The Sicilian Woman's Daughter

by Linda Lo Scuro

  We meet at the pub. Susi comes in and finds me. She takes her jacket off and puts it over the back of a chair. I go to the bar and come back with two lagers and two packets of crisps.

  “You’re looking good,” she says to me.

  “Am I? I didn’t put much effort into doing myself up.”

  “You don’t have to,” she says.

  “Well, look at yourself. You’re always tip-top.”

  “I try,” she says.

  “I went round your mum’s yesterday. She’s been through a harrowing time.”

  “Why’s that? She didn’t say anything to me.”

  “She wouldn’t, would she? She’s trying to protect you.”

  “From what?”

  “Your cousins Bella and Rosa have been blackmailing her for God knows how long.”

  “Oh, those two. They’re weird. They won’t get far.”

  “I know. They’re strange. They don’t talk much, but when they do it’s poison,” I say. “When you were kids, did they know about what their brother was doing to you?”

  “No, I haven’t told anyone, except you. I don’t think he’d have told them.”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t much help.”

  “You had your own problems,” she says.

  “And so did you have other problems. Big time, huge ones. Your mum told me about your dad’s death.”

  Susi blushes. I have visions of little sweet fat-faced Susi sitting at the dining table being belted.

  “Look, Susi,” I say. “I completely sympathise with you. You were a kid. You’d been through so much and so had your mum. Don’t worry. No one’ll find out.”

  Tears well up in her eyes. “My dad has haunted me all my life. Whatever I do, wherever I go, I take this round with me.”

  “I know what you mean. My mother’s been the backdrop of my life. It’s like I’m living my life out on a stage and what she did to me is there, engraved behind me. All this forgive and forget crap doesn’t work. At least it doesn’t work for me. I’m still angry. If you haven’t forgotten, then you haven’t forgiven.”

  “What exactly did mum tell you?”

  “Everything, I believe. She told me about how you and she fought against your dad, how he was buried in your house by Old Cushi’s men, and how someone else was buried in your dad’s place in Sicily. Is there anything else to know?”

  “Not really. That’s about it.”

  “I’ve been asking myself who’s buried in your dad’s place in Sicily. Your mum didn’t tell me that. Do you know?”

  “I heard talk about it.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “He was an illegal immigrant.”

  “Oh, no. Poor man.”

  This just got worse and worse. I put my head in my hands.

  “Was he simply picked on because it was easy to hide his disappearance?” I ask.

  “There’s that as well, I guess. The main reason was he was taking advantage of a young mentally disturbed girl in The Village. She got pregnant. Her mother organised an abortion for her.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “So they decided he had to pay for that. He had to be killed.”

  “They were waiting for the right moment to dispose of him, weren’t they? And it presented itself when your dad died?”

  “Yeah, that’s more or less it, Mary. They spread the word around that he’d gone back to his country. Old Cushi was powerful both over here and over there. Now his son’s taken that role over. ‘Young Cushi’ mum calls him although he’s just a bit younger than us.”

  “Well, if he’s under sixty that would seem young to your mum. Like a thirty-year-old looks young to me,” I say. “Would Young Cushi know all about your dad’s disappearance?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he does,” Susi says. “He worked with his dad, Old Cushi, for years. Must’ve known.”

  “Keep the business in the family, eh?” I say.

  “Were Bella and Rosa blackmailing my mum about my dad’s death?”

  “Yes, they said they’d heard their mum, your aunt Carmela, say that your mum had killed their Uncle Tony. They were trying to get your mum to sell her house and give them the money.”

  “Oh, God. She’d rather die than sell that house. That was never going to work though, was it?” Susi says.

  “I don’t know but they are pressing heavily on your mum to do just that. They want to get ‘your dad’s body’ exhumed to prove your mother killed him. That would have all sorts of knock-on effects. If they find out it isn’t your dad in that grave, then they will try to discover where he is actually buried. A big bloody mess would follow.”

  “Mum didn’t say anything about this blackmailing,” Susi repeats.

  “She doesn’t want to upset you.”

  “I know. Sad, isn’t it?” Susi says.

  “It sure is. We’re catapulted into this community, and through no fault of our own, we take the consequences. We try to figure out how to confront the dark side of life from childhood and through our teens when we don’t have the instruments to deal with it. And when you’re an adult, it leaves you with a painful black hole inside; and you’re forever trying not to go to that dark centre, moving around the perimeters and trying not to get swallowed up by it.”

  “You’re sure good at philosophising. Must’ve been all those books you’ve read,” Susi says.

  “I’m not sure whether that was a compliment or not. Whatever. I know my mind’s hyperactive and a bit abnormal.”

  “You said it.”

  We laugh.

  Then Susi goes serious again:

  “What happened in the end? Have they given up on getting the body dug up?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure they have.”

  “Don’t be too sure of it. Bella and Rosa are both false and stupid.”

  “A bomb of a mixture,” I say, “and bombs explode. It seems to me that those two have a way of getting themselves into things they can’t handle. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”

  “Yeah, OK, don’t start off again,” Susi says, and smiles.

  “So are you still planning on coming to Sicily, even though you’re busy now?” I ask.

  “Yeah, why not? Some sunshine’ll do me good. I think if I have a break, I’ll be readier to work harder when I get back.”

  “Another thing, Susi. I know you’re busy – maybe you could find just a little time to go and see your mum. The other day when I was there, I felt she was lonely.”

  “I keep meaning to but things gets in the way. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And, a huge tin of lemon cupcakes are sitting in her kitchen in need of being eaten up.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Tuesday 12th September

  Zia phones me. Something she hardly ever does. Moreover, it is morning. Whatever it is she wants, it has to be serious. She is in a panic. “Maria you come my house quick.”

  Susi is there when I arrive. “What is it? You two look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” I say.

  “It’s Bella and Rosa. Bella phoned mum this morning to say goodbye. They’re flying to Palermo on Thursday morning as planned. We only have today and tomorrow to decide what to do. I mean, even if they dig the immigrant’s body up, after all these years, there’s not going to be much left of him to analyse, is there?” Susi says.

  “Believe me. There’ll be more than enough,” I say.

  Zia has created an altar for Uncle Tony exactly as she said she would, on a little table next to the phone. His photo is in the middle, and around it are two candles, the Virgin Mary statue, and the plastic flowers. The pantry door isn’t locked. In fact, it is ajar. Small consolation now we have this news.

  “We can’t stop them going,” Susi says.

  “That’s right. We can’t,” I say, “but we can stop them arriving. They need to disappear shortly after they arrive at Palermo airport.

  “What we do? We send picciotti?” Zia asks.”

  “Yes, it’s the only way,” I say.
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  “Are we going to have them killed?” Susi asks.

  “I’m afraid it’s the only way,” I say. “Can you think of any other way to solve this?”

  “We could give them some money, maybe a deposit,” Susi says.

  “No, that would be like admitting the crime. They’d come back for more and more money,” I say.

  “Young Cushi send picciotti,” Zia says.

  “Yes, Young Cushi has to send picciotti to Palermo to meet them. I’ve got it! Taxi driver. Yes, they meet the sisters, or stop them on the way. They do the deed and take them to some construction works.”

  Zia agrees that would be good.

  “Why don’t we let them go and see what happens?” Susi says.

  “No, we no see what happen. We make happen what we want,” Zia says.

  “You can’t do that,” I say to Susi. “And do you realise how far-reaching the consequences could be for you two? They’ve got to be stopped. Well, we can hardly invite them over tomorrow and kill them here, can we?”

  Zia and Susi look at each other.

  “One moment, I have poison in pantry. I make jam tart, I put poison in tart.”

  “Why do you keep poison?” I ask.

  “For rat.”

  “No, Zia,” I say. “You can’t poison two people in one go. We’d soon get found out. It’s not like causing diarrhoea.”

  “We give diarrhoea, they no go.”

  “They’ll only put it off. They’ll still be a threat,” I say. “No, it’s got to be picciotti waiting for them when they arrive.”

  “Picciotti taxi-driver. We organise,” Zia says.

  “They were warned,” I say.

  “I tell silly bagascie many time.”

  “It’s their choice,” I say.

  “I telephone Peppina,” Zia says.

  “You need to tell her what they look like and what flight they’re on,” I say.

  “You silly girl,” Zia says. “Name enough. Young Cushi have men in airport. They see name on passport.”

  Zia dials the number on an old Nokia mobile. She says it’s an Italian mobile. The conversation with Peppina took place in Sicilian along the lines of:

  “I have depression. I’ve been having problems like those I had when I was forty. It’s come back again. Old Cushi treated it for me. Now I need some more treatment. Maybe I’ve been depressed because I’ve been thinking about when my poor husband died on his way to The Village,” she emphasised the last phrase. And then: “There are two packages arriving this Thursday morning by plane in the capital. Can you ask Young Cushi to send someone to pick them up? I’ll call again when I feel a bit better.”

  Zia finished the phone call and whipped out another mobile. This time she dialled another number in Sicily – it belongs to Peppina’s neighbour, Zia says. “Hello. I’m your neighbour’s sister. Remember me?”

  What Zia meant here was you know who I am without telling you. Zia, Peppina, and my mother grew up with this neighbour.

  “Can you tell my sister that these two women are coming to Sicilia, please?” Zia gives this woman names, ages, and a brief description of the two to give to Peppina.

  Zia waited about thirty minutes and, with the same phone she used to call the neighbour, she calls Peppina again. After some small talk, Zia tells Peppina she’s been attacked by two vicious female dogs, and that she’d like to get them put down but she needs some help. When she finishes the call Zia says she’ll throw the mobiles in the Thames. “I no like use phone. But this emergency.”

  “I was sure they wouldn’t go,” I say. “It’s like teaching really. All that time and effort in explaining concepts to pupils, you think they’ve understood, then you give them an exercise, and they get it all wrong.”

  “I don’t know how you could have taught all those years,” Susi says. “I couldn’t do it. Those sisters are plain thick.”

  “Well, I agree with all that,” I say. “But, after all, it’s their choice.”

  “Ah, I finish you bed sock,” Zia says.

  “Yes, I saw them on your dressing table the day the two sisters came here. You were working on the cord,” I say.

  “You wait moment before you go. I go get,” she goes upstairs to get them and is soon back. I take these symbols of lemons and the hot Sicilian sun home with me.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Tuesday 19th September

  It’s now a week since I went to Zia’s last time, when Susi phones me in a panic. Bella and Rosa left for Sicily five days ago. I have been wondering when I would hear about them again. I decided I wasn’t going to inquire.

  “Mary, you must go to my mum’s house tomorrow!”

  “Calm down, Susi. Just take a deep breath then tell me what’s happened.”

  I knew Zia had inculcated Susi with fear of talking over the phone, so she wasn’t going to tell me everything she knew.

  “All I can say is that you must go to my mum’s tomorrow afternoon,” she repeats.

  “Look, sorry, but I can’t just go running round at your mum’s beck and call. I’ve got my own life to live.”

  “Mary, Adriano’s going to my mum’s tomorrow afternoon. You know, his parents are both dead and he sees my mum as a mother figure.”

  Don’t we all. Zia is a mother figure for umpteen people, and counting.

  “She doesn’t want to meet him on her own,” Susi says. “She’s scared of him. He’s hot-headed, though he’s always been good to my mum. He goes off into a fury if you say something he doesn’t like. I can’t go, what with all he did to me when I was a girl. I never ever want to set eyes on him again.”

  I sigh. “Yes, I understand your position. I’d react in the same way, if I were you. I’ll go. Do you know what time he’ll be there?”

  “He said he’ll go sometime after three. He’ll see if he can finish work early.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Wednesday 20th September

  I arrive at Zia’s a few minutes after three. No sign of Adriano. But Provvi and Angelina are there already drinking tea and tucking into strawberry jam tarts. It is clear that Provvi has been knocked about again. She is talking about a big gash above her eye. She tells us that she thought she needed some stitches, but she hadn’t gone to A&E otherwise they’d have started asking questions. Poking their noses into her business. Making things worse for her. Instead she called a nurse, loosely related to her, who went to Provvi’s home, when her husband wasn’t in. The nurse didn’t ask questions and did her job of sewing in a few stitches.

  Provvi is at her wit’s end. She is worried about her children. Giulio has also threatened to kill her. Something he hasn’t done before. “It is getting worse. It’s a terrible thing to live in fear in your own home...” I say.

  “I can’t take it any more,” her mother, Angelina, interrupts. “I’m not well and I don’t need all this worry about my daughter. Every minute I curse the day she married that scumbag. He’s ruined our lives.”

  “I’m sorry about this,” I say. “It must be a living hell, awful for both of you. You really need some peace.”

  “Peace, peace! What is it?!” Angelina wails. “I’ve never had any. First my husband and now my son-in-law. What’s wrong with these men?”

  So it seems Angelina’s husband had been violent, too. Angelina was at the end of her tether. Provvi took hold of her mother’s hand, tried to soothe her saying: “Mum please calm down, it’s not good for your heart.”

  I saw the stitches above Provvi’s left eye when her sunglasses slipped a little as she bent her head.

  “He no good shit,” Zia says, then glances at Uncle Tony’s photo, in the middle of the altar she’s created.

  We sat there in silence for what seemed a long time, but it was probably no more than a minute or two.

  “Jam tart,” Zia pipes up.

  “No thanks,” the two women say.

  I take one. They are seriously delicious. “Is there any more tea in that pot, Zia?”

  “You want tea
, I get fresh for you.”

  When Zia was boiling water in the kitchen, Provvi whispers to me: “You don’t know how lucky you are. I so wish I hadn’t married a man from The Village.” That’s when I decide to turn the conversation to the trip to Sicily.

  “Still Sicily will be a break, won’t it?”

  “While Giulio is treating my daughter like this, there will be no peace for us,” Angelina says.

  “He hates me being away from him,” Provvi says. “That’s another reason why he’s coming with us.”

  “I hope he doesn’t spoil your birthday party,” I say to Angelina.

  “The best thing you can do is not to think about it. Take things as they come,” Angelina says.

  “I’ve been doing that all my life,” Provvi says.

  Zia came back with a pot of tea.

  “Lovely,” I say.

  It is a few minutes after four o’clock when the doorbell rings. Adriano has arrived. Zia goes pale, “What he want?” Angelina and Provvi understand that Zia’s next guest might want to speak to her in private and leave as Adriano comes in.

  Adriano is worried about his sisters. He tells us they have been reported missing. He wants Zia to know that. It isn’t surprising that he has come to Zia for comfort. He seeks answers in her cosy living room, amid cakes and cuppas. Hospitable. That’s what Zia is. And she is charming, has comforting words for anyone who needs them. And time? Time is no issue, she would never hurry anyone out. You can stay at her home for as long as you like. She makes you feel at home. Welcome.

  Adriano tells us his sisters were last seen getting into a taxi after a bus, on the way to The Village, broke down. He’s come to tell Zia that he is going to The Village to help search for them.

  “I’m so sorry to hear this,” I say to him. “Whatever could have happened? I’m sure they’ll be found safe and sound. Maybe you should wait a little longer before panicking.”

  “I gotta go. I’ll feel better if I’m there doing something. Better than staying here doing nothing. I’ve contacted the police in The Village, they said they are looking into it. They think my sisters have gone off to somewhere else.”