‘Until you told me about Violetta and Lance, I believed Violetta and my father conspired together. I asked myself what good would come from revealing my papà’s part, of opening up old wounds again? Your poor widowed mamma needed the support of neighbours rallying around. You and your brother and sister had lost your father. You needed love and friendship, not people turning their backs on you. My revelations had helped cause my brother’s heart attack. The least I could do was protect his family. But now, everything we knew about Violetta has been turned inside out. I must go to see Fernanda, to tell the truth to her face.’
46
Fernanda rinsed the tureen under the running tap and set it on the draining rack. Last night she’d gone to bed without washing up. The revelations about Violetta had left her so mentally exhausted she had barely managed to brush her teeth.
The radio was playing, sun streamed through the window highlighting flashes of purple on the bubbles in the sink. Another beautiful morning; a new day in every way. Carefully, she dried the pink and white tureen. It was one of her favourite pieces, oval with a pretty toile de jouy pattern. To think that she had hesitated to use it for her guests because it had belonged to Violetta. Now she planned to search through every drawer and cupboard, pulling out the few things she owned that her sister had once touched and display it all with pride. She wanted to run down the street telling everyone she met they’d got Violetta all wrong – that she’d helped an English soldier on the run, that she was no fascist collaborator. Fernanda wanted to hang a banner from the façade of Sant’ Agata’s, hire a light aircraft trailing plumes of red, white and green smoke, writing Violetta’s name across the sky!
She laughed out loud. How fanciful she was being! All she really wanted was a quiet acknowledgement of her sister’s bravery. And a shamefaced apology from those who’d said things behind her back wouldn’t go amiss.
There was one dish left to wash up; this one needed the metal scourer despite its overnight soak. She made a face and turned the radio up. It took her a moment or two to realise that the intermittent knocking sound she could hear wasn’t part of the beat. She peeled off her rubber gloves and went to open the front door.
Domenico stood on the doorstep holding a potted cyclamen in a vivid shade of pink. In the other hand he clutched a squashed and battered cocktail hat.
‘Buongiorno,’ Fernanda said.
‘Buongiorno.’ Domenico stood awkwardly.
Fernanda stepped backwards into her hallway. ‘I suppose you had better come in.’
* * *
Amy climbed into the back of Gino’s car and grappled with the seatbelt.
‘We will drive most of the way and then we will have to walk,’ Gino said. He glanced in the mirror and pulled out of the village car park.
‘Did Leo show you therusticobefore?’ Stella asked.
‘I walked over there the other day, going the long way round, down past the old water mill. I didn’t see a reason to go inside then but now I’m itching to. I know it’s not very likely that I’ll find any clue that Lance and Violetta were meeting there but you never know.’
‘It gives us a good excuse to go back again, doesn’t it, Stella?’ Gino said, glancing over his shoulder. A car horn tooted. ‘Oh, better keep my eye on the road.’
‘Please do,’ Stella said. She looked happy and relaxed today. Even her short hairstyle seemed to have grown out slightly, giving her a softer look. But Amy knew it wasn’t the tan or the hair or even the loose linen dress Stella was wearing that gave her that glow. It was the man driving them and knowing the weight of history was no longer standing in their way.
The car pulled up on a scrubby bit of land. Amy clambered out. She walked beside Stella as Gino led the way.
He turned his head. ‘Have you told Amy about our plans?’
‘Our very tentative plans? No, I haven’t.’ A cloud crossed Stella’s face.
‘I’m planning to sell up in Alassio and move back here,’ Gino said. ‘I’ve spoken to my daughter, Isabella, and she’s relaxed about it so that’s one hurdle out of the way. Stella and I want to buy a place in the village and revitalise my grandparents’ land. We will produce our own olive oil, perhaps diversify into some wild herbs and maybe even get a few goats.’
Amy glanced at Stella, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned any of this.
‘I didn’t want to tempt fate by talking about it,’ Stella said. ‘There’s still a lot to sort out and I’m not sure how it will work – in practical terms, I mean. To tell you the truth, Amy, I was hoping to keep some hours at Domenico’s shop but he’d already promised a job to Signora Togliatti’s grandson.’
‘We’ll work something out.’ Gino took Stella’s hand. Amy trotted along behind the two of them until the path narrowed and they all had to walk single file. It was particularly beautiful to approach therusticothis way, through the heathery yarrow and the hawthorn trees. She inhaled a great lungful of fresh air. Ahead of them the olive grove stretched away, therusticojust visible beyond the trees. This place was glorious, she didn’t want to think about leaving.
Gino’s stride lengthened; the two women hurried along behind him, neither speaking, both lost in their own thoughts. They stopped on the edge of the olive grove. Gino ran his hand along a twisted branch. His face softened.
‘All the years I’ve lived in Alassio whilst some other family farmed here, I dreamt of coming back to Leto. But there was always something missing from the picture I created in my mind that stopped me. I didn’t know what it was until I saw you again.’ He reached out and touched Stella’s cheek.
Amy looked away. She was happy for them, of course she was, but it made her own inevitable departure feel worse.
‘I’m going to walk around here and inspect the trees,’ Gino said. ‘Why don’t you two go inside?’
‘Come on, Amy,’ Stella said. They walked up the gentle incline to the back of the property. Amy glanced behind her. Gino stood, one hand shielding his eyes, gazing out across his family’s land.
Stella unlocked the door, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. Amy blinked, the light was dim after the brightness outside. Where the light did get in, dust motes danced in the air.
