*
Sitting disconsolately at her bedroom window when she was alone in the house, Leah watched the comings and goings of the neighbours. It was in this way that she discovered that the house whose yard backed on to that of number twenty-two was an Italian restaurant. A young man wearing a white shirt and black trousers frequently came out into the yard for a smoke. It wasn’t long before he noticed her at the window and began to give her a friendly wave.
He had dark skin and curly black hair and soon, in addition to the wave, he began trying to mouth some kind of message to her. She couldn’t make out what he was trying to say and at last, her curiosity getting the better of her, she went down into the yard and stood on a box to look over the wall.
‘Is there something wrong?’
He laughed up at her. He had sloe-black eyes and his teeth were very white against his swarthy skin. ‘Ah, no, signorina. Everything right.’
His accent was a fascinating mixture of Italian and cockney which made her smile.
‘So why were you waving at me?’
He came closer to the wall. ‘Because you sit at the window.’ He pointed. ‘You look so sad — homesick, maybe? Like me when I come to England.’
‘Perhaps. A bit. Is that your house?’
‘House? Ah, no. It is Bella’s.’ Seeing her bewilderment he added: ‘Ristorante.’
‘Oh — you’re a waiter?’
He looked slightly indignant. ‘No. Part-owner,’ he told her proudly. ‘With my sister Anna and her husband Franco. They come five years ago — from Bologna. I come three.’
‘I see. Sorry, I didn’t realise.’
He smiled again. ‘Va bene. Is quite all right, signorina.’
‘I’m Leah.’ She reached over the wall to hold out the tips of her fingers.
‘Come stà?’ He grinned broadly and shook the fingers. ‘I am Giovani. But everyone call me Joe.’
‘Nice to meet you, Joe. Or should I say, come stà?
He laughed. ‘You come soon to see our ristorante?’
She shook her head. ‘No money, Joe. I’d love to but I’ll have to find a job first.’
His eyes widened. ‘You want job? You waitress — cook — serve bar?’
‘Well, yes. Do you need someone?’
‘You come and see my sister. She gonna have a baby — must rest more. She the boss. But she like you, I know.’
‘Well, I’d love to. How do I get there?’ Leah was quite excited now.
‘Is Bella’s Ristorante. Stermyn Street.’ He pointed. ‘You Melbury, okay?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You go to top.’ His arms waved like a windmill. ‘Turn right and then right again, okay? This Stermyn Street. You see Bella’s Ristorante pretty bladdy quick.’
Leah laughed. ‘When?’
He hunched his shoulders. ‘Any time. Now.’
When Terry came in that evening he found Leah fizzing with excitement.
‘Hey guess what — I’ve got a job.’
‘Great. Where?’
‘Bella’s, the little Italian restaurant in the next street. The woman who runs it is pregnant and needs extra help. I’m to work there in the evenings and at lunchtimes. That’ll leave me afternoons to do my searching.’
‘That’s wonderful. Money good?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Not ’specially, but apparently I’ll make up on tips.’
Terry smiled. ‘Well, anyway, it’s a start. Good luck, love, and well done.’
Bill, who had overheard Leah’s news on his way upstairs, told her later that Bella’s was becoming an increasingly fashionable eating place among the local yuppy population.
‘Quite the in place, in fact. You should do all right for dosh there, kid,’ he told her with a wink. ‘Just put on your miniskirt and flash those shapely pins.’
‘Now who’s being sexist?’ she asked him.
*
Bella’s Ristorante had a Georgian bow window with a frilled lace curtain, coach lamps and two bay trees in tubs on either side of the front door. It looked to Leah for all the world like an English tea shop — until she stepped over the threshold. Inside, the tables were laid with red and white checked cloths and in the centre of each stood a little candle lamp and a tall glass with bread sticks. The bar was decorated with trailing vines and bunches of plastic grapes and at the back was a mural of Napoli, complete with a benign-looking Vesuvius in the background. The piped music was soft and discreet, but mainly Italian too. Neapolitan love songs, popular arias from operas and the occasional burst of Vivaldi.
From the very beginning it was clear that Anna was, as Joe had said, the boss. She was small and plump and quite heavily pregnant, but her dark eyes were quick and shrewd and her hands and feet were never still. Her husband Franco was more placid. He had sleepy brown eyes with hooded lids and a deep velvety voice. He was in charge of the bar whilst Anna reigned supreme in the kitchen. They both spoke slightly better English than Joe.
When Leah asked Joe what he did, he told her with twinkling eyes that he was the maître d’. When Anna heard his description of himself, she laughed her husky chuckle.
‘You better watch my little brother,’ she warned. ‘He is the youngest of the family. He’s been bossed all his life. Now he got someone to boss is possible he get to be big pain-in-the-bum.’ She wagged a finger at Leah. ‘He try it — you tell him go to hell. Anna say so.’
In the kitchen Anna explained to Leah that she was six months pregnant with her first baby and that her blood pressure was high. The doctor had threatened that if she did not take more rest from now until the birth, he would make her spend the rest of her pregnancy in hospital.
‘Then you must take care,’ Leah told her.
Anna threw up her hands in frustration. ‘Is so stupid. My mama, she have twelve kids and never go to hospital one time.’
‘Not everyone is so lucky,' Leah said.
Anna hunched her shoulders resignedly. ‘So — you help me cook in the mornings. Enough for evening too. Help Joe wait tables at lunchtime. In evening, woman come to help in kitchen. You help out in general wherever needed. Okay?’ She looked at Leah hopefully, her head on one side, eyes bright as a robin’s.
Leah nodded enthusiastically. ‘Okay — fine. I’ve been working in a pub in Norfolk. I’ve got a reference.’ She opened her bag and gave Anna the reference Dick had written. Anna read it quickly and passed it back with a smile.
‘Sounds like he wish you stay there.’
Leah smiled. ‘It’s a beautiful place, but in winter it’s too quiet for business.’
‘In winter this place do good,’ Anna said proudly. ‘Businessman’s lunches, romantic evening dinner for two.’ She rolled her dark eyes. ‘Executive dinner parties — teenage bashes. Sometimes people take whole ristorante.’
Leah smiled. ‘Great.’
‘Si — good. So you come tomorrow, huh?’
‘You bet,’ Leah told her.
*
In the first two weeks at Bella’s, Leah learned a lot. The work was hard and she found she had little time for worrying that Hannah Brown had not contacted her. Now and again she thought about it and wondered whether to try ringing again, but Hannah had said a couple of weeks. Better leave it at least three before she began to push it.
Her new job helped to take her mind off things. She was learning to cook the regional Italian dishes Anna had made herself famous for. Risi e peoci, a kind of risotto with clams; Fegato alia Veneziana, calves’ liver and onions; and several wonderful seafood dishes and soups, including the tasty and filling Stracciatella, with pasta, eggs and cheese. The Andretti family worked like slaves and Leah could see that they needed help, especially now that Anna was forced to take the evenings off and rest.
Leah did a bit of everything from cooking and waiting to serving behind the bar and taking bookings on the telephone. She soon grew fond of the noisy, volatile Andrettis with their fiery tempers and quick, uproarious laughter. She loved the work too;
meeting people, serving them and seeing that they had everything they wanted. Franco taught her the correct way to serve wines: how to advise customers on what to order from the wine list and what to drink with what. By the time November came she could even speak a few sentences of Italian — enough to welcome the customers and pronounce the names of the dishes convincingly, though some of the words that Joe taught her caused Anna to throw up her hands in mock horror.
‘He teaching you to swear, Leah,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘Don’t you listen to my bad little brother.’
The bustle of life at Bella’s left Leah little time for looking for her mother or Sarah. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever get around to finding them, but she promised herself that she would make the time somehow — someday soon.
At the end of November Anna’s baby was born. She went into labour quickly one morning almost two months earlier than the date given her for the baby’s birth. Amidst much noise and excitement from all three Andrettis the midwife and ambulance was summoned and she was hastily despatched to hospital. Franco went with her and Leah and Joe managed as best they could in the lunchtime rush. By four o’clock Franco was back, his limpid brown eyes alight with excitement. He embraced them both and although his English seemed temporarily to have deserted him, Leah managed to pick up the facts that he was the proud father of a baby boy who had weighed in at six pounds, and that Franco now felt molto meglor.
‘What about Anna?’ Leah asked with smile, ‘Is she molto meglor too?’
Franco placed his hands together under his cheek. ‘Si — she rest. Fast asleep.’ He laughed and threw an arm around each of them. ‘Tonight there will be glass of vino for everyone — on the house.’
They were about to open for the evening when the telephone rang. Leah answered it. The voice was Terry’s.
‘Leah, Hannah Brown rang here for you.’
Her heart leapt. ‘Oh, Tel. Just my luck. I would be out when she rang back.’
‘I told her where you worked and she asked if it’d be all right if she came round there to see you this evening. She said she had to come over this way. I said I’d check and ring her back.’
*
It was quite late when Hannah arrived but Leah spotted her the moment she came in. She stood just inside the door, glancing round her. She looked quite old. Late forties — older maybe, Leah decided, but quite smart and youthful-looking for all that; lean and well groomed with an air of authority and quiet assurance about her.
Leah approached her. ‘Miss Brown?’
‘That’s right. And you’re …?’
‘Leah Dobson. It’s good of you to come. I’ll be off duty quite soon. Then perhaps we can talk.’
‘I’m sorry to have taken so long to get back to you,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve been away on holiday, but I didn’t want to advertise the fact that the flat was empty.’
Leah smiled. ‘Of course. Can I get you something — a coffee, perhaps?’ She pulled out a chair at the table nearest the window. Hannah sat down.
‘Thank you.’
At the bar Franco nodded his head in Hannah’s direction and asked; ‘A friend?’
‘Yes, she’s waiting till I’m off duty. We have something rather important to discuss. Is it all right?’
He looked at his watch. ‘You work long time today. You finish now. Give your friend a glass of vino. On the house.’
They sipped their wine and Hannah told Leah about her holiday in Provence. She hadn’t mentioned the reason for their meeting and, realising that she was waiting for her to broach the subject, Leah said: ‘So — do you think you’ll be able to find my mother and sister for me?’
Hannah laid down her fork and met the girl’s eyes. ‘I’ll be frank with you, Leah. Finding them isn’t a problem. There are other things to be considered first though. First I’d like to be sure that you’ve examined your reasons for wanting to find them — and to reassure myself that they are the right reasons. And secondly I think it’s important to discover whether they want to find you.’
Chapter 14
Marie folded the letter and stowed it away in her pocket. She’d been surprised and pleased to see Hannah’s familiar writing on the envelope but decided to save the letter until her coffee break so that she could read it at her leisure. But after the initial paragraph, the news it contained filled her with a turbulent mixture of opposing emotions. Her stomach churning with mingled excitement and dread, she read it through several times till she knew every word of it by heart. And for the rest of that day the words rang out inside her head like a litany.
Dear Marie,
It is so long since we were last in touch. I hope all is well with you. I miss you and regret the quarrel that drove a wedge between us, and I hope you’ll agree that it’s time we buried the hatchet, as they say. My reason for getting in touch now is twofold. I’ve been meaning to write to you for some time, but putting it off like a coward — afraid if I’m honest of your silence, or worse still, a rebuff. However, something has happened recently that has made up my mind for me. Marie — I have met one of your daughters. Leah has been trying for some time to find you. Also her twin sister, Sarah. I promised to help if I could, but of course I warned her that I must first find out whether you were willing to see her.
She is a delightful young woman. I’m sure you and she would get along well, should you choose to meet. She has not found a happy family life with her adoptive parents and longs to have ‘someone of her own’ as she puts it. I do hope you will agree to let me set up a meeting. Think carefully about it and let me know your decision soon.
Love,
Hannah
P.S. I’d like to see you again soon too.
All morning Marie was acutely aware of the letter in her pocket. She found herself constantly feeling for the sheet of folded paper just to remind herself that she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. As she went about the familiar routine her mind was humming with all the possibilities suddenly open to her. For almost as long as she could remember she had wanted to see the daughters she had parted from at birth. Now a million questions buzzed through her mind like bees in a hive. What were they like? How had they grown up? Had they been happy, successful, clever? Hannah had said that Leah had not found a happy family life. Had she had a miserable, sad childhood? Did she blame the mother she had never seen for that? But above all, did she know the truth about her origin — her mother’s past, and the circumstances that had forced her to give up her babies at birth? And if she had still to discover these things, could she ever come to terms with them and forgive?
And over it all loomed the bulky image of Ralph. If he should get to know about her reunion with her daughter, what would his reaction be? But that was something she had no wish to ponder over.
After the business over the forged cheques Ralph had been subdued but in a dangerous, simmering kind of way. He appeared infrequently at ‘The Ocean’ now, but when he did he brought with him all the tension of a tightly coiled spring. Marie felt nervous and edgy all the time he was around, knowing that he was only waiting for her to make one wrong move so that he could pounce.
After David’s two-week stay in hospital he had been allowed to return home, but since his illness he was noticeably weaker and more vulnerable. Doctor Philip Hodge visited regularly. Since his visit to the medical conference he had decided to leave his practice in the Midlands and buy into a group practice in nearby Parkstone. During the negotiations and change-over he spent a lot of time at ‘The Ocean’ and he and Marie became friends. She found herself looking forward to his visits. He was pleasant and sympathetic, so easy to talk to that on more than one occasion she had asked his advice. Although he hadn’t actually said so, Marie, knew that he was concerned about David’s health. She was careful to keep all worries and anxieties from him, and in Ralph’s lengthening absences, shouldered most of the responsibility of the hotel’s running herself. Not that she minded about the infrequency of Ralph’s visits. She was glad for David�
��s sake that they saw less of him. His visits seemed to have the same unsettling effect on her father-in-law as they did on her. When the letter came, she longed to show it to David and ask his advice, but knowing it would only worry him, she said nothing. Instead she went over and over in her mind the various actions she might take. That evening she waited until David was safely in bed before shutting herself in her room. Lifting the telephone she carefully dialled the number on Hannah’s letter, her heart quickening as she heard the lifting of the receiver and the familiar voice at the other end.
‘Hannah — it’s Marie. I got your letter.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice, Marie. How are you?’
‘I’m well, thanks.’
‘And David?’
‘Not too good. He had a heart attack earlier this year. It’s left him quite shaky.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Give him my love, will you?’
‘I will. Hannah — about Leah …’ Marie twisted the telephone flex between her fingers. ‘I’m sure you know that I’d love to see her. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. But …’
‘It’s Ralph?’
‘He still doesn’t know — about the babies.’
‘Need he know now? You could come up to Town.’
‘I suppose so. It’s just …’
‘You’re afraid of what might be stirred up?’
‘There was some trouble a few months ago. Ralph can be — well — difficult, as you know. I believe that what you told me about his army record could well be true. I’m sorry for the things I said at the time, Hannah.’
‘Marie, you are all right, aren’t you? If you need help …’
‘No. I’m fine, for now, anyway. To go back to Leah.’
‘Yes?’
‘How much does she know?’
‘Only that she has a twin sister. She’d somehow discovered that for herself. Nothing else though. It will be up to you to tell her the rest, or to keep it secret as you wish.’
The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family Page 23
