by Fiona Palmer
Toni moved to Francesca’s side, kneeling on the floor beside her chair. Her focus stayed on Francesca but she spoke to Stefano. ‘Please tell her I am Maggie’s daughter and that Rocco is my father. I want her to know that she is my aunty.’ Toni croaked out the last words.
Francesca’s eyes grew wide as Stefano talked. She started talking in Italian to Toni, her worn hands reaching out to touch her face.
‘She didn’t know about a child, but says she believes you. Now that she looks closely, you remind her of him. You have his eyes.’
Tears were rolling down Toni’s cheeks, and she was unable to stop them. Francesca then took her in her arms and hugged her. It was hard to believe that she was her aunty, her blood, and they’d only just met and couldn’t even speak to each other. Toni had so much to ask her.
When they finally pulled apart and mopped up their tears, Francesca reached for her album, flicking through it excitedly. She threw her arms up when she found it and gestured for Toni to look. It was Rocco and Francesca together, sometime after the war.
‘She said you look like her.’
Toni agreed. Back before her hair had started to grey she had definitely resembled Francesca when she was younger. It was amazing to see herself in these people; a side of her that didn’t seem to fit in before, not with Arthur or his family, now seemed to belong somewhere.
Next to this photo was a family portrait. Rocco looked about twelve. An older brother stood on one side and Francesca on the other, their parents standing proudly behind them. Francesca saw Toni looking at it and took it out for her to study, talking to Stefano.
‘Francesca was twelve when the war stole both her brothers. Only Rocco survived,’ Stefano translated.
Just like Maggie’s parents, Rocco’s parents had lost children to the war. Toni turned the photo over, and read the names written on the back in sloped ink: Rocco, Francesca, Giuseppe, Carlo and Antonia.
Toni sucked in her breath. Antonia. She pointed to herself. ‘My name is Antonia too.’
Francesca put her hands to her mouth in joy and disbelief before reaching for Toni’s hand again, grasping it tightly for an elderly lady.
Stefano again translated Francesca’s words. ‘She is so happy you came. She lives alone, her husband passed away but her two children visit and she helps look after the grandchildren.’
‘Can I ask for Rocco’s address?’ Toni glanced at Flick, who had shuffled up the couch next to Stefano. ‘I’d like to meet him. Does he have kids?’
‘He married at thirty-eight and has two children,’ answered Stefano as Francesca got up to write his address for them. She pressed it into Toni’s hand.
Rocco Valducci
‘Maggie Downs’
RMB 120
Quairading WA 6383
Toni sat back on the floor, reread the address a few more times and then glanced up at Flick. ‘He’s in Quairading. Bloody hell, it’s not even two hours from home. How is this possible? I’ve lived this close to him my whole life.’
Flick sighed heavily and held her head. ‘All this time he was right under our noses. Can you believe this, Mum?’
Toni was still speechless. Maggie Downs. If his letters hadn’t spelt it out clearly enough, the name of his farm did. He’d loved Maggie.
Francesca asked them to stay for longer, giving them time to see more photos and learn about her family. Poor Stefano was going to need a break after this.
She took them outside to show them her vegie garden. Toni stayed glued by her side, knowing that it could be a long time before she saw her aunty again. Already her thoughts were racing with what her new heritage might mean to her – maybe she should learn Italian? Or connect with other Italians back home? Perhaps she should start planning a more extensive tour of Italy, her new homeland. She could visit Francesca again and meet her cousins. It was such a surreal feeling, as she had always felt so Australian – and of course she still was – but already she had started to feel a strong connection with the rolling green hills of Umbria. Yes, she would have to return – with Maggie, maybe? Or even with Jimmy? Her mind was just reeling with it all.
Stefano was having a break from translating and was chatting with Flick as they explored the garden.
Francesca bent to show her the tomatoes but held her arm again as they moved onto the next row, which was dug up and ready for planting. There was something so familiar about the way she tied up her tomatoes and made the channels in the ground for the water. At the end of the row lay a tool. Toni went to it and picked it up, amazed at what she was holding.
‘Si tratta di una zappa,’ said Francesca, pointing to the tool.
Toni turned it over in her hands. They had one just like this at home. Zappa. Even Maggie called it a zappa. Toni felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
Even with the language barrier, Toni felt a connection to Francesca, to her Italian roots and to Rocco. It was as if her eyes had been fully opened and parts of her soul had been found.
25
MAGGIE was out in the garden trying to work the dirt for a vegie patch when the men rolled some more water up for the tank. She’d been so sure Rocco and Giulio would be sent home as soon as the war ended, but it had been nearly a year and the Italians were still with them on the farm. The government said it was because it was impossible to obtain ships to repatriate them, but Father believed it was because the POWs continued to be useful to the economy. Whatever the reason, Maggie was beyond delighted. Giulio mentioned it seemed unfair that he couldn’t get home, and that they were still under control of the army, not free men. But all Maggie wanted was for Rocco to stay with them forever. Even if she knew it was impossible.
While Rocco and Giulio waited for the bricks to dry, they would find other things around the farm to do. Sometimes Maggie would see them rolling forty-four gallon drums full of water from the dam to fill the small tank by the house. Father kept saying he’d get a windmill and hoses one day. Some of the water was used for the garden, which was Maggie’s domain. Mother had asked her to grow things and rarely went near it herself, except to see what she could take for meals. Being from the city, and a clergyman’s daughter, Phyllis didn’t know anything about gardening and relied mostly on the order from town.
The men now also helped with the ploughing and seeding. Giulio was great with the horses and could work the fourteen-disc plough better than Father, or so Charlie had said. Money would come in after harvest, which would be done with the old Sunshine harvester. Her father had also purchased some sheep, and Rocco, Charlie and Giulio watched them until fences could be built. Elders had helped them with finance for fencing materials and super, which they stored in a newly built bush shed.
‘You need manure,’ said Rocco, walking up alongside Maggie. He reached out and took the shovel from her hands. ‘And you need a zappa too. I ask if I can make you one,’ he said. Then he finished digging up the rest of the dirt bed.
Maggie knew she needed more manure but it was a long, slow process carting up horse poo from the stables. And she had no idea what a zappa was.
‘Giulio and I finish with water. We help you with manure.’ Rocco glanced behind them before smiling at her.
‘It’s okay, Mother has gone next door to visit Mrs Stewart.’
His smile grew as he gave the shovel back. His hands remained on it just long enough for them to touch. Giulio cleared his throat and Rocco let go. He started talking to Giulio in Italian and leading him towards the stables.
True to his word, Rocco came back with Giulio and a mountain of horse manure. They’d hooked up the old cart to Splinter and loaded it high. Now they set about unloading it over the area. Within the hour they had the manure turned into the dirt and had made more beds for her to plant things, although Maggie only had zucchinis and tomatoes.
‘Come inside,’ Rocco said while Giulio took the horse and cart back.
In the kitchen, Rocco pulled off the hessian sack covering t
he large sack of potatoes in the corner.
‘What are you doing?’ said Maggie.
He turned and reached for her hands. ‘Here, put your hand out,’ he said, but didn’t let go or move away.
His eyes drank her in and Maggie experienced that headiness she always got around Rocco, made five times worse when he touched her. His gaze was so powerful, like he was reading her every thought.
Rocco glanced around the house, pulled her hands up to his lips and kissed them. Maggie’s toes curled.
Eventually he let go of her hands and fished through the potato bag. He started putting the smallest ones in her hands.
‘They have to be small,’ he said while he sorted. ‘Too big and they rot.’
When he was happy he had found enough they went back out to the garden. Then he showed her how to plant them.
‘See, only this deep,’ he said, indicating about the length of his thumb. ‘You won’t have to buy potatoes again.’
He smiled and Maggie didn’t care about potatoes or the money they would save. She just saw Rocco and a happy life with him in it.
The lesson didn’t end there. Next they walked through the bush, finding long sticks from dead trees, and he taught her how to hitch them together for the tomatoes to grow up.
‘How do you know all this?’ she asked him.
‘My mother, very good garden. I help her.’
Maggie was just happy to be near him and watch the way he moved, how his hands worked or the way his brow creased when he was thinking. She loved his manly scent and the deep velvet of his voice. He was strong but so considerate of her needs.
‘Margaret!’ yelled Phyllis, startling them. She stepped from the back door of the cottage, marching closer to see what they were doing.
‘Rocco and Giulio have helped me with the garden,’ Maggie said, trying to keep her voice even and precise. ‘They have just brought up some manure and Rocco is showing me how to grow potatoes. We won’t have to buy any ever again.’
‘Oh, well, that’s good.’ She paused for a moment, seeing what they had accomplished, and when she found nothing else to say turned back to the house. ‘If you’ve finished up, can you help me in the house now, please?’
Maggie rolled her eyes and dusted off her hands. ‘Thank you for your help, Rocco.’ She gave him her best smile. He nodded but their eyes remained locked for what seemed like minutes. Knowing her mother would be watching, she turned on her heel and walked quickly back to the cottage, trying to hide her recent happiness.
The next morning Maggie was sad to find out that Rocco and Giulio had asked to borrow the bikes and go for a ride. She waited all day for them, finding excuses to go for walks to see Charlie or to check the horses, each time being disappointed that they weren’t back.
She headed down to the stables again, this time with afternoon tea.
‘Where have they gone, Charlie?’ she whispered to her brother as they sat drinking
‘I don’t know. Would you like me to ask Father?’
Her eyes bulged and Charlie winked. He knew about her and Rocco, and remained silent about her meetings with him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘He can’t be far away.’
‘Thanks, Charlie.’ She threw her arms around him, giving him a quick hug. Thank God she still had one brother left.
‘Hey, what are brothers for? Besides, if it wasn’t for your help, Valerie may have never noticed me.’
‘Oh, come on, Charlie. How could she resist you?’ teased Maggie. Valerie was a cousin of one of her friends, and Charlie had taken a shine to her. Maggie had helped them become friends – well, more than friends now. Their father finished up with the truck he was working on and joined them, devouring the small slices of cake she’d brought. They discussed farm matters but no mention of Rocco and Giulio, much to Maggie’s dismay.
Just as she was packing up the cups they heard a whistle. Around the corner of the stables came Rocco and Giulio on the bikes. They carried hessian sacks and Rocco had a metal contraption balanced on his bike.
‘Ah, I was wondering how you were going. How is everyone?’ John asked as he took a sack from Rocco so he could get off the bike. ‘How are your backsides?’ he added with a chuckle when he noticed how gingerly they dismounted.
‘Long ride. But Mr Demasis good. He give you his wishes,’ said Rocco, stretching a little.
Giulio had put the bike away and was rubbing his backside when he thought no one was looking. But Maggie saw and she tried not to laugh.
‘Is this it?’ asked John as he reached for the metal tool.
‘Yes,’ said Rocco.
‘What is it, Father?’ said Charlie.
‘Rocco went to the Demasises’ to make this for Maggie to help in her garden. It’s like a hoe.’
Her father smiled and Maggie felt all eyes on her. Rocco had ridden all that way for her. Not even Maggie would want to ride that far. The Demasises were an Italian family who had settled in the area long before the Second World War started, and they lived on the other side of town.
‘What have you got in the sacks?’ Charlie asked.
‘Mrs Demasis, she give us seeds and clippings.’ Rocco pulled out little paper bags. ‘Tomatoes, beans, capsicums, oregano, basil. And we have more,’ he said, gesturing to Giulio’s bag. ‘Mulberry and grapes.’
‘Really?’ said Maggie, looking into the bags. ‘We can grow all that?’
‘Si, I’ll show you.’ He quickly glanced at John. ‘If it okay, Mistair Boss?’
John clapped Rocco on the shoulder. ‘Of course it is. I’m just grateful for your help.’ John turned to Maggie and rolled his eyes. ‘I guess we’d better sort out a permanent water hose now. Actually, Maggie, maybe Rocco and Giulio could help you start a patch by the new house. We’ll be moving there soon so it would be better to start the trees there, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I agree. I’ll ask mother where we can put it.’ Maggie tried hard not to rub her hands together. This meant she could work on the garden by the house that Rocco and Giulio were building. They would be working side by side and Maggie would have the perfect excuse to be near him far more often. She could just about jump into her father’s arms and kiss him.
Phyllis took great pleasure in marking out the best spot for the garden. She sauntered back and forth, finger to her lip as if this were a critical decision, and Maggie was forced to keep quiet. Phyllis eventually decided on an area at the rear of the house – maybe because Rocco and Giulio had all their tools and bricks out the front. But Maggie wasn’t going to complain.
Two days later, Rocco and Giulio were free to help her start the garden. They cleared the area, dug up dirt, carted in more manure and built a small fence to keep out the rabbits.
‘Now I get to show you the zappa,’ said Rocco when the garden bed was finally established.
He bent over, demonstrating the tool. The head was shaped like an axe but it was used sideways so it chipped at the earth. Perfect for making trough rows.
‘Now, tomato go here,’ he said, pointing to the well part of the row. ‘It grows, we push dirt back against plant so then this area becomes water trough near roots.’
Over the coming weeks, he showed her how to cover the tomatoes and capsicums with twigs when the frosts came in, and then as the seedlings became established, they put in the stick tepees for the tomatoes.
‘Do we need that many tomato plants?’ she asked, brushing her dirty hands together.
‘Si. Lots of tomatoes, make tomato sauce. I show you,’ he said with a wink.
Maggie’s pulse raced. She caught her lip in her teeth, trying to slow her breath. Rocco scanned the area, then ran into the house. The brick walls were now much taller than him. He turned back and gestured for her to follow. Maggie quickly checked for her mother before darting in after him.
The moment she stepped inside, Rocco grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. Together they sank back against the corner, a hiding spot, protected by walls.
‘Sono innamorato di te,’ he whispered against her ear.
Maggie felt her body pool with desire and longing. His words vibrated to her core, tingling her senses and driving her crazy.
‘Kiss me, Rocco,’ she said breathlessly.
His lips trailed up her neck to her cheek and then he claimed her lips. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair. She pressed her hips against him, wanting to feel every part of him. It took all her effort not to groan.
A banging noise broke them apart. Their breathing was heavy, their eyes locked. Her ears strained for her mother’s voice but it was just Giulio, working on the front of the house. He’d often whistle a tune whenever he saw Phyllis, his way of warning them she was coming. But there was no whistle. She sighed with relief as Rocco kissed her forehead.
Maggie tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer, his lips towards hers. She wanted just one more earth-shattering kiss before they parted, because she never knew just how long she’d have to wait for the next one.
26
IT was a quiet drive home from Chiaravalle to begin with. After leaving Francesca’s they felt so overwhelmed. They didn’t want to leave but they knew Stefano had to get back to work, even though he kept telling them to take their time, that his work was nothing compared with what they were doing. How could a random stranger have so much understanding and emotion for them?
But it hadn’t seemed right to chew up any more of Stefano’s time; they’d worn him out translating, and besides, they could just fly home and ask Rocco to fill in the rest of the story.
They passed through tunnels and weaved around the big green mountains spotted with old castle-like buildings, but Flick was not really seeing any of it. Her mum was quiet in the back too, her head tilted to the window, staring out at the flashing landscape.
