The Memory Box

by Kathryn Hughes

  In the kitchen, Louis and Delyth were making up a batch of Welsh cakes, Louis standing on a stool, his features set into a scowl as he stirred the mixture. Jenny dropped her suitcase on the floor and held out the carving of the small boy to him. ‘I think you should have this.’ She placed it on the table. ‘I’m taking my part, and one day, when you find it in your heart to forgive me, bring yours back to me and I’ll slot it into place.’ She laid a hand on his head. ‘Where it belongs.’

  Without another word, she picked up her case and headed out of the door for the last time.

  41

  2019

  Candice is sitting with her legs crossed, her palm supporting her chin. The frown on her face betrays her dismay. ‘But how could you leave your little brother behind? He worshipped you.’

  I need to put up a robust defence. I’m used to it. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life. I was inconsolable when I returned to Nico and told him what had happened, but he made me see that Wales was the best place for Louis. It wasn’t fair to uproot him again and drag him across Europe. There was a war on, don’t forget, and I’d have been taking him to an enemy country, as Italy was at that time.’

  Candice leans back in her chair and folds her arms. She looks as tight as a bale of hay as she shakes her head slowly, her expression one of disbelief.

  I take a shuddering breath, forcing myself to continue. ‘Nico and I had a quick registry office wedding to facilitate our journey. I was now Italian by marriage, which did help, but the journey was long and tortuous and I was terrified for most of it. I was sure I was going to be arrested on suspicion of being some sort of spy. We sailed from Glasgow to Lisbon on a hospital ship, which constantly had to alter course to avoid mines and U-boats. I was so glad Louis hadn’t come with us. Despite how much it hurt her, my mother had been brave enough to send us away so we’d be safe. Can you imagine if he’d then been blown up in mine-infested waters because of my selfishness?’

  Candice nods, although I can’t tell if she really understands the dangers. Not many youngsters can fully appreciate the horrors of war.

  ‘From Lisbon we made our way to Italy by any means we could. Trains, trucks, we even did a couple of days by pack mule. It was arduous and very frightening, but I had the man I loved by my side and he made it all bearable.’

  Candice is frowning, and I can almost hear the cogs whirring. ‘That wooden carving . . .’ she begins. ‘The one in your room.’

  ‘What about it?’ I brace myself for the conversation to take another difficult turn.

  ‘Well, it’s not complete, is it? I mean, the little boy figure’s still missing.’

  I nod slowly. ‘Not much gets past you, does it?’

  ‘What happened to Louis’s part then? Did he lose it?’

  This is so difficult to talk about, I can’t even meet her eye. ‘I don’t know, Candice. I don’t know what happened to the carving because . . . because I never saw Louis again.’

  ‘What?’ She uncrosses her legs so quickly she loses her balance and nearly falls off the chair. ‘What do you mean, you never saw him again? He was your brother.’

  I can feel myself bristling, but I need to keep her onside. ‘It wasn’t for the want of trying, love. I wrote to him countless times, and not one letter was answered. Not by him, at least. Delyth wasn’t afraid to chuck her two penn’orth in, though. Told me to stop bothering her son. Her son! Can you believe that?’

  ‘What did you do?’ Candice asks.

  ‘It was taken out of my hands. By September 1943, everywhere north of Rome was under German martial law. The Germans took control of the trains, the telephones and the postal system.’

  ‘What about after the war, though? Surely you contacted him then?’ Candice has a habit of making everything sound so simple.

  ‘I did carry on writing, even though there was nothing left to say I hadn’t already said a hundred times before. I told him I loved him, that I’d always love him, and that whenever he was ready he could join me in Italy, no matter how long that took. He was the only flesh and blood I had left and I couldn’t give up on him, but I couldn’t force him to join me either. I knew he was happy with Delyth and Bryn and I had absolutely no doubt that they’d take care of him. Del was a good woman, but I’d devastated her son by leaving him at the altar, so in her eyes I was the worst kind of human it was possible to imagine.’

  I notice Candice is nodding along, seemingly agreeing with the sentiment.

  ‘I’m not a bad person, Candice.’

  She squeezes my hand. ‘Nobody’s saying you are.’

  ‘Everything I did, I did for love.’

  ‘Love for who, though?’ Frank has returned, and I notice he’s filled his glass again, so it might be the booze talking. I’ll forgive his rather interrogative approach.

  ‘I’m not going to apologise for marrying the man I loved, Frank. I begged Louis to join me, but he’d made it quite clear he didn’t want to. I could hardly drag him away against his will.’

  Oh, how I wish my old bones would allow me to stand up and flounce off. I shouldn’t have to put up with this nonsense. I’m buggered if I’m being judged for my actions seventy-odd years ago by somebody who wasn’t even there.

  And it turned out I was right to leave him. It might have been the hardest decision I’d ever had to make, but it probably saved his life.

  42

  1943

  The second floor afforded the best view of the apricot sun as it emerged from behind a cloud and slipped into the sea. The horseshoe bay of Cinque Alberi was a natural haven for the coloured fishing boats that tilted idly on the swell. The air was thick with salt, a combination of the sea and a recent catch of anchovies.

  Jenny used this part of the day as her thinking time, and the sun’s dependable descent into the sea calmed her, reassured her that in spite of everything, the world still continued to turn. She squinted up at the tiny church at the top of the peninsula where she and Nico had had their marriage blessed. A year ago they had arrived in Italy as man and wife, but Lena had been adamant that in the eyes of God they were not married. Jenny had written to Louis countless times over the past year but had received nothing in return. She had no way of knowing if her letters had got through, and even if they had, whether Delyth would pass them on to him. She had paid a heavy price to be with the man she loved.

  Her mother-in-law’s voice bellowed up the stairs. ‘Jenny, Jenny, come down here now.’

  She closed her eyes, resenting the intrusion.

  ‘I’ll be right with you, Lena,’ she sighed. ‘Just give me a few more minutes, please.’

  ‘No, no, you must come now. It is molto importante.’

  Jenny twisted the wedding band on her finger. Ten months had crawled by since she had last seen her husband, and a part of her still resented the fact that Nico had put his country before her. She had given up her life in Wales, and by leaving Louis behind she’d betrayed the promise she had made to her mother. In return, Nico had left to join the Italian army the day after their blessing, and she’d made a home with Lena and Enzo in the tiny café on the harbourfront. She found it difficult to understand why Nico would even want to fight against Britain and her allies. He had lived happily in Wales for a decade and, whilst she acknowledged that he had been treated deplorably by the Enemy Alien Tribunal, she’d been heartbroken that he felt the need to avenge himself at the expense of their fledgling marriage.

  She managed a smile at the group of women below. They’d formed a circle, their hands joined together, and were singing joyously, and although she couldn’t understand all the words, it was obvious they were celebrating something.

  ‘Jenny, what is keeping you, bella?’ Lena hollered up the stairs again.

  In spite of her urgent tone, Jenny ambled down the stairs, even pausing to run her finger along the wooden handrail to remove the traces of dust. She was used to Lena’s excitable manner. Her mother-in-law could call her for breakfast and
make it sound as though she’d prepared a banquet for royalty.

  ‘What’s all the kerfuffle about out there?’ she asked.

  A huge grin split Lena’s face as she pinched Jenny’s cheeks. ‘They are celebrating. It is over.’

  ‘What is?’

  She tutted at the ceiling. ‘The war, Jenny. The war is over. ‘E’ la pace, la pace incondizionata.’

  Jenny tried to hold onto her patience. Although her Italian was coming along, Lena was speaking too fast for her keep up. ‘Lena, in English, please.’

  ‘Oh . . . sorry. Erm . . . Marshal Badoglio, he come on the radio and he say there’s been a . . . a . . .’ she clicked her fingers in the air, ‘an armistice. An armistice incondizionato. He say the Italians are not to go on fighting the Allies.’

  ‘Well, what does that mean exactly?’

  They had had their hopes raised before, just a month and a half ago, when Mussolini was toppled and twenty years of fascism seemed to have been confined to history. People had spilled out onto the streets then in spontaneous demonstrations of joy, but the war had still raged on. Perhaps cautious optimism was the best way forward.

  ‘I don’t know exactly what it means,’ confessed Lena. ‘But I think it must be good news, no? Everybody is happy. All Italian ships have been ordered to make their way to the nearest neutral port. We are not to carry on fighting.’ Her eyes shone as she gripped Jenny’s arms. ‘Do you realise what this means? My son, your husband, he’s coming home.’

  Jenny sat on the harbour wall, her feet dangling just above the dappled water, and gazed at the horizon. Two days had passed since the armistice, and there had been no word from Nico. The King and Marshal Badoglio, together with much of the government, had fled Rome, leaving the country rudderless and vulnerable to the brutal heel of Nazi occupation. In spite of it all, though, she often mused how much Louis would love it here. There were plenty of jobs for young boys with nimble fingers: mending fishing nets and gutting the catch. Skinning rabbits and plucking chickens had become second nature to him, so pulling the insides out of a fish would be a doddle. She smiled as she imagined him running along the pebbled shoreline, skimming stones into the sea, his arms and legs as tanned as a coffee bean. She would go back for him one day, when this war really was over.

  She watched a bare-footed little girl picking her way over the stones in the shallow surf, occasionally bending down to retrieve a particularly beautiful pebble and dropping it into her bucket. She recognised Eva then and waved a greeting, but the child was so entranced in her beachcombing she didn’t notice. The hem of her dress had turned a darker shade of blue after its contact with the water. It would no doubt leave an ugly salt stain when it dried out later. Jenny thought about the bolt of peacock-coloured silk she had discovered in Lena’s old blanket box. There would be just enough to make a beautiful dress for the little girl. Eva and her mother, Vanda, came into the café from time to time, and Jenny often slipped the child an extra piece of focaccia when her mother wasn’t looking. A proud woman, Vanda was never comfortable accepting charity, but raising Eva all by herself often meant they struggled.

  Eva looked up and noticed Jenny staring. She waved shyly, as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t, and Jenny beckoned her over.

  ‘Can I see?’ she asked, holding out her hand and switching to the basic Italian she had learned over the past year. ‘Are all these for you?’ She stuck her hand in the bucket and let the pebbles fall through her fingers.

  The little girl shook her head, her long dark plaits swishing from side to side, then turned around as she heard Vanda call her name from further down the beach. Before she skipped off, she rummaged in her bucket and pulled out a pink marbled pebble, handing it to Jenny with a shy smile.

  ‘For me? Why, grazie mille.’ Jenny clutched it to her chest. ‘I’ll treasure it forever.’

  She watched as Eva ran back to her mother. Vanda scooped up her daughter and held her tightly to her chest, covering her face in kisses. Jenny could hear Eva giggling as she struggled to get down and show her mother her precious haul. It was a simple but touching sight, and she was forced to look away. Yes, Louis would certainly love it here.

  She stayed on the harbour wall, mesmerised by the waves lapping along the shoreline. A shadow crept over her, blocking out the sun’s rays. She shivered and pulled her shawl tighter.

  ‘Jennifer.’

  She froze, the only movement coming from her thudding heart, then squinted up at the near-stranger. ‘Nico?’

  He nodded, offering both his hands and pulling her to her feet. ‘Oh God, I’ve missed you,’ he breathed.

  She stared at his care-worn features, his dark skin ingrained with dirt or soil or God only knew what. His hair was shorter but still an inky black that matched his eyes. ‘Nico,’ she whispered, touching his face. ‘Is it really you?’ She pressed herself to his body, inhaling his unfamiliar scent. She could detect oil or grease and something reminiscent of burning leaves. ‘I can’t believe you’re home.’ She peeled away to take another look at him. ‘Are you well? Have you been injured?’

  ‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I am quite well.’ He rubbed his eyes, leaving a smear of muck across his face. ‘Just tired, that’s all. I’ve been walking for thirty-six hours.’ He took her face in his hands, lowering his lips towards hers. ‘May I?’

  She nodded slowly and closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of his breath first, and then his thumb grazed her cheek, until finally his lips met hers for an agonisingly fleeting moment before he kissed her again more deeply.

  ‘Is . . . is it really over, Nico? The war, I mean. And how come they let you leave? Are you a deserter?’ She looked around in panic. ‘Will they come to arrest you?’

  ‘You worry too much,’ he laughed. ‘It is true that the orders were to remain in barracks, but I’m not going to wait around for the Germans to take me prisoner. The roads are streaming with soldiers who just want to return home to their loved ones.’

  ‘But disobeying an officer, isn’t that—’

  He silenced her with another kiss. ‘There is much confusion, Jennifer, I cannot lie. Nobody knows what is going to happen, but I am home now and I promise I will never leave you again.’

  She took the pebble out of her pocket and held it in her palm for him to see. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? Just look at the marbling.’

  ‘Jenny, there’s a beach full of stones down there.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not like this one. This one’s special. A little girl gave it to me, and then, just like that, you appeared from nowhere.’ She slipped it back into her pocket. ‘I’m going to keep it with me always. It’s going to be my lucky charm.’

  43

  2019

  She peered through the curtain, giving it an impatient tug for good measure before craning her neck to see to the end of the street. ‘Oh, where is it?’ She took out her phone and glanced at the time again. ‘I bloody knew this would happen.’

  Beau lay on the sofa, his expression brooding. ‘You know this is a sign, don’t you?’

  ‘A sign of what?’

  ‘Are you thick, or what? A sign that you shouldn’t go.’

  She blew out an impatient breath. ‘Not this again. I thought you were happy for me to go.’

  Beau shrugged. ‘Happy? Oh, I’ve never been happy about it. I suppose it’s finally hit me, that’s all. I was convinced you wouldn’t go through with it, but it appears my feelings don’t count.’ He flicked some ash onto the carpet. ‘As long as that bloody Jenny’s happy.’

  ‘You really are acting like a spoilt kid, Beau. It’s only for a week. I’ve told you Jenny wants to return to Italy one last time. There’s something she has to do and I’m not going to deny an old lady her last wish just because you’ll have to make your own tea for once.’

  ‘What’s so important that she has to drag you along?’

  ‘Something happened seventy-five years ago, apparently, something important to her. There’s to be some
kind of commemoration and she needs to go back to lay some ghosts to rest. That’s all she’s told me.’

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing dramatically. ‘The memory’s still so raw, Candice. You don’t know what it’s like. I watched my parents leave in a taxi for the airport and I barely even acknowledged they were going. I can’t remember saying goodbye properly; I don’t think I even looked up from my phone.’ He paused. ‘I never saw them again.’

  She knelt down by the side of the sofa. ‘Poor baby.’ She smoothed her hand over his forehead. ‘I promise you I will come back. It’s not going to happen again. Do you hear me?’

  He nodded. ‘And you’ll keep in touch?’

  ‘Every day.’ She smiled. ‘Every hour of every day.’

  At the sound of a car horn in the street below, she jumped up. ‘Thank God for that. He’s going to have to put his foot down, though.’

  Beau heaved himself off the sofa, pulling her into his arms and squeezing hard. ‘I’m going to miss you, babe. You’ve no idea how much you mean to me.’ He released his grip, allowing her to breathe again. ‘I love you, Candice.’

  ‘And I love you too. Now, I’ve got to be going. Are you coming downstairs or what?’

  ‘No, I don’t want a scene on the pavement.’