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I knew that although I was telling my parents the truth, it wasn’t really the scenery that held me captive, instead it was the pull of being able to see him, even from a distance.
He’d never talked to me; he didn’t ever come down from his resting place nestled between the rocks above me and I didn’t know his name. But when I sought somewhere calm, to be away from my extended family or just the simple peace and quiet to read, I knew he’d more often than not be there to accompany me.
I’d already heard the recognisable roar of his motorbike just before breakfast, just as I had most days of our annual late summer holiday. We always spent the whole month of September at our villa, not only because my papa’s family connections meant he had to be here to take part in meetings, but also for us to be schooled on our Italian roots to curb our Englishness and to keep our blood connections with family alive.
When I’d tired of the beauty of the country we were in, and the overly familiar aunts and uncles had petted me to within an inch of my life, I knew that he’d be sitting out there somewhere, waiting to silently offer me his companionship.
As the years passed and my understanding of my papa’s line of work increased, the more I felt the need to escape. Not because what he did scared me, but because it intrigued me and drew me in like a moth to a flame. I was a little ashamed of my attraction to the brutality I knew was involved. I knew without a doubt it was what my papa did that bought our designer clothes and put us through private school in Battersea, London, and my fascination with his lifestyle frightened me more than any scary movie my older brothers forced me to watch.
However, I understood that I was at war with myself, and I would need to keep the two parts of my soul separate.
A year earlier, feeling that I needed to balance the scales against the lives my family would undoubtedly take when they thought it necessary, I’d decided I was going to do the opposite and save lives instead. But to do that, I already understood that I needed to keep the two warring parts of my soul separate. And for some unknown reason, I felt that my companion up on the rocks was going to be the friend that helped me achieve just that.
‘You can go, Serafina. Stay where we can see you, away from the water’s edge and unlike yesterday, make sure you listen out for being called back for lunch,’ my papa warned, raising his eyebrows until he saw me acknowledge that I’d heard what he’d said.
‘Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Mummy.’ I used the name I knew she loved the most to placate her after I had got my own way, hoping to put the missing smile back on her face. After watching the start of her small smile blossom, I took the couple of steps towards them and leant in to kiss them both on the cheek.
Then I was off, as fast as my feet would carry me.
As I reached the gate that kept us locked in, I reached down for a small, yellow bucket to give the story I knew I’d tell later some credibility. Grabbing hold of the metal handle, I released the catch on the gate, fled through the opening and closed it soundly behind me. Then I was off running like the mountain goat I was certain my mum thought I was becoming. When I was far enough away, I stopped for a millisecond and took in a deep lungful of air.
It tasted like freedom and my heart rejoiced.
I knew I could get through anything just as long as he was always there.
My feet took the well-trodden path and I galloped further down towards the beach. I had worked out over the past few years that there was a particular spot where I could stop and turn to look for him, but this year I hadn’t. I knew that at any time I could be seen, and I didn’t want to share him with anyone else. My stranger would probably get into trouble for being there and I didn’t want that. I knew that for as many days as possible during the month we spent here, I needed to find him there. The inclination to turn to find him was strong, so I urged my feet on faster to reach the beach.
Finally, my feet met with the soft resistance of the sand underneath them and stopping sharply, I placed a hand to my forehead to shield my eyes from the strong sunlight to glance at the walls of our villa. Finding no one there watching me, I began to walk in the direction of the rocks he concealed himself with, only stopping briefly to pick up a broken shell on the way. I dropped it into my bucket, knowing I would need it later.
A sigh escaped as at last I came to where I always sat. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable rock, but when I’d first sat down on it a couple of years before, I’d worked out that I couldn’t be seen by anyone looking down to the beach from our terrace. I knew I couldn’t stay there for long, as my parents often sent staff to take a quick look for me, to check I was safe or more likely to check I was still within the confines of their control. But I didn’t care, because the strangest part was, sitting on the uncomfortable rock felt like the safest place in the world.
Holding on to my knees, I twisted my body to the right and looked up behind me. My eyes found his and I gave him a shy smile and waited for him to return one to me. Nothing came and a nervous disappointment suddenly filled me. My stubborn streak meant I wasn’t going to give up so easily. I stretched my smile wider and watched closely as he ran a hand through his dark hair, which I noticed was even more unruly this year. After returning his hair to where he wanted it to be, he moved his fingers down to his mouth to imitate eating and instantly I knew he’d left me some of what I assumed was his favourite snack. Hurriedly, I felt underneath the overhanging ledge behind me and, sure enough, heard the crinkle of the greaseproof paper they were always wrapped in. Lifting the small package up, I placed the paper on my lap and carefully unwrapped his gift. Sure enough, I found two small, obviously homemade, chocolate cookies. I grinned up my thanks and watched his face remain expressionless, as always. I’d already worked out that he would only allow himself to join in my delight after he’d watched me eating and appreciating his gift.
With my body still turned in his direction, I bit into the tiny chocolate dreams, knowing his eyes were taking in every bite. Then finally, when the last piece of goodness had crossed my lips and reached my tongue, I opened my eyes to find his. I pushed the last crumb from the corner where I could feel it and into my mouth.
The smile he graced me with as I finished, lit up my world. However, the strength behind it made me look away after a few seconds, with the fear of the unknown.
Looking around, I was sure there were better places to rest on, but this rock was special. It was our rock; his and mine. Here, he could leave me little presents of shells, pebbles that were once rough, but now smoothed by the turn of the tide, and every once in a while, a couple of his cookies.
I offered him a small wave, then got up to walk around for a little while, knowing that prying eyes were sure to be watching by now to catch a glimpse of me. As I walked around and around, picking up this and that and singing to myself occasionally, I would look up the cliff to find him.
With his eyes watching my every movement, I felt as beautiful as any ten-year-old girl should.
CHAPTER THREE
SALVATORE
Eighteen Years Old
Her casket weighed virtually nothing.
It wasn’t surprising. As the cancer had consumed her frail body, she’d eaten less and less, until she was as small as a child lying in her bed in the corner of our kitchen.
‘On three,’ I directed the other three pall bearers, who were apparently all distant family. Family I hadn’t even realised existed until they’d crawled out of the woodwork when Nonna had died, all hoping for a share of whatever money she had left. I’d laughed loudly as they’d cast their eyes around the tiny place that I’d shared with her until her death. Their faces had fallen when they’d quickly understood she’d only had enough money for my brand new suit to attend her funeral and to pay for her burial. My grandfather’s wedding ring had also been left to me. It was made of a darker metal, not silver or gold, and whether it had monetary value or not, it was valuable to me. I’d pushed it onto the only finger it fitted, in their presence.
‘One, two, three,’ I added, as we placed her casket down onto its predesignated shelf.
I’d stayed with my grandmother as she’d struggled to take in her last breath and when her final rattling breath had left her lungs, I had given up a prayer to the God she so trusted with every part of her pitiful life. Then I’d closed her eyes, so she could see me no longer. Standing up from beside her bed, I leant over to place a kiss to her already cooling forehead and called in the women from the village who were waiting to lay her out in the wedding gown she’d married my grandfather in. Apart from being sentimental to her, it was the only thing she owned that would be decent enough to stand before God in, to answer to her sins.
