Page 19 of The Girl from Sicily

19

DINU, DECEMBER 1943

It was Christmas Eve, and Dinu had gone down to the village with Francu. He left his cousin at Francu’s front door and made his way to his family home. After stepping over the threshold, he smiled. Lucia was there without that godforsaken husband of hers; she ran into his arms and he gave her a hug.

But there was something different about her, as if a barrier had formed between them. She stiffened in his arms and squirmed herself free.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘I wish with all my heart you hadn’t shot that carabiniere and become an outlaw.’

‘It only happened because I was trying to do my best for the family.’

‘There was no need. My marrying Gero has taken care of everything.’

Jealousy made Dinu’s stomach harden. Gero Bonanno had usurped his position, and the bitter taste of resentment constricted in Dinu’s throat. He wouldn’t let Gero win, however; one day, he’d show everyone who was boss.

Dinu’s heart lightened as his mother rushed up; she hadn’t changed towards him and he was thankful for it.

‘My only son,’ she said between kisses, ‘how happy I am to see you.’

‘And I you, Ma.’ He breathed in a delicious, salty aroma coming from the stove. ‘My mouth is watering. What have you been cooking?’

‘Pasta with sardines.’ A smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

Rubbing his stomach, Dinu said he couldn’t wait. It was what he’d eaten every Christmas Eve, since he was a small boy. From the corner of his eye, he discerned Lucia heading out the door and he asked where she was going.

‘Gero will be back from Palermo and I want to be at the baglio when he arrives,’ she said. ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow, Dinu. My husband is bringing a ton of food with him and I’ll be making you all lunch.’

‘Ah, okay.’ Dinu smirked to himself – he’d corner Bonanno and urge him to intercede with don Nofriu and get him pardoned. Holding on to that thought, he waved his sister off before swaggering across the room to the supper table.

* * *

The following morning, Dinu was still deep in dreams when he heard his father shouting from the street outside the front door.

‘Paola, open up! The carabinieri are here?—’

Dinu knew for a fact Pa always left the door open when he went to morning mass. Cardona must have guessed Dinu would come home for Christmas and had intercepted his father. Heart thumping, Dinu leapt out of bed, scrambled into his clothes and, taking one of Pa’s hunting rifles, slipped out of the back door.

Should he head back to the mountains or wait to find out what was happening? He decided on the second option and made his way stealthily to the alleyway at the bottom of the road, from where he could see all the way up to his family home. Before too long, Cardona and a posse of police officers had spilled out onto the street and were crossing the road to Francu’s.

The hair on Dinu’s nape stiffened as he watched the carabinieri march his cousin to a waiting lorry. Gripping his father’s rifle, he ran after the vehicle, hoping to catch it before it left the village square. It slowed down to go round the corner, and he took aim, shooting randomly through the windows. He only gave up when the carabinieri returned fire; he was one man against seven and risked getting killed, so he ducked behind a donkey cart then hurried out of the village before Cardona could send his men after him.

Up in the mountains, he made his way to a different cave than the one where he and his cousin had been living, in case Francu was tortured to reveal the location of their hideout. It was a cold, lonely Christmas for Dinu on his own, with nothing to eat except prickly pear fruit. His family would be enjoying the food Bonanno was bringing from Palermo, he remembered, and the thought made jealousy flame through his veins again. Hunger gnawing at his stomach, Dinu slept fitfully, and the next morning, he made his way to the provincial jail.

* * *

Freezing rain fell as Dinu hid behind a truck parked outside the prison gate, watching the people going in and out of the compound. A tall man, who appeared to be a gardener, given the tools he was carrying, had stopped before a sentry, who gave him access to the premises. Hunching into his coat, Dinu waited until the man came back out again, then approached him.

‘I wonder if you can help me,’ he said.

‘Depends on what you mean by help.’ The tall man glanced at him.

‘Is there a bar nearby here where we can talk?’

‘Sure, just up the road.’ The man pointed towards a taverna. ‘My name is Aspanu. What’s yours?’

Dinu introduced himself and, once he’d bought a glass of wine for Aspanu, explained that his cousin had been unjustly imprisoned.

‘The country is in chaos. So many men are ending up in jail and having to wait a long time before being brought to trial,’ Aspanu said in a morose tone of voice.

‘Precisely.’ Dinu sighed. ‘If I give you one thousand lire, could you take me into the compound with you as a fellow gardener?’ It was almost all the money Dinu possessed, but it would be worth it if he could free Francu.

‘I won’t ask you why you want to get into the premises. A thousand lire would help me pay off a few debts,’ Aspanu said. ‘The prisoners are let out into the garden to get exercise every afternoon. Meet me outside the gates at two o’clock.’

‘Sorry for not trusting you, Aspanu. But I won’t pay you the money until you’ve got me into the compound.’

‘I expected as much.’ Aspanu laughed. ‘Least you can do is buy me some lunch.’

Which is what Dinu did. While eating, the two men chatted about the progress of the war and how long it was taking the Allies to defeat the Germans. Dinu guessed Aspanu was desperate for the cash he would give him, and he thanked God for sending him the right man for the job.

After they’d eaten, Dinu settled the bill and walked back to the prison entrance with Aspanu. He held his breath while Aspanu explained to the sentry that he’d brought his nephew to help him. The sentry looked Dinu up and down, then nodded and let him through.

Dinu again thanked God that he knew a thing or two about gardening, and soon he was pruning trees alongside Aspanu and keeping his eye out for Francu among the prisoners exercising in the yard.

When he spotted his cousin, he put down his pruning shears and made his way across the yard. If anyone asked what he was doing, he’d say he needed the toilet. But no one asked, and he boldly went up to Francu, swept his gaze around to make sure it was safe, and then greeted him.

‘ Mizzica! ’ Francu smiled. ‘What are you doing here, kuxinu ?’

Dinu explained he wanted to break him out of the jail and asked if there was any way he could do that.

‘The window of my cell overlooks a side street. If you come by tonight with a metal file to cut the bars, I can escape.’

‘How will I know which window is yours?’

‘I’ll tie a handkerchief to it.’

‘Perfect,’ Dinu said. ‘See you later, cousin.’

* * *

It had stopped raining by the time darkness had fallen and Dinu, one thousand lire the poorer, but with a metal file he’d persuaded Aspanu to give him, hurried down the narrow street flanking the prison. He spotted the handkerchief tied to a window bar and passed the tool through to Francu.

Pulse racing, Dinu paced the alley while he waited. His cousin was making a hell of a racket filing the iron window bars. What if the guards realised something was up? It wouldn’t take them long to put two and two together and come for Dinu.

Finally, his cousin’s head appeared at the window. Dinu reached up to help him wriggle out.

‘It’s not just me,’ Francu said. ‘I’m bringing some like-minded men with me, and we’ve also broken into the prison armoury.’

‘You’re brilliant,’ Dinu said, setting him on his feet and slapping him on the back. ‘Well done!’

The entire operation progressed without a hitch. It was clear the guards were shirking in their duties as ten men escaped from the prison with Francu. They brought the rifles they’d stolen from the arsenal with them and agreed to form a band with Dinu and Francu up in the mountains.

Hiking back to Villaurora under the light of a full moon, Dinu couldn’t help feeling proud of himself for doing what he’d set out to do. God was on his side, he thought. His family didn’t need Bonanno when they had him. Lucia should have trusted him and not rushed to marry that American.