The Winter Sea

by Morrissey, Di

  ‘You kept your grandmother’s ring, after all this time. I’m so glad . . .’ said Bridie, her eyes misting as she looked at the worn little ring.

  ‘I kept it tucked away and thanks to you, my darling, it was given to me twice. Once by Nonna Celestina and once by you. And now I will give it back to you. The circle has closed.’

  *

  Joe and Bridie were very happy. The relationship between Bridie and Emilia evolved into a kind of truce. In the kitchen Emilia remained the boss, but Bridie asserted her domain on the enclosed verandah where she supervised the boys’ homework and, over time, had more and more to do with their upbringing. She even learned Italian. Joe taught Bridie to drive the car, which she loved to do. Emilia continued to walk to the waterfront and meet her Italian friends to exchange gossip, while Bridie became more involved with the Red Cross and the Country Women’s Association.

  Everyone seemed to know their place and was content, except for Carlo. For while Ricardo and Pietro happily accepted Patrick into the family, it was evident to everyone that Carlo disliked his step-brother.

  But whenever Bridie raised her concerns about the situation, Joe always said optimistically, ‘Give it time. It will all work out.’

  Bridie told Joe that she was not so sure but she would not let the situation cast a cloud over the happy life she now had with Joe.

  Indian Ocean, 1939

  Joe drew on his cigarette before he flipped the butt over the side of the ship and walked back to his cabin. As he opened the door he smiled at Bridie, who was sitting at the mirrored dressing table putting on her favourite earrings. ‘It’s breezy out there. You might need your wrap,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe it will be too cool for a walk around the deck after dinner. My hair will get blown to pieces.’

  Joe sat on their bed and watched her. Her figure was as trim as the day they’d met some twenty odd years before. ‘You look beautiful. You always do.’

  ‘It’s nice to see you all dressed up in a dinner suit. You look so handsome. This trip has been glorious and we’re just starting out on our holiday!’ said Bridie happily.

  Joe leaned down and kissed the top of her head affectionately. ‘I just wish we hadn’t lost so much time when we could have been together.’

  Bridie gave a small smile. ‘Just be glad and happy that we’re together now.’

  ‘When we first met all those years ago on the Ricconigi, did you like me just a little – or a lot?’

  ‘Of course I liked you, we were friends.’

  ‘But at night, alone, did you ever dream of me? Think what if . . . ?’ persisted Joe.

  ‘Joe, darling, stop teasing. We’ve had six glorious years together. And each year is more wonderful than the last,’ she said softly. ‘And yes, deep down I did think of you, and wonder what might have been had things been different.’

  ‘I never stopped loving you! When I think back to our time on that cargo ship I kick myself that I didn’t persist a bit more. Maybe if I had you would have forgotten about Ronan.’

  Bridie shook her head. ‘Things happen when they’re meant to, Joe. And this is our time.’

  ‘It certainly is.’ He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘We waited long enough for a honeymoon. I’m looking forward to seeing Italy again but I don’t imagine that my home will have changed much.’

  ‘I don’t think that things will have changed much in Ireland either, but it will be good to find out.’ Then she added, ‘We’re going to be away such a long time. I do hope the boys are being good for Nonna.’

  ‘Don’t worry, darling. Ricardo is quite responsible and the others will be okay. My mother will be quite strict, I’m sure. But let’s forget about them for a while and enjoy ourselves. We’ve planned this trip for such a long time.’

  ‘Yes. You have worked so hard. You deserve this holiday.’ She stood up in her shimmering satin gown and held out her fur stole to Joe, who wrapped it around her bare shoulders.

  ‘I believe we’re seated at Captain Jorgensen’s table tonight. And tomorrow we’ll go ashore in Colombo. Do you remember the day we had there?’

  ‘Of course. I wonder if the little shop where you bought my elephant is still there.’ Bridie smiled at her husband. ‘How different this voyage is from the old Ricconigi. Remember that awful food!’

  Joe chuckled. ‘I’m trying not to. Travelling first class is much, much better. Do you remember my good friend Antonio? I’m sorry that we lost touch when I had to leave Sydney in a hurry, but I like to think that he’s as successful and happy as me.’

  ‘I hope so, too.’ Bridie looked into Joe’s smiling eyes. ‘We’ve both seen some hard times and now we have the good times. I hope that our boys’ future will be bright too.’ Bridie’s smile suddenly faded. ‘Oh Joe, you don’t think there’ll be a war, do you?’

  ‘Hush, Bridie. This is a time for us to escape all our worries.’

  As they walked to the dining room, Joe reflected on the last few years. He knew that his mother was disappointed that he had not married an Italian girl and she hadn’t always made life easy for Bridie. But to her credit, Bridie had managed to juggle her position as wife and mother, gently melding the family together to become a harmonious unit. He smiled as he thought of coming home from work one night to find his mother quietly darning socks, Bridie bottling fruit, the boys doing their homework and the table set, all waiting for his arrival before they sat down to eat, and he had felt overwhelmed by how lucky he was. Later that night in bed, holding Bridie in his arms, he thanked her for all she did and the happiness she had brought to his life and home. And so he had insisted they take their long-delayed honeymoon.

  Over dinner at the captain’s table the talk soon turned to events in Europe.

  ‘Do you think that there will be war in Europe, Captain?’ asked Mr Whittaker, an English banker.

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ the captain replied. ‘Herr Hitler has got what he wants in Europe. He won’t ask for anything more. He signed an agreement with Mr Chamberlain in Munich to that effect.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said another Englishman, who had the bearing of a military officer. ‘I wouldn’t trust that man an inch. He’s hoodwinked Chamberlain to give Germany time to increase its forces even more and when he’s ready he’ll unleash them on all of us. Churchill’s right: unless we act soon, Hitler will take all of Europe.’

  ‘But are France and England ready to act?’ asked Joe.

  ‘They are building up their military strength but whether that will be enough, I don’t know,’ replied the officer.

  ‘If there is a war, will Italy join in with Hitler?’ the Englishwoman sitting next to Joe asked.

  Joe shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. From what I read, Mussolini has ideas of grandeur for Italy. He wants to build a new Roman Empire. That was the reason he invaded Abyssinia, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That was a shambles,’ said Mr Whittaker. ‘Sending in machine guns and planes against a bunch of natives. It was shocking how they used mustard gas. Apparently thousands died, and not just the Abyssinian soldiers. The spray from the aircraft poisoned the lakes and rivers, not to mention the ground crops and animals.’

  ‘It just showed that the League of Nations is a toothless tiger,’ remarked a Frenchman. ‘Nothing it tried to do could stop the invasion. And besides, after that, Italy left the League altogether, so there wasn’t anything that could be done for the Abyssinians anyway. It was all dreadful.’

  ‘I thought Mussolini was held in great respect by the Italians,’ said the woman next to Joe.

  The Frenchman ignored her, then continued, ‘The upshot of it all is that Mussolini has aligned himself more closely with Hitler.’

  ‘Mussolini wants total access to the world’s oceans,’ said a doctor seated at the end of the table.

  ‘Just for starters,’ added the British banker pithily. ‘The question is, will Italy go to war if Germany does?’ he asked Joe.

  ‘I think Mussolini would only do such a thing if
he could see some big advantage for Italy. Italians don’t like to become involved in wars. I speak from experience. I was a soldier in the last war.’

  Seeing Joe shift uncomfortably the captain changed the subject. ‘Mr Aquino, how long is it since you were last in your homeland?’

  ‘I left Italy as a young man, and have lived in Australia for nearly twenty years. This is my first trip back. I am taking my wife to visit the island where I was born.’

  ‘It’s the first holiday we’ve ever had together. So far it’s been wonderful,’ said Bridie brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

  The captain smiled at her. ‘That’s good to hear, Mrs Aquino. Will you be visiting your homeland as well?’

  ‘We certainly hope so. I would like to see the changes in Ireland since independence.’

  ‘The Irish Republican Army is still causing a lot of trouble in the north,’ said Mr Whittaker.

  The captain signalled the waiter to refill their glasses. ‘That’s true. We live in challenging times. But for now, let us enjoy ourselves, shall we?’ he said.

  After dancing to the music of the ship’s band, Bridie and Joe strolled, arms linked, along the deck back to their cabin. It was a still evening. The moonlight cast a shimmering trail across the tranquil sea. They paused at the railing and Bridie leaned her head against Joe’s shoulder.

  ‘How peaceful. I’m glad I changed my mind about coming out on deck. It’s very beautiful here.’ She sighed and looked up at him. ‘Joe, I hated all that talk of fighting and dictators at dinner,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, men and their wars.’ Joe put his arm around her and pulled her close. ‘But there is truth in their speculation. It’s a funny thing, but I don’t feel connected to Europe anymore. Australia is my home and my children’s home and our future. Do you feel the same?’

  Bridie nodded. ‘Oh, yes. I hate to admit it, but I don’t feel the same way I used to about Ireland either. I have followed such a different path. Maybe this trip is to say goodbye to the past.’

  That night they made love and Bridie fell asleep curled beside Joe. But Joe didn’t sleep right away. He lay awake, feeling the powerful vibration of the ship’s engines far below. As they journeyed closer to Italy, he could feel the pull of his memories and childhood, and he wondered again at the way his life had changed since, as an inexperienced and poor young man, he had set out from his island carrying Alfonso’s battered suitcase containing his few clothes, the precious traffena and a swag of dreams. How lucky he’d been! Now he had Bridie as his wife, as well as a family of strong boys. He looked forward to telling his relatives of his good fortune.

  *

  As he had guessed, on his return to the island with Bridie, Joe found that little had changed there. He was sad his father and grandmother couldn’t meet Bridie, but all his brothers, sisters, other relatives and childhood friends gathered at his late parents’ little cottage, where his eldest brother now lived, all keen to see and hear how their Giuseppe had become successful in Australia, and interested in meeting his pretty, redheaded wife.

  Joe was excited by the reunion and delighted to introduce Bridie to them but found that, after the casual cheerfulness of Whitby Point, the closed and traditional society of the island felt suffocating.

  When the two of them walked around the little port, the old women, all dressed in black, studied Bridie with critical eyes as they sat outside their doors and crocheted, or severely swept their steps or gossiped at the market stalls with their meagre array of produce.

  ‘I don’t think that things are any better here under Mussolini than they were before. The islanders are still very poor,’ Joe confided to Bridie, looking at the posters of the dictator that were stuck on the public buildings.

  Hand in hand, they strolled through the small township and its outskirts to the places Joe knew well, and he told Bridie stories of his childhood. He had often spoken to her of Angelica and of the importance of Alfonso in his life. Joe was delighted when his brothers told them that Alfonso was still living alone in his windswept shepherd’s cottage in the hills. For Joe the highlight of his trip to the island was visiting his elderly friend.

  ‘You have done well, as I knew you would,’ Alfonso told Joe over a glass of grappa in the kitchen, a scene that brought back many memories for them both. He smiled at Bridie. ‘And you have a lovely wife, who speaks very good Italian.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Bridie.

  ‘She keeps my mother happy by speaking Italian with her,’ said Joe. ‘Mamma is very settled in Australia although she clings to the old ways and refuses to learn English, but she is strong like the olive trees and loves the boys. Now, tell me, Alfonso, what do people really think of Mussolini and his Fascists? I have tried to ask my brothers that question, but they avoid a straight answer.’

  ‘Mussolini’s very popular and his popularity increases all the time, especially after the conquest of Abyssinia, but most people on the island have become disillusioned with Fascism. There has been no improvement in their lives, they are still poor, but people don’t like to speak out for fear of incurring the attention of the police, who are as corrupt as ever. I fear that things will never change for the better on this little island. But it’s good that you have a new life that you love.’

  ‘My home is a small town, but a happy place and there is a future there for my sons. Franco, my first wife’s father, allows me to make my own decisions, so I am the boss. Fishing is in my blood, Alfonso, and the fishing is good off Whitby Point.’

  ‘And you, Alfonso, have you never thought of leaving here?’ asked Bridie gently.

  ‘Yes, Alfonso,’ said Joe quickly. ‘You must be lonely here. Why don’t you come to Australia? I’ll look after you.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you, but I’m an old man now. You are kind and generous, but I am content with my simple life and my books. I did my adventuring in my youth. I am pleased to have seen you again. I always knew you would succeed because your heart is good, Giuseppe.’

  Outside they all embraced and there was dampness in Joe’s eyes as he took Bridie’s hand to go back to the little port. He did not turn around as he followed the familiar track down towards the village, leaving Alfonso, wrapped in his old coat, standing on the hillside watching them go for what they all knew would be the last time.

  Bridie listened with interest as Joe spent time sitting on the stone wall of the harbour front or on the deck of a fishing boat talking with the men he’d known as a young boy. That night, Bridie told him that she was amazed by how much the men knew about the sea.

  ‘I have great respect for the knowledge and the skills that these fishermen have passed down from father to son for generations,’ said Joe. ‘They know the rhythms of the sea and the migrations of the fish; they know every stone on the seashore and the structure of the seabed, the weather patterns and how to handle their boats in any conditions.’ Joe rubbed his chin, as though coming to a surprising conclusion. ‘But now I realise that they want to continue in the old ways they know.’

  ‘Not everyone embraces new things like you do, Joe,’ Bridie said.

  Joe smiled. ‘They have no inclination to change, to grow, to try something different,’ he said. ‘When I first came to Australia I thought the fishermen there lacked knowledge because they had no traditions, it meant that everyone had to learn for himself by trial and error.’

  ‘But that’s why you have done so well, Joe. You are prepared to experiment, to take a chance,’ said Bridie. ‘I am very proud of you.’

  Several days later it was time to leave the island. As they boarded the little ferry to go to Messina, Bridie asked Joe if he was sad to go.

  ‘No,’ replied Joe. ‘Maybe one day I’ll have the chance to visit again, but I certainly wouldn’t want to live here anymore. And now we’ll explore the rest of Italy!’ he declared.

  When they arrived in Naples, Joe told Bridie what he had thought when he’d first arrived in that city almost twenty years ago. ‘To me it was the most magni
ficent place in the world. And I’ll never forget how delicious the pizza I ate here was!’

  ‘And I’ll never forget the wonderful Neapolitan music,’ said Bridie.

  So they set off to find a romantic little trattoria where they ordered pizza and red wine and were serenaded by a local tenor.

  The following morning, Joe left Bridie in their hotel room to dress and went to find a morning newspaper and have a quick coffee before they went to breakfast as Bridie didn’t care for the strong Italian coffee. When he returned he looked pale and waved the paper at Bridie.

  ‘Joe! What is it?’

  ‘Germany has invaded Poland and Britain has issued an ultimatum demanding that Germany withdraw. If Germany doesn’t, then I suppose it will be war. We will know in a few hours.’

  ‘What will happen to us if war is declared? Will we have to go home?’

  ‘Bridie, I don’t know, but it does sound serious.’

  She sat on the edge of the bed. ‘How horrible. If there is a war, do you think that Italy will join in?’

  Joe sat beside her and read through the front pages. ‘Mussolini’s a Fascist and he could side with Germany, but Italy is poorly equipped industrially, so it may take some time before he decides which way to jump. But, darling, if war is declared, we may have to think twice about carrying on with our journey.’

  They had breakfast and took a stroll around the city. They could not ignore the knots of men talking in cafés and women gathered together around doorways, their faces all showing concern. But in other parts of the ancient seaport, life seemed to continue as it always had, with the business of going to sea and looking after the safe arrival of shipping, small and large, under the ever-present shadow of Mount Vesuvius.

  They ate a late lunch at a small café. Both toyed with their food. Finally the news came. A man rushed into the café calling to his friend that he had just heard on the radio that Britain was now at war with Germany.

  ‘I expect that will mean that Australia, as part of the British Empire, is at war, too,’ said Joe quietly. ‘I think we must return home as soon as we can get a ship.’