Durham Trilogy 02. The Darkening Skies

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Their three days at Stout House were made easier by Tom’s cheerful banter and Lily Pallister warmed towards her unwelcome son-in-law when she saw how friendly Joe and Tom had become. She began to forget his alien origin and his foreign appearance and allowed herself to smile at his jokes and flattery at her cooking. When the time came for Sara and Joe to leave, she found herself strangely emotional.

  ‘You’ll bring him again, won’t you?’ Lily asked her daughter on their final evening. They were in the pantry washing up.

  ‘You like him don’t you, Mam?’ Sara said, pleased.

  Lily sniffed. ‘I can see why you married him, though it would have been easier if he wasn’t…’

  ‘He’s Whitton born and bred, just like you,’ Sara reminded her mother sternly.

  ‘Aye,’ Lily sighed. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re happy, pet.’ She kissed her daughter affectionately on the head.

  ‘And you’ll come and visit Joe’s family sometime, too?’ Sara urged.

  ‘Aye, maybe’s,’ Lily said, unable to commit herself that far. ‘You’ll take that box of eggs and the jam for them in return for their presents.’ Sara had to content herself with this half-hearted approval.

  The next day, Tom took them down in the trap to Lowbeck and said an emotional farewell to Sara.

  ‘Take care of each other, won’t you?’ she told her brother. ‘You’re my two favourite lads.’

  Tom gave her a thumping hug. ‘You’ll not get rid of us that easily,’ he teased. ‘We’ve been through the worst,’ he joked.

  As they awaited the bus, a truckload of men came trundling into the hamlet. The vehicle juddered to a stop and three men piled out the back, coughing in the exhaust fumes.

  ‘POWs,’ Tom told them casually, watching the men troop past the disused slaughterhouse, closed down at the beginning of the war when the government took control of the food supply. ‘They’ll be going to Dr Hall’s garden to pick fruit. These lot were captured after El Alamein.’

  Sara glanced at Joe. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, seeing the look of shock on his face.

  He did not seem to hear her as he shouted after the men in Italian dialect. One of them turned at the familiar words, his unshaven face startled.

  ‘Joe?’ Sara asked in concern.

  ‘I know him,’ Joe said, ‘I know that lad.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Sara asked as the bus rumbled round the corner into view.

  ‘Emilio Fella,’ he answered, ‘the lad that got Rosa into trouble. I’m sure it’s him.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The day Joe and Sara returned to Whitton Grange, the surrender of the Italian forces was announced and the household was thrown into such turmoil that they delayed telling Rosa of Joe’s sighting of Emilio.

  ‘What does this mean for us?’ Elvira demanded. ‘Will Davide come home now?’

  ‘What about Domenica and Pasquale?’ Anna asked anxiously. ‘Will their village be occupied?’

  ‘They are already occupied,’ Joe reminded his mother, as news came through of the German takeover of Rome and a puppet fascist government under Mussolini being set up by Hitler in the north.

  On the day Joe left, the invasion of Italy by the Allies was already under way.

  ‘At least I will not have to fight my Italian cousins any more,’ he joked with his father, who did not find it amusing.

  ‘God go with you, Joseph, my son,’ Arturo croaked and nearly broke down as he embraced him.

  Bobby took Sara to the station to see Joe off on the crowded train and stayed at a respectful distance while they said their goodbyes.

  ‘Should I tell Rosa about Emilio?’ Sara asked, trying to think of things to say to delay their parting.

  ‘It might bring out all the anger in the family again,’ Joe was doubtful, ‘and maybe it wasn’t Emilio I saw.’

  ‘He recognised you,’ Sara was adamant. ‘You could see the shock on his face, too.’

  ‘You must decide for the best, Sara pet,’ Joe said with resignation and pulled her close against him. ‘Oh, bellissima, I’ll miss you like hell.’

  Sara felt the tears sting her eyes as she clung to him.

  ‘I’ll not be happy till I see you again, Joe,’ she choked.

  He smiled down at her. ‘You mustn’t be sad, pet, ‘cos I know you keep the others going with your happy nature. Now give us a kiss and I’ll be off.’

  They kissed with desperation and longing and with deep tenderness, both engulfed by the intensity of their love for each other. When they pulled away, neither could speak and Sara saw the tears on Joe’s face.

  He grabbed her hands and kissed them, then turned and threw his kit bag on to the train, climbing after it and fighting for a place at the window to keep Sara in view.

  ‘Write to me!’ Sara cried as the train lurched along the platform in a blast of steam.

  ‘I love you!’ Joe shouted and blew her a kiss. The last glimpse he had of Whitton Station was of a tearful Sara running along the platform, waving, her long hair shining golden in the soft September sun. Then they were rattling past a row of dismal terraced cottages and she was gone from sight…

  When Sara broke the news that Emilio Fella was a prisoner of war up Weardale, the family temporarily forgot their sadness at Joe’s departure. The questions rained down on the bereft Sara and she wished she had kept quiet.

  ‘I must see him!’ Rosa cried, almost hysterical at the news. ‘Poor Emilio a prisoner. Take me to see him, Sara, please. He must see his child too.’

  ‘I’m the one who should have words with Emilio Fella.’ Arturo was provoked out of his apathy. ‘He has shamed my family; I will take a gun to his head and blow his pretty face away!’

  ‘Arturo!’ Anna was shocked at his vehemence.

  ‘Papa, don’t say such a thing,’ Rosa said in distress, ‘he’s Mary’s father and I’m going to see him.’

  ‘Then I will come, too,’ Arturo barked. ‘You shall not face him on your own.’

  ‘Arturo, you cannot go - you’re not supposed to travel - you might get into trouble,’ Anna fretted. ‘No, it would not be a good thing. Let Sara go with Rosa if she has set her heart on seeing this man. Perhaps he will do the honest thing by her.’

  It was a month before Sara could arrange to travel back up the valley and Rosa drove them all to distraction with her impatience and excitement. Sara had never seen her so full of purpose, filling her time sewing new outfits for Mary for the journey.

  Raymond, who had been paying Rosa visits since the charity dance in a half-hearted attempt to rid himself of thoughts of Sara gave up in despair. ‘She’s never got over this Italian, has she?’ he asked Sara, as she walked back with him to visit Louie.

  ‘It doesn’t seem like it,’ Sara sighed. ‘I wish I’d never told her - it’s dividing the family already. And what if it’s not Emilio?’

  Raymond grunted. ‘You’ll just have to hope it is - for your sake and Rosa’s.’

  Sara looked at the tall Raymond, loping along at her side. ‘You’re a good’un. You’d rather lose Rosa to Emilio than see her unhappy, wouldn’t you?’

  Raymond felt a stab of pain as he looked into Sara’s warm green eyes. It means nothing, he said inwardly, it’s you I hurt over, Sara Dimarco, but you must never know.

  ‘Have you heard from Joe yet?’ he changed the subject.

  ‘Just a postcard,’ Sara smiled wistfully, ‘before sailing.’ She felt better talking to Raymond about Joe, knowing they were old friends and that Raymond missed him too.

  ‘Send him my best when you write,’ Raymond mumbled and fell into silence, as Sara spoke of Joe all the way back to Hawthorn Street.

  The day they left for Lowbeck, Sara felt unwell and the motion of the bus made her queasiness worse, but Rosa did not notice her quietness. She chattered like a child at the sights from the bus window and held Mary up to see the bustling villagers of Stanhope. At Lowbeck, Sara’s brother Bill came to collect them having got her message, and the family
were waiting in expectation of meeting Joe’s sister.

  To Sara’s relief, her mother took at once to the bubbling Rosa and her pretty daughter Mary and accepted them into the busy household. The next day Sara went to seek out Colin Cummings to discover where the POWs were working and whether it would be possible to see them.

  ‘It’s all pretty lax now that Italy’s given in,’ Colin told her. ‘They’re allowed to visit around Lowbeck - some folk have had them in for meals after chapel. They’ve built themselves a makeshift Catholic church up at Thimble Hill, but some of them come down to the chapel.’

  ‘So you go to the chapel now?’ Sara asked in surprise.

  ‘Aye,’ Colin flushed, ‘I gan with Beth and Daniel. And I’m made to feel welcome,’ he added defensively.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Sara said swiftly. ‘So where can I find the Italians?’

  Sara returned with the news that most of them were working over at Thimble Hill and so they set off that afternoon in search of Emilio. They were permitted to talk to the prisoners, but Rosa scanned their unfamiliar faces in vain. The Italians only spoke the most rudimentary English, but they all gathered round to make a fuss of Mary.

  ‘Can’t you ask them in Italian?’ Sara urged. But when Rosa tried a few halting phrases, the men looked blankly back.

  ‘Emilio Fella?’ Rosa repeated the name.

  Just on the point of giving up, one of the men understood and jabbered a reply, pointing towards the farm outhouses. Rosa thanked them and grabbed Mary as they waved goodbye.

  Entering the stables, Rosa knew instinctively that the man bending over and mucking out the stalls was Emilio. She called his name and he jerked up in astonishment. He was unshaven and older looking, but the soft brown hair and pale hazel eyes were unmistakably his. Rosa stumbled forward, sick with nervousness at seeing him again, while Sara scooped Mary into her arms.

  ‘Rosa?’ he questioned in disbelief and yet there was a flicker behind his eyes, as if he had half expected her.

  ‘Emilio,’ Rosa gulped and smiled. ‘My brother said he’d seen you. I can’t believe it’s you!’

  ‘Me too, Rosa!’ Emilio wiped his hands on his trousers and stepped towards her. They hugged each other and laughed self-consciously. ‘You are a beautiful woman now, not my little Rosa.’

  Rosa thrilled to hear his words and Sara hung back in embarrassment as they fumbled with pleasantries.

  ‘I’ve brought you some pasta and bread,’ Rosa gabbled. ‘Do they feed you enough?’

  ‘Yes, but pasta! - that is good,’ Emilio smiled.

  Rosa burst out, ‘Oh why did you never write, Emilio? Why did you never come for me before you left for Italy?’

  Sara coaxed Mary out of the byre to let them be alone and took Mary to see the sheep. A while later Rosa and Emilio emerged from the stables and Rosa beckoned them over.

  ‘This is Joe’s wife,’ she told Emilio, ‘my friend Sara. Oh, Sara, Emilio’s explained all about how he was coming to get me when his passage was brought forward and he had to leave. Now the saints have brought us together again.’

  Emilio appeared embarrassed by Sara’s presence and made straight for Mary.

  ‘And this is my little bambina?’ he stooped down to smile at Mary and held out his arms. The girl shied away and ran to her mother. Emilio laughed.

  ‘She will get used to me, yes?’

  ‘Of course she will,’ Rosa beamed. ‘Say hello to your papa,’ she coaxed her scowling daughter.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Emilio said pleasantly. ‘Next time you come, I make her a dolly from corn.’

  Sara looked at Rosa and saw the delight in her face. She could hardly believe fate had been so kind in delivering Emilio to Rosa unharmed and here in County Durham.

  ‘We’ll come again tomorrow before we leave,’ Rosa promised as Emilio was detailed to join the other prisoners.

  ‘Then I am happy,’ Emilio smiled, hiding his bewilderment at their sudden appearance out of the bleak landscape.

  As they left, Sara caught sight of her cousin Colin among the other workers. He was looking after them, his long face impassive. Still that unnerving stare, Sara thought and looked away. But that night, Colin came up to Stout House and asked to see her.

  ‘I’ll not come in, Aunt Lily,’ he was stubborn. ‘I just want a word with Sara.’

  Sara went out nervously to meet him and they stood several feet apart, shivering in the courtyard. The yellow harvest moon threw light on to her cousin’s thick-set face.

  ‘That Italian you went to see,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I gather he’s the father of Rosa’s bairn.’

  ‘Aye,’ Sara said coolly, ‘but that’s no concern of yours.’

  Colin flinched at her rebuff. ‘No, you’re right,’ he was surly in return, deciding he would bother no further, ‘they can do what they like.’

  He turned from her and strode across the yard. Sara almost let him go, then the thought of how he had made Beth happy prompted her to act.

  ‘Wait, Colin,’ Sara went after him, putting a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. You had something to say.’

  Colin turned and said awkwardly. ‘I think he was boasting about the bairn to the others after you went. I don’t understand them, of course, but I got the general message.’

  ‘Well, that’s not surprising.’ Sara was relieved that this was all there was to worry about. ‘He’s just discovered he’s a father.’

  ‘Aye, well that’s not all he is,’ Colin muttered, ‘he’s married an’all.’

  Sara gawped at him in the moonlight. ‘He’s not?’

  Colin nodded.

  ‘How in the wide world do you know that?’ Sara asked in dismay.

  ‘He’s shown me photos of his wife - a bonny lass with fair hair. And he’s got one of a kiddie an’ all. Right proud of them he is.’

  ‘Oh, Colin,’ Sara groaned, ‘how am I going to tell Rosa?’

  Rosa’s shock gave way to a white rage Sara had never before witnessed in the young woman. She pleaded with Rosa to forget Emilio and not to return to see him, but Rosa wanted her own proof. Leaving Mary with Sara waiting for a bus in Lowbeck, Rosa found him picking turnips in the raw, dank October air. His pleasure at seeing her soon turned to bewilderment at the ranting, furious woman before him, causing everyone in the field to stop and watch.

  ‘Rosa, the other woman means nothing to me. It was for comfort, nothing else,’ he protested. ‘I forget her and marry you.’

  Rosa was almost speechless at his lack of feeling. ‘I wouldn’t have you now, Emilio, not if you paid me. I’ve waited four years for you - four years! I’ve looked at no one else. I’ve brought up your child in the hope one day you would return and make up for all the shame - prove my family wrong. But you don’t give a damn about me or the bairn.’

  ‘I do,’ Emilio tried to salvage the situation. ‘I give a big damn!’

  Rosa’s look was contemptuous. ‘Oh, you’d string me along while the war’s on, wouldn’t you? Happy for me to bring you treats and think you’d marry me when you’re free. But you’d just disappear back to Italy again, wouldn’t you? Just like the last time!’

  ‘Rosa, how can you say such things?’ Emilio put on a wounded expression, more for the benefit of his comrades than for her. ‘I love my little rose.’

  He tried to think back to that time in England before the war and how, briefly, he had fallen in love with the sweet, innocent Rosa Dimarco. But he could hardly remember his desire for her. Better for her to storm off now with the unwanted child and not trouble his life again, Emilio thought.

  Rosa saw the relief in his soft eyes. She stepped towards him and struck him hard on the face. Before he could recover she hit him again, ‘And that’s from my father.’

  She fled from that bitter field and the sound of ribald laughter from the other men. He would not see her cry, Rosa determined, holding her head high as she went - and never again would she be humiliated by another man. She would keep to herself and h
er family, trusting no man and bring Mary up to despise Emilio’s callous behaviour.

  Travelling home with Sara, Rosa refused to mention her lover’s name again, stoical in her misery. At Stanhope Sara was sick and it was Rosa who took charge and helped her on to the next bus.

  As they made their way wearily through the village to Pit Street, Rosa said with quiet authority, ‘We shan’t tell them about Emilio being married or having a son. We’ll pretend we never found him - that Joe was mistaken, it wasn’t him at all.’

  ‘But, Rosa,’ Sara argued, ‘won’t it be worse for you keeping it to yourself?’

  ‘I have my pride,’ Rosa said with a jut of her small chin. ‘At least my parents will never know how little Emilio thought of me - or thinks of Mary. I can save them that shame.’

  Sara put an arm around Rosa’s narrow shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘Oh, Rosa, you’ve grown up such a lot since I’ve known you. I’m so glad you’re my friend.’

  Together they kept their secret and went to rejoin the family.

  It was Anna who diagnosed the cause of Sara’s sickness and fatigue.

  ‘You’re going to have a baby,’ she smiled in delight. ‘Isn’t that right, Sylvia?’

  ‘Yes, Mamma,’ Sylvia nodded over her knitting. ‘We’ve both thought so since you came back from that wild-goose chase after Emilio,’ she told her sister-in-law.

  ‘Joseph will be so pleased,’ Anna said, patting Sara’s pale face.

  ‘He will, won’t he?’ Sara smiled back. And perhaps I will be accepted as a true Dimarco, Sara thought to herself, once I have a young Dimarco to cradle, for at times she still sensed a reserve towards her from her parents-in-law and Sylvia. She decided that she’d agree to have her baby christened at St Teresa’s, knowing how it would please Joe’s family.

  On her way back from work she stopped to tell Louie Ritson the news of the baby.

  ‘That’s grand, flower,’ Louie gave her a hug. ‘Isn’t it, Sam?’

  ‘Aye, I’m chuffed for the pair of you,’ Sam said, pausing over the polishing of his boots. ‘It’ll be something to keep Joe going while he’s out there in the thick of it.’