Birmingham Rose (26 page)

The only discomforting presence was the brooding Enrico, who stood at the edge of rooms, silent, always watching. Then he would disappear without even indicating to anyone that he was going. Rose could not quite make out what was odd about him but he made her feel very ill at ease.

The day passed far too quickly, but seeing the children, getting to recognize some of them and realizing at the mealtimes just how little food they had to live on was a spur to her to think up more ways in which she could help.

‘You see the problems?’ Margherita had said to her while they were eating, all sitting round on the floor of the long room where Rose had first seen them asleep. ‘We can manage to feed them – just. But it means we spend so much time finding food. We have so little time to give them any teaching or the love they need.’

Rose looked round at all the dark faces, wolfing down the tiny portions of sloppy army meat and vegetables that she had brought in tins, mixed with macaroni. She would have liked to put her arms round every one of them, dirty and ragged as they were. She felt as if she had found herself a family in Italy. And she was damned if she was going to let them go hungry.

As spring progressed the temperatures grew quite hot. The country was at its most beautiful, with oranges and lemons hanging heavy on the trees. During off-duty periods the men and women stationed at Caserta spent more of their time outside in the grounds of the palace. The last long tank into which the cascades fell was large enough to land a light aircraft on. It was certainly big enough for a swimming pool and already people were making use of it.

One evening Rose and Tony were strolling towards the cascades in the uncertain light of dusk.

‘I always forget what a long way it is,’ Tony said. ‘It must be a couple of miles I suppose.’

Rose just said, ‘Umm.’

Tony turned to look at her. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere. For a moment he enjoyed looking at her face, the soft line of the cheeks and her dark, pensive eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she said suddenly. ‘I was just wondering if there’s going to be any more bombing tonight.’

A couple of nights ago they had heard heavy raids on Naples and, knowing that most of the raids were concentrated on the port area and Il Rifugio was not very far from the sea, Rose was concerned. Her mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of how she could help them further. It had ocurred to her that Bill, Gwen’s young man who worked in supplies, might be prepared to help. Most likely not. He seemed a bit of a stuffed shirt. Because what was she really thinking of? Stealing from the army? On a large scale? The thought frightened her. Of course odd things were going missing all the time – but more than that . . .

‘That Virgin parade in the town,’ she said to Tony suddenly. ‘Those costumes the girls were wearing. A lot of that was army mozzie nets wasn’t it?’

‘Certainly looked like it,’ Tony said, bemused.

Rose snorted with laughter at the memory. ‘Virgin parade!’ she said with her deep chuckle. ‘God Almighty, have you ever seen anything like it?’

The young women in the town’s parade had been wearing an astonishing collection of clothes, many trimmed with netting dyed in dazzling colours. They marched through the streets of Caserta to display their chaste beauty.

But as these ‘virgins’ passed, voices of Allied soldiers had piped up in the crowd, ‘Eh – that’s Rita (or Theresa or Maria); I was with her last night!’ which caused raucous outbursts of laughter all round.

Seeing Tony look rather embarrassed at her forthrightness she asked, ‘D’you think it’s wrong to steal from the army?’

‘I suppose it’s wrong to steal from anywhere really. But you can’t help thinking when you see some of the poverty around this place that we probably wouldn’t miss a bit. Why – thinking of joining the black market?’

Rose laughed rather nervously. ‘When d’you think I’m going to find time to do that?’

They passed the rows of tanks until they were at the bottom of the cascades, where white water rushed down over the stones. It was possible to scramble up the rocks alongside the water, but on the hillside round behind the cascades, pathways had been cut on both sides, zigzagging up steeply until they rejoined at the top. Up there, where the water gushed out of the ground, the spring was covered by a great rock, carved round and hollow inside like a shell, so that it made a small cave.

Rose suddenly felt full of energy and mischief. ‘Tell you what, I’ll race you to the top. You go that way and I’ll go up here. Go on, I dare you!’

‘Are you joking?’ he asked. Clearly, this time it was his mind that had been elsewhere.

‘No, course not. Come on.’

Tony roused himself. ‘All right then. You’re on.’

They set off, each taking a path on opposite sides of the cascades. Immediately she lost sight of him and stared up the path, Rose began to feel frightened. There was a gate behind the cascades which opened on to the rest of the mountainside. There was no knowing who might be wandering about up there, and the darkness was falling fast. But she enjoyed the sense of danger, scrambling up in the half-light smelling the sweet scents of herbs and plants by the path. All her senses were alert and her body felt strong and capable.

She reached the top a fraction later than Tony, her lungs heaving, and stopped beside him panting and laughing.

‘Oh, thank God!’ she gasped. ‘I thought I was going to get caught by bandits down there and never make it to the top!’

Tony laughed, leaning over to get his breath back. She could see the sheen on his honey-coloured hair in the last of the light.

There was something about the scented warmth of the air, the loneliness of the place, that allowed feelings to come to the surface. Rose knew she was not in love with Tony. She had not come out of herself as far as that yet. But she was aware from the evening they went to Naples together, as well as from many small acts of kindness and affection, that Tony cared for her. And she felt that, given time, she could love him. His very reticence had broken through her fear and mistrust. But there was never more from him. Never a touch, any other sign, except for his quivering emotion when she had disappeared in Naples. What was it? Was he afraid of her? She felt very strongly that she needed to understand.

Tony straightened up and saw her dark eyes watching him. It was a look he had never seen on her face before. Whether serious or full of fun, he knew that Rose had strong defences, usually showed you herself only at one remove from what she was feeling. Now her expression was disarmingly naked. Even in the half-light he could read bewilderment, sadness and a kind of hunger. It was a moment he had feared would come.

‘Shall we go up on top?’ he asked softly. A short flight of steps led up to the flat top of the rock, which gave a marvellous view of the palace, the town and over to Naples and Vesuvius. Tony let her climb up first and they stood together in the light breeze looking at the gleaming ribbon of water below, and the sky still rimmed with light. Over the volcano the light deepened to a pink incandescence.

The pressure for one of them to speak increased every moment. Rose struggled to find words that would not sound complaining or critical.

‘Tony, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’ He didn’t turn to look at her. ‘I think I can guess.’

‘Can you?’ This confused her even further. ‘I just feel muddled up about . . . well, how to feel about you. I feel a lot for you, as a friend, but—’ She broke off, feeling that each of her words sounded more clumsy and unfortunate than the last. ‘When we’re together we’re not like – well, like a man and a woman can be. Oh dear. I can’t say this properly. I’m sorry. You must think I’m ever so forward.’

‘You mean I don’t hold you or try to kiss you?’

‘Well I don’t mean you should,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I mean I don’t want . . . mostly I don’t want men touching me.’ She could feel her cheeks burning with shame and embarrassment in talking like this, but she knew Tony well enough to be certain she could confide in him.

‘Because you’re supposed to be engaged?’

‘No. Not really. That’s what I tell people. I mean I
am
– supposed to be. But it’s not that.’

Taking a deep breath she told him quickly about Mr Lazenby and Joseph. When she’d finished she saw he had turned and was watching her, his sensitive face full of emotion.

‘My poor Rose.’ He stepped close to her and took one of her hands in his and stroked it. His hand was very warm and reassuring and surprisingly soft.

‘You really pick your men,’ he said, and she was startled by what sounded like anger in his voice.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, her own voice turning high and tearful. ‘I just don’t understand you.’ She felt tears running down her cheeks. ‘I don’t know how to feel about you!’

And then to her distress she realized that he too was weeping.

‘Tony,’ she cried. ‘What is it?’ She moved forward to comfort him. To her surprise he accepted, and for the first time they held each other. She felt his slight body in her arms, smelt the familiar salty smell of him, and she could feel his heart beating against her.

‘Please tell me what’s the matter.’

‘I’m afraid to.’

He was silent again and she reached up and stroked his face with her hand. He removed her arms until he had hold of her hand again and wiped his eyes. He led her to the low parapet which ringed the rock and they sat down, leaning against it.

‘Rose – I want you to know that I feel a great deal for you. Much more than I ever believed I could—’ He broke off abruptly. ‘You’re a marvellous person, so bright, so full of life. I can’t express very well what you mean to me. But I can’t . . .’ He stopped again as if he simply could not bring the words out of him.

‘You can’t love me?’

‘I do love you. That’s what I’m trying to say.’ His voice grew louder with frustration. ‘But not . . . You have to understand. I can’t love women. Not like a man is supposed to love a woman.’

He loosed her hand and lowered his head nearer his bent-up knees as if to shelter from a blow.

‘You mean . . . ?’

‘I mean that, sexually, I love other men. Only men.’ He spoke very deliberately and slowly. ‘Ever since I can remember, Rose.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry.’

She was silent. Eventually he looked up, interpreting her silence as disgust or disapproval.

‘You won’t tell anyone. Please?’ She shook her head. ‘Rose, I’m so sorry if you feel I’ve been deceiving you. I do love you, in a way which is very important. But I can’t make love to you. It’s not in my nature.’

‘It’s all right.’ She looked up at him and he saw how powerful her gaze was even in the poor light. ‘I’m just trying to think about it. It’s the first time I’ve ever known anyone . . .’

‘Homosexual?’

‘Yes.’ She could feel herself, like a sea anemone that had begun to reach out slowly and tentatively towards love, touched by something unexpected and shrinking back. But her thoughts were more objective. Those very occasional knowing looks when she was young, hushed talk of ‘queers’. How different it was when it was real. When it was someone you . . . liked.

‘I’m glad you told me. I wanted to understand, and now I do. You got me confused, and the reason I liked you to start with was that you left me alone – you know – like that. But now I know where we stand I won’t do anything stupid. We can be friends without spoiling it, can’t we?’

Tony watched her. ‘I don’t disgust you?’

Rose considered this for a moment.

‘The father of my son disgusted me. What he did to me had nothing to do with love or kindness or anything good. I know you better than that. No – you don’t disgust me.’

The conversation stopped and started with patches of thoughtful silence.

‘D’you have anyone. A bloke, I mean?’ she asked after a while.

‘I think perhaps, yes. It looks like it. You don’t know him. He’s an American. His name is Lewis.’

‘And you care about him too?’

‘I don’t know him as well as you. But we have certain things in common.’

‘Like both going for other blokes.’ Rose cursed herself immediately for her sarcasm.

‘You’re right to be angry.’

‘I’m not angry. I’m sorry. Anyway . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve just thought. You can help me out.’

‘Me? Of course. How?’

Suddenly excited, she confided to him her discovery of Il Rifugio. ‘It’s perfect,’ she said. ‘If you don’t want people to know about you and Lewis, you can carry on letting them think you’re going about with me. If you’re my chaperone to Naples on leave weekends, you can meet Lewis and that way I’ll get left alone as well and I can go and help with these kids!’

Tony burst out laughing in pure astonishment. ‘My God, Rose Lucas, you’re one of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met! You mean to say you’ve been wandering about in the slums of Naples dressed up as an Italian because you’ve fallen in love with an orphanage?’

She nodded happily. ‘That’s where I was, that night I went off. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but it all seemed like a dream at the time. And I hadn’t realized I was going to get so involved. But you should see the kids, Tony. They’re poor little mites who’ve been left on the streets by their families. Some of their moms and dads are dead, but not all. Some of them were even sold into prostitution. I want to find ways of getting more food for them. We’ve got more than enough here and there must be some way . . .’

‘So that’s what that was all about. Now wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Are you talking about diverting army supplies? Because if you are, you could get yourself into one hell of a lot of trouble.’

Rose looked down at the ground, away from him. ‘I don’t know what I’m talking about really. I haven’t thought it through enough. But it’s not right that they’re hungry and that Margherita and Francesco have such a struggle. It’s not the kids’ fault there’s a war.’ She was becoming quite emotional, trying to convince him.

Tony sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. Relative morals, I suppose. You can count on me to help – I think. And yes, the Naples weekends are a grand idea.’ He touched her shoulder gently. ‘You must believe that I wish with all my heart I could marry you, Rose, if things were different.’