The Healer's Secret

by Helen Pryke

  “If there should ever be another healer in the family, I hope she will understand,” she whispered, closing the book and pressing it against her lips. She painfully got up and put the book back in its usual place, then made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

  She slipped gratefully under the covers, her mind at peace once more, and fell into a deep sleep where she dreamt of ghosts and dragonflies.

  Jennifer

  2017

  Chapter Nineteen

  I slowly came to, feeling confused, as if I’d slept for hours. I couldn’t understand what had just happened; had I watched my great-grandmother’s life as if at the cinema, or had I actually been there, a part of the story? I glanced down at my hands, trembling, as I realised that they still held the letter. I hadn’t got past the first paragraph.

  Turning towards the wine bottle on the coffee table, I was startled to find it was empty. I didn’t remember having poured any out, but the evidence said otherwise. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the slightest bit drunk. Then I remembered Luisa telling Mario they were going to make fruit juice. It was just fruit juice, not wine? Baffled, I went back to reading the letter.

  August 2014

  As I near the end of my life, I realise that I cannot carry this burden to the grave. I must write everything down, in the form of a confession, in the hope that whoever reads it will understand my motives and find it in their heart to forgive me.

  The day I found out that Ernesto was abusing Bruna, I wanted to die. Not from shame, but to prevent me from doing him harm. I cannot believe I was so blind, that I didn’t realise what he was doing to his own daughter. I could put up with him sleeping with the women in the village, it was preferable to him touching me, but not that, not Bruna.

  I never spoke about it with Bruna – how could I? How do you ask your daughter if her own father is raping her? But the fact that she never told me, that hurts. I thought we were close, that she could trust me, talk to me about anything, but it seems I was wrong. And when I found out, it was too late. She was already too far along, there was nothing I could do. If she’d told me in the first couple months, I could have given her an infusion, it would have all been over so quickly and painlessly.

  I told myself I would love the child anyway, I would look at it as Bruna’s child and not think about the father. But when she was born, she had his features, his temper – straight away, you could tell she was of his blood. When I looked upon her, I couldn’t see my granddaughter, I could only see Ernesto, grinning at me, sneering at me, mocking me as he taunted me with all his conquests in the village. Raising his fist, lashing out at me because I refused to give my body to him, telling me it was all my fault.

  I wanted to save Bruna from him, and hurt Ernesto for everything he’d done to us. Mamma told me from a young age that I was a healer, I was put on this Earth to help people, cure them. And if I couldn’t save them, then help them move on to the next world in the kindest way possible. How could I save Malva? She was contaminated by his evil seed, perhaps she had that part of him inside of her, and would have become just like him, or worse. But I could save Bruna, save her from all that heartache, that constant, daily reminder of what he’d done to her. So I suffocated Malva with a pillow, to put an end to everything.

  There, I’ve written it down at long last. I have waited so long to confess. Too many years. I was a coward back then; I allowed Bruna to think she’d done it in her sleep, that it had been a terrible accident. I wanted to tell her - I almost did, but the thought of losing my children as well as my granddaughter stopped me. And who would have protected them from Ernesto? When Bruna started saying it was her fault, I kept quiet, I had to make sure I would be around for them.

  To what cost? Bruna never forgave herself. I know she carried that pain inside her for many, many years. She never forgave me either – for what, I don’t know, whether it was for her father, or Malva, or both. I don’t blame her, I can’t even forgive myself for what I did.

  Bruna was the future, the next healer. Without her, the tradition will end and the cottage will leave the family. What will happen to the Grove? My heart breaks at the thought of it finishing like this – how can I be the last healer? That’s why, when she left, I hated Ernesto. I hated him as I’ve never hated anyone before. I wanted to destroy him, my every waking thought was on how to get my revenge. And then he beat Mario. When I saw my son’s back covered in those red welts, the bruises already forming, I knew what I had to do, for my sake and for Mario’s. I couldn’t let that monster live any more, breathe the same air that we breathed, eat the food I prepared every day.

  I found the recipe. Belladonna. It’s an essential ingredient for many of our remedies, but in high doses it’s lethal. I carefully calculated the right amounts, and then slipped it into the bottle of wine. People in the village wondered if I’d killed him, but there was never any proof. Until now. I freely confess that I put enough belladonna in that bottle to kill him, and I would gladly do it again if it meant we could be free of that evil man. I only wish I’d done it years earlier.

  Whoever reads this letter, I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I am not a bad person, I would never have done any of this had the circumstances been different. I have suffered for what I’ve done and paid my penance.

  Luisa Innocenti

  “I understand, I truly understand,” I whispered, tears pouring down my cheeks. “You must have been so strong, you went through so much.” I thought back to how I’d drowned my sorrows in booze, instead of facing them head on, and felt like kicking myself. It was true that I’d lost my babies, and the chance to be a mother, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Luisa must have been through. Wife battering may have been the norm back in those days, but she’d had to deal with so much more. And she’d lost her children too. I’d been weak in the past, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change now.

  It was still dark outside. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, I was amazed to see that it was only midnight. I didn’t want to go to bed. My head was whirling with everything I’d learned, and I felt restless.

  I went outside in the garden and breathed in the cool night air. The sky was so clear up here in the mountains, and looking up I could see a myriad of stars above me. Bella followed me, quietly padding about, sniffing at invisible trails along the ground.

  “Mum was wrong, the magic isn’t in the cottage… it’s in the Grove, in the plants that grow there,” I murmured. “Somehow, I’ve no idea how, it all comes from there. The wine… hah, the fruit juice… it came from the Grove, there’s something in it that…” I paused, searching for the right word. “That heals you.” I gasped; since I’d started drinking the wine, I’d felt more at peace with myself, stronger, more able to carry on with my life without fear of where it would take me. I imagined leaving this place, going back to England, and realised that I didn’t want to. The cottage, the Grove, the mountains, it all seemed to be a part of me, as much as the blood flowing through my veins. Mario had written that I was destined to be the next healer… could I really do it? I had a lot to think about over the next few days. I wanted to get my ideas straight before Mum arrived, so that I could tell her I’d finally got my life in order, that I had a future ahead of me.

  I spent the night reading through the recipe book, making my own notes in a separate jotter, trying to decide which recipes I would make first. I wanted to start with something easy and work my way up to the more difficult ones. I hoped the family would be willing to help out as I would need some guinea-pigs.

  When the book lay open at the page about belladonna again and I found Luisa’s notes on the back, I understood what Mario had meant by thanking his mother for helping him find a way out. I remembered him telling me not to touch the plant with my bare hands, that it was extremely toxic… had he already known what he was going to do? I hoped that it had been quick and painless, after everything he’d been through.

  As the sun rose, I slowly stretched and got up
to put the coffee on. I planned to go down to the Grove straight after breakfast and start picking the berries and leaves I needed. I’d decided to try out a few headache remedies, but first I needed to identify and label all the plants to make sure I got the right ones. I groaned – it was going to be a long morning.

  I had just finished my coffee when I heard a hesitant tap at the back door. I quickly shoved the book in a nearby drawer.

  “It’s open,” I called.

  Agnese popped her head round the door. “Is it too early? I was afraid you’d still be in bed.” Bella ran over to greet her, wagging her tail furiously.

  “No, it’s fine, come in. I’m glad you came. Do you want a coffee?”

  “Uh, no thanks,” she said, looking a bit queasy. “I’d love a glass of water, though.”

  “You look tired,” she said, noticing the dark shadows under my eyes.

  “I haven’t slept all night. Is it that obvious?”

  She nodded. “Nothing wrong, I hope?”

  “No, nothing another coffee won’t solve.” I busied myself at the stove, and pulled some biscuits from the cupboard. “Some sugar might help as well,” I added.

  I got the feeling that Agnese wanted to tell me something; she kept opening her mouth and taking a deep breath, then closing it again as if she’d changed her mind. After a few minutes of this, I decided to help her out.

  “Agnese, is something bothering you?”

  “No, of course not,” she replied, but she avoided looking me in the eye.

  “Come on, you can tell me,” I said.

  “No, honestly, it’s nothing.”

  “You didn’t come to my house at the crack of dawn because nothing’s wrong,” I insisted. “Come on, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

  “I-I came to see you because I need to talk to you.”

  “OK.” I paused. “I’m listening.” I reached over and held her hand.

  “No, I shouldn’t be here,” she said, starting to rise from her chair. “You don’t want to hear this.”

  “Agnese, sit down,” I ordered. She sat. “You came here to talk to me, so talk.”

  “But I don’t want to upset you. It’s not fair to burden you.”

  “I can take it, I’m a big girl.”

  “It-it’s a secret and you can’t tell anyone,” she said urgently.

  “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

  “Seriously, Jennifer, you can’t tell my family. If they find out… I need help in deciding what to do, I’m so confused…”

  I looked her in the eyes. “Tell me, Agnese,” I said firmly.

  She took a deep breath. “I-I’m pregnant.”

  Of all things, I hadn’t expected that. “Oh my God.”

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to tell you, after everything you’ve been through, but I didn’t know who to turn to… I can’t tell my family, they’ll kill me.”

  Thoughts whizzed around my head. I felt sick, as if I were going to faint. I told myself to get a grip and concentrate on Agnese.

  “Who’s the father?” I asked. It felt like I was reliving Luisa’s story all over again.

  “So-someone in the village,” she replied.

  Oh God. I had to ask. “Someone in your family?”

  “My family?” She looked at me incredulously. “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “I know, stupid question. But can he help you? Will he marry you? Do you want to marry him?” I added as an afterthought.

  “I don’t know… I don’t think so,” she said, crying. I presumed that was her answer to all three questions. “What am I going to do, Jennifer? I want to keep it, but… my family, what will they say…?”

  “They won’t be that bad, will they? Aunt Liliana loves you all so much, and it is 2017 after all… the world has changed, people have changed.”

  “Not here they haven’t,” she replied. “It’s as bad as it was sixty years ago when Bruna was pregnant, if not worse. Everyone in the village will be talking about me and our family.”

  “How far along are you?” I asked.

  “Two months.”

  “Have you been to the doctor?”

  “How can I? He’ll tell Mamma right away.”

  I groaned inwardly. Two months. I’d never got further along than four, but I still remembered that giddy excitement on finding out that I was going to be a mum, those first weeks of making plans, wondering whether it would be a boy or a girl, thinking about names and how to decorate the nursery, only to have all my dreams destroyed a couple of months later.

  “Jennifer?”

  “Sorry. I’m glad you told me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you… whether that means telling your family or…” I hesitated.

  “Or if I decide to get rid of it,” she finished for me.

  “It’s your body, your future, and only you can make that decision.”

  “I don’t know, I’m so confused,” she sobbed. “Please help me.”

  My heart broke for Agnese, for the choice she had to make. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, either way. “First of all, you need to tell me who the father is,” I said.

  She pursed her lips. “He’s not a part of this.”

  “Well, actually he is. And if you’re going to make such an important choice, it’s vital to have all the facts.”

  I waited.

  “OK.” She smiled weakly at me. “It’s the Englishman, Mark.”

  My head spinning, I stared at her in shock. I’d had my doubts about him right from the beginning, my instinct had told me there was something about him that didn’t seem quite right. That snake. I felt my body start to shake as I imagined exactly what I’d do to him if he was in front of me right now.

  “Jennifer?” Agnese’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Is everything OK?”

  I shook my head. “Well, I guess we can rule the father out of any decision you make.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a low-down, two-timing rat,” I snapped. “All those sob stories about his ex-wife and her family… I bet it was his fault she left him, not her mother’s…” I paused for breath, then saw the expression on Agnese’s face. “I’m sorry,” I said, more gently. “I shouldn’t have told you like that, it’s just that it was such a shock…”

  “I understand,” she said, and burst into tears.

  “Oh, don’t, Agnese,” I said, moving to put my arms around her.

  “I feel so stupid. He-he told me he loved me, he wanted me to go and live with him, after you’d gone back to England…” she stopped. “He wanted to wait so I could spend as much time as possible with you, he said, because we’d probably never see each other again… oh God, he was playing me all the time.” She slammed her fist down on the table, making the cups rattle. I knew exactly how she felt.

  “If I’d known you were together, I’d never have gone out with him, Agnese… you have to believe me. I might have been a drunken mess over the last few years, but I’ve never hurt anyone in that way.” I smiled sadly at her. “I was a faithful drunken mess.”

  “I believe you. So, now what do I do?”

  I sighed. “Well, now you’ve got the biggest decision of your life to make.”

  She glanced down at her stomach and rubbed it with her hand. “A-at two months, it’s still early enough to, you know… isn’t it?”

  “What, have an abortion?” I asked, then mentally kicked myself for being so blunt.

  “Yes.” She was silent for a moment. “Would you do it, if it was you in this situation?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” I replied. “Even if the father legged it, I’d keep the baby. But my story’s different, this is you we’re talking about.”

  “What if my family disowns me?”

  “Do you really think they will?” I pictured Aunt Liliana, always so open and welcoming, and knew that she wouldn’t abandon her daughter, whatever happened.

  “Who knows?” Agnese looked downcast.

/>   “Well, I don’t think they will. And even if they do, I’ll be here.”

  It took a few seconds for my words to sink in. “Really? You’re staying?”

  I nodded.

  “Why? I mean, how… oh, I’m so pleased.” She stood up and threw her arms around me, enveloping me in a tight hug. “What made you change your mind?”

  “Well, you, this place, and the fact that Mario left me the recipe book,” I replied.

  “The book? You’ve got it?” Her face lit up. “Can I see it?”

  I took it out of the drawer and placed it on the table. “I’ve been up all night reading it. It’s very… interesting, shall we say.”

  “Can I look at it?”

  “Of course.” I pushed it over to her.

  She opened it almost reverently, holding her breath as she slowly turned the pages. “It-it’s beautiful,” she gasped. “I’ve heard so much about it, but I’ve never seen it before. Luisa was so secretive about it, no-one knew where she kept it.”

  “Except Mario,” I said. “I found it hidden among his things at his house.”

  “Really? So, what are you going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know.” I took a deep breath. “I found a letter at the back, it sort of slipped out… Luisa wrote it.”

  “And…?” She looked at me eagerly.

  “She wrote down some… things she did, that she felt she had to do.” I stopped, unable to carry on. Agnese had grown up with Luisa, had loved her. Did I want to destroy her memories of her great-grandmother?

  “Bad things?” Agnese whispered.

  I nodded.

  “She-she kept saying weird things towards the end. I remember Mamma getting upset… it was all about Ernesto, and how he’d ruined everything,” Agnese said. “Her mind was going by then, so we just put it down to the dementia. What does the letter say?”