The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  Bruna covered her face with her hands and cried loudly, pulling at her hair, trying to hurt herself.

  Mario ran over to her. “Bruna, don’t,” he shouted. “Mamma, stop her, please stop her.” His worried voice broke through Bruna’s pain and she stopped screaming. She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face bright red and swollen.

  “Don’t, Bruna,” he mumbled, trying to comfort her. “I found a name for her, I was going to tell you later. I chose Malva for her, what do you think?” She started to calm down as her brother caressed her hair, talking continuously to her, reassuring her. Luisa stood back, watching, her heart pounding as she witnessed her children’s despair.

  They decided to bury her in the Grove, as she hadn’t yet been baptised and couldn’t be buried in the village cemetery. It felt right to keep her there at the cottage with them, still part of the family she’d left too soon.

  Ernesto and Mario had prepared the ground for the burial, and Bruna had chosen a small headstone with a simple engraving. They stood with their heads bowed as Ernesto and Mario lowered the small coffin into the hole they’d dug. Mario’s small arms struggled to hold its weight but he bravely carried on, determined not to drop it. Ernesto stood tall and straight as he said a few words, then they all recited the Lord’s Prayer together. Teresa took hold of Bruna’s hand and squeezed it, smiling softly at her. It was just the six of them at the funeral, they hadn’t invited anyone else from the village. Bruna hadn’t been able to bear the thought of making small talk with the other women, and Luisa hadn’t wanted them nosing around their business.

  As Ernesto started shovelling earth down onto the coffin, Luisa turned to her children and Emilia. “Come, let’s go indoors and leave your father to finish here.” They followed her quietly into the kitchen.

  She looked around, a small, tight smile on her face. “So many things have happened in here,” she murmured. “Whatever crisis we have, we always seem to end up in the kitchen. It’s the heart of our family, where we’ll always be ready to help each other.”

  Emilia sat down at the table, sighing. “It’s always been that way, ever since I can remember,” she murmured. “Through the good times and bad.” Malva’s death had hit her hard, Luisa could see the dark shadows under her eyes and the skin pulled taut across her cheeks.

  Teresa cleared her throat. “I-I have something to say, Mamma,” she said nervously.

  Luisa stared at her. “Well?” she asked, when her daughter didn’t continue.

  “I’ve spoken with Bruna already, she knows…” She glanced over at her sister, who nodded in support. “I’ve decided to move in with Emiliano’s family,” she blurted out. “He-he’s asked me to marry him in the spring, and I th-thought it would be best if I move out as soon as possible.”

  “I see.” Luisa gazed thoughtfully at Teresa. “Any particular reason why?”

  Teresa blushed. “We never could hide anything from you, Mamma, could we? I’m pregnant. That’s why Emiliano wants to marry me, and that’s why I have to move out.” She glared defiantly at her mother. “And that’s why I told Bruna. I don’t want to hurt her… it will be bad enough when the baby’s born. Please tell me you understand, Mamma.”

  Luisa sighed. “I forget you’re all grown up now. I think you’re right, Teresa, it’s probably for the best if you go and live with Emiliano and his family.”

  “Really?” Teresa could hardly believe it had been that easy. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course. Just come and visit us every now and then, maybe.” Luisa smiled, trying to hide the pain she felt inside. Her heart and her chest ached. Bit by bit, it seemed that her family was falling apart, destroyed by the one person who should have been their mainstay. Ernesto.

  Chapter Fifteen

  1962

  “Mario, I’ve already told you, I don’t want you coming to the village with me today,” Bruna said, starting to get irritated.

  “But I haven’t got anything to do. Mamma doesn’t want me to help her in the garden and I don’t feel like playing by myself.” He looked up at her with pleading eyes.

  It was a hot summer’s day, and it was only ten o’clock. Even the insects fluttered half-heartedly around the garden. Luisa had disappeared in the Grove straight after breakfast, wanting to do some work before it got too unbearable. Mario had started doing some of his summer homework, but was already bored with it.

  Bruna sighed. It was going to be one of those days. “No, Mario,” she said sternly. “Not today. I’ve got to meet someone.”

  “Who?” he said, perking up immediately. When Bruna met up with her friends, they usually went to the bar or gelateria. Maybe he would get an ice-cream.

  “No-one you know. Please, Mario, it’s important. I’ll tell you what. I’ll bring back a tub of ice-cream, we can all share it later.”

  He grumbled but finally relented, insisting that she got his favourite flavours. She kissed him on the forehead and ruffled his hair. “Love you, shorty,” she said.

  He frowned as she sauntered off down the road towards the village, her dress swinging around her legs, her freshly-washed hair a golden halo in the sunlight. She’d become more distant lately, as if she was always thinking about something else, and he felt excluded. Ever since Malva had died, he’d sensed a hole in the family, and it seemed to be growing bigger and wider. Teresa had gone, and was now married to Emiliano, living in a village down in the valley with their daughter and another child on the way. They didn’t see her very often, not that Mario missed her sniping comments and superior behaviour.

  He thought his mother looked sad; she spent more and more time in the Grove, making medicines and testing new theories and ingredients. He often helped her, even though he knew he wasn’t really meant to be there, it was a place for the mother and the eldest daughter of the family. But Bruna refused to help her mother, saying it was old-fashioned and they should rely on the new medicines nowadays, not old herbal folklore. His mother had been hurt by her comments but hadn’t said anything, letting Bruna do what she felt was right. Mario was a poor substitute, he knew that, but when his mother turned around and gave him one of her rare smiles, it made up for all the pain and sadness.

  His father was the cause of all their problems, this much he knew. When they sat down for dinner in the evenings, the atmosphere was so tense you could practically cut it with a knife. His parents ignored each other as much as possible, and Bruna ate as fast as she could without earning a rebuke from her mother, and then invented an excuse to avoid being in their company any longer. Mario usually helped his mother clear away the things and wash up, both working in total silence while his father listened to the radio. He wondered how much longer things could go on like this.

  A few days later, Bruna dropped her bombshell on them. She arrived for dinner that evening with a guest.

  “Mamma, Papà, this is George,” she announced. George held his hand out to Ernesto, who shook it, a bewildered look on his face.

  “Pleased to meet you, signore,” he said, his English accent making his Italian sound bizarre. Luisa put her hand to her mouth, smothering a smile.

  “And you, signora,” he added, turning to Luisa. She shook his hand, looking at her daughter’s flushed face, and wondered what was going on.

  “And you must be Mario, Bruna’s told me all about you.” George gave him a big grin. “She never shuts up about you, it’s always Mario this, Mario that. Maybe later you could show me that snake skin she said you keep in your room?”

  Bruna slapped his arm, blushing. “I thought George could have dinner with us tonight, so you could all get to know him. If that’s all right with you, Mamma?” She deliberately avoided looking at Ernesto.

  “Of course, there’s plenty to go around,” Luisa replied. “Mario, stop gawping and set another place at the table.”

  Mario snapped his mouth shut and ran to prepare a place for George. In no time at all, they were sitting down at the table.

  “So, where are you from, Geo
rge?” Ernesto asked, his mouth full of pasta.

  “I’m from England.”

  “Really? And what are you doing here, then?”

  “I came over on holiday last year with my parents, and loved it so much I had to come back. I’ve got a summer job working at the Tenuta Floreana.”

  “And how did you meet Bruna?” Ernesto enquired, raising his eyebrows.

  “Oh, we met last year down at the village,” George replied. Mario thought he looked nervous behind his apparently cheerful exterior.

  “Last year, hmm?” Ernesto muttered. “Couldn’t you have stayed in England this year?”

  “Ernesto!” Luisa snapped. “Take no notice, George, he’s always grumpy. I think it’s lovely you met up with Bruna again. How long are you staying for?”

  Bruna and George glanced at each other. “Mamma, George came back again this year for me,” Bruna began.

  George interrupted her. “When I met Bruna last year, I fell in love with her. We’ve been writing to each other all year long, and I came here again to confirm what I already knew… I want to marry Bruna. Signore, I’d like to ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Ernesto cleared his throat, swallowed hard, then coughed again. “Well, I-I don’t know what to say.” He wiped some sweat off his brow. “This is such a surprise…” his voice trailed away as he halted, embarrassed. “Wh-what do you think?” he asked Luisa.

  She was irritated at his hesitation, but smiled at the two young people sat in front of her. “I think it’s wonderful. I wish you’d told us sooner, Bruna, but I’m very happy for the pair of you. Where will you look for work?” she asked George. “There are probably more opportunities down in the valley, you could ask Teresa and Emiliano if there’s anything going.”

  Bruna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She leant forward to speak, but George took hold of her arm and stopped her. “That’s the other thing we need to talk about.” Two red dots appeared on his cheeks. “You see, I already have a job in England, a good job. They let me take a couple of months off, but I will have to go back soon. And I would like to take Bruna with me, as my bride.”

  Ernesto, Luisa and Mario all stared at them, stunned.

  “But you don’t speak English, Bruna,” Mario said. “How can you go to England if you can’t speak the language?”

  “I’ve been learning it, Sister Nunzia has been teaching me over the last year,” Bruna said gently. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t want to leave you, Mario, but…” She glanced over at her father briefly. “I must. I love George, and his job is in England. My future is there. You can always come and visit us.” She looked at him pleadingly, willing him to understand.

  “It’s all your fault,” Mario yelled at his father, making everyone jump. “Everything’s been your fault, ever since…” He stopped, panting heavily, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I hate you, and I hate what you’ve done to this family.” He stormed out of the house, slamming the back door behind him.

  “Well, that could have gone better,” Luisa said, starting to clear away the plates. “Does anyone want anything else?”

  “I think we’ve all lost our appetites,” Bruna remarked.

  George stood up. “I’m going to have a talk with Mario.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Bruna asked.

  “No harm in trying.”

  He went out into the garden in search of Mario and found him sitting underneath a shady apple tree, bees buzzing above his head in search of the sweet nectar in the fruit.

  “Hey, you,” he said, crouching down so that he was on the same level.

  Mario looked up at him, his face tense. “What do you want?”

  George ignored his hostile tone. “I thought maybe we could talk. I think I owe you an explanation.”

  “What’s there to say? You’re going to marry Bruna and take her away from me.” Mario scowled at him. “End of discussion, right?”

  “Well, yes, but I’d like you to be happy for Bruna,” George said. “She told me about the baby, what happened… it destroyed her, Mario, she never thought she’d be happy again. She’s just been existing, living day to day. Surely you want her to be happy?”

  Mario nodded. “But what about me?” he asked miserably. “I loved Malva too. I wanted to teach her all about nature… we could have gone fishing together, or hunting rabbits. I was happy when Teresa left, she didn’t like me anyway. But if Bruna goes, there’s nothing left here. Papà always comes home drunk and that upsets Mamma. What will I have if Bruna goes?”

  George felt sorry for Mario, it seemed he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Things will get better,” he said. “How old are you now, eleven?”

  “Ten,” Mario corrected him.

  “All right, ten. In five or six years you’ll be able to get a job, maybe meet a pretty girl and get married too. You’ll make your own family and your own future. This won’t be forever, Mario. And Bruna deserves a future. Don’t make her feel guilty about being happy. By the sound of it, your mother needs you, too.”

  Mario thought about it. “I guess you’re right,” he said slowly. “It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s all.”

  “Good man,” George said, beaming at him. “Now, how about you show me that snake skin?”

  George and Bruna got married a few days later in the village church with just a few people present. Bruna wore a simple, pale blue dress she’d made herself, and George was wearing an elegant suit he’d brought over from England.

  During the quick lunch after the ceremony, Bruna took her mother to one side. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done,” she said, hugging Luisa. “Letting me marry George, it’s given me back my dignity, and my hope for the future. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

  Luisa hugged her back, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, what am I going to do without you?” she sobbed. “I’m going to miss you so much. But you’ll come back, won’t you, and let me see my grandchildren?”

  Bruna shook her head. “I’m never coming back, Mamma.”

  “What? Never?” Luisa exclaimed.

  “I can’t. Please try to understand, there’s too much pain here. The cottage, the baby, everything that’s happened… I have to get away from all that, otherwise it will drive me crazy.”

  Luisa felt her temper rise. “But the family, our tradition… the first-born daughter has to carry on, become the healer. You can’t deny your heritage. I’m only asking you to come and visit us occasionally.”

  “I’m sorry, Mamma, but I won’t be the next healer,” Bruna said firmly. “I’m going to England to start a new life with George and I don’t want to ever come back. You could always ask Teresa.”

  “Teresa? You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Well, break the tradition… get Mario to do it. He loves helping you in the Grove, he knows all about the plants and how to make the medicines. He’d love to learn.”

  Luisa shook her head. “It has to be a girl, and it has to be the first born,” she said sadly. “I can’t make you change your mind, can I?”

  “No, Mamma, I’m afraid not.”

  “Does it have anything to do with your father?” Luisa asked.

  “Papà?”

  Luisa saw a shadow pass over her daughter’s face, and felt a knife twisting in her heart. “Yes, Papà,” she insisted.

  Bruna frowned. “Don’t get involved in things you don’t understand, Mamma.”

  “You owe me that much, at least. Just tell me the truth. Is he the reason why you won’t come back? I can’t believe you would give up the cottage, your birthright, your baby’s grave forever, for the reasons you’ve told me. There has to be more to it.”

  Bruna sighed. “You always did know me better than anyone else, Mamma. Yes, you’re right. It will break my heart to leave Malva in her grave here, and the cottage and the village will always be a part of me. But the
re’s something evil in this place, something that gets under people’s skin if they let it. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always felt it, and it got into Papà somehow. Don’t you feel it, Mamma?”

  “My mother talked about it, but I never believed her,” Luisa said slowly. “How can there be anything like that at the cottage? We are a family of healers, we care for people, we help them when they are dying, we do nothing but good. How can evil come from that?”

  “I don’t know,” Bruna said, “but something happens to certain people. Look how Teresa became, spoilt and whining all the time. Poor Antonio died when no-one else in the village did. And Papà…” she stopped, biting her lip.

  “Go on,” Luisa said.

  “I heard the gossip in the village, those horrible women thought I wasn’t listening but it was hard to ignore their stupid giggling voices. I know what your life has been like, what he’s done to you. Don’t cry, Mamma,” she said, seeing fresh tears well up in her mother’s eyes. “Oh, come here!”

  As the two women hugged each other, Luisa let the tears flow freely. Bruna knew some of the things Ernesto had done to her, but Luisa knew exactly what he had done to Bruna. And she was going to make him pay for it, for everything he’d done to her and her family.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The house was eerily empty after Bruna left. Mario felt lost without his sister, and the cottage seemed twice as large as before. He felt abandoned by everyone and became quiet and withdrawn. His father’s temper grew worse and Mario soon learned to keep out of his way. Ernesto would often lash out at him for no reason, hitting him around the side of his head as he walked past. Mealtimes were a torture, as Ernesto criticised the way Mario ate, what he ate, how he drank, the way he held his cutlery, putting his arms on the table, hiding his hands in his lap… Mario would bite his lip and say nothing, forcing food down his throat and into his tensed-up stomach.