by Karen Aldous
Whilst the disbelief continued to swirl through the inner recesses of her mind, her senses couldn’t ignore – nor fail to be impressed by – some of the external forces interrupting her thought processes: the rolling hills and their vineyards and cypresses, medieval towns and villages juxtaposing for attention in the distance. The landscape was such a feast for the eyes. Her stomach, although rather more settled after yesterday’s jolt, was beginning to grumble for food.
Just outside Bologna she decided to stop at the services for something to eat and after purchasing a sandwich and a coffee, returned to the car but found she could only manage the coffee. Her eyes and stomach were repulsed by the thought of her mother turning her back on her. Before setting off again, she switched on the radio, keeping the sound low and not wanting it to drown out the satnav. She now wished she had someone to talk to.
Navigating through the car park, some traffic build-up waiting for someone to park, and the confusing exit signs, she finally reached the exit lane, only for the panic to rear its ugly head again, taking over her senses and exercising control. Olivia pulled over in the lane and took several deep breaths before recognizing an unusual light turquoise Fiat she had seen travelling on the motorway with her earlier.
‘Presumably, we’re going the same way,’ she said aloud to the back of the car, and swiftly checking her mirror, pulled out behind the Fiat and followed it back on to the motorway. It was a lovely colour, she thought as she averted her attention to calm herself and waited instruction from the satnav.
‘Huh, Chiara, you’d be so proud.’
She’d managed the first leg of the journey and was now bypassing the city of Modena, which she associated with the delicious balsamic vinegar, her favourite. She immediately thought of Will, as they often had a dish of olives and bread that they dipped in olive oil and balsamic. And, when they came to see Nonna and Mamma in the spring, he had promised on their next visit to bring her to Modena to experience, apparently, some of the best restaurants no one had ever heard of.
‘Amen to that,’ she chimed and thought of Alberto – so much sexier and more dynamic than the provincial Will, whose lone idea of success was a promotion on the ladder to nowhere at Gowen’s engineering.
Alberto’s vision was on a much higher level, bringing so much new and much-needed technology to the car industry. Not quite the next Enzo Ferrari, Lamborghini, or Maserati, but he was making progress in such a futuristic and saleable market. Who wouldn’t want an autonomous car that not only drove itself, but parked and recharged itself whilst being kind to the planet? He’d mentioned yesterday evening that he would take her to visit the Luciano headquarters too, which was on the outskirts of Florence.
Once through Modena she saw the signs for Verona. She was feeling much more confident with the motorway at least, and thought how nice it would be to visit Verona and see the fictionalized Juliet’s balcony. She loved the film Letters to Juliet. Maybe once she had satisfied her curiosity and completed this nightmare of a mission and sale of the farm, she would return to Italy as Olivia Montague the tourist and allow herself the pleasure of exploring its attractions. She daydreamed of standing on the balcony, calling out to Alberto.
‘Alberto, Alberto. Wherefore art thou, Alberto?’ She giggled to herself. ‘Hmm, better than Will-o, Will-o, or Hugh-o, Hugh-o.’ She felt herself blush. ‘Whoa, where did that come from?’
Smiling to herself, she thought Hugh looked dazzling in her image of him in his Romeo attire. Hugh was such a gentleman. She could imagine him, bowing and taking her hand in his ruffles. Despite Alberto being suspicious of his motives, she couldn’t fault Hugh’s persistence and his sense of honour.
Whatever else she discovered today, certainly, good things had stemmed from the experience she had had with Hugh this week; she had found a seemingly kind and entertaining friend in him. Surely he wasn’t just interested in the house or the chest, as – at first – she had suspected. Though quite what his motivation to help was, Olivia wasn’t totally sure, only that he offered a disproportionate amount of support and he was fun to be around. Feeling he would have been good company right now, her instincts told her she should have taken him up on his offer.
Olivia soon spotted a sign for Lago di Garda and couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone. She remembered Hugh showing her on the map that Monte Baldo was this side of Lake Garda and dared to search the satnav for the estimated arrival time. Just twenty-five minutes.
Staring at the monotony of the motorway, she pictured a confused look on her mother’s face as she arrived at her door. She suddenly felt a rush of heat, imagining her mum on trial for neglect and sentenced to imprisonment. Screaming children were running after her. Of course, they would be grown up, like her, and quite likely to have flown the nest by now. Would her mother be pleased to see her? Had she remarried a new husband and had even more children?
It wouldn’t be long before she discovered the truth, and then what? Again, she felt a wobble and heat rushed to her head and chest. Adrenaline was shaking her legs, her arms. She suddenly wished Hugh was beside her. Thinking about meeting her mamma was making her anxious. She needed distraction. She feared the truth. She dreaded being emotionally vulnerable, opening up to huge changes, total abandonment. And she was scared she wouldn’t be able to forgive her mamma. Although she was still wondering if her mother was already intent on abandoning her.
Abruptly, as a junction came into her peripheral vision, Olivia became aware of light-snow-capped mountains in the near distance. She wiped her eyes and wriggled, releasing blood flow in her buttocks and thighs.
‘Concentrate,’ she told herself gripping the wheel tighter, but shimmering in a bluish haze, Lake Garda lured her attention. ‘Oh, wow. That’s beautiful,’ she said tearing her eyes back to the road and gradually losing sight of it. The sky darkened as she drove along a mountain valley, which seemed endless. On either side stood monstrous grey and intimidating towers of rock, which felt like they were closing in.
Finally, the satnav instructed her to stay in the right-hand lane for the next junction. Off the motorway, the road was newly built and deserted but roughly about two kilometres on, she slowed as traffic thickened and signs for a roundabout became apparent. Immediately, she felt blood blast hot air to her head and neck.
Next thing, she was in the middle of the roundabout. The car sat along the kerb. Car horns blared. She reached for the door. She stood. Drivers made rude signals at her with their hands. The horn beeping got louder. She sank back in the car and closed the door, her heart racing like a toboggan down a mountain. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Sorry, sorry.’
Realizing she had gone the wrong way around the roundabout, she clasped her neck as nausea rose in her throat whilst blood drained from her brain, her eyes dropped, and darkness fell.
Olivia’s immediate awareness when she woke, was of a young policewoman squatting beside her. She swiped the moisture from the back of her neck and her forehead.
‘You OK?’ the policewoman asked. ‘You faint I think. We move car to safety.’
‘Oh, I think so, thank you.’
‘Is altitude?’
‘Hmm, maybe. I’ve not passed out when driving like this before.’ Olivia shrugged, picked up the bottle of water in the holder, and consumed half. ‘That’s better. I probably need to eat too. I’m nearly at my destination though, so I’ll be fine.’
‘You rest here first. Maybe walk for few minutes. And you will drive around the roundabout this way?’ The policewoman drew an invisible anti-clockwise circle.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ she promised.
The policewoman seemed satisfied and drove off, leaving Olivia alone. Obediently, she paced the grass verge for several minutes, watching as clouds gathered like big hairy wolves leaping from mountain to mountain. Returning to the car, feeling exhausted but semi-recovered, she started the car, and after checking her mirror pulled off.
Repeatedly checking the sat
nav, she realized it still hadn’t found its bearings and the road was narrowing and inclining quite sharply, taking her along a long shelf beside steep rock. Swallowing hard, she found a small bay and pulled in. Again, her chest pounded. Tightening her right fist, she banged the steering wheel.
‘You are not going to beat me. I’m going to do this,’ she shrieked, mentally beating off the panic. ‘Come on, satnav, you need to help.’ She stared at it for several seconds, then grabbed the atlas Hugh had kindly lent her. Running her fingers along the lake where Hugh had highlighted the route, she could see she was heading across the mountain pass instead of the highway around it. ‘Bloody stupid thing. Call yourself a satnav. Wake up.’
As if guilty, the instrument finally synced with the satellite, somewhere in the ether. She looked at the estimated arrival time and sighed. It had jumped an hour and twenty minutes. Even with stopping, that wasn’t right.
‘Frag’s sake. Wrong way.’ She scanned the road around her, which wasn’t terribly wide. ‘Oh God, you can, you can. Take it slow.’ After checking for traffic, which thankfully was sparse – in fact, she’d seen none – she slowly began to turn the car, back and forth in the small space, praying nothing sprang in her way, then she opened the window and told herself repeatedly, ‘I can do this’. After a five-point turn, she set back towards the roundabout. Approaching the roundabout, she repeated, ‘right, then left.’ At the roundabout, traffic rushed by. ‘OK, to the right, then left.’
A wave of pride hurried through her as she realized she was back on the right route and even though splats of rain hit the windscreen from thickening clouds closing around her, she beamed. Glancing quickly at the arrival time, her mouth widened, highly pleased with herself.
‘You did it. See you can. And, now just twenty minutes. Rain, you ain’t gonna stop me. Oh, Chiara, you won’t believe what I just did. Let’s just hope I’m wrong about my mother because right now, I want to celebrate this triumph.’
Driving alongside the lake, trying to imagine what she was missing without the now heavy mist and rain, she spotted the sign ‘Baldo View Camping’. Slowing the car, she turned into a wide entrance on her left and followed the track as it curled through a canopy of tall pine trees. Her chest began to thump. Not panic this time, but anger and fear of another kind, anticipation of the truth.
She gripped her stomach as elation subsided and the prospect of imminently facing her mother clawed at her innards. Could it be true? Could they be her brother and sister? Could her mother really betray her for so long, deny her own flesh and blood all these years?
Chapter 16
The car shuddered as it rattled over a cattle grid and came to a clearing. Green fields dotted with cabins and mobile homes stretched ahead of her, drenched under heavy cloud and contained by ranch-style fencing and an arched entrance. Bold letters carved into the wooden arch confirmed her whereabouts: ‘Welcome to Baldo View’.
With a nauseous ache growing in her throat she followed the arrow to reception along a wet shingle track to a hedged area and parked the car outside a very long, single-storey cabin. Again, the natural colour of the wood was in keeping with the setting. A woman and child ran out into the pouring rain, their heads shielded by a lightweight coat. Olivia watched as they splashed across the shingle to another entrance marked ‘mini-market’.
Slipping her hood over her head, she groaned feeling her stomach muscles clenching. She was finding it difficult to swallow. Was she just being dramatic and these two babies a figment of her imagination? Would her mamma admit to her if they had been her babies? She could have had them adopted or farmed to another nonna. What if they were another man’s children and her mother remarried without telling her? Was it possible her father found out they weren’t his and killed himself?
‘Stop,’ she told herself. ‘Conjecture is dangerous. Go and ask the question.’
Sliding her tongue along her lips, Olivia stepped out of the car and then dashed under the canopy to the double doors. As she pushed down the handle, a bell sounded and she edged in to the room. She was met by L-shaped desks with a telephone, computer, and paperwork on one and printer on the other. A tall filing cabinet was on one side, beside a door that was ajar. Behind it she could see fitted cupboards and a sink and guessed it was a kitchen area.
A young woman appeared, arranging and smoothing long thick sun-bleached hair. She closed the door behind her and feigned a smile as she shuffled forward to the desk.
‘Buongiorno, posso aiutarla? Can I help? she said.
Giving a fractious smile, Olivia said in her best Italian. ‘Buongiorno. Posso parlere con Roz? Can I speak to Roz?’
The young woman glanced sideways, rolling her eyes in suspicion. ‘Un momento.’
‘Grazie.’
‘Prego.’ The young woman nodded and, pushing the door open again, disappeared. ‘Mamma, una signora di vederti.’
Taking a deep breath, Olivia wasn’t sure whether to run, cry, or scream. All she knew was that this situation was surreal. She had her answer. This young woman was her mother’s daughter, quite possibly her sister, and peering through the door, she could see her mother pass a baby into the young woman’s arms and give her an inquisitive stare.
Moments later she was in the doorway. Immediately when she saw Olivia, Roz’s eyes widened, then lowered as she scurried round the desk towards her.
‘Olivia, what are you doing here?’ She held out her arms to embrace her, but Olivia shrugged her off, receiving a dagger stare.
‘We need to talk.’ Olivia’s tone was assertive to the point of being cold.
‘How did you find me?’ her mother asked, turning to perch against the desk and fold her arms.
Olivia sensed her mum’s defence and sucked in her breath. ‘So, you didn’t want to be found?’ she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
Roz shrugged, passing her finger over her top lip, and closed the door. ‘It’s not that. I didn’t know that you knew where I lived, but I’m glad to see you.’ She gave a hesitant smile, as though sensing an explosion was about to erupt.
Olivia’s eyelids lowered. ‘Are you really glad to see me? Why would you want to conceal your whereabouts from me then?’ She gazed into her mamma’s eyes. ‘Tell me, why have I always met you at Nonna’s? Why wasn’t I ever invited here? Tell me why you’ve spent years keeping this place a secret? Why have I inherited the estate as well as the house in London? And why has everyone bloody lied to me?’ Suddenly her head gained three times its weight in questions as she glared at her mother.
Roz let her hands drop to the table and gripping the desk glanced behind her, hearing a sound. ‘Lower your voice. No, it’s not a secret.’ She bit her lip and gazed back at Olivia. The younger woman hovered in the doorway, bouncing the infant.
Olivia peered from one woman to the other, unable to read the younger one’s face. Did she know about her? ‘No, I’m not going to lower my voice until I know some answers. So, why have I never been here?’
Stepping forward and reaching for her arm, Roz said, ‘Come with me.’
Still clasping her arm, they moved quickly across the car park and behind a hedged screen, before entering a small well-kept garden with a neatly maintained private patio. A few lonely hellebores looked wilted by the rain. Roz opened the door to another cabin.
She followed her mother into the cabin, which resembled a wide caravan. There was a fireplace on one wall and a cosy floral seating area at the front overlooking clusters of heavy cloud and haze which, on a clear day, Olivia presumed would be beautiful lake and mountains. In the centre a well-equipped kitchen with full-size appliances surrounded a wooden table, a bench, and two chairs. Her mum immediately reached for a bottle of wine on the worktop. It was half-full. She undid the screw top and poured a large glass.
‘Sit down. I’ll make coffee or would you prefer wine?’
‘Nothing for me,’ Olivia told her sternly even though she was gasping for a cup of coffee. Sh
e pulled out a chair from the table in the middle and stood holding the back of the chair in silence, waiting.
Roz remained at the worktop, leaning against it with the full glass of red wine in her hand. She took a sip and, licking her lips, peered at her. ‘OK. So tell me exactly why you’ve come to question me. I’ve transferred the farm into your name. You don’t have to worry; I don’t want anything to do with it. It is all yours.’
Irritated, Olivia sat in the seat. ‘Why would I question that it’s not all mine?’
‘As you can see, this is my home. You own all Nonna’s estate. It’s yours to do whatever you deem fit with. I don’t need it.’
Feeling a lack of authority in her seat, Olivia got to her feet again and held on to the back of the chair. ‘That’s not why I’m here. Well, it has a huge impact, but …’ Olivia pressed her temples as the possibility that, in Italian law, all siblings should also be entitled, sank in. She watched her mother’s face closely. ‘Firstly, I had to smash up a console drawer to find your address, but more notably, I had to get Nonna’s cassone unlocked because there wasn’t a key. You must have known what was inside it.’
She paused for a few seconds, expecting a response. Roz shifted her weight from one foot to another and, peering at the floor, took another large gulp of wine.
Furious that her mum wasn’t volunteering any information by now, she blinked away a tear. ‘OK, I’m not getting warm then. This may help. Among the contents of Nonna’s bridal chest were photos of us.’ She stared at her mother until her mother looked up at her. ‘There’s Nonno, Nonna, and me; you, Papa, and me; you, Papa, and two other babies. Nonno, Nonna, and two other babies. There are a few, taken over the years as we got older …’
Olivia tightly pursed her lips for a moment, preventing them from wobbling. ‘So, the children in the photos, are they my brother and sister?’ Barely able to hold the emotion in, she repeated louder, ‘Mum, are they my brother and sister?’
