Page 11 of The Girl from Sicily

11

LUCIA, JULY 1943

Lucia was staring at the ants marching along the sidewalk like a miniature army as they made their way towards a dead cockroach. There were always ants in Villaurora, like there were always flies. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many of the varmints in New York.

She’d come outside early, hoping despite herself that Gero would turn up like he’d done the other morning. Yesterday, he’d taken Dinu and Francu off with him somewhere. Curiosity burned within. Her brother had returned late last night and had gone off to work with Pa before he could tell her anything.

Lucia thought about Gero while she waited. She got a funny feeling in her stomach whenever she remembered his words to her. He’d said she was beautiful, and the way he’d looked at her with puppy dog eyes had given her such an unexpected thrill.

The sound of footfalls alerted her to the fact that someone was approaching. Was it Gero? Lucia’s heart pounded in anticipation. But it was the marshal of the carabinieri, Giulianu Cardona, who was striding up the road, and her breath hitched with disappointment.

‘ Bon jornu , Lucia. What are you doing out here on your own?’

‘Only getting some fresh air.’

Cardona’s eyes roved down her body, and embarrassment made her cheeks grow hot.

‘Is your brother around?’

‘He’s gone to work.’

‘Tell him to report to me when he returns.’

‘Why? What’s he done?’ Lucia crossed her arms.

‘Nothing for you to worry about, zuccareddu .’

‘I’m not your “little sugar”.’ Her flesh crawled.

Cardona laughed and raked his eyes over her again. Hungry eyes that made her feel sick to the stomach.

‘One day,’ he said. ‘When this war is over?—’

Ma’s voice calling her from within the house interrupted whatever the marshal was about to say. She spun on her heel with relief and went indoors, glad to remove herself from Cardona’s predatory gaze.

* * *

That evening, Gero arrived with more ground beef – which Ma gratefully took off him to make a ragù for pasta. After greeting the rest of the family, he went to his radio transceiver.

In the periphery of Lucia’s vision, he sent a coded message, and a reply came through almost straight away. She knew his code book was in the same suitcase that housed the radio; she watched him quickly transcribe the communication, then heard him let out a whoop.

‘The Allies have arrived in Sicily,’ he said. ‘They got here in the early hours of this morning. The Americans have taken Licata and are fighting their way into Agrigento.’

‘ Bedda Matri! ’ Wow, Ma exclaimed. ‘Is it really true?’

‘No doubt whatsoever.’ Gero got up from where he was sitting and Dinu and Pa enveloped him in bear hugs.

Lucia hung back, suddenly shy. She caught Gero looking at her over Dinu’s shoulder and her heart gave a flutter.

‘I’ll go open a bottle of wine,’ her twin brother said, extricating himself from Gero and Pa. ‘We should celebrate.’

‘What happens now?’ Pa asked, pulling out chairs for himself and Gero at the table.

‘The US army will push west to Palermo and north to Messina, where they’ll meet up with the British. That’s confidential intel, by the way. But you’ve become like family, and I trust you.’

Was Gero bragging again? Lucia frowned. Or was he merely a trusting person by nature? If she’d been given similar information, she wouldn’t have breathed a word to anyone. She went to join the men at the table and accepted a glass of wine.

‘How long do you think it will take the Allies to break through?’ she asked.

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Gero winked at her.

Lucia glanced away, hoping her father hadn’t seen. She was definitely starting to develop feelings for Gero, and Pa mustn’t find out. If he had any inkling, he’d be fearful about her reputation and keep her even more under lock and key.

‘Well, I hope it’s sooner rather than later,’ Lucia said. ‘Then we won’t have you beneath our feet any more, Gero.’

Her heart sank as she caught the look of devastation on his face. Somehow, she had to get him on his own and explain what was at stake.

‘How about we go huntin’ rabbits tomorrow night, Dinu?’ she suggested to her brother.

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ her twin said before turning to Gero. ‘You up for it too, paisano ?’

Gero shot Lucia a look, and she nodded as imperceptibly as she could.

‘Count me in,’ he said.

* * *

At sunset the next day, with a hunting rifle slung over her shoulder and dressed like a boy in Dinu’s clothes, Lucia was hiking up towards the corridor of jagged peaks behind the village. She brushed past the sisal plants, hearing the rattle of the snails falling to the ground. A grey viper with black stripes slithered across her path. It was more intent on hunting lizards than worrying about any humans, but she took care to avoid stepping on it – the venom in its bite would hurt like hell.

Dinu was forging the way in front, but Gero had fallen into step beside her. She asked him about the progress of the Allied advance; he’d been on the radio prior to them setting off.

‘The Italian army is putting up some resistance, forcing the Americans to battle their way into Agrigento. I don’t have any info about how the British are getting on?—’

‘I feel a little sad that the Americans are fighting our countrymen,’ she said. ‘Even though, basically, I’m a US citizen as I was born there.’

‘Yeah, I get it. I kinda feel the same way.’

‘Sorry about what I said last night about your getting out from under our feet.’ She tugged at her shirtsleeve, thinking about what to say next. ‘It’s just that Pa is very protective of me, like all Sicilian dads with their daughters. If he thought there was anything between us, he wouldn’t let me anywhere near you.’

‘Are you saying there’s something between us?’ Gero’s face broke into a smile.

‘I dunno. Is there?’ A blush warmed her cheeks.

‘I’d like there to be. How about you?’ His smile widened.

She took a step back, sudden doubt quivering in her stomach. Was this what she wanted? Getting close to Gero and his connections might not be such a good idea.

‘Hmmm.’ She pursed her lips. ‘There’s a war on. Maybe we should wait for it to end?’

‘What are you two talking about?’ Dinu’s voice came from up ahead. ‘We need to be quiet or we’ll scare the rabbits.’

‘They always hide when they hear us coming,’ Lucia said. But she and Gero lapsed into silence until Dinu gave the order to run and shoot.

Lucia was quick on her feet and took the lead. She felt energised in the cool of the night with the stars and moon above to light her way. Besides, she knew the terrain so well she could navigate it blindfolded. She ran like the wind, crisscrossing through the clover, shooting at the confused bunnies. For a moment, she felt sorry for them. But she’d been missing Ma’s delicious rabbit stew – and she also wanted Gero to see this side of her.

I can be a show-off too.

After she’d shot two rabbits and the men one each, Lucia suggested they take a rest in a cave she and Dinu had come across years ago in the cliff face.

Gero took a packet of Camels from his pants pocket and handed one to Dinu.

‘What about me?’ Lucia asked.

‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ Gero said.

Lucia didn’t smoke. But she took a cigarette anyway and leant in to Gero’s lighter. After attempting one drag, tears streamed down her face and she coughed and coughed and coughed, causing Dinu to crease up with laughter.

‘That’ll teach you, soru ! You can play like a boy, but you’ll never be like a man.’

‘I don’t wanna be like a man. And, for your information, women smoke all the time. It’s simply that I’m not used to it.’

‘I don’t think it’s very feminine.’ Dinu smirked.

‘You’re just like Pa. And all the other men in this country. You think you’re so much better than us women.’

‘Hey, you two.’ Gero held up his hands. ‘Quit bickering!’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘I think we should head back down to the village. Don Nofriu’s guys will lock up soon, and I don’t want to wake them.’

Lucia gave a huff. Gero could sling his hook as far as she was concerned. If he liked her as he’d said he did, he should have stood up for her. His mention of don Nofriu also made her wary. It would be best that she kept well away from him.

* * *

The following day, news of the Americans coming ashore in Licata reached Villaurora. The church bells rang, but the village became like a ghost town. People stayed indoors, the few shops kept their blinds drawn – as if a funeral was passing – and Lucia could taste a mixture of expectancy and anxiety in the air. Gleaming aeroplanes rumbled in the sky, but no soldiers came, and she thought she’d forever be anxious and waiting.

Every evening Gero came to listen to his radio. Four days after Licata had surrendered, he reported Agrigento was in American hands. Almost a week later, they’d taken Enna, in the centre of the island, and now were heading for Palermo.

As for Dinu, he’d yet to report to Giulianu Cardona. Whatever the marshal of the carabinieri wanted him for could wait, Dinu said.

Lucia was out on the front step with Ma and Annita when she heard loud, confused shouting. It was as if someone had switched the radio on in the middle of a soccer game, just as a player was about to score a goal.

Surprise at the clamour paralysed Lucia for a moment, but she guessed the reason for the noise straight away. She grabbed Annita’s hand and, against all caution, ran with her down the narrow street.

Ma yelled, ‘Come back, girls! You might get shot.’

But it was too late. They were being swept along with their neighbours to the piazza, where villagers were clapping and shouting, ‘Long live the United States!’ People were swigging wine, which was passed from hand to hand over the crowd.

Lucia pulled Annita towards two Jeeps loaded with five Americans, who were wearing dark glasses and shouldering rifles. Father Michele, the parish priest, dressed in his trousers, collarless, pale and sweating, was talking to the men, repeating, ‘Please, please.’ Was that the only English word he knew?

But the Americans didn’t appear to be listening. They held their rifles at an angle and looked about them, drawing cockily on their cigarettes. The villagers filled glasses with red wine, and offered them with gentle insistence to the soldiers, urging them to join in the celebrations. The Americans refused the drink and exchanged a few words between themselves, ignoring the priest – who was still trying to communicate with them.

Without warning, Giulianu Cardona appeared on the scene with four carabinieri. The Americans raised their rifles and, when the men were close, one of them jumped off the Jeep and adroitly unhooked the police officers’ pistols.

Another round of cheers broke out. ‘ Viva la libertà! ’ Long live freedom!

Unexpectedly, an American flag blossomed above the crowd, gripped by the village schoolteacher, Alberto Spina. But the Americans took no notice of the procession forming behind the Stars and Stripes. They were finally speaking to Father Michele, and Lucia overheard the priest saying to the marshal, ‘They want you to fetch don Nofriu.’

Cardona hurried out of the piazza, leaving his four disarmed carabinieri staring sheepishly at the ground.

Before Lucia knew it, the marshal had returned with don Nofriu and – Lucia’s eyes almost popped out of her head – Gero, dressed in a US army uniform.

Don Nofriu, wearing his ubiquitous short-sleeved shirt, braces holding his trousers up over his paunch, a cigar in his mouth and a cap pulled down to his tortoiseshell spectacles, went up to the lead Jeep. He unfurled a large yellow kerchief with a big black ‘L’ embroidered on it.

The soldier in charge of the Americans saluted Gero, who helped don Nofriu clamber into the back of the Jeep before sitting himself next to him. It was only then that Gero appeared to realise Lucia was in the crowd. His gaze met hers and he mouthed the words ‘ A dopo .’ See you later.

She couldn’t help raising a hand and smiling back at him.

The crowd opened up, cheering as the Jeeps left the piazza; the soldiers threw them cigarettes, and one took snapshots with his camera.

Lucia didn’t know why, but she felt a wave of tears welling up inside her. Perhaps it was for the carabinieri, or for the flag raised above the crowd, or for Gero disappearing with don Nofriu – God knew where – or for Pa and Dinu working in the campagna and missing the entire show.

Grabbing Annita’s hand, she raced back up the road and, as she closed the front door behind her, she began to feel as if she were in a dream. But it was as if someone else were dreaming and she was in that dream, stumbling across the room, emotionally exhausted, with a tight lump of tears choking in her throat.

‘There you are, girls,’ Ma said, looking so dejected she reminded Lucia of a bag of sawdust dropped on the floor. ‘Put your aprons on and help me sweep these godforsaken ants from the room.’