by G. R. Gemin
‘But it’s for the winter, Papà,’ I told him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘People need it now.’
Then we heard Mamma. ‘Vito! Beppe!’
When we went downstairs, Dai Gwynn the miner was standing in the back kitchen. ‘You need to go, Vito. Someone tipped off the army and they’re on their way with the police. Go to my house,’ he said. ‘You can hide there. My wife will be expecting you.’
Papà and Mamma thanked him, but I was furious.
‘Who tipped off the army?’
‘We don’t know, Beppe.’
‘I bet it was PC Williams.’
‘It certainly wasn’t him,’ said Dai.
‘How d’you know?’
‘Because it was PC Williams who tipped me off to get Vito out.’
I was ashamed of jumping to conclusions. Shortly after Papà left, the army officer arrived with PC Williams to search the place. ‘Sorry about this, Beppe,’ he said.
‘It’s a disgrace,’ I shouted as the soldiers stomped about upstairs. Then I whispered to him, ‘Thank you.’
What a man, and what a risk he took… There’s not much more to tell now, Joe…”
An idea began to form in Joe’s mind; he couldn’t sleep, so he went downstairs.
He sat in a booth in the darkened cafe. The High Street was empty, and it seemed like a ghost town.
He watched a couple walking across the street. Joe imagined the cafe open and welcoming them inside for a hot drink. They would sit and declare their love.
He smiled to himself as he saw the couple embrace passionately, and he wondered what it was like to be kissed that way.
The lights of the cafe snapped on. “You still in here?” said Dad.
Joe saw the couple pull apart, and in the light he saw it was Mimi and Dariusz. He felt as if his heart had cracked open.
Gwen was surprised to see Joe at her house so early the next day. She looked over the list he’d given her.
“Oh, I remember Dai Gwynn,” she said. “If that’s the same Dai.”
“Maybe the library could help?” said Joe.
“Yes. Be a project for me,” she said. “I’ll ask around too. Lilly Matthews will know some of these, I’ll bet.”
“Thanks, Gwen,” said Joe, then a thought came to him. “Oh, did you ever know a Johnny Corbett?”
“I did. He was the father of Natalie. You know, your mam’s friend – the mam of that pal of yours who’s always stuffing his face.”
Joe’s stomach turned, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “Combi?”
“That’s right,” said Gwen. “What’s the matter, Joe? You’ve gone pale.”
“Nothing.”
Outside in the street Joe breathed in deeply. His best friend, Combi – the grandson of a bully; a bully who’d picked on Nonno at such a difficult time. He didn’t know what to do – suddenly everything was going wrong.
When Joe got back to the cafe he saw that it was busy with customers eating food. Mam was behind the counter. Joe thought she was looking really sad. “’Lo, Mam,” he said. “Sorry about last night.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “Listen, Joe, I wanted you to be the first to know… I’ve decided to accept Mr Malewski’s offer.”
Joe nodded and gazed around at the customers enjoying their lunches. Vaughan grinned at him as he twirled spaghetti on a fork. “Buonissimo.”
“Sorry,” said Mam.
Joe could feel that he might cry if he stayed. “It’s OK.” He decided he couldn’t tell Mam his idea right at that moment.
“Oh, and Nonno’s coming home,” she said.
“When?”
“Few days’ time.”
“Mam, don’t tell him about selling. Not yet.”
“It won’t be a surprise to him, Joe.”
“Maybe, but just not for now.”
“OK.”
Joe watched Nonno slowly eat the pasta. He wanted to tell him he’d found out that Johnny Corbett’s descendant was his best friend, but it was not a nice discovery, especially added to the news that Mam had accepted Mr Malewski’s offer, not to mention that Dariusz was Mimi’s boyfriend.
“Mam told me you’re coming home,” he said.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
“You listened to the tape, Joe?”
“Yes, and I wanted to hear all about what happened afterwards.”
Nonno wiped his mouth. “OK.”
“Hang on,” said Joe. “I want to tape it.”
Joe was wrapped up in his thoughts as he walked along listening to his iPod.
An earplug was suddenly yanked out. “Listening to opera again?” asked Combi.
Joe glared at him and snatched the earplug back.
“How’s my Mimi,” Combi asked.
“She’s not your Mimi.”
“’S’up with you?”
“What’s up with me is that I know who your granddad was.”
“So?”
“Johnny Corbett was nasty.”
“I never met him.”
This threw Joe for a moment. “Well, he was a bully.”
“How d’you know?”
“I know. I’ve heard it all,” said Joe. “Nonno was fighting to keep the cafe going and your granddad was just a thug, making his life miserable.”
“What’s it got to do with me?” said Combi.
“What’s it got to do with you?” Joe glared at him. “Go ’way, Combi, and don’t come in the cafe ever again.”
He turned and walked away, but the shock and hurt in Combi’s eyes stayed with him.
When Joe got back to the cafe he went up to Nonno’s room and put on some opera to take his mind off Combi. There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Mimi entered and Joe’s heart pounded. He stopped the music and pointed at the tapes. “There’s more of the story from Nonno.”
She came over and sat beside him. “You OK, Joe? I no see you during lunch.”
“I was busy… I’ve had this idea.”
“You and your crazy ideas.” Mimi smiled at him and took his hand. “Is time for me to leave, Joe.”
“No. Don’t go,” he said.
“I think is better – for everyone.”
“Mam’s sold the cafe. To Mr Malewski.”
“I know,” said Mimi. “You see, Joe, I come because Nonno ask me, but I come to ’elp myself too – I can no find work in Italy so I come here.”
“But that’s OK,” said Joe. “That’s only what Nonno’s dad did.”
“Yes, but today a friend call me to say there is a job, in London. In a kitchen. Your mamma sell the cafe so I take the job and go.”
Joe couldn’t forget the sight of Mimi kissing Mr Malewski’s son. “But … but what about Dariusz?”
“Dariusz?”
“Don’t you love him?”
Mimi laughed. “Oh, Joe, Joe. Was only a kiss – I think you say a snog?”
Some snog, thought Joe.
“I like him, sure,” said Mimi. “He’s hard working … and I like the stew he cook, but I need to get a job now – I need to work.”
Joe glanced out of the window and saw the moon, big and full; its light caught Mimi’s hair and he remembered that the tenor in La Bohème first sees Mimi in moonlight, when her candle was blown out.
“Did you really like the pasta I cooked the other night?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Mimi. She smiled and touched his face. Her hand was cool and soft. “You know, Joe, one day you will make someone very ’appy.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Joe thought he heard music, like the end of a tragic opera, but realised the CD player wasn’t on.
Once he was alone he listened to the last act of La Bohème. It began full of joy, with the four students play-fighting, but then Mimi arrived. She was very ill. Rodolfo, who loved her, thought she just needed to rest and she’d be better, but his friends knew she was already dying.
Nonno ate the food Joe had brought him while they sat in the hospital ward lounge.
“You’re looking loads better, Nonno.”
“It’s the food, Joe,” he said. “So important, good food.” He wiped his mouth and took a drink of water. “Your mam said that Combi’s mam spoke to her about you and him falling out – what’s that all about?”
Joe had a sinking feeling about what Nonno would say. “Not speaking to him.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll never guess,” said Joe. “I found out he’s Johnny Corbett’s grandson.”
“I know, and so?”
“You knew? Well, there’s bad blood between us now, and I told him so.”
Joe saw something in Nonno’s eyes he’d never seen before – Nonno was angry, and he was angry at him. “What does it have to do with Combi, or his mother?”
“But he bullied you, Nonno. He tipped over your cart. He was going to beat you up if Gwen’s mam hadn’t shown up that time. And I reckon it was him who smashed the cafe window.”
“I told you the history of the cafe, Joe – my life. I told you about Johnny Corbett because he was part of my life back then. You think I’ve never behaved badly? Of course I have. I’ve done things I’ve regretted…”
Joe tried to speak, but Nonno raised a hand.
“I tell you something about Johnny Corbett that’s not on those tapes, Joe. He joined the army, and he fought in the Korean war and in the troubles in Northern Ireland. One day he came into the cafe to say goodbye to me, as he was on a tour of duty. ‘We’ve never spoken about this,’ he said to me, ‘but I’m ashamed of the way I treated you in the war.’ I said the past was the past. We shook hands and I told him to stay safe.”
Nonno took a deep breath. “A few months later he was killed in action, and his wife was pregnant with Combi’s mam. You did wrong, Joe. I’m disappointed.”
Joe tried to speak but his voice was a whisper. “Sorry, Nonno.”
“Put it right, and quickly.”
It was raining when Joe knocked on Combi’s door. His mother, Natalie, opened up. “Oh, it’s you. Come to slag off someone else in my family, have you?”
“No, Mrs Morris. I need to see Combi.”
“I’m not sure he’s interested, Joe,” said Natalie. “He was very upset. He’s just been zapping zombies since, and the most worrying thing – he’s lost his appetite.”
“Please,” said Joe.
“I’ll see if he’ll come down.”
She went upstairs, and Joe waited nervously. He wanted things back to how they were, but when he saw her come down the stairs he knew they wouldn’t be.
“Sorry, Joe,” she said. “He doesn’t want to see you.”
When Joe got to the High Street he stood opposite the closed cafe. It was dark. He tried to imagine it as a Polish restaurant.
“Why d’you look so sad, Joe?” asked Marta, coming out of Malewski’s shop.
“Your dad’s lucky,” he said.
Marta pushed out her lower lip. “Sorry.” She held up a vacuum-packed sausage. “You want to try this one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Please, Joe,” she said. “You try it. If you like it then more people will like our products and the more we sell… Good business, see.”
Joe took the sausage just as the lights went out in the shop.
“Oh, what’s happened?” said Marta. “Too early to close.” She went inside, but Joe noticed all the shops had gone dark. It was eerie, as if the whole town had died.
Marta came out. “Power cut,” she said. “Bad for business.”
Joe walked round the corner, down the alley and into the backyard of the cafe. He entered the darkened kitchen. It was quiet, and his sense of unease increased. Perhaps Mimi had already gone. He heard heavy footsteps above, and then Mam charged down the stairs with her coat half hanging off.
“Mam?”
She looked wild. “It’s your dad.” She ran past him to the back door. “He’s been hurt.”
Joe gazed down at Dad in the hospital bed hooked up to a monitor. He thought it was ironic that his dad had worked with wires and cables all his life, but now it seemed like the machine was running off him.
“Lennie,” said Mam.
Dad opened his eyes and smiled meekly. “Now I know how it feels to get electrocuted,” he said. “Professionally embarrassed, I am.”
“But you’re alive,” said Mam, “and that’s all that matters.”
“I was thinking,” said Dad. “What with Nonno in here, and now me, if any more members of our family end up in this hospital people will start talking. So you two be careful, for God’s sake.”
Joe and Mam started crying.
“Don’t go all Italian on me,” said Dad, making them cry all the more.
Joe stayed with him while Mam went to tell Nonno and discuss with the nurses what her father would need for his return home.
“I been thinking a lot,” said Dad.
“’Bout what?”
“You’ve got your granddad’s spirit, Joe,” he said. “I admire it, like I admired Beppe when I first knew him. And I’ll tell you something … something I’ve never told your mam – when the cafe started getting into trouble because it wasn’t making money, part of me was glad.”
“Glad?”
“Aye, because I had something to offer, see. I was needed – not that your mam or Beppe ever made me feel unwanted. I suppose it’s a bloke thing, from my generation. I had to have purpose. When I sat at the table, back in the early days, I didn’t feel like I was contributing. So when customers stayed away and the money in the till got less and less, I felt I was of use.”
“That’s all I’m trying to do, Dad.”
“I know, Joe. Just go easy on your mam.”
“I think I’ll be glad when it’s all over now, Dad, and the cafe’s sold off.”
“You tried, Joe. No one can criticise you for trying.”
Joe suddenly felt deeply tired and hungry.
As Joe and Mam reached the High Street the lights came back on, as if it had come back to life.
“You hungry, Mam?” Joe asked as they entered the kitchen.
“No, thanks,” she said. “I’m going upstairs for a rest.”
Joe opened the fridge and saw the sausage Marta had given him. He took it out and cut himself a slice. It was smoky and spicy. He liked it, and remembered what she’d said about the more people who liked Polish and other Eastern European products the better for business. “Like Italian food,” he said to himself.
After he’d eaten his tea he listened to some opera. He chose Nonno’s favourite chorus by Verdi. The music had a strange effect on Joe – as if he was transported to another time and place. The people that were singing seemed sad but determined, and somehow it made him feel more proud of Nonno than ever before. Later, he went upstairs to hear the rest of Nonno’s last tape, but when he entered his room he found Mam sitting at the tape recorder. She turned. Her eyes were full of tears. “Mam. What’s the matter?”
“I listened to them, Joe. The tapes.”
“They’re great, aren’t they?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Oh, of course they are,” she said. “I knew the story, but listening to Nonno’s voice on those tapes really got to me. I suppose I tried to put it out of my mind, all these years.”
Joe sat beside her. “Why?”
“It reminded me of the significance of this house, which made it harder for me to sell – I couldn’t erase the past, I wouldn’t want to, but I felt I owed it to my dad, my mam and my granddad to keep the place going because of what they went through.”
Fresh tears came to her eyes.
“But you did run the cafe, Mam,” said Joe.
“Aye, and look what happened – it dies a death.”
“But you weren’t to blame, Mam. Nonno said so hi
mself – people stay at home these days, and the recession and everything.”
She shook her head. “Nonno’s coming home tomorrow. He’s still very ill. Your dad almost died and he can’t go back to work – who knows when he’ll be able to. It’s all on me now.”
“And me,” said Joe. “We’ll be fine, Mam, and we’re going to sell it, remember. All we can do is carry on, like Nonno and his mam did back then. We carry on until the end, except…”
“Except what?”
“Well … I got this idea, Mam.”
She closed her eyes momentarily. “Come on then. Let’s have it.”
“Not in here, Mam.”
He took her downstairs and into the cafe.
“Why have we come in here?” she asked.
Joe thought it was the best place to tell her, so he made them both a hot drink and they sat in a booth.
While Joe explained his idea he braced himself for her to say no. She didn’t look annoyed, though she didn’t seem pleased either. “This would be for Nonno,” he said. “Not for us, or the cafe, but for Nonno. Then it’ll be sold and over with. We’ll go out with a bang.”
Mam stared into the High Street. Joe followed her gaze, but all he saw were the raindrops scurrying down the window. “I know Nonno paid for Mimi to come over,” she said. “That told me he wanted to give it one last try, so we will.”
“The thing is, Mam,” said Joe. “We’ll need Mimi to help.”
“I know.”
“But she’s just got a job in London.”
“I’ll see if she’s willing to stay a little longer, to help with this,” said Mam. “She’s helped us already, I’m not blind to that. I objected to her being here at first. She’s so confident – I don’t just mean with cooking; it’s like she’s unstoppable. When I was her age I just bungled along – I was clueless, but she’s amazing. She was right about the breakfasts and the coffee. I argued back only because I felt threatened. Silly, really. I even felt threatened by Mr Malewski – me, the granddaughter of an immigrant – when all he’s doing is earning a living for his family, just like my granddad did.”
