Читать книгу Some Sunny Day - Annie Groves, Annie Groves - Страница 8

THREE

In the end Rosie’s need to be with her friends compelled her to take the short cut home, almost running there despite the city’s evening heat.

There was no sign of broken glass any more but the boarded-up windows and doors were a chilling reminder of what had happened.

She was halfway down Gerard Street when one of the neighbours called through her open door, ‘If you’re on your way to the Grenellis’, Rosie, there’s bin no news yet.’

‘But surely the men must be home by now,’ Rosie protested, shielding her face from the evening sun as she looked up to the narrow balcony where the young woman was standing, her baby on her hip.

The other woman shook her head. ‘I’ve heard as how they’re not letting any of them go until they’re sure that they aren’t Fascists. Daft, I call it. All the ruddy government needs to do is to come down here and ask around to find out what they want to know, not go locking up decent men. I heard this afternoon as how Bella’s ma has teken it real badly, screaming and yelling and sayin’ as ’ow she were going to end up wi’out her father and her hubbie, on account of the government as good as murderin’ them. Maria were down at the church asking if the priest would come up and see her, so Fran Gonnelli two down from me, were sayin’.’

Like Rosie, Doreen Halliwell was not Italian, and Rosie guessed that she was more interested in gossiping about what had happened than offering any helpful information, so she didn’t want to linger in the street. Besides, her comments about Maria going down to Holy Cross church had made Rosie even more anxious to get to the Grenellis’ house and find out what was happening.

Fortunately the baby started to cry, giving her the excuse to hurry on her way.

Bella opened the door to her brief knock. Her olive skin had lost its normal warmth, leaving her looking sallow, her brown eyes shimmering with tears as the two girls embraced one another before Bella drew her inside.

‘Are they back?’ Rosie began, even before she had closed the door, desperate to be reassured that all was well.

But Bella was already shaking her head, telling her brokenly, ‘No! There is no news, good or otherwise, Rosie. I wish that there was.’ Her eyes, already red-rimmed from crying, swam with fresh tears. ‘All we do know is that all the men who were rounded up last night have been taken to the North Western Hotel on Lime Street for questioning, and that we aren’t allowed to see them or speak with them. Aunt Maria has been down to the police station with food for them and clean clothes, but even though the police were sympathetic, they said there was nothing they could do to help, not with Mr Churchill himself having issued a general internment order against all Italian men aged between sixteen and seventy. They were saying at Podestra’s that even the Italian Consul in Liverpool has been taken.’ Her voice dropped. ‘My mother is taking it very badly. You know that she’s always wanted the family to go back home.’

Rosie nodded. Over the years there had been many passionate discussions around the Grenelli kitchen table about this subject, with Sofia saying how much she would like to go back to the village she had left as a small baby. Rosie could remember them quite clearly and she could remember too how much they had scared her and how much she had worried about the Grenellis going back to Italy and leaving her behind in Liverpool, pining for them. She had loved the whole family so much she had not been able to bear the thought of them not being there. As she grew older, every time the subject of ‘going home’ was discussed, Rosie had tried hard not to think selfishly of her own feelings but to recognise instead how hard it must be for the older generation of Italians, who had come to Liverpool genuinely believing that their absence from their homeland would only be temporary, and that once they had made enough money they would be able to return home to retire. Now, in view of what was happening, Rosie could understand why Sofia wished they had left.

‘Aunt Maria is worried that she will be reported to the authorities, and she has begged her not to say any more. I hadn’t realised myself until now how strong my mother’s convictions are, or that she and my father …’ Bella chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. ‘Rosie, you must promise me not to say anything to anyone about what I have just said.’

Was Bella saying that her parents were Fascists? Rosie didn’t know very much about Italian politics other than what she had heard in the Grenelli kitchen, but she could see how shocked and fearful Bella was and so she nodded vigorously and gave her promise. It was ridiculous that anyone could think that men like Giovanni and Carlo could be mixed up in something dangerous and illegal.

‘Father Doyle has been round this afternoon,’ Bella added, ‘to see la Nonna and my mother …’

‘Doreen Halliwell was on her balcony as I came down Gerard Street and she told me that Maria had been to fetch him. Did he manage to …’ The girls were exchanging whispers in the scullery, and Rosie tugged on Bella’s sleeve, not wanting to go into the kitchen and join the others until she knew everything there was to know.

Bella shook her head dispiritedly. ‘Mamma won’t listen to anyone. Like I said, she is taking it very badly, Rosie. I have never seen her like this before. One minute she’s furiously angry, and the next she just won’t speak at all. Then she says that we will never see our men again and that they are as good as dead, and that without them we might as well all be dead.’

Rosie shivered as she heard the fear in her friend’s voice. Somehow she had expected that it would be gentle tender-hearted Maria who would be the one to suffer the most, not her more fiery sister, but as though she sensed what Rosie was thinking, Bella offered sadly, ‘My mother has always been devoted to Grandfather Giovanni, and him to her. Aunt Maria says it is because she is so like his own mother. She cannot bear the thought of him suffering in any kind of way, and she is distraught that this has happened to him. Even Father Doyle was unable to comfort her. She has spent all afternoon on her knees praying that they will be set free and allowed to return home, but Father Doyle says that the British Government will not free any of the men until they are sure that they have combed out those amongst them that are true Fascists. He has asked permission to visit them, but he has been told that at the moment that is not possible. But with our consul taken along with the others, there is no one to speak to the authorities on their behalf.’

Bella’s revelations left Rosie too shocked to make any response for a few moments. ‘But surely the authorities must know which men they truly suspect of working against our country,’ she protested when she had recovered herself.

‘You would have thought so,’ Bella agreed, ‘but according to Father Doyle there is a great deal of confusion caused by so many of our men socialising with one another and being unwittingly drawn into the Fascist organisation, although they are not Fascists in any way. It does not help that so many of the older men do not speak English very well, and have been saying how much they want to return to Italy, like my mother. It is only pride that makes them say such things and our own local police understand that, but Constable Black is concerned that the government may not understand this. And, of course, there are those who resent us and who are glad to see this dreadful thing happen to us,’ Bella added. ‘Let’s go into the parlour. Aunt Maria and la Nonna will be glad to see you.’

Bella did not say that her own mother would be glad to see her, Rosie noted, but she was too fond of her friend to say anything.

The good smell of soup and garlic from the large pan on the stove made Rosie’s stomach growl with hunger, but for once there was no familiar call to her to sit herself down at the table whilst la Nonna demanded to be told about her day, and Maria hurried to bring soup and bread, along with a glass of the watered-down wine the whole family drank.

La Nonna was seated in a chair beside the fire, watching Maria’s every movement with an anxious gaze, but it was Sofia who caused Rosie to feel the greatest fear. Bella’s normally assertive mother was sitting in a chair staring into space without blinking or even turning her head to look at them as they entered the room.

‘She has been like this since Father Doyle left,’ Bella whispered.

At the sound of her granddaughter’s voice la Nonna broke into rapid Italian, speaking too quickly for Rosie to be able to understand.

‘La Nonna says that we need an Italian priest to help us speak both to the authorities and to God,’ Maria explained with a sad smile.

Italian priests without parishes of their own were permitted to preach within the Italian communities by the Catholic Church, but since they travelled from parish to parish, they were not always on hand.

‘Surely there is something that can be done,’ Rosie protested, a small frown creasing her forehead as she wondered why her own mother wasn’t here with their friends.

‘Everything that can be done has been,’ Maria assured her gently. ‘Those of our leaders who have not been taken have tried to speak to the government, but we have been told that we must wait and that there is nothing to fear for those who are not Fascists.’ Her mouth trembled and she blinked away tears.

‘But if that is so, then why do they continue to hold our men?’ Bella burst out fiercely. ‘Especially my grandfather. You know how devoted to one another he and la Nonna are, Rosie,’ she appealed to her friend.

Rosie nodded.

‘La Nonna cannot understand why they have not let him come home. We have tried to explain to her but she doesn’t understand. She is worrying about his chest, and if there is anyone at the police station to give him some cordial when he coughs. She is desperately afraid that the police will come back and take her away next and that she will never see Grandfather or any of us again. And my mother is just as distraught. She says it will kill my grandfather to be treated like this and that we will never see him or my father alive again. Oh, Rosie, I am so scared that she could be right,’ Bella admitted.

‘Oh, Bella, don’t,’ Rosie begged her, white-faced. ‘You mustn’t think like that because it isn’t going to happen,’ she went on stoutly. ‘It’s all a terrible mistake, Bella, it has to be. And as soon as the police realise that—’

‘But what if they don’t, what if—’

‘They will. They have to,’ Rosie insisted quickly. It was unthinkable that an elderly man like Giovanni should be taken away from his family and not allowed to return. Unthinkable too that kind-hearted Carlo could be mixed up in anything as dangerous as Fascism.

‘You can say that, but why are they keeping them for so long? Surely by now they must have realised that they are innocent.’

‘These things take time, Bella,’ Maria intervened in her calm gentle voice. ‘All we can do is pray for patience, put our trust in God and wait. Mr Churchill knows how many of our boys are fighting for this country. He is a fair and just man and once he has assured himself that there is no danger he will set our men free, just as Father Doyle says.’

‘If that is true why aren’t they free already?’ Bella announced fiercely. ‘I am going to go to Lime Street now and demand to see my father and my grandfather.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Rosie offered immediately.

Maria shook her head and bustled both girls out of the parlour, closing the door behind her as she did so.

‘There isn’t any point in going to the North Western Hotel.’

‘We could take them food and clean clothes …’

Lowering her voice, Maria said tiredly, ‘You won’t be allowed to see them and besides … Father Doyle has already been down to Lime Street and been told that they are going to be moved in the morning. I haven’t told la Nonna or Sofia yet.’

Both girls looked at her in fresh shock. ‘Moved where?’ Bella demanded.

‘Huyton,’ Maria told them quietly.

‘The internment camp?’ Rosie whispered. She felt as though hard fingers had taken hold of her heart and were squeezing it so tightly she could hardly breathe. Early on in the war, certain streets on the new Huyton housing estate had been converted for use as an internment camp to hold those individuals who were considered a threat in the event of an invasion. Several roads in the estate had been sealed off with an eight-foot fence of barbed wire, and internees were billeted in the cordoned-off houses, where they faced the prospect of being sent to the Isle of Man, or even deported to Canada.

‘Yes,’ Maria answered. As she spoke Maria’s head dropped as though in shame and through her numbness Rosie felt a fierce surge of anger that she should be made to feel like that.

‘They can’t be going to Huyton.’ Bella’s voice was more that of a frightened child than a young woman. Rosie could feel her own hope draining out of her, to be replaced by cold disbelief and shock. How could this be happening? ‘They might say they are being interned but that’s just another word for being imprisoned, isn’t it?’ Bella whispered, tears filling her eyes. ‘Oh, Aunt Maria, what’s going to happen to them?’

Maria shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Father Doyle says he’d heard that all those Italians who had been taken into custody were to be sent to somewhere near Bury – Warth Mills it’s called – where they’ll be held until the government combs out the Fascists. Then when that’s been done …’ Her voice trailed away, tears brimming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything about this to your mother or la Nonna, Bella. There’s no point in getting either of them even more upset than they already are.’

Rosie’s heart went out to Maria. She guessed that whilst it was concern for her elderly mother’s health that made her want to protect her from the news, it was the worry about what Sofia might say or do that made her feel her sister couldn’t be trusted with the truth.

‘You’d better go home now, Rosie,’ she added gently. ‘Your mam will be waiting for news.’

Rosie hugged her tightly before turning to leave. She could sense that this was a time when the family needed to be alone although it hurt her too to know that she could not be part of the tight-knit circle of grieving, worried women because she did not share their blood, or their nationality.

‘At last. Put the kettle on, will yer?’ Christine demanded when Rosie opened the back door. ‘I’m parched.’ Christine was sitting with her feet up on a chair whilst she painted her nails a vivid shade of scarlet. Her hair and makeup looked immaculate and she was wearing one of her best frocks. Tight-fitting and in bright red imitation satin, it was a dress that Rosie knew her mother loved, whilst whenever she saw her in it, all Rosie could think was that she wished her mother wouldn’t wear it, and that it looked both cheap and too young for her.

It astonished Rosie to see Christine looking all dressed up and full of herself, when the Grenellis were experiencing so much heartache, but the last thing she wanted to do was provoke a row with her, so instead of saying what she felt she said quietly instead, as she filled the kettle, ‘I’ve just been round at the Grenellis’.’ Trying to keep the reproach out of her voice, she continued, ‘They’ve had some news, but it isn’t very good. The men are going to be moved to Huyton in the morning.’

‘Yes, yes, I know all about that,’ Christine interrupted her, looking bored. ‘I went down to Rose Street this dinner time and managed to sweet-talk Tom Byers into telling us what was going on. I suppose Sofia’s still carryin’ on about how she wishes they’d all gone back to Italy, is she? Ruddy fool. She wants to watch her tongue, she does, otherwise it won’t just be her Carlo who’ll end up being deported as a Fascist.’

Rosie couldn’t conceal her shock. ‘The Grenellis aren’t Fascists, Mum.’

‘Well, you could have fooled me the way Sofia’s bin carryin’ on. I’ve bin warning Aldo to keep his distance from Carlo – not that Carlo’s to blame. It’s ruddy Sofia wot’s got them all into this mess, if you ask me, allus goin’ on about Italy and that Mussolini. Of course, she’s allus bin able to twist her dad round her little finger. It should be her wot was taken off, not Aldo. Anyway, Tom Byers has tipped me the wink that them as is found to be Fascists will end up being interned on the Isle of Man, wi’ the worst of them shipped off to Canada. I’m going up to Huyton in the morning to see if I can manage to have a word wi’ Aldo and warn him to keep his mouth shut when he’s questioned at this Warth Mills place they’re all going to be sent to.’

Rosie could only stare at her mother. How had she managed to find out so much when poor Maria had been told next to nothing? Rosie winced inwardly as she took in her mother’s smug expression and dressed-up appearance.

‘I would have thought you’d be straight round to the Grenellis to tell them what you’d heard,’ was all she could manage to say.

Christine reached for her cigarettes. ‘Wot, and ’ave to listen to Sofia ranting on? No, thanks. Besides, I don’t want to get tarred wi’ the same brush as them, and if you’ve any sense in that head of yours, our Rosie, you’ll keep a bit o’ distance from Bella whilst all this is goin’ on. Hurry up with that cuppa, will yer, Rosie?’ Christine looked down at her legs and added, ‘I hope that yer dad remembers to bring us some stockings back wi’ him this time. Honestly, he’s that daft at times. Fancy goin’ all the way to New York and not thinkin’ on to fetch us some stockings.’

‘They were almost torpedoed the last time, Mum, and Dad said that they were lucky not to be sunk. I dare say he didn’t have time to go looking for stockings with them having to unload and come back so quick so as not to miss the convoy,’ Rosie told her.

She was still trying to come to terms with the change in her mother’s attitude towards the Grenellis – a change that left her feeling ashamed and determined to make sure that the family knew they could count on her loyalty and friendship at least.

* * *

The week dragged by with no real news about what was going to happen to the men. Rosie had no idea whether or not her mother had visited Huyton as she had said she was going to because Christine had flatly refused to discuss the subject with her, saying that it was her business what she did and no one else’s. There were times, Rosie acknowledged, when she found it very hard to understand the way her mother’s mind worked. Her mother’s behaviour made her feel guilty when Bella told Rosie that she and Maria were going to Huyton with the Podestra family to see if they could somehow or other manage to see their menfolk.

‘We’re going to take them some food and some clean clothes.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Rosie volunteered immediately.

Bella shook her head. ‘You can’t, Rosie. We’re goin’ in the morning because that’s when Louisa Podestra reckons the guards let the men come out for some fresh air. You’ll be at work. Louisa has told me I can have the time off. Not that we’ve got that many coming into the chippie since it all happened, exceptin’ to ask if there’s bin any fresh news. It seems to me that me mam’s in the right of it and it would have bin better for us if we’d gone back to Italy,’ Bella added with a new bitterness in her voice.

‘Bella, don’t say that,’ Rosie protested. ‘You’re as English as I am.’

‘No I’m not. I’m Italian, and proud of it even if I were born here.’

‘We’re at war with Italy now,’ Rosie reminded her, trying not to look shocked.

‘I don’t need telling that, do I?’ Bella retaliated. ‘Not wi’ me dad and me granddad in a concentration camp.’

‘Huyton isn’t a concentration camp.’

‘Huh, those who run it may not be callin’ it that, but what else can it be when they’ve got men imprisoned there?’

Rosie said nothing. She was beginning to feel as though she didn’t know her friend properly any more. She hadn’t missed the bitter looks Sofia gave her whenever she went round to the Grenellis’, and now here was Bella treating her more as though they were enemies than friends, and as though England wasn’t her home at all. Rosie was confused by her own feelings. She felt hurt by Bella’s attitude towards her and, if she was honest, she felt angry as well when Bella complained and said that she wished she were living in Italy. She had understood when Bella had been upset about what had happened to the Italian men, but she couldn’t agree with what Bella was saying now.

‘I hope you manage to see your dad and granddad,’ was all she could manage to say eventually. And for the first time since they had grown up they did not hug one another when they said goodbye.