondering how he could sleep so easily knowing what he’d done to his daughter. The familiar rage boiled up once more, and she clenched her fists tightly. She wanted to love her granddaughter, enjoy her first months of life, watch her develop and learn about the world around her… and yet, every time she looked at her, she could only see the image of her husband down some dark alleyway, his white backside pumping backwards and forwards, only this time it wasn’t some floozy from the bar, but Bruna…

  No! she screamed inside her head, biting her tongue hard to stop the thoughts from coming. No, no, no! Her mouth filled with the taste of blood, the metallic flavour distracting her. She hated Ernesto; she was incapable of understanding the depravity he’d sunk to, unable to speak to anyone about it, knowing that she’d have to carry this terrible secret inside her until the day she died. But she also hated Bruna, as much as she tried not to. How could her daughter have allowed this to happen? Her own father? Thoughts raced around her head until she felt as if she would explode, and she sobbed quietly while the baby carried on crying in the next room.

  Even Mario looked tired and tense the next morning. Fed up with the constant noise, he escaped into the garden straight after breakfast. It was Sunday, but even the sound of the church bells bouncing off the hills around him was more bearable than his niece’s screams.

  “We’re off to church, Mario, you comin’?” his father called from the back door.

  “No, Papà, I don’t want to today,” Mario replied.

  “This is the second week in a row, Don Edoardo will have something to say.”

  “Oh, come on, Papà. I’ve hardly slept, I just want to stay home,” Mario whined.

  Ernesto grunted. “All right. Your mother’s not coming either, says she’s got too much to do. Seems I’m the only God-fearing person around here lately.”

  “What about Bruna?” Mario asked.

  “Bruna? Ha! She looks like she’s going to have a nervous breakdown. And if she takes the girl into church, we’ll be excommunicated. Never mind.” Ernesto went back indoors to get his jacket and hat, and set o
ff to church.

  Bruna was struggling to change her daughter’s nappy, but she kept wriggling just as she was about to put the pin through the terry towelling cloth. “Oh, stay still,” she snapped, grabbing her hips and trying to stop her legs moving. “Shit.” The nappy fell off and the baby gleefully peed everywhere, chewing on her hands as if to stop herself from laughing.

  “Give it here,” Luisa said, coming to her rescue. She deftly wiped the baby clean and put her nappy on, quickly snapping the pins into place before she could move again. “There, all done.”

  Bruna burst into tears.

  “Oh, Bruna, don’t,” Luisa said, taking her daughter into her arms while keeping one hand on the baby so she didn’t fall off the kitchen table. Bruna sobbed tiredly on her shoulder, her whole body shaking.

  “All right, it’s all right,” Luisa crooned, alarmed. “You’re just tired, you’ve been up all night.” As she spoke, she realised that the baby was silent. She turned to look. “Bruna,” she whispered. “She’s sleeping.”

  “Finally.” Bruna ran her hand tiredly through her unkempt hair, and Luisa noticed the dark shadows under her eyes.

  “Go upstairs and have a lie down, I’ll call you when she wakes up.”

  “No, you’re tired too, and you’ve got work to do in the garden, I heard you telling Papà earlier,” Bruna replied. “I’ll take her with me. That way, you can do what you need to do, and I’ll be there when she wakes.”

  Luisa reluctantly agreed. Bruna carefully took her daughter in her arms, praying that she wouldn’t wake, and went upstairs.

  Luisa busied herself in the kitchen, tidying up and putting everything away. The downstairs was littered with baby things, and she put all those away as well. She picked up a teddy bear that had belonged to Bruna, and with a sudden pang realised that it had been Antonio’s favourite too. What was Bruna doing, giving it to the new baby? Didn’t she realise how precious it was? How could she bear to let that… that abomination… touch something that had been a part of Antonio? Luisa had never allowed herself to grieve properly for Antonio, and now something snapped inside her. It was as if all the pain had suddenly become a gigantic ball that was choking her, filling her with a poisonous gas, the fog in her head becoming more and more dense…

  She made her way upstairs, clutching the teddy bear close to her chest, and stopped outside Bruna’s room. She could hear her daughter and granddaughter breathing heavily. She slowly turned the handle, trying not to make any noise. Stepping into the bedroom, she could see the two of them asleep in the bed, Bruna lying with one arm draped protectively over her daughter’s body. Luisa heard the baby snuffling, those blocked-nose sounds all new-borns make. Her grip tightened on the teddy bear as she remembered Antonio when he was a baby, how she’d loved him with all her heart, how she’d loved all her children. She took a step towards them, then another, until she was next to the bed, her shadow covering the baby. As if in a drugged state, she dropped the teddy bear and picked up the pillow that Bruna had placed behind her daughter to stop her falling off the bed. She held it in her hands and looked at it, as if wondering what it was. A roaring noise filled her ears, and all she could see was Antonio, and Ernesto so proud of having a son at long last, Antonio, Ernesto, Antonio…

  She bent over and placed the pillow over the baby’s head, her eyes squeezed tight shut. Tears rolled down her cheeks as all the pain flowed through her body, years of suffering and keeping quiet surging through her, until it burst out of her the only way it could. Leaving the pillow on top of the baby, she gently moved Bruna’s hand so that it lay on top of it. She bent down and picked up the teddy bear again, and looked at the scene before her, still crying silently. She felt nothing, just a cold numbness that seemed to spread through her, destroying any feelings she’d had up until that moment.

  Mario noticed his mother coming out into the garden, and instantly forgot about the baby lizard he’d been playing with. He ran over to her and threw his arms around her legs, hugging her tight. She jumped, as if coming out of a trance, and looked down at him.

  “Mamma, I did it, I chose a name,” he said, his face alight with joy.

  “Good, good,” she said. He was puzzled by the vacant expression on her face.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “What, Mario?”

  He gave up. “Nothing, I’ll tell you later.”

  “That’s probably best,” she replied. “Come and help me in the garden, there’s some weeding you can do.”

  They worked together, side by side, as Luisa explained the various plants to him and showed him how to clear the ground around their bases so that they wouldn’t get choked by weeds. Mario followed her instructions, happy to be alone with his mother and far away from the screaming baby. Much as Mario adored her, the last three days had left him feeling irritable and the slightest noise got on his nerves.

  As he dug, he thought over the name he’d chosen for his niece. Malva. Just like the plant his mother used to cure the villagers’ colds and flu. He hoped Bruna would like it, but on the other hand, she’d told him that whatever he chose would be all right with her. A dragonfly suddenly appeared before him, hovering at eye level, and he marvelled at its lightly-veined, transparent wings and beautiful, vibrant colours. As he watched, time seemed to slow down, its wings moving in slow motion, up and down, hypnotising him with their slow, steady movement. Its large, bulbous eyes gazed unblinkingly at him, as if it wanted to tell him something… Mario stared back, willing himself to stay still, afraid that the slightest movement would make it fly away. They remained suspended in their private bubble of time, oblivious to everything else around them.

  Then a piercing scream rang out in the clear blue sky, and the world suddenly went back to normal. The dragonfly sped off towards the trees and was soon out of sight. Mario shook his head, as if waking from a long sleep. Luisa sat frozen on the ground, trowel in hand, as they heard the back door crash open and Bruna’s wails filled the air.

  “Mamma!” she screamed, running through the garden. She was cradling her daughter in her arms, tears pouring down her cheeks. Mario jumped up.

  “Mamma?” he said, puzzled. Luisa hadn’t moved from her position. “Mamma,” he repeated, shaking her shoulders.

  Luisa dropped the trowel and slowly stood up. She ran to her daughter, Mario close behind. “Wh-what is it, Bruna?” she called. “I’m coming.”

  “Oh, Mamma, the baby, when I woke up she was under the pillow… she-she’s not breathing…” Bruna gasped, hardly able to speak.

  “All right, stay calm,” Luisa said. “Give her to me, I’ll have a look.” She gently took the baby from Bruna’s arms and removed the blanket she’d wrapped her in. Her sweet, angelic face looked like it had been carved from marble, and her skin was cold under Luisa’s fingers. She touched the blue-tinged lips and stroked her cheek.

  “M-mamma?” Bruna said hesitantly.

  “I’m sorry, Bruna, but she’s…”

  “No,” she screamed. “No, she can’t be. Not my baby!” She burst into deep, racking sobs, her whole body shaking.

  “Come, let’s go indoors,” Luisa said, putting her arm around Bruna’s shoulders.

  Once inside, she laid the baby in its cradle and guided Bruna to a chair at the table. “Sit down, and tell me exactly what happened.”

  Bruna sank heavily onto the wooden chair, her eyes staring wildly. Mario crept over to the cradle and stood looking down at his niece’s tiny body. His eyes glistened with tears as he listened to Bruna.

  “I-I woke up… I’d slept so well, I remember thinking at long last she’d let me sleep a few hours, and… and I turned to her, and there was t-the p-pillow on top of her…” she burst into tears again.

  “Sshh, it’s all right,” Luisa said, stroking her daughter’s hair, even though her own heart was breaking inside.

  “Th-then I picked up the pillow, and it looked l-like she was sleeping…” Bruna hiccupped. “I touched her, and she was
so cold, too cold, so I picked her up and… oh God, Mamma.”

  Luisa hugged her daughter tightly, wishing she could undo what she’d done. Steeling herself, she said, “Bruna, I-I don’t know how to tell you, but…”

  “I know, Mamma,” Bruna replied miserably.

  “Y-you do?” Luisa said, startled.

  “I-I must have done it in my sleep. I-I was th-thinking horrible things when I went upstairs, but it was only because I was tired… I would never have done them, honestly.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “I just wanted to get some sleep, and she’d been crying so much, and I was so, so tired…” She looked up at her mother, pleading with her to understand.

  Luisa nodded. “Go on.”

  “I just wanted her to stop crying and let me sleep a bit, and I imagined how nice it would be if I could turn her off for a while,” she sobbed. “Just for a couple of hours. I didn’t mean to do… this. But I must have done it in my sleep, mustn’t I?”

  Luisa wanted to tell her the truth, it was on the tip of her tongue, but the words wouldn’t come out. She thought about how much her daughter would hate her, and what the rest of the family would say. They wouldn’t do anything to save her from a police investigation, she’d go to jail for a long time. But on the other hand, if she let Bruna think she’d done it by accident, maybe, just maybe, they could cover it all up. She’d known the village doctor for a long time, and was sure she could persuade him it was a natural death. The police wouldn’t even have to get involved. Bruna would get over it, the young bounce back so quickly. Her mind whirred as ideas spun around her head, desperately trying to think out a plan that would save everyone. And at the back of it all was the one constant whisper: Ernesto. If it hadn’t been for him, none of them would be in this situation right now. Ernesto. The whisper grew louder, coated in hate. She pushed it back down, she would deal with that later.

  “I-I think you must have done,” she said to her daughter, hating herself as she said it. But there was no other way.