The Sunnyvale Girls

by Fiona Palmer

  ‘I can’t find my rear-vision mirror,’ groaned Flick. ‘I keep looking up to the left not the right.’

  Toni laughed. ‘Just use your side mirrors, at least they’re still the same.’

  Not far out of Arezzo they came to another turn-off, but the car started to slow while the motor was revving loudly.

  ‘Oh, crap,’ said Flick. The car started moving again while she cracked up with laughter.

  Toni had no idea what was so funny.

  ‘I went to put the flicker on and I ended up putting the car out of gear,’ Flick explained.

  For the next few intersections Flick was all hands as she tried to remember which side the indicator was on, and then when they turned off onto smaller roads, Toni had to remind Flick to get onto the other side of the road. At one point a car was coming straight for them and Flick had to lurch to the right to get out of its way.

  They drove up a mountainside along a skinny, windy road, and a few sharp corners later they found Montone and stopped the car on the side of the road. They both had sore bellies and cheeks from all the laughing.

  ‘Who knew driving could be so entertaining?’ said Flick. A huge stone wall rose up from the edge of the road on their right, dwarfing them. ‘Wow, that’s, like, ten metres high.’ Flick leant forward, her mouth open.

  ‘Magnificent.’ Toni pulled out the map sent to them by Steve, the Aussie guy who owned the place they were staying in. ‘He said stay right and hug the massive stone wall.’

  They followed the narrow one-way road around as it curved up the mountainside, the wall on their right and the other side falling away to large pine trees. Around another corner the road opened up to allow room to park cars, and nearby stood a stone arch.

  ‘This must be the entry to the town centre,’ Flick said, and parked the car.

  With stiff legs they climbed out. Toni stepped towards the edge of the road, where a waist-high rock wall stood for safety. She didn’t look down – her stomach wouldn’t allow it; instead she gazed out across the 180-degree view before her. It was like being in a low-flying plane, able to see the patchwork paddocks and the ridges of the hills that rippled into the distance for miles. The sky was a soft blue, with not a cloud in sight. The Umbrian countryside was a slice of heaven. Here in Montone everything seemed so lush and alive. Thriving, actually. Toni wondered what Rocco’s first impressions of Sunnyvale would have been. Would he have thought it flat and harsh in comparison? Had he missed the hills of his homeland?

  They got their bags from the car and locked it before heading towards the immense stone archway. Only those who lived inside the walled community were allowed to bring in their small cars. Italian flags of green, white and red hung from old metal holders sunk into the wall on either side of the archway, while to the left was a collection of signs pointing directions to the municipio, centro, informazione and ufficio postale.

  ‘Cool, we can send Nan a postcard from here,’ said Flick.

  At least most of the Italian words were easy to figure out, even if they couldn’t pronounce them. They stepped into the archway, which became a tunnel guiding them forward. Toni could picture horses and carts on the rough-cut rectangular stones under her feet. It was like stepping back in time. The tunnel was spacious, big enough for cars to drive through, and rock arched overhead among thick wooden beams. The excitement was beyond anything Toni had ever felt; she knew they were walking towards something special. And the one thought that topped it all was knowing Rocco had grown up less than two hours from here.

  21

  FLICK’S smile was unstoppable, as was the feeling of pure awe. The tunnel opened up onto a big square made of long rectangular slabs of stone. Three- and four-storey buildings, some raw stone, others rendered in yellow, orange and peach colours, edged the area, enclosing it. The windows on each level of the buildings were dressed with dark wood or painted white shutters, and some had small flat balconies with metal railings, Italian flags draping over them. The lower floors seemed to be shops and restaurants with little awnings. Flick glanced around, spotting the post office, a newsagent and local bank. This square was obviously the heart of this quaint mountaintop village.

  ‘Oh, it just gets better,’ said Toni with a delighted sigh.

  ‘I know. Just gorgeous. So where is our little house?’ Flick asked, glancing up at the buildings. Would one of those windows be theirs for the next few days?

  ‘Um,’ said Toni, searching the piece of paper she pulled out of her bag. ‘We’re staying at a house called Casa Valdeste. Where are the street names?’ she said, turning to look at the walls.

  ‘Buongiorno,’ said a young man walking past with a gentle swagger. He looked at home in his surroundings, as if he knew them well; his wide shoulders were square but relaxed. His smile reached right to his deep brown eyes. Instantly Flick felt as if she’d trust him with her life. He had rich, dark hair that flicked up at gentle angles, but it looked sexy, like he’d just ruffled his fingers through it and managed to have a style that others would pay for.

  ‘Hi, um, ciao,’ said Flick. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. She couldn’t remember what that was in Italian, but it didn’t matter as the man stopped.

  ‘You need help?’ he said in English.

  Flick sighed with relief. He probably saw confused tourists like them every day. ‘Yes, please.’

  The man stepped closer and Flick got a closer look. He was the stereotypical Italian heart-throb, and she had to fight to stop her chuckle.

  ‘Thank you.’ Toni held out her map. ‘We are looking for Casa Valdeste,’ she said. ‘Have you heard of it?’

  ‘Si, this way.’

  He led them off to the right of the open square and down a narrow street. There were no cars in this part of the village; the streets were too narrow. Black wrought-iron lights hung everywhere, and the massive wooden doors to the homes were things of beauty. All the windows had shutters, some with pots of colourful flowers. The contrast and colour of it all was spectacular.

  ‘I’m Toni and this is my daughter, Felicity,’ Toni told their guide. ‘Do you live here?’

  He stopped and turned to them, holding out his hand. ‘I am Stefano. I work at the restaurant for my family.’

  ‘Oh, no wonder your English is good,’ said Toni.

  Stefano smiled, obviously pleased. ‘Grazie. I learn it at school. I practise with the tourists.’ He turned and beckoned them along. He took a left, down an even smaller walkway to a dead end.

  ‘You are here,’ he said, pointing to a beautiful timber double door surrounded by original bricks and stonework. A big white tile with a blue number eighteen sat above it in the render. The black coach light above the door added to the picture-postcard effect.

  ‘Thank you so much, Stefano,’ said Toni.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Flick smiling, and sensing a blush creep up her face. He was incredibly good-looking.

  ‘If you need me, you can find me in the Piazza Fortebraccio.’ He must have noticed their blank looks. ‘The main square in the village,’ he added. ‘Where we came from.’ He pointed back the way they walked.

  ‘Oh, right. Thank you,’ said Toni. ‘Grazie,’ she added.

  Stefano raised his eyebrows in appreciation. ‘Prego.’ Then he left.

  Flick liked his dark denim jeans and deep-red polo shirt, which might have been the uniform for the restaurant.

  ‘He’s a bit cute,’ said Toni while she fished out the door key from her bag. Steve had posted it to them before they left.

  ‘Yeah, he was.’

  Toni unlocked the door and they stepped inside. They were greeted with white rendered walls and stunning terracotta floor tiles. They stood in a modest entry area with steps to their right. The room in front had two single beds, with a small bathroom and laundry.

  ‘Cool. What’s upstairs?’ said Flick as she dumped her bags and ran up. The next level was the dining and kitchen area. It had huge exposed oak and chestnut beams on the ceiling and the timber windows were
all adorned with neat little shutters. Flick opened one and was shocked to find that she could lean right out. No bars, no flywire.

  ‘Oh God, this place is just stunning,’ said Toni as she followed in behind Flick, putting her bags down. ‘The kitchen is so modern.’

  ‘And there are even more stairs!’ Flick bounded up to find the last room at the top, which had a double bed and generous ensuite. ‘Mum, there’s even a sitting area by the window. You should see the view from up here. It’s just amazing.’

  Toni joined her and they both gazed out over the rooftops to the rolling hills of Italy beyond.

  ‘It’s so much better than I could even have imagined,’ Toni said.

  ‘How lucky are we? We’ll even be able to see the sunset from here.’

  Toni put her arm around Flick. ‘I can’t believe my real father grew up in this amazing country,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘If we unpack, we can go for a quick explore before dinner. What do you reckon?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  ‘Shall we try out Stefano’s restaurant?’ Flick asked.

  ‘We must! And we have to try out the local dishes.’ Toni headed for the stairs. ‘You can have this room, I’ll go downstairs.’

  ‘Aw, thanks, Mum.’

  Flick unpacked her toiletries, and within ten minutes they were ready to sight-see and then have dinner.

  ‘Should we go straight to Chiaravalle tomorrow?’ asked Flick.

  ‘Yes, it’s what we came for, isn’t it?’

  ‘Uh-huh. I saw a dictionary at the top of the staircase. I might look up a few words and write them down so we can show people, to save us having to play charades. The guidebook we brought doesn’t seem to cover looking for lost relatives,’ Flick said with a chuckle.

  Toni shut the door behind them and they followed the stone path up and around more three-storey medieval homes. As they rounded a corner they found themselves standing beside the massive city wall. High on the hill they stood, trying to catch their breath from the climb and from the majestic view that now spread out before them. Huge pine trees grew around the wall, and Flick felt as if she could almost touch the tops of them. Rolling hills rippled into the distance, covered with all shades of green and brown patchwork paddocks. But they weren’t like the big square paddocks back home. Here they were smaller and of many different shapes and sizes, interrupted by ancient oaks and olive trees.

  Flick embraced her mum as they just stood there. They had run out of superlatives and another ‘wow’ just didn’t cut it.

  They continued up around the edge of the wall towards a church, the countryside following them. They decided they loved this rural part of Italy even more than the cities, which wasn’t surprising. Both had been most eager to see this side of Italian life, how people farmed and lived out here.

  ‘We have to do that 12-k walk, Mum. The guidebook said it goes right through all the farms.’

  ‘As long as we don’t get shot by gun-wielding farmers.’

  ‘That’s why Steve has that warning not to leave the road. They go bird shooting at any time, apparently,’ Flick said, pulling a face. She looked up at the church as they walked towards its courtyard. Flick leant over the stone wall that surrounded the courtyard; it was a sheer drop down to the road.

  ‘Please stand back,’ said Toni.

  ‘But look, I can see our car.’ Flick leant over a bit further and watched her mum pale.

  ‘They really need to make the walls higher,’ said Toni. ‘Anyone could accidentally lean too far. Imagine kids. You would have been climbing all over that as a kid.’

  ‘Come on – looks like these steps take us back down to the main square. Let’s find some food.’ Walking away, Flick ducked her head under the wide branches of the shady trees planted along the wall and dodged cute little bench seats. ‘It’s so quiet and peaceful.’

  ‘I don’t think this would be a safe place at night. So many steps and uneven ground.’

  ‘Not too many grappas for you, then!’ Flick teased.

  In the square they found the yellow rendered building that housed the restaurant.

  ‘L’Antica Osteria,’ Flick read from the sign, with terrible pronunciation, as they got closer. Cast-iron tables and chairs sat outside the restaurant, surrounded by green leafy plants in terra­cotta pots to section off the area. ‘Shall we eat outside? It’s such a nice evening.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ said Toni as she surveyed the menu. ‘Oh, thank God, they have English translations.’

  ‘Ciao, belle!’

  Flick looked up to see Stefano strolling towards them. ‘Ciao, Stefano.’

  ‘You eat with us tonight?’ he said and she nodded while trying not to bat her eyelashes. She shouldn’t try so hard to forget Chad.

  ‘Yes, we’d love to sit outside if that’s okay,’ said Toni.

  ‘Si, si, per favore,’ he said, waving to the empty tables.

  They took their seats and Stefano handed them the menus. ‘Ecco! I recommend anything with the truffle. It is what we are known for,’ he said, then left them to decide.

  Toni reminded them that they didn’t have to try everything tonight. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind coming back again!’ she teased.

  Stefano returned for their order, pen poised.

  ‘I’ll have the egg and white truffle to begin with, then the ricotta gnocchi in black truffle cream, and I’ll try the bees-te-ka?’ Toni attempted the word for steak while pointing to the one she wanted.

  ‘Bistecca Fiorentina di Angus Irlandese. Fantastico, yes.’

  Flick ordered a pasta called pici Toscani in crema di carbonara, and when Stefano brought their food they took their time, enjoying each offering and the atmosphere. It seemed like there was an even mix of tourists and locals. To finish off, they had the best tiramisu they’d ever tasted.

  ‘Jimmy would be so jealous,’ Flick said and watched her mum’s expression with interest.

  ‘Someone has to keep the home fires burning,’ she said, without giving away anything.

  It wasn’t until Stefano came back to see if they needed more wine did it seem like he had time to chat.

  ‘So why you ladies come to Montone?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve come to look for an Italian prisoner of war who was on our farm many years ago. We want to find him, see if he’s still alive,’ said Flick.

  ‘Assolutamente no! No way! All this way?’

  ‘Yes. He built the house I live in.’

  Stefano was so interested he asked if he could join them at their table.

  ‘Please,’ said Flick, and continued to fill him in on her quest. ‘So tomorrow we are going to Chiaravalle to see what we can find.’

  ‘Fantastico! If you need anything or have problems, you find me here, okay?’

  ‘Thanks, Stefano, how kind.’ Toni got up. ‘I’ll just go pay,’ she said quietly. Flick hadn’t mentioned Rocco was her mum’s father. She’d leave that to Toni’s discretion.

  ‘So, Stefano, how old are you?’ Flick asked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

  ‘I am twenty-three, and you?’

  ‘Twenty,’ she said, smiling. ‘I work on our farm, Sunnyvale, with my mum and my grandmother. We have just over 8000 acres and about 2500 sheep. Keeps us busy.’

  Stefano’s eyes bulged. ‘That is a lot. You must be very rich.’

  Flick laughed, she couldn’t help it. She could see how he could come to that conclusion. ‘No, not rich. Lots of land but it doesn’t make much money. We have lots of land in Australia, compared to here.’

  ‘Yes, your farm would take up all of Montone and more.’ He shook his head, still trying to picture it.

  He kept asking her questions about the farm and Australia, so she didn’t get a chance to ask him any. Toni came back and Stefano was called away.

  ‘Sorry, I must work. Arrivederci.’

  ‘Yes. Ciao. Thanks for a lovely night, Stefano,’ said Flick with a pang of disappointment as they stood to leave.


  Stefano collected the last of their dishes while watching them depart, a cute smile on his handsome face. Flick could feel his gaze follow them across the piazza until they turned down their street and giggled their way along the cobblestones, all the way back to their new home.

  22

  TONI was up early and snuck out of the house to watch the sunrise from the area by the church. As she neared the seats between the trees she saw a figure leaning over the rock wall, looking out over the countryside. Only one person would feel the need to lean that far over.

  ‘And here I was tiptoeing out of the house so I didn’t disturb you,’ Toni said with a chuckle.

  ‘Hey, Mum.’

  Toni joined her by the edge of the hill and kept her eyes on the horizon and the many shapes of the hills around them. She was fine with that; it was the steep death-drop straight down that freaked her out.

  ‘A sunrise anywhere is beautiful, hey? Just like looking at the stars to feel closer to home,’ said Flick. ‘I miss Fella always being at my side. I miss them all. But I’m glad you’re here.’ She pressed herself against Toni’s side.

  ‘Me too.’ Toni put her arm around her daughter and they stood, watching as the sunrays hit the tips of the hills while the valleys appeared as if they were filled with fine smoke. She took in the village of Montone beside them, the sun basking the stone walls in light while everything else still lay in darkness, as if the town had been singled out by the big man himself.

  ‘Are you worried about today? Nervous?’ said Flick softly.

  ‘I’m trying not to think about it,’ Toni said truthfully. ‘That way I can’t be disappointed, you know? Just go in with no expectations.’

  But Toni’s mind was already defying her, as it kept wandering off to consider whether she’d meet Rocco today or find his resting place at the local cemetery. She bit her lip at the thought.