by Annie Murray
The three banditos made one last appearance, and Archie Chubb came in again. Mum had already met Fizz and the other Chubbs at Camping Sacchetti. Mum and Maggie got on like a house on fire. Maggie seemed overjoyed to have someone to talk to and was full of sympathy over Dad. Mum cuddled little Clarey and said she reminded her of me. Archie seemed drawn to Grandpa and said he wanted to come back to hospital and see him one more time before he came out. Grandpa sat up there like a king greeting everyone in attendance. And that afternoon as we were all gathered round the bed I spotted Alberto coming towards us. Seeing me looking he beamed and waved.
I saw Mum turn and notice him. Grandpa and I had told her about Alberto and she was amazed.
‘All these years and he’s never said anything about all this before!’ she said.
She must have realized who Alberto was at once, and as I saw her taking him in, an enchanted look came over her. He knew about her of course, and what had happened to Dad. It was as if there was a bond between them before they even spoke, as if they were twins separated at birth and felt they knew each other already.
‘Alberto!’ Grandpa greeted him. ‘This is my daughter, Elizabeth.’
Of course her name became Lisabeta straight away.
It was a brilliant time that afternoon, with everyone somehow chatting away in bits of Italian and English all at once. Mum did speak a little bit of Italian and she and Alberto seemed to be talking away. I glanced at Grandpa once or twice, sitting there with Archie almost glued to his side, seeing us all there together and looking really happy.
By the end when Alberto stood up to go, he issued an invitation – through Grandpa.
‘Alberto says,’ Grandpa announced, that once I am out of hospital in a couple of days, he and Rosa would like us all to go to his house for a celebration meal. That means all of us,’ Grandpa said, looking at Alberto to check that this was what he meant. ‘Archie – you too, and all the family, yes?’
Alberto nodded, his eyes full of affection, and made an all embracing sweep with his hand.
‘Si, si – tutti – everybody.’
At the thought of Grandpa coming out, Brenda began to panic.
‘What on earth are we going to do? His leg’s in plaster! How will we manage, in a caravan?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry,’ Mum said, with the breeziness of someone who has just returned from the Himalayas. ‘There are people in wheelchairs competing in the Olympics. We’ll think of something.’
For now, I’d given Mum my bed and bunked up with Brenda. But there was a top bunk that you could fit over the long back bed, so now was my chance to climb up on that, which I thought was exciting, except I didn’t like the moths and spiders on the ceiling. But I knew Himalaya Woman wouldn’t have much patience with that, so I kept quiet.
Grandpa was on crutches when we went to pick him up.
‘I say,’ he remarked to Brenda as she wove her way through the Naples traffic with casual skill. ‘You’ve really got the hang of this, My Little Dear.’
‘Yes,’ Brenda agreed, lips twitching. ‘It seems I have, rather.’
Brenda smiled a lot more these days, I noticed. As if a bulb had been switched on in her.
When we reached the camp, Grandpa was given a hero’s welcome from the Sacchettis, the Chubbs and several other families who were pitched near us and had heard what had happened. He climbed down regally from the Land Rover with his crutches and we all helped him hoist himself into the caravan.
‘Now,’ he said, settling by the table with a huge, contented sigh. ‘A glass, My Little Dears, please, and our best bottle of vino!’
VI.
‘Before we go to Alberto’s, there’s something I need to do in Cellina,’ Grandpa announced. ‘It won’t take long.’
‘Is it the box?’ I asked.
I saw Mum raise an eyebrow at Brenda. Box? Her glance said.
‘Yes, it is.’ Grandpa seemed rather shamefaced, and wouldn’t say any more.
We’d have to drive this time, of course. We had given the Chubbs directions and they would be coming up in the Ship of Dreams.
‘Goodness me – that thing’s going to clutter up that little street a bit,’ Grandpa remarked, but it was a very low key complaint compared with how he used to bang on about the Chubbs. There was a bond, it seemed, between him and Archie. Despite Manchester.
Mum was driving this time. Brenda wasn’t sure her nerves could stand the hairpin bends up to Cellina.
‘Now,’ Grandpa directed, when we’d climbed up and up and reached the little town square. ‘Pull up here.’
We were outside the church, the one Grandpa had slept in.
‘Janey – hop out. I need your help.’
‘Ours is not to reason why,’ I heard Brenda murmur to Mum.
The street was warm and deserted and fragrant with flowers. Cats were snoozing on windowsills and in the shady corners of steps. I had to haul the box out from under the nose of one of the dogs. It was almost as wide as my arm span each way, but only a few inches deep.
‘It’s not very heavy,’ I said, surprised.
‘Think you can carry it?’ Grandpa said, sorting his crutches out. ‘If I wasn’t on these damn things…’ He went round to the window of the car. ‘Now – you two can come or not, as you like.’
‘Of course we’re coming!’ Mum leapt out before Brenda had a chance to say a thing.
‘Now – ’ Grandpa nodded at the steps, leading up to the house by the church. ‘That’s where we need to go. You go and ring the bell, see if anyone’s in – there’s a good girl.’
I put the box down by the door, Grandpa lurching up after me, Mum and Brenda following, silenced by bewilderment. There was a grand brass bell push which gave off a clanging inside. In a few moments the door opened a crack and an old lady in shuffley slippers peered out. Grandpa said something to her and she toddled off, to be replaced by a slender, serious faced young man, the priest of the church. After more explanations from Grandpa, which made the priest stare curiously at the box, he smiled and beckoned us inside.
He showed us into a very simple room with only a stone floor, a ring of chairs and a crucifix on the wall, where he asked us to sit down. I wasn’t sure what he made of all this except that he was obviously used to weird people turning up with odd requirements. He sat there patiently with his hands clasped in his lap, over his long black robe. Grandpa started to undo the string round the box. As he pulled the box open the priest’s eyes widened. All our eyes widened.
From out of the box, and several layers of paper, Grandpa drew a large, golden bird. Its wings were stretched wide and its long, slim neck was curved right over as it reached down to peck at its own breast. Standing pressed against its legs, was a little baby bird.
‘Il pellicano!’ the priest gasped. ‘Corpus Christi!’
He seemed moved, spellbound by the sight of it. He leapt up and peered at the bird, tapping and stroking it as Grandpa talked, seeming to explain and apologize. But the priest kept thanking him and by the time he showed us out, leaving the bird behind, he embraced Grandpa and both of them were looking emotional. The priest waved to us on the step, said ‘Grazie – thank you’ three more times, then closed the door.
We all stood, dazed, by the car.
‘George?’ Brenda said in an ominous tone.
Grandpa stared at his feet for a moment then looked up, shamefaced.
‘I was just restoring it to its rightful place after all this time,’ he said. ‘That night we slept here, in the church, me and the lads - as I said, the place was in a wretched state. I saw it in the rubble – a gleam of gold. It had got knocked on to the floor and was lying on its back covered in dust.’
‘A pelican?’ Mum frowned.
‘They have pelicans in some churches because there’s a legend that a mother pelican will peck at its breast and draw blood to feed its young – like that one was doing. So it’s a symbol of Jesus giving his blood – of the body of Christ.’
‘So
you mean…’ Brenda’s eyes had their stretched, bemused look again. ‘You stole it?’
‘Well,’ Grandpa gave an awkward little shrug. ‘Yes – as a matter of fact I did. I sawed the wings off, and the legs with the stand at the bottom, and squeezed them all into my kit-bag.’
‘Oh Dad – you’re a bit of a magpie!’ Mum laughed. ‘You just can’t resist it can you!’
‘Well… There was a war on. Some of us lads did a certain amount of pilfering, I must admit. Most of it harmless. Thing was, the church was a wreck. It felt as if nothing would ever be back to how it had been ever again when the war was on – as if I was rescuing it almost. But I ‘ve had it on my conscience ever since and now she’s going to be put back in her rightful place. The young priest was ever so pleased to see it. He’s a local boy and his mother had told him about the pelican that used to be in the parish church before the war, and he’d never seen it.’
‘So – ‘ He stood tall on his crutches, the sun lighting up his mop of white hair. ‘I can’t say I’m proud of my misdemeanours, but now all is restored!’
VII.
When we got to Alberto’s, the Ship of Dreams had just pulled up along the street.
Fizz got out looking tidier than I’d ever seen him before, with his hair brushed, a blue and white striped T-shirt over his denim shorts and his red frisbee under his arm. He was so tanned and he looked pretty amazing, though I didn’t say so. I didn’t want him saying anything either. Brenda had made me wear my orange sundress with the button straps and I felt dressed up like a fourpenny rabbit. We smiled sympathetically at each other and I thought we’d stay off the subject, but then Fizz whispered,
‘Hey – you look nice.’
‘So do you,’ I whispered back, blushing.
Fizz was nervous, I could see. ‘What’re they like?’ he asked, nodding towards the house.
As he spoke the door opened and I didn’t have to say anything. The Mandetta girls didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word ‘shy.’ They had been waiting for us and came springing out of the door like a troop of jack-in-the-boxes. Maria, the oldest, wasn’t bouncing about as much as the others and was trying to look grown up, but even she was beaming away and giggling.
Alberto and Rosa followed them out and soon Teresa appeared and everyone was kissing everyone else and laughing. Alberto drew me to him and gave me a hug, then leaned back and twinkled down at me with his tender brown eyes and he smiled at Fizz and gently patted his head. I could see Fizz was affected by it too, though he tried not to show it.
Giovanna and Laura immediately grabbed my hands to pull me in and through the back, and little Angela spotted Clarey who Maggie Chubb was holding and ran to her, reaching up to be able to cuddle her. Maggie, who was wearing a dramatic long red dress, melted at the sight of Angela’s puppyish looks and squatted down, handing Clarey to her.
‘My, my, look at that,’ Archie said. He was still blushing from having been kissed by Alberto’s wife Rosa, who also hugged Mum and Brenda, her pretty face alight with smiles.
The girls soon dragged Fizz and me out to the back, Angela clutching Clarey like a giant doll.
‘Keep an eye on her Fizz!’ Maggie called.
But Clarey seemed quite content to be plonked down on the grass and crawled off to explore, with Angela following her every move.
The table was laid again under the bamboo covering with its canopy of vine tendrils. It seemed even bigger than I remembered. On the white cloth, in between all the cutlery and glasses were bottles of red wine and wicker baskets heaped with wedges of bread. To the side, near the wall, were pots of geraniums which had not been there before, flame reds, pinks and crimsons and all the colour and loveliness of it all made me go skipping off across the garden after Clarey and the girls and Fizz.
All of us except Angela played frisbee while the grown-ups chattered and clinked glasses, and bottles. Every so often laughter came in booms from Archie Chubb, or chuckles from Grandpa and Alberto, or the women, all laughing at once and the most delicious smells wafted to us from the kitchen.
The meal was like a journey that took us from the bright burning midday, through a hot, sleepy afternoon into the mellow dusk when Rosa lit candles along the table. We followed it like a dream, wondering, by the time we left, sleepy, happy and beautifully fed, how we had got here.
There was no sense of hurry, as we sat eating in the speckled shade, sharing each other’s company. Rosa was an amazing cook and all of the grown ups sank into blissful relaxation, pink-cheeked and smiling, knowing there was no other time that mattered but now.
Between courses we children got down and played, sometimes in the sun with the frisbee, or in the fringe of the shade. Now the sisters had seen Clarey’s hair they had someone else’s to play with except mine and sat combing and tying little ribbons into it until Clarey roared and crawled away. Fizz became very attached to Booboo the cat and spent most of the time with her on his lap, and when he told the others that he had a parrot in the van, they all insisted on going to see him in the Ship of Dreams.
Pecky was on top form, saying ‘shut up’ in a contemptuous way whenever there was a lull in the conversation, and the girls begged for him to be taken into the garden.
‘Shall I?’ Fizz looked at me.
‘Go on – why not?’
So Pecky was installed on a chair in the shade. Boo-boo disappeared to the far edge of the garden and glared in disgust at him all afternoon and everyone laughed every time Pecky said anything. I saw Fizz relax more and more as the afternoon went by and he felt accepted and liked. He even let the girls do his hair.
When it was time for ice cream, Maria called us back to the table. Alberto beckoned me to take the chair beside him and as I sat down he put his arm round me for a second and gave a gentle squeeze, smiling round at me. Mum was across the table and she and Maggie had been talking, but I saw her watching as I sat down, and her eyes filled with tears seeing Alberto making a fuss of me, as if he was my Dad. She gave him a watery smile and he nodded as if he understood and gently patted my back.
‘Now – a toast!’ Grandpa said, first in English, then Italian. Everyone raised their glasses, even we kids who were drinking Pepsi or mineral water.
‘To Rosa and Alberto!’ Grandpa said.
‘Rosa and Alberto!’ Archie added fervently and the rest of us all echoed in agreement.
‘Shut up!’ Pecky croaked, and everyone laughed.
There were more toasts, to Teresa, who blushed modestly. Then Alberto pushed his chair back and stood up, holding his glass and smiling round at the table.
‘I try speak English,’ he said stumblingly. ‘I drink here – to a good man. To the man who help my family… To the man who is my second father in the world…’ He raised his glass further. ‘To Papa Georgio.’
‘Papa Georgio!’ everyone joined in and there was some scattered clapping.
Grandpa sat there, with his tousled hair and coloured silk scarf loosened in the heat, twinkling away as we showered him with affection. And as I looked round at everyone, at all the people we’d found on our travels, I thought I’d go off pop with happiness.
By the time we left the candlelit terrace the stars were out in a blue-black sky, and stepping out into the street again was like coming out into another world. Everyone was hugging everyone else. When I got to Fizz he looked sort of bashful but I hugged him anyway. I loved everyone on earth that night. And then Mum drove us back down the twisty hill from Cellina, as the scent of pine trees and the scratching noise of crickets came in snatches through the windows. I thought of all their faces in the candlelight. And everything was beautiful.
Treasure House in the Snow
I.
There’s always a time when things reach their very best point and then you feel them slipping away. Like playing out in a hot summer afternoon with your friends and then the sun sinks down and everyone starts to drift home.
Fizz had told me the Chubbs would move on soon. They always d
id, he said. This was the longest they’d stayed anywhere in a while. He looked upset. Sometimes I think he just wanted to go home and for everything to be different.
I knew we had to go sooner or later but I tried not to think about it. I wanted to stay here with my new family - that was what it felt like – Alberto and Rosa and all the girls, and the Chubbs and Fizz.
Fizz and I spent as much time together as we could that week. I’d thought about showing Mum around, taking her to see Queen Esmeralda and our favourite sitting place, high up over the camp, and the fireflies. But I didn’t. Those things were ours, Fizz’s and mine.
And in between, when Fizz and I weren’t playing, I begged Brenda to sew on the backing for the quilt. Bit by bit we had finished the front. The patchwork was a garden of flowers, riotous in colour and stitched chaotically together. Across it, the length of the quilt, we had stitched the slender, sinuous shape of the salamander that Fizz had designed for us. On to its deep green body Brenda and I had sewn markings in black and silver and given it a pale yellow belly. Even Brenda said it looked amazing.
‘We’ve done something far better than I ever expected,’ she said, staring at it in delight. ‘I think it’s worth buying some new fabric to put on the back.’
She bought a lovely bolt of cotton cloth, deep blue like the night sky and instead of sewing it all on by hand she asked Signora Sacchetti if she could borrow a sewing machine and stitched it all together.
By the time it was finished, it looked brilliant. Just brilliant.
I’d already decided to give it to Fizz. We were due to leave a couple of days after the Chubbs, once we’d said our farewells to Alberto’s family.
I didn’t see much of Fizz once they were getting ready to go. That hurt but it was almost as if we were withdrawing, preparing ourselves for having to say goodbye. I’d pictured going up and sitting on the ledge with him, both of us being able to take in that he was leaving. But Maggie kept him in – they were busy getting sorted out.
