Sweet Pizza

by G. R. Gemin

  “Where you going?” he asked.

  “Doctor’s. Come with me.”

  “I’m eating.”

  “You’ll finish it by the time we get there.”

  “Want some?” Combi asked.

  “No.”

  “Still on your mam’s diet?”

  “It’s rubbish food, Combi. Just like Mimi told us.”

  Combi stopped and handed his box of chips to a group of boys.

  They pounced on it.

  “Vultures with no taste!” said Joe.

  The waiting room was packed. Joe gazed around at the miserable faces and had a sinking feeling his idea would be ridiculed in Bryn Mawr forever.

  Mrs Moore at the reception desk beckoned him over. “Have a word with them, Joe,” she said. “I’d love you to make ’em disappear.” She spoke into the microphone. “Can I have your attention, please, for a short announcement from Joe, of Cafe Merelli.”

  Everyone was looking at him and he froze. Combi elbowed him in the ribs.

  “See the signs,” said Joe, his voice barely a whisper. “On the wall there…” He pointed at the notices. “Like they say, the doctors’ announcements are relayed to Cafe Merelli. It’s only a few shops up the High Street, as you know. You can wait there and have a hot drink, or whatever…”

  The patients continued staring at Joe as if he was speaking Italian, and his armpits began to tickle. He glanced at the seats that he and Nonno had sat in just days before, looking around at the same dour faces. Combi leaned close. “Incentive, Joe – offer them free drinks. People love stuff for free.”

  “Mam won’t have that.”

  “D’you want ’em in your cafe or not?”

  Joe realised he was right. “As it’s our first day,” he said. “I mean with this trial waiting-room idea, the teas and coffees are free. You won’t have to pay.”

  There was some mutterings among the patients.

  “Now, there’s an offer,” said Mrs Moore.

  “Does that include hot chocolate?” someone asked.

  “Yes,” said Joe, gaining in confidence. “In fact, we have a variety of hot and cold snacks, and the espresso machine is now working for fresh coffee, cappuccino with frothy milk, teas, and hot chocolate with whipped cream. If you follow me I’ll escort you there.”

  Joe and Combi walked out on to the High Street, but Joe dared not look back. “Are they coming?” he asked Combi.

  “Loads,” he replied. “I ought to get a free Coke for helping you.”

  When they reached the cafe Joe entered and smiled at Mam. “They’re coming.”

  “Who are?”

  “Doctor’s patients, Mam. I … I promised free refreshments, as it’s our first day.”

  “What? Oh, Joe!” Mam covered her face with her hands.

  “Incentive, Mrs Davis,” said Combi. “It was my idea.”

  The doctor’s patients entered and shouted out their orders. Joe went behind the counter. He filled the coffee filter, connected it to the espresso machine and pulled the handle down.

  “Oh, what’s that lovely smell?” a customer asked.

  “Coffee,” said Joe. “Real Italian coffee.”

  He heard the customers breathe in. “I’ll have one!” someone said.

  “Me too.”

  “Fab-issimo!” said Joe as he handed Combi a Coke in the midst of the chaos.

  Joe was buzzing, though the coffee he’d had certainly added to his excitement. He used lots of hand gestures as he explained his doctor’s patients idea to Nonno at the hospital.

  “The cafe was full!” he said. “Like the waiting room.”

  Nonno chuckled. “Now, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

  Joe was pleased to see him laugh. “I heard the tape last night, Nonno, about the sinking of the Arandora Star. It was terrible, and it made me feel ashamed they did that to Italians who’d done no harm.”

  Nonno’s smile was gone. “It’s not the whole story,” he said. “There’s more to come.”

  “The cafe had to go on as normal. People were talking to us again, and gradually our customers came back. Zia walked around like a ghost. I suppose she’d accepted that Mario had drowned, because too much time had passed. It was horrible. I felt guilty that I was happy Papà was alive somewhere.

  One day the army officer came in with PC Williams. They asked if we’d heard from Papà. Mamma grasped my hand under the counter, as a warning to keep calm. ‘No, we haven’t,’ I said.

  The officer told us that it was illegal to harbour an enemy alien. He glanced up at the ceiling. ‘Mind if I take a look around upstairs?’

  ‘Yes, I do mind,’ I said. ‘He’s not here.’

  He nodded at me, then went straight up the stairs anyway.

  ‘Sorry,’ said PC Williams.

  ‘So you keep saying,’ I said.

  Of course, the army officer found no one, so he and PC Williams left.

  It was like I was fighting my own war…”

  Joe paused the tape. “Fantastic, isn’t he?” he said to Mimi.

  “Yes,” she said. The desk light was reflected in her eyes, and Joe thought it made her look like a beautiful diva in an opera.

  “A few weeks later a group of miners came in, straight off the shift and black from head to toe. Dai Gwynn asked if they could use the back room for a meeting. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring you some tea.’

  As they went in the back I felt proud, because they were speaking to me like I was the boss, while Papà was away. Mamma was upstairs, and I made up a big pot of tea. We’d baked bread earlier, so I toasted some slices and took it through to them. They were short of men in those days, due to the call-up for the war, so it was extra-tough times for them.

  When I went back into the cafe Johnny Corbett came in with his pals.

  ‘They caught your dad yet?’ he asked with a grin.

  When you face a challenge in life you either become stronger or you fade to dust, and I could see that Johnny thought he still had power over me. So maybe it was Dai and the miners treating me like I was the boss that gave me confidence, but I glared at Johnny and said, ‘You’re not welcome in here, or your pals, so you can get out.’

  Johnny smirked. ‘And who’s going to make me?’

  I clenched my fists and marched round the counter. It was like I had the strength of a gladiator as I walked up and grabbed him.

  We were locked in a wrestle. I remember feeling my back crash into the counter and then against tables. It was strange, but in the middle of the struggle all I thought about was what the British government had done to the Italians and to Papà. I hated them and I hated Johnny.

  I could feel the others boys grabbing at me, but I had an arm around Johnny’s neck. With all my weight I brought his head down on a table and I heard him squeal.

  The next moment the miners were pulling me off. I was out of breath as I stood looking down at Johnny on the ground, his nose bleeding.

  Mamma rushed in. ‘Beppe. What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about, Mamma,’ I said. ‘I told Johnny he’s not welcome in my cafe.’ I glared at the other three boys. ‘And neither are you, you or you.’ I pointed to each one as if I was cursing them. ‘Now, get him out and don’t come back.’

  They took Johnny away, and I went back behind the counter. ‘Anything more I can do for you gentlemen?’ I asked the miners, like nothing had happened.

  ‘No, thanks, Beppe,’ said Dai. ‘But if you have any more bother, just let us know.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Gwynn.’

  ‘We left you something in the back for your trouble,’ he said as they went.

  As soon as they’d gone, Mamma started having a go at me for what I did to Johnny, and we began arguing.

  When we went into the back room we saw one of the miners was still sitting there, drinking tea. Me and Mamma stopped dead. The miner’s face was all covered in coal dust, but even so, we knew – it was Papà. He was back.”

  Joe and M
imi sat in silence for a few seconds.

  “Nonno’s dad smuggled back into the cafe by the miners, and under the nose of the police and the army,” said Joe. “Brilliant!”

  “Yes,” said Mimi, then she took his hand and gazed into his eyes. “This cafe is important, Joe.”

  Heat ran up his arm. “I know.”

  “Don’t give up.”

  “I won’t.”

  Joe’s hand was getting hot. “What d’you want, Mimi?” he asked. “I mean … what do you want to do in the future, like?”

  “I want to have a restaurant one day, and cook for people,” she said. “Is fantastic thing to do.”

  “Yes,” said Joe, even though he’d only done it once.

  “Food bring people together,” said Mimi. “Is no like when people watch football or go to church… Food bring together family and friends to eat, and talk. And when you cook for people it show that you love them. Good food give enjoyment and make people happy. Is very special… Food is life.”

  Joe was awe-struck. “Yeah,” he said. A peculiar feeling came over him, as if his great-grandfather, Vito, was listening. “You could cook here, Mimi,” he said. “Like Mr Malewski’s going to do, but you could cook for everyone.”

  She smiled. “Yes, Joe.”

  “Your first restaurant,” he said.

  She laughed and stroked his face.

  “You’d be helping us, Mimi,” said Joe. “With my plan.”

  “What plan?”

  Joe was worried Mam was going to blow her top as she stood in the kitchen, looking at him and Mimi. “You can’t expect us to buy in food and cook lunches on the off-chance we can get the customers.”

  “Nonno said he’d cover the cost of the food,” said Joe. “He wants us to give it a go, Mam, and now we’ve got more customers, haven’t we?”

  “Captives, more like,” said Mam. “I warn you, Joe, I’ll check this with Nonno.”

  “We can cook good food,” said Mimi. “Healthy, tasty and clean.”

  Joe turned to Dad. “You like Mimi’s food, don’t you?”

  Dad glanced at Mam just as the doorbell rang. “That’ll be Gwen, for dinner,” he said. “Let’s have a nice family meal, yeah?”

  Joe opened the back door. “Hi, Gwen.”

  Gwen had done her hair and put on make-up. “Not usually out this late,” she said.

  Mam greeted her warmly as she entered.

  “My contribution for the meal,” Gwen said as she handed over a bottle of wine. “Ooh, something smells lovely.”

  Mimi nodded and smiled. “Pasta al pesto.”

  “It’s freshly made pesto sauce,” said Joe. “Quite simple, really – chopped basil, oil and pine nuts with Parmesan and Pecorino cheeses.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Who can that be?” asked Mam.

  “Probably Vaughan,” said Joe.

  “Vaughan!”

  “Yes, Mam,” he said. “Didn’t I mention that I’d invited him as well?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Vaughan entered holding a bunch of flowers and carrying a canvas bag. His hair was gelled into a quiff. He was wearing a suit, with a shirt and tie. He greeted everyone and handed the flowers to Mimi. “For you,” he said.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Vaughan held up the bag. “And the last of my Brussels,” he said, handing them to Mam.

  “Flattered,” she said.

  As the food was served Joe put on an opera CD.

  “Buon appetito,” said Mimi.

  They began to eat.

  “Oh, this is gorgeous,” said Gwen.

  “It’s like music in my mouth,” said Vaughan.

  Mimi laughed.

  After Joe tried some, he said, “Bit more pepper, I think.”

  Mimi glanced at him.

  “What’s the music?” asked Gwen.

  “Yeah, it’s a bit heavy, Joe,” said Mam.

  “It’s Puccini’s Tosca,” said Joe. “And this is Scarpia singing – he’s well nasty.”

  “Who’s he?” asked Vaughan.

  “The villain,” said Joe. “See, unless Scarpia gets his way with Tosca he says he’ll have her boyfriend shot by firing squad.”

  “Oh dear,” said Gwen.

  Joe nodded. “Then he promises to use blank bullets, see, and Tosca believes him.” The crescendo of chorus and orchestra was building. “But you find out it was all lies, and her boyfriend’s shot with real bullets after all!”

  Joe stood up, his eyes wide. “Then Tosca sees him, dead and riddled with bullet holes. She runs to the top of the castle. ‘Scarpia!’ she sings. ‘I’ll see you before God!’ And she jumps. Splat! The end.” He shut his eyes as the music thundered to a close.

  When Joe looked they were all gazing at him in silence. Vaughan’s mouth was hanging open.

  “Joe, you been on the coffee again?” asked Mam.

  “No.”

  “Sounds good,” said Vaughan. “Wonder if they made a film of it?”

  “Well, I’m getting indigestion,” said Mam. “Put on some Mantovani?”

  Joe and Dad cleared the plates, and dessert was brought to the table in tall glass cups. “Zabaglione,” said Mimi. “Beaten egg with Marsala wine.”

  “Oh, my word,” said Gwen as she tried it. “I can honestly say, now, I haven’t tasted something so lovely in… Well, I haven’t – simple as.”

  Joe was stunned by the taste. It was sweet and creamy, with a warm-tasting liquor.

  Vaughan cleared his throat. “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Joe noticed he was staring at Mimi. “And this food … is like an express train to my heart.”

  “D’you mean it’s clogging up your arteries?” asked Dad.

  “No. No, I mean… Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

  Joe watched them eating the lovely food and realised more than ever that he wanted to cook.

  “Well, I just want to say how kind it was of you to invite me,” said Gwen. “Touched, I am.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Vaughan.

  “Especially to you, Lucia,” said Gwen.

  Mam seemed surprised. “Me?”

  “Yes,” said Gwen. “Ever since my husband died, and with my daughter all the way across the world in Australia, the cafe is the one place I really feel welcome. And I know times are hard for this family, and this cafe…” She raised her glass. “But I want to wish you all the good fortune in the world.”

  Mam glanced at Joe as they all touched glasses.

  Joe walked to the bus stop with Gwen and Vaughan.

  “Did either of you know Lou Zecchini?” Joe asked.

  “I did,” said Gwen. “He’s dead now. His daughter lives in Llanelli, I think. Why?”

  “Oh, just an idea I had. There’s the bus.”

  As the bus approached, Joe said, “So are you two up for tomorrow then?”

  “Are you sure?” said Vaughan.

  “You’ll be doing us a favour, honest,” said Joe. “Just come after twelve thirty, order a lunch and eat in the cafe. That’s all you have to do.”

  “And it’s free?” said Gwen.

  “Yes, just for you two,” said Joe. “Secret though.”

  “Exciting,” said Gwen.

  They saw her safely on the bus and watched it depart.

  “Well, thanks again, Joe,” said Vaughan. “I don’t mind paying for the lunch.”

  “No,” he replied. “I insist.”

  “Well, I don’t get it, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Vaughan turned to go, then hesitated. “Don’t mind me asking you, Joe, but is Mimi seeing someone?”

  “No, she isn’t, but…”

  “Yeah?”

  Joe pulled the corners of his mouth down to try and make himself more serious. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way…” he said, realising his voice came out rather deep.

  “No, go ahead,” said Vaughan. “Man to man.”

  “Well, as she’s my cousin,” said J
oe, still with his deep voice. “I gotta look out for her, see … and the thing is…”

  “I’ve no prospects to offer her,” said Vaughan. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Well…”

  Vaughan sighed. “No, you’re right… Nearly thirty, no job, and all I’ve got to my name is a rack of DVDs and an allotment.”

  “And you live with your mam,” Joe added, and immediately felt bad when he saw Vaughan’s reaction.

  “You didn’t mention that to Mimi, did you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  Joe placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mimi was saying she was impressed with your allotment though.”

  “Did she?”

  “Yeah.”

  Vaughan brightened up. “D’you think she’d like me to bring her some parsnips?”

  “Yeah, I think she would,” said Joe.

  Vaughan looked up at the sky. “Check out the moon, Joe. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “Night, Joe.”

  “Night, Vaughan.”

  Joe watched him go and then gazed at the High Street in the moonlight.

  A beautiful street, he thought. With a beautiful cafe.

  A tingle ran up Joe’s spine when he saw that people were waiting on the pavement outside the cafe.

  “Well, this is a first,” said Mam as she opened up.

  They came in, and while Mam took the orders Joe asked the names of those waiting for the doctor. Then he phoned through to the surgery.

  “Morning, Mrs Moore,” he said. “I’ve got patients here waiting to be called through – there’s Mr James, Mrs Patel, Mrs Petrovich with her boy, Ivan…” Joe dropped his voice to a whisper. “I got to warn you his face is swelled up like a beach ball… Then there’s Mr Lewis, Mrs Evora and Mr Conway. That’s all so far.”

  “Thank you, Joe. The waiting room is empty here – lovely,” she said. “Only a few repeat prescriptions to do.”

  Mr James raised his hand. “We’re not obliged to purchase anything, are we?”

  “No. Not at all, Mr James,” said Joe.

  “Told you,” muttered Mam. “The last of the big spenders.”

  “Can I have a tea, please,” said Mrs Evora.