Chapter 23
Over coffee, and limoncello for Nonna, she told us that as far as she was concerned, from the age of eighteen, she was Maria Carloni – Lorenzo’s widow. She had his ring, or at least one like it, she knew he had loved her and in her heart she was as good as married. And although her future plans were shattered, she was thankful for all the happy times they had had. So for the next few years, she simply carried on with her life; she watched her friends marry and have babies. But for her there was no one else, she wasn’t interested in sharing her life with a man who wasn’t Lorenzo. She lived with her mother, she worked in the bar and tried to bring in new customers, to make people feel welcome in Bar Salvatore, just like when her father had been alive.
Throughout Nonna’s story, she kept her chin up, showing me every inch of the proud young woman she would have been all those years ago.
‘I can’t imagine anything keeping you down for too long,’ I said, pouring us all a top-up.
‘That’s true, Mamma,’ said Mum. ‘You have always been a very determined woman.’
‘Lia?’ Juliet appeared holding Arlo at arm’s length in front of her. He was kicking his legs and looking very pleased with himself. ‘Naomi and the twins are ready to go and I think Arlo might need a change.’
Lia stood up, waved to the twins’ mum and shouted her thanks. Taking Arlo from Juliet, she caught a whiff of her offspring.
‘Oh poo.’ She pouted. ‘Now I’m going to miss the story.’
I handed her Arlo’s changing bag and winced at the smell. ‘I’d offer to do it, but … No, actually, that’s a lie.’
Nonna’s face had gone a peculiar colour. ‘We come to part of the story which isn’t for the children’s ears. Or yours, Alec.’
Lia tutted. ‘Arlo isn’t going to understand.’
‘I meant you and Rosanna. I’m gonna talk about sex.’
Mum swallowed hard.
Dad sprang to his feet and slipped his arms into his anorak. ‘I might stroll over to Ken’s for a pork pie.’
Part of me wanted to laugh at being referred to as a child. I was thirty-two. The other part couldn’t leave the table quick enough.
‘Wait for me, Dad.’
After Dad and I had dodged the puddles fetching him two mini pork pies, I spent the next fifteen minutes making myself useful, collecting empty mugs, loading the dishwasher and making toasties. Lia and Dad took Arlo out in his pushchair to get him to sleep and I kept sneaking looks at Mum and Nonna, trying to guess what was going on.
They were sitting together, hands joined on the table, heads almost touching and at one point I spotted Nonna dabbing Mum’s tears away with a tissue. My heart went out to the pair of them.
I made up my mind: I was going back in, sex or no sex. I had to know what Marco had done to Nonna. But before I had the chance to act on my decision, Verity phoned me.
‘Just taking a break from watching Tom teach the Sushi for Beginners course,’ she giggled. ‘I shouldn’t laugh but a man who’s been a right know-it-all the whole morning has just eaten a teaspoon of wasabi paste and now he’s making a noise like an elephant in labour.’
‘Sounds painful.’
‘There’s always one,’ she said pragmatically. ‘He’ll survive. Anyway, has that attractive blogger been back in, has he posted his article yet?’
‘No he hasn’t,’ I said. ‘Because he’s not a blogger and he’s barred. Permanently.’
I filled her in on the latest goings-on with Garden Warehouse, bogus blogger boy’s blatant sabotage of the café’s business, copying our menu and our current downturn in customer numbers.
‘Keep the faith,’ she said. ‘That place has novelty value at the moment, that’s all. Whereas the Lemon Tree Café has the Carloni family. And you don’t get more authentic than that.’
Except that we were, in fact, Benedettos … But I couldn’t tell Verity that. Nonna had asked us to keep it in the family for the moment.
I glanced at the mostly empty tables. ‘I hope you’re right. They’re cheap and cheerful whereas we’re just—’
I was about to say cheerful but at that moment Mum gasped and shouted ‘Bloody HELL’ as presumably Nonna filled her in on more details of her sex life than Mum had ever wanted to know and I couldn’t imagine that she was feeling too cheerful at all.
I nearly leapt out of my seat when Doreen tapped my shoulder.
‘Your mum’s calling for you, love.’
‘Hang on, Verity, I’ll just see what Mum wants.’
I walked through to the conservatory to find Nonna’s head buried in Mum’s neck. Mum rocked her back and forth making shushing noises against Nonna’s white hair as she wept.
I lifted the phone to my ear to tell Verity I’d call her back later but the look on Mum’s face stopped me in my tracks.
‘Mum? What is it?’
Her eyes burned with fury. ‘That monster, Marco. He killed my twin brother and could have killed your nonna and me too.’
My jaw dropped. ‘Your twin?’
She nodded tersely. ‘I had a brother, Gennaro. But my father, Marco,’ she spat his name out through gritted teeth, ‘made sure he never even got to take his first breath.’
‘Oh my God.’
My skin prickled with goosebumps. I wrapped my arms round her and Nonna. Mum looked up to the ceiling and I could see she was trying to be strong.
‘It gets worse. He forced himself on her.’
Blood rushed to my head. No. Not Nonna.
‘I’m sorry, Luisa,’ Nonna wept.
My stomach twisted; she had nothing to apologize for.
Mum lowered her voice. ‘Mamma was attacked by Marco Benedetto. He got her pregnant and her family made her marry him. And she has been keeping this secret all my life.’
I was barely aware of my movements as I jumped up, stumbled backwards into the branches of a lemon tree and ran out of the café. I stood on the pavement letting the rain wash over me, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest.
‘Hello? Rosie? Are you there?’
I looked down to see my phone in my hands. Verity was still on the line.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Nonna was raped too,’ I blurted out, wiping the rain from my face.
‘OH MY GOD. Who would do that to an old lady?’
‘No. Not recently. When she was … I don’t know, early twenties, I guess,’ I corrected her.
My entire body was trembling: legs on the verge of collapse; hands shaking so much I could barely hold the phone to my ear.
‘Jesus. Even so. Poor thing. I can’t imagine – wait, you said “too”?’
For a moment I didn’t understand what she meant. ‘What?’
‘You said Nonna was raped too? Who else, Rosie?’
My lungs felt as if they’d been jammed in a vice; I couldn’t breathe. I gulped at the air, desperate for oxygen. Across the street on the village green was a bench. I’d go over and sit, regardless of the rain. I stepped off the pavement blindly between two parked cars.
‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘Forget I said anything.’
I didn’t see the van approach. It drove straight through a big puddle and a huge plume of water from the cobbled street hit my lower half.
‘Oh my God, it’s you. It happened to you too, didn’t it?’ Verity said with a gasp.
‘I have to go.’ I glanced down at my wet jeans.
‘Is this something to do with Callum? Is that why—’
But it was too late; I’d hung up.