What Love Is

by Grant, D C

  “They won’t want to move the roses with those thorns,” Patricio said with a nod. “You know which way to go?”

  I nodded. Patricio had described the route to me. I’d only been to that village once before, many years ago when Mama had been alive. I would know it once I saw it.

  I didn’t wave goodbye as I left, I didn’t dare take my hands off the handlebars as I was afraid I’d topple. The day was warm and the sun bright so I quickly became hot. Neither Patricio nor the old man knew whether there would be a checkpoint on the road. The Germans moved them around, not having sufficient numbers to man all the roads all the time. It kept us guessing, never knowing for sure. Most were manned by Blackshirts – my own countrymen who enforce Mussolini’s laws on us – with a German officer in charge to make sure that they did their job in accordance with whatever Mussolini, Hitler’s puppet, dictated.

  I hummed a hymn to myself as I cycled, partly to give myself courage and to keep my spirits up. I was almost at the village, elated that I had escaped notice, when I rounded a corner and ahead of me was a checkpoint. Fear rose in my throat, almost making me choke, but instead of following my instinct and turning around, I pedalled towards it, still humming my hymn.

  “Stop,” said one of the Blackshirts as I drew near. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to visit my nonna and give her these flowers. She’s been ill.”

  “Papers,” demanded an officer as he came over.

  I pulled them from the pocket of my apron, crumpled and a little damp.

  “Lina,” he said as he looked at the paper. I nodded. “What do you have in your basket?”

  “Flowers, that’s all, just some flowers to brighten her day.” I tried to sound cheerful and relaxed but I’m not sure that I did it right.

  “Let’s see,” said the officer as he stepped closer. He picked up the roses by the stems and cried out as the thorns pricked his fingers. I watched as his face puckered in anger.

  Just then, over the brow of the hill, came cracks of gunfire. As one, the men turned towards the sound and drew their rifles. I hesitated, unsure. The German officer pulled out his pistol and I went cold inside, thinking that they were going to shoot me. Instead he waved me aside and said, “Go on then, get out of here.”

  I heaved at the pedals as I rode away, thanking God for letting me through. I found the house that the old man had described to me. Inside were two men who took the plans in their sack but scattered the roses on the ground.

  “Here,” one of the men said, putting an envelope in my hand. “Take this to Patricio. Don’t let the Germans get it – it tells of our next target.”

  I nodded and placed the paper inside my dress, up against my heart. I stayed for a while, cooling down in the shade of the house, and a woman from inside brought me water. I later saw the two men climbing the hill behind the house, one of them carrying the sack I had brought.

  When my heartbeat had returned to normal and the sweat had cooled on my skin, I set off back to the village. The checkpoint was gone; the only evidence was the cigarette butts on the ground.

  Amelia was waiting for me when I arrived back in the late afternoon.

  “I thought you had got lost,” she said as I slowed the bicycle.

  “No,” I said as I came to a stop.

  “Or been shot,” Amelia added.

  I don’t know why, but at that moment the fear welled up in me and I vomited on the ground. Perhaps it was the heat, or maybe the water I had drunk in the village.

  Amelia caught the bicycle as it wobbled while I was bent over.

  “It’s your first time,” she said softly. “It will get easier.”

  That meant that I’d be doing it again. I felt a little uneasy and yet excited at the thought.

  28 November

  I went with Mum today to the rest home in which Nonna will be staying. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I thought it would be small and dingy and smell of old people, but it was quite big and clean and didn’t smell at all. Nonna’s room opens up onto a garden so it’s almost like home, apart from the call bells on the wall and the handrails in the shower. Somehow I can’t imagine Nonna living there, but I have to believe that it is the best thing for her.

  Mum came away with pamphlets and a huge form she has to fill in.

  “Does your mother have an EPA?” the social worker asked. Mum looked at her blankly. “An enduring power of attorney,” the social worker explained. “Everyone who comes in here must have one in case, you know, she becomes unable to manage her own affairs.”

  “We’ve looked for it, but if she has one we can’t find it.” Mum looked at me as she said it – I was supposed to be looking for it.

  “Here’s the number for the Public Trust,” the social worker said. “Unless your mother has her own lawyer?”

  Mum shook her head, “I don’t know if she does.”

  When we got back to the car, Mum threw the stuff onto the back seat and slumped down in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know that I can handle all this,” she said. “You’ll have to do it.”

  “Me? I don’t know the first thing about this kind of stuff,” I said

  “But you can stay here and sort it out. You don’t have a job any more.” I hated the way she said that. “You can stay at the unit and deal with this and I can go back to work.”

  “So you’re going to leave me again, like you’ve always done.”

  “Don’t you pull the guilt trip on me, Gina. I don’t have much leave due to me and I can’t afford to be on leave without pay. I have rent to pay.”

  “And I don’t.”

  “Exactly.” She started the car. “I’ll come down at the weekend and help out, but once we get Mum into that place, I’ll have to go back to Auckland. I didn’t think it was going to take this long. I thought I’d come down, Mum would get out of hospital and we’d go back home again. I didn’t think I’d be mucking around with all this crap.”

  “Fine!” I spat out, and we returned to the unit in silence.

  Bevan didn’t like the thought of me staying down in Hamilton by myself.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said to him over the phone. “I used to live here, you know.”

  “Yes, but you weren’t alone then, you had Nonna with you.”

  I felt at pang at his words. The years I had lived here with Nonna were the best years of my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Nonna gave me the stability that my mother couldn’t, and I only appreciated that when Mum came back and took me away. Maybe I would have turned out differently if Mum had never returned.

  Right now I hate her! I don’t care now if I spend all my time reading the diary. Mum can go to hell!

  3 September

  I’ve got another courier run to do today. Aroldo doesn’t want me to do it. I’ll admit that the thought of it makes me feel sick. But I’ll do it. I have to.

  Patricio read the message I brought back, gathered some men and was gone for three days. We waited and waited and eventually he came back, dirty, dishevelled and with one man less. He shook his head in sadness when the others asked about the missing man. He’d been shot dead in the attack; another death because of this war. I guess there will be others. The killing is not over yet and I have my job to do.

  Today is Sunday so I’m to go to church where a woman will give me further instructions. My palms are sweaty with the thought of the danger and the bile rises in my throat, but I won’t give in to my fear.

  10 September

  I feel sick every day now. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Perhaps it is fear. While I was in the village I heard that the Germans are blowing up the bridges in Florence. I remember the last time I went there, before the war began, and recall the beautiful bridges and buildings. It is sad to think what has happened to them.

  Aroldo came to me as I cried, and put his arm around my shoulders.

  “Don’t be sad,” he said, and his bright face made me smile. I don’t know why I feel like
crying one minute and laughing the next, but at least Aroldo is kinder to me than my own countrymen, the partisans.

  17 September

  The German commander, Field Marshal Kesselring, has given the partisans a final warning. It was printed in the Bologna newspaper. It says that our actions won’t be tolerated and that they will take action against us – as if they haven’t already been doing that. It must mean that we are making a difference for him to threaten us like that.

  Patricio spat onto the ground when he read it.

  “Hah, if he thinks we are going to give up our arms now, he must think again.”

  I’m doing another courier run tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to going out in the rain, but Patricio says it will be all right because the Germans won’t like being out in the rain either.

  Surely the Anglo-Americans are getting close now – we see more and more planes flying overhead. Patricio thinks they will soon reach Bologna.

  Wedding Day

  29 November

  So much for Mum’s grand plan – I can’t hold the EPA because you need to be twenty or older. So Mum has to do the legal stuff but I have to do everything else. Nonna will move into the rest home the day after tomorrow. So Mum and I are driving back to Auckland today, and we’ll come back down to move Nonna and after that Mum will go back to work and I’ll be left to sort out the mess. Typical!

  25 September

  “You’re pregnant,” Amelia said to me this morning.

  I stared at her, my stomach churning and feeling my breakfast rising in my throat. As if her words caused it, I immediately vomited. “See!” she declared as she tossed her head back knowingly. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling awful and trying to keep my hair out of the congealing mess on the ground. Aroldo helped me to my feet, and I noticed that Amelia had gone to talk to Patricio who looked over at me, a frown on his face.

  I can’t be pregnant, I just can’t, I’ve only lain with one man and that man was a monster. He couldn’t have given me a baby, it’s just impossible. I want to kill myself. I can’t live with the shame of it. I knew that no man would want me for a wife after what happened that day, but now I will be banished for bearing a bastard child.

  Aroldo tried to stand up for me, saying that I had no choice in the matter and it wasn’t my fault, but I can see the way the men look at me, like a whore. Aroldo was horrified when I told him that I wanted to get rid of the baby. He says he believes in the words of the Bible and that it would be murder. He is a Catholic, he showed me the rosary that he keeps in his pocket.

  It’s all right for him, he’s not the one who has to live with the humiliation and shame. If he’s Catholic he should understand why I can’t have this baby – I’ll not be able to enter the church without a husband.

  Oh God, why did You let this happen? Haven’t I been a good girl all my life? I know Renato and I sometimes kissed behind the church, but surely that’s no reason to strike me down like this? Oh, what shall I do now?

  27 September

  Patricio says that I can stay, but I must continue to do the courier runs. He says that a pregnant woman will be able to travel without hindrance and get past the checkpoints easily. Amelia wanted to take me to someone she knows in the village, to get rid of the baby, but Patricio says no. So does Aroldo; he says it’s too dangerous, that women die from such things, especially so far from hospital and when the country is in such turmoil.

  But Patricio says I must marry, that I cannot have a bastard child. It is against the church and against God to have a child out of wedlock. Aroldo then said that he would marry me. I could see that Patricio was surprised, but I’m not. Patricio asked if there was anyone else, but no one amongst the men came forward. I could understand that – I’d been soiled by the Germans and would be an embarrassment to any man.

  “I will ask the priest if he will marry you,” Patricio said in the end. “We may not be able to get you the marriage licence but you will at least be married in the eyes of God, and that is the most important thing. I will go tomorrow and return with the priest’s answer.”

  As the gathering broke apart, I stood there watching them, angry that my fate had been decided by these people – people that I had only known for a short time, who had decided that I should be married to a foreigner.

  Aroldo touched my shoulder and I pulled away from him.

  “Don’t be sad, Lina. We’re just making the best of a bad situation. I’ll take care of you, I’ll protect you and the baby.”

  “The baby is a bastard! I hate it and I hate you!”

  I stomped away, but my bravado was for nothing. I had gone a mere ten paces before I folded over and vomited.

  30 November

  I know how that felt! Even now I gag at the thought of certain foods. Forget morning sickness, it was all day sickness. Poor Lina. How terrible to be pregnant after being raped, I can’t think of anything worse. I run my hands over my belly, feel the bumps and knobs of hands or feet underneath my skin and try to imagine how she felt. I felt bad enough, being a teen and pregnant, and here was Lina, about the same age as me and knowing that the baby growing inside her came from someone she hated, someone who had forced himself on her and almost killed her.

  I’d had none of that, in fact it was probably me that got Bevan into bed in the first place. Not that he hesitated at all – quite the opposite. He was as keen as me, but I had done the leading and he had done the following. How can I compare myself with Lina, when I live in a peaceful country, have a man who loves me and a safe and secure roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, food to eat. Her country was at war, her family killed, her brother unreachable, her only comfort was a soldier from another country. There is no way I can imagine how she felt.

  30 September

  There is no more talk of a wedding or of the baby or of attacking the Germans today. Patricio has received news that the Stella Rossa band of partisans has been wiped out after an attack by the Germans on their base at Monte Sole. Patricio is very angry and no one dares to go near him.

  He’s angry not just because of the attack, but because the brigade was caught by surprise and didn’t appear to have had patrols out which would have warned them of the attack. It was raining there, as it has been raining here, and Patricio says that the patrols must have taken shelter and not been at their posts. No one knows what has happened to Lupo, their leader. He may have got away, but there has been no word of him.

  What is even worse is that the Germans have not only attacked the area where the partisans had taken shelter, but also the surrounding villages. They have killed everyone in them and burnt the villages to the ground. The words of Field Marshal Kesselring are now certainly coming back to haunt us. This is the very thing he was warning us about. Now women and children have died as a result of the attacks that we are making on the Germans. It’s not fair. This is our country after all, and we are not allowed to defend it, to strike against the invaders that take away our government and even the very food from our mouths. I’m not sure what Patricio is going to do. No one dares approach him for he is in a dark mood, his face in a frown and he has an angry word for anyone who asks him even the simplest of questions.

  The only thing he says is that the Stella Rossa is finished. I hope that we aren’t too.

  10 October

  Today was my wedding day. I cried for most of the ceremony. The priest said that it wasn’t a proper marriage as it would not be recognized by the government, but Patricio said that he didn’t recognize the government of Mussolini anyway, so it didn’t matter. What does matter is that we were married before God, in a house of God, by a man of God. And that was that.

  We almost got caught while we were in the village. A patrol came up the road just as we were leaving the church, and there was nowhere to run to without raising suspicion.

  “You just got married?” the Blackshirt asked.

  “I’m pregnant,” I said.

  The men laughed, not in a nice way, and playfu
lly punched Aroldo on the arm.

  “You couldn’t wait, eh?”

  Aroldo knew not to open his mouth as his accented Italian would give him away instantly. Patricio was still in the church, paying the priest, so Amelia stepped forward. She had a bottle in her hand and from somewhere produced earthenware cups.

  “Join us in a toast,” she said, lining up the cups on the wall that surrounded the well in the centre of the piazza.

  The man gathered around as she poured the amaretto into the cups. I couldn’t think where she would have got the liquor from, unless the men had some that they kept hidden.

  “Salute!” Amelia declared as she raised the glass and drank down in one swallow. I tried it with mine but it just came back up again. The Blackshirts backed away as I doubled over.

  “We will leave you to attend to your daughter and new son-in-law,” the officer said as they quickly put the cups on the wall and left in a hurry.

  Amelia laughed when they had gone. “They thought I was your mother!”

  Patricio and the other men came out of the church then, rifles in their hands. They had obviously been standing just inside the door, waiting to see if the Blackshirts would realize that Aroldo was not Italian and discover the partisans in the church, for then there would have been a battle in the piazza.

  “The bottle is empty,” Amelia said, holding it up. “They took it all.”

  “But it saved our lives,” Patricio said. “Come on, I know where we can get another and we shall take it back with us.”

  Now I lie at the back of the cave beside Aroldo, who is asleep. He has not touched me at all, just held my hand as we left the church and that has been the extent of it. But he remains close to me, as he has done since I arrived here. I twirl the thin metal band that is around my finger. How strange it feels. It is not even gold or silver, yet it represents the bond between me and my new husband. I’m not sure if it I like it.