by Ellie Dean
Rita had no answer to this, and she was about to wring out a fresh cloth to wipe away the last of the blood on Antonino’s face when the door opened and the local copper, Sergeant Williams, stepped into the room. ‘You’re too late,’ she snapped. ‘The mob has gone to Gino’s. No doubt to do the same sort of damage they inflicted here.’
‘I’ve sent some men to put a stop to it,’ he said.
‘Then I hope there will be some arrests,’ said Rita crossly. ‘They’ve not only beaten both Roberto and Antonino, but ruined the café and sent Louise to the edge of reason. I recognised at least three of them, and would be quite happy to give a statement and go to court.’
Sergeant Williams cleared his throat, his expression doleful. ‘Well now, miss, that might prove a bit of a problem. You see, things get heated at times like these, and what with Mr Minelli being Italian and all, and that Mussolini bloke declaring war on us – well . . .’ He tailed off into silence as he avoided eye contact.
‘You’re supposed to protect everyone in the town,’ Rita retorted. ‘And that includes the Italians. It’s not their fault Mussolini declared war.’
‘I know, luv.’ His expression grew even more lugubrious. ‘And I can assure you it won’t happen again.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ Rita stood with her arms folded against her chest in an attempt to disguise how badly shaken she was. ‘But I was threatened tonight as well, and if those men aren’t punished, it will be your fault if anything happens to me or the garage.’
‘Shhh, cara. Be still.’ Antonino stood and, with his arm about his wife’s trembling shoulders, faced the sergeant. ‘I thank you for coming, but the trouble has passed,’ he said quietly. ‘Will you perhaps have a glass of wine with us?’
Sergeant Williams flushed a deep scarlet. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Minelli, but I’m not here to drink wine.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Rita knew she was being belligerent, but she couldn’t help it.
The burly policeman took a deep breath and finally looked Antonino in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Minelli, but I have to arrest you and your son under regulation 18b of the Defence of the Realm Act.’
‘What?’ Rita stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.
The sergeant glanced swiftly at the dumbstruck Minelli family before replying. ‘They are of hostile origin, Miss Smith. I have no choice,’ he said unhappily. ‘But at least they’ll be safe from attack in prison.’
‘But Roberto is British,’ she stormed. ‘He was born here – and Antonino has been living here for most of his life. They’ve done nothing wrong.’
Louise broke into heart-rending sobs, clinging to her husband and son as she let forth a stream of anguished Italian. ‘I won’t let you take them,’ she babbled. ‘You cannot take them. We must repair our business. This is our home, Antonino is my husband, Roberto my son. You will not take them from me.’
Sergeant Williams looked flummoxed. ‘Look, missus, this is hard enough as it is, but it ain’t no use spouting all that Italian at me. I don’t understand a flaming word.’
‘My son is a British citizen,’ said Antonino calmly. ‘Take me if you must, but leave him with his mother who needs him.’
Sergeant Williams was clearly out of his depth. He gave a great sigh, his expression making it clear he wished he was anywhere else but in this room. ‘Look, Antonino, I know you and your boy ain’t no fascists, but the law is the law. I have to take you both in. Once it’s proved you’re no danger to security, you’ll be released. Probably be home for breakfast tomorrow,’ he finished lamely.
‘I don’t believe you,’ wailed Louise.
Sergeant Williams looked helplessly to Antonino, who gently took his sobbing wife in his arms and tried to soothe her. ‘I must go with him,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘Please do not make it harder than it already is. They will see that Roberto and I are innocent victims of this, and will soon let us go. Now, please, cara mia, stop crying. I want to see your smile before I leave.’
Rita was furious at the unfairness of it all. She saw Louise make a tremendous effort to calm herself, but noticed how she trembled, how she had to hold onto Antonino to stay on her feet. ‘Where are you taking them?’ she asked, her voice rough with pent-up emotion.
‘To the local nick,’ he said. ‘It’ll be up to the powers-that-be what happens next. But I’ll see to it you’re kept informed.’ He attempted a smile that failed miserably. ‘Don’t fret, girlie. You’ll soon have them home again.’
Rita didn’t appreciate his patronising air but realised the situation was tense enough without her causing further trouble. She stood back and battled with her tears of frustration and bewilderment as she watched the little family say their goodbyes.
Roberto kissed his mother and turned to Rita as his father tried to placate Louise. His lips brushed her forehead. ‘Mamma isn’t strong,’ he murmured as he embraced Rita. ‘Please, look after her until we get back.’
Rita could only nod, for her tears made it impossible to speak. What had begun as a warm family gathering had turned into a night of violence and unpleasantness, and it seemed there was little she could do to change it.
‘Rita.’ Antonino enfolded her in his embrace. ‘Look after your mamma – and take care of yourself. I love you as my own, and want no harm to come to either of you.’
Rita hugged him fiercely. ‘I’ll take care, Papa. I promise.’
Sergeant Williams stood awkwardly by as the men fetched hats, coats, scarves and gloves, the two pairs of handcuffs dangling from his meaty fingers as he waited to escort them downstairs.
‘There is no need for those,’ said Antonino with dignified calm. ‘My son and I are not dangerous criminals to be handcuffed. It is shame enough to be arrested.’
Louise clung to Antonino and he had tears in his eyes as he had to wrest himself from her grip. ‘You will stay with Rita,’ he said firmly. ‘Do not come downstairs.’
Rita gathered her into her arms and they were both sobbing as the three men slowly made their way to the ground floor. Within moments they heard the police car drive away and were left with only silence and the terrible fear of not knowing what the future held for any of them.
Chapter Three
THERE WAS A long silence after the sound of the police car faded into the distance, and Rita had to steady Louise as she sank like a rag doll into a nearby chair. It was clear she was in shock, and although Rita was still reeling from the night’s events, she swiftly made fresh tea, adding two spoons of precious sugar to give her a boost.
‘Drink that,’ she murmured, ‘then we’ll tidy up. It’s probably best we keep busy.’
Louise nodded, but she made no move to drink the tea. Staring in bewilderment at the toppled candlesticks and wine glasses which lay next to the brick on her table, it seemed she was in a trance.
Rita was shocked at how swiftly she’d seemed to age. Louise’s once upright, bustling little figure had shrunk, her fair, silver-streaked hair had come undone from its pins, and the round blue eyes that had always shone with love and contentment were now dull, the lines on her face etched deeper than ever.
Rita held the cup to those pale lips. ‘Drink, Mamma,’ she coaxed. ‘It will make you feel better.’
Louise took a sip as she stared at the horribly stained tablecloth and the ugly brick which sat in the middle of it. She was too lost in her misery and bewilderment to really know what she was doing.
Rita cupped Louise’s cold fingers around the warm china and gently encouraged her to drink some more. ‘Please, Mamma. Papa Tino would want you to drink this,’ she said in soft Italian. ‘You must keep up your strength.’
The big blue eyes were reddened as they regarded her over the lip of the cup. ‘Antonino and Roberto will be back soon,’ she murmured.
Rita wasn’t so sure about that, but it wasn’t the moment to voice her doubts. Louise needed to be distracted – and so did she. ‘Finish drinking that while I make a start with the clearing up.’<
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She picked up the brick and the cobblestone. Avoiding the glass strewn across the floor, she placed them on the windowsill, resisting the urge to hurl them into the darkness. The window was in ruins, and the night air was cold, so she fastened the heavy blackout curtains over the yawning hole with some of Louise’s wooden clothes pegs.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Louise finishing her tea, the colour slowly returning to her face. ‘Why don’t you clear the table and put that cloth in to soak while I sweep up the glass and see if I can find something to nail over the window for tonight?’
Louise nodded and plucked at the tablecloth with trembling fingers, but the very action seemed to stir her from her stupor and she soon began to clear the table with determination. ‘They’ll be home soon,’ she muttered as she plunged the cloth into a bowl of soapy water to let it soak. ‘Antonino and Roberto will be hungry and tired. I must clean my house and make more pasta.’
Rita stilled her as she reached for the large cooking pot that hung above the range. ‘They won’t be back before morning,’ she said softly, ‘so why don’t we just clear up here, and then you can come back to my place and stay the night?’
Louise’s eyes filled with tears again, her face gaunt as she stared back at Rita. ‘I can’t sleep – not without Antonino beside me. We have not been apart since the day we married – not one night. I will stay here and wait for him.’
Rita knew there was little point in arguing. Once Louise got a thought in her head it was impossible to shift. She kissed her soft cheek and went to fetch the broom, the dustpan and carpet sweeper. There were still shards of glass glinting in the rug, and Louise was often barefooted about the house.
As Louise scrubbed at the tablecloth and wept silent tears, Rita finished clearing the glass and tried to think where she might find something to nail over the window. Despite her best efforts, the blackout curtains couldn’t shut out the night air which was winning the battle over the fire in the range and chilling the room.
‘I’m just going home to see if there’s some plywood to put over this window,’ she said, reaching for her gas mask box.
‘No.’ Louise spun away from the sink and grabbed Rita’s hand. ‘I don’t want to be alone here. They might come back.’
‘I’ll only be a matter of minutes,’ she soothed. ‘You’ll be quite safe, I promise.’
‘No.’ The soapy fingers tightened on her wrist. ‘We’ll find something here. I don’t want you going outside. It’s too dangerous.’
Rita gave in. Louise had been a mother to her for years; had dried her tears, fed her pasta and tidbits of bread and sweet cake, told her stories and given her cuddles when she was feeling sad or unwell. How could she go against her wishes now? ‘All right, Mamma. I’ll go downstairs and see if there’s anything in the café.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Louise dried her hands on her apron, hesitated on the landing, and then made a tremendous effort to be brave and cautiously followed Rita down the stairs.
The moon provided the only light in the strict blackout, but the sight that greeted them broke their hearts. The large display cabinet that had once held a variety of delicious pastries, cakes and pies had been smashed and kicked into a buckled, broken mess. The Italian coffee machine Antonino had been so proud of was a mangled wreck, and the shelves behind the counter had been swept clean, the sweet jars and cordial bottles shattered on the floor, their contents trampled underfoot into a sticky mess.
The linoleum that Louise scrubbed every night was also spattered with blood and smears of dirt, and the imprint of a heavy boot could clearly be seen marking the once pristine wall. Tables and chairs had been systematically broken, the little hand-sewn tablecloths Louise had so lovingly made left trampled among the debris, and all that remained of the front window was a few daggers of glass clinging to the frame. The door had been kicked in so hard the brass knob had become embedded in the wall and both hinges were buckled.
‘Mamma mia,’ breathed Louise through her fingers. Her shocked gaze trawled the devastation and she had to lean against Rita as her legs threatened to give way.
Rita felt sick. Antonino and Louise had been so proud of their little café – had worked long hours to make it a success, had treated each customer as a welcome friend, and each neighbour as warmly as one of their own. Louise was always lending a hand in times of trouble, helping to look after children when they were sick, doing an extra batch of bread when times were hard, slipping a handful of sweets or a sticky bun to the little ones who so rarely got a treat. But where were those friends and neighbours now?
She stood in front of the shattered window and looked out at the deserted cobbled street. There were no lights, no anxious neighbours coming to help, not even the flicker of a twitching curtain or a curious face at a window. She felt like yelling for them to come out – wanted to bang on those doors and shame them into admitting how deeply they had betrayed one of their own by ignoring them in their time of need.
But reason took over and she had to concede that she and Louise were alone in this and must do the best they could. ‘There’s nothing we can do in here without any lights,’ she said, the bitterness sour in her throat.
She yanked on the door, using all her strength to loosen the knob from the crumbling plaster and push it into place. Miraculously, the key still turned in the heavy lock, but she knew it wouldn’t take much to cave it in again.
Jamming the back of a surviving chair against the knob for added security, she looked round for something to use to cover the shattered windows. But there was nothing left that was big enough, so she turned to Louise who was still eyeing the scene with stunned disbelief. ‘Come on,’ she said softly. ‘Let’s go back upstairs.’
With the door locked at the bottom of the stairs, Rita checked the back gate and door were secure before they trudged back to the living quarters. The mob hadn’t had time to do any damage there.
‘You’ll stay with me tonight?’ Louise grasped Rita’s hand, her eyes pleading.
‘Of course,’ she replied swiftly. ‘I’ll sleep here by the fire.’ She kissed Louise’s cheek. ‘But I have to leave early in the morning,’ she warned. ‘My shift starts at seven, and I’ll get it in the neck if I’m late.’
Louisa nodded reluctantly and went to find spare blankets and a nightdress. When she returned, she looked slightly more in control of her emotions, but it seemed she took comfort in speaking Italian, even though it was just the two of them.
‘I will cook a big breakfast and make some more bread in the morning. I have one last bag of flour, and you will need something to fill you up for your day’s work.’ She nodded, as if satisfied with her plans. ‘Antonino and Roberto will be glad of my home cooking when they get back. It can’t be very nice down at the police cells.’
Rita thought it was probably far from nice down there but kept those thoughts to herself. The other thing that struck her was that, in the light of the night’s events, it would probably be wiser if Louise spoke English from now on. With such animosity infecting the neighbourhood, it might not take much to stoke more trouble. But she would leave it for now. Louise had had enough for tonight – and so had she.
Rita weighted the heavily pegged curtains down with the brick and cobblestone and finally settled into the armchair by the range, glad of its warmth and the two cosy blankets.
She was exhausted and downhearted from the night’s events, but sleep eluded her as the clock on the wall slowly ticked away the minutes. Tormented by visions of Tino and Roberto being locked in a prison cell, she guessed Louise was having the same problem in the other room and, after an hour of restlessness, she went to check on her.
The room was not quite in darkness, for a votive candle burned in a saucer on the bedside table where Louise had placed photographs of her husband and son. She was sitting up in bed, her hair trailing over one shoulder in a ragged plait as she slipped the tiny pearl rosary beads through her fingers.
On seeing Rita, sh
e turned back the blankets. ‘Come, cara mia,’ she murmured, ‘come into the warm with me like when you were a bambina. Together we will make it through the night.’
Rita climbed in beside her, nestled into her warm, familiar embrace and was a child again – comforted and protected, safe in her mother’s arms.
As the candle flickered and Louise finally succumbed to her exhaustion, Rita watched the shadows dance on the wall, her thoughts in turmoil. She had to hope and pray that Papa and Roberto would come home in the morning, for she didn’t dare contemplate what the consequences might be if they were kept in custody.
Rita had left a far more cheerful and optimistic Louise the next morning with a promise to come home straight after work to welcome the men. But as she approached the series of large sheds on the industrial estate, she was surprised to see her best friend, May Lynch, parking her BSA motorbike before she rushed towards her.
‘Hello, not like you to get here so early,’ she said. Her smile faded as she saw the grim expression on May’s pretty little face. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I heard about what happened last night,’ May replied, sweeping off her leather helmet and goggles before brushing back the over-long fringe of fair hair from her eyes. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ Rita reassured her, ‘but Louise is in a terrible state and we’re both worried sick about Papa and Roberto.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ May grabbed her arm to stop her from going into the factory. ‘I should warn you,’ she said urgently, ‘there’s some in there wanting to cause trouble over what happened last night.’ She shot a glance at a small knot of women who were standing just inside the doorway. ‘And Aggie’s appointed herself as ringleader. Don’t let her wind you up, Rita. You know what you’re like when you lose your temper.’
Rita frowned. ‘What’s it got to do with Aggie?’
‘She doesn’t need an excuse to cause trouble, we both know that.’ May’s big blue eyes regarded her solemnly. ‘Don’t worry,’ she muttered. ‘You’ve got me on your side.’
