‘You’re so funny when you say that!’
‘Get a move on, then. Come on, shake your ass! Lazy bones! Not to brag, but we Romans are really elegant spirits, almost worthy of Sir Eden, or stylish Bond Street, as Arminio used to say.’
‘What pronunciation, Nina! Say it again: Strreeteh’.’
‘What does pronunciation matter? As long as you get it! Besides, I live by reflected light and I’m satisfied with that.’
‘Whose reflected light?’
‘My Arminio’s. He knows foreign languages and all that. I revolve around him. I look at him and swell with satisfaction!’
‘You still think about your brother, eh, Nina?’
‘Like you and your old man: when I need him.’
‘Listen, Nina, you haven’t told me everything either, like why you stopped studying.’
‘Who knows! Arminio says it’s because of the usual old female self-deprecation. It’s true. I let myself get discouraged! Oh, not at home. At home, to my father, we were all equal … and in fact, damn if he wasn’t right! All dead or in jail, women and men alike! What was I saying? Oh yes, not at home but outside, in school. He also said that maybe it depended on your date of birth. I was born too soon, and he must be right because Licia, the youngest, studies and she’s quicker than a locomotive … Come on, move. I really hope I hear from Olimpia: with Licia she’s in good hands, but you know how it is! A mother’s anxiety doesn’t let up. Come on, let’s go.’
‘No, tell me about Arminio. What is he like?’
‘Again? You must know it by heart.’
‘Yes, but I like to hear about him.’
‘Not to brag, but he’s my brother!’
‘Is it true that his eyes change colour, or did you make it up?’
‘Look at mine. What do you think?’
‘Will I get to meet him?’
‘How should I know! It seems to me that we won’t meet anyone here anymore except in the next world! Come on, let’s go.’
‘I feel weak, Nina. What is it?’
‘Then stay here. I’ll go. Today is a good day, you’ll see. You’ll see, I’ll come back with a lot of letters and something to eat.’
I’m sure that’s true. When Nina says she’ll be right back, she means it. She’s never been late, not ten minutes or an hour. But whether due to thirst or hunger, or because of all that salt water — even from a distance you can tell it’s salty and bitter — today I’m afraid I won’t see her face again. To calm the trembling of my knees, even if I had to crawl over the scorching rocks on all fours, I race after her and grab her hand … I can’t see anything, yet it’s broad daylight. All I feel is the warmth of her hand urging me down toward what was once a quiet cove of pale blue water, with rows of white houses like the ones Jacopo used to draw when he was five or six years old … Why has Nina stopped? And why, instead of the usual silent, empty streets, are there so many people pushing and shouting? Why is that man who has climbed onto the ledge now plucking at the wall and hurling stones at us?
84
‘They weren’t trying to harm us, micia. They were tearing down Mussolini’s bust, and they were elated! When you slumped to the ground like in the movies, I realized, damn if Nina didn’t realize, that it was serious! But now you’re out of danger, and that’s what counts.’
‘What danger? And why is it so dark?’
‘Because your eyes hurt. Nothing serious. It’s the fever and weakness.’
‘It’s from hunger, isn’t it, Nina?’
‘Well, I wish! You had typhus, micia, and what a fever! Is it possible you don’t remember anything? What a fright! Hour by hour, I was afraid you would die in my arms.’
‘Nina? I’ve never seen you cry.’
‘Hell! It’s you who are making me cry, with those fleshless ribs and these tiny little hands. They look like my Olimpia’s hands when she had diphtheria.’
‘Olimpia! Have you heard from your daughter?’
‘She’s here with us … you really don’t remember anything?’
‘I only remember that I followed you and that it was hot…’
In the dim light, I stare at Nina’s face and try to remember. Maybe if she’d turn on the lamp …
‘Why the lamp, micia? It’s still daylight. I’ll open the window.’
To open the window Nina has to move aside waves of white tulle, like the veil the novices wear when they become brides of Christ. The gauzy white makes me nauseous. Who knows why Beatrice insisted on that fatal symbol, and why Carlo didn’t rebel? ‘No one can defy Beatrice. You know that, Modesta.’
Nina moves away from the curtains, satisfied, and goes over to the large mirror framed by gilded vine leaves and flowers. Who can defy Cavallina? She insisted on that mirror until she got her way, and now, like every morning, Nina looks at herself in the glass and brushes her hair as she gazes at her image.
‘It’s beautiful here, micia, lovelier than you’d described. Eh, you rich folks! Either you don’t realize what you have or you mock the rest of us: the country house, a cottage … Hell, this place is a palace!’
Nina combs hair that shines like burnished gold — or is it the sun?
‘Naturally, your Bambù got me some henna! Hey, it’s not true that everything natural is always good. Sometimes nature needs some touching up.’
She’s right: that silky golden mass softens her somewhat plebeian features, as Nonna Gaia would say, and gives Nina’s face ‘a certain something sweet that’s touching’. Right, Carlo?
‘Un po’ di luna, un po’ di mare, un po’ di musica nel cuor … Solo così potrò scordare il mio dolor…, a little moon, a little sea, a little music in my heart … only then can I forget my sorrow…’105
Nina is singing a new song.
‘Oh, did you know I met your famous Jose?’
‘Where?’
‘Here. He landed with the Americans. He found us some penicillin and left again. Who could have imagined it, an Italian in an American uniform fighting against his country! He sends you his warm regards. What a magnificent man! Your Nina, for two days at least, was in love, and not because she’s a cottarola, as her father used to say, someone who loses her head easily. The truth is, that guy is a real man!’
‘Everyone falls in love with Jose.’
‘Look at that! You too?’
‘No, not me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I was certain I’d never see him again. I won’t see him again. It’s Timur I’m going to meet up with.’
‘Timur! Come on! You said every German helmet we saw was him.’
‘Yes, it’s the only thing I remember: faceless helmets and shiny metal badges on their chests. A hundred, two hundred, maybe a thousand helmets and badges with that cruel slogan.’
‘Actually, we only saw a few of them, micia! “Only the essential quota of Germans!” that’s what your Jacopo said.’
A warm rush of pride when Nina talks about Jacopo that way always clears away the fog of lethargy. To hear her speak about him, and for that reason only, I have her tell me the story of our liberation, which I know by heart …
‘Yes, yes, it was him. While everyone was celebrating the fall of Fascism, deluding themselves that it was all over, that very morning, with Pietro, he began pulling strings, and didn’t let up … Yes, he was the one who persuaded your friend Pasquale to help them. Hardly timid or hesitant! He planned the trip, dealt with everybody. And after bringing us here, he quickly departed again for Rome to bring back my Olimpia. Just in time, too!’