Some Sunny Day (5 page)

‘Maria was wonderful the way she took charge, wasn’t she? You’d have thought that Sofia would be the one to do that but—’

Almost immediately, her mother dragged her hand free, and snapped, ‘Stop going on about it, will you, Rosie? I told Aldo there was goin’ to be trouble, but of course he wouldn’t listen. Ruddy fool…Now look at the mess he’s got hisself into. I’m goin’ up to me bed. Oh, and when you go to work you can call in at Sarah’s and tell her that I won’t be in on account of me nerves being bad.’ She reached down and scratched her leg and then
stood up, lighting up a fresh cigarette as she did so. ‘A ruddy slave, that’s what she thinks I am, paying me next to nowt and expectin’ me to work over when it suits her.’

Rosie sighed. As usual, Christine managed to turn the situation to herself, complaining about the hardships she constantly suffered. Life might hold dramatic changes, as she had witnessed that very evening, but some things would always stay the same.

As she had predicted Rosie hadn’t really slept, but at least she now had plenty of time to nip across to the Grenellis’ before she needed to leave for work, just in case they had heard anything. Her mother was still in bed, and Rosie made as little noise as she could when she brewed herself a cup of tea, and put up some sandwiches for her dinner.

She was halfway across the road when she saw Bella coming towards her.

‘Has there bin any news?’ she asked anxiously.

Bella shook her head. ‘La Nonna is taking it that badly, Rosie. Cryin’ all night, she’s bin. Me mam as well, rantin’ and ravin’ she were, sayin’ as how we should all have left and gone back to Italy, and how it’s me Uncle Aldo’s fault that we didn’t. It would be different if all of them had teken out British nationality, but it’s too late for that now.’ She gave a small shiver. ‘Me Auntie Maria were up all night trying to calm them both down.’

‘Oh, Bella.’

The two girls looked at one another.

‘Mebbe they’ll know a bit more at Podestra’s. I’ve told me Auntie Maria that I’ll send word if I hear anything and that she’s to do the same for me. That’s if there’s any of our men left to tell us anything,’ she added bitterly.

Bella worked in the back of one of the Podestra family’s chippies, peeling and chipping potatoes, and it was expected between the two families that eventually Bella would marry the young Podestra cousin who was lodging with the family. Rosie had once asked Bella if she minded her future being decided for her but Bella had simply shrugged and said that it was the custom and their way, that she liked Alberto Podestra well enough and that she would rather marry him than some lads she knew.

‘But don’t you want to fall in love, Bella?’ Rosie had asked her.

Once again Bella had shrugged. ‘Marriage isn’t about falling in love for us, it’s about family,’ she had told her.

Rosie had mixed feelings about love and marriage. Her father had fallen passionately in love with her mother but their marriage had not been a happy one, so far as Rosie could see. Sofia, however, married to placid easy-going Carlo, seemed perfectly happy with the man her parents had chosen for her. But there was Maria, who had also had her husband chosen for her and who anyone could see was not treated kindly by Aldo. From what she had seen around her in the
marriages of those closest to her, Rosie wasn’t sure if falling in love was a good thing. On the other hand, all the girls at work could talk about was falling in love like they saw people doing in films, and living happily ever after. And what she did know was that she certainly did not want her husband chosen for her. In that, if nothing else, close as she and Bella were, they felt very differently, Rosie admitted.

After she had said goodbye to Bella, imploring her not to worry with a strength and cheeriness she really didn’t feel inside, Rosie called round at the hairdressing salon where her mother worked to deliver her message, and then headed up into the city, trying not to look too closely at the broken glass and damaged buildings as she did so. People were already outside cleaning up the debris.

Newspaper sellers were out on the street, and Rosie hurried to buy a paper, scanning the headlines quickly, her eyes blurring with tears as she read about the violent rioting of the previous night, which had been caused, according to the papers, by patriotic feelings overwhelming some people on hearing the news of Mussolini’s decision. The paper did of course condemn the violence, but although Rosie searched the print several times, she couldn’t find anything to tell her what was going to happen to the men who had been taken away, other than that Mr Churchill had acted swiftly to ensure that dangerous Fascists were ‘combed out’ from Italian
communities, and would be interned as Enemy Aliens for the duration of the war. Her heart jumped anxiously inside her chest when she read the words ‘Enemy Aliens’, but of course they did not apply to men like the Grenellis. And there was some comfort in knowing that it was only those men who were a danger to the country that the government wanted to detain, not men like Giovanni, Carlo and Aldo. She tried to cheer herself up by thinking that by the time she finished work tonight they would be safely back at home, and that Bella’s mother would be back to her normal self. No doubt too la Nonna would be spoiling them and cooking up a celebration supper for them. Her own mouth watered at the thought of it. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday dinner time, apart from a piece of dry toast without butter before she left the house this morning.

It had been left to Rosie to deal with the complexities of shopping on the ration, Christine having no intention of standing in line for hours for scarce cuts of meat, and learning to experiment with the recipes the Ministry of Food was recommending.

Stopping to talk to Bella meant that Rosie was the last to arrive at the shop, despite her early start. Several of the girls were clustered around Nancy, who was standing in the workroom, with her back towards the door.

‘Go on, you’re ’aving us on,’ Rosie heard Dot, the cleaner, protesting.

‘No I’m not. It’s as true as I’m standing here,’ Nancy retorted. ‘Me dad’s an ARP warden and he said he’d heard as how the police ’ave arrested every single one of them and that they’ve bin told not to stand no nonsense from any of them. About time too, that’s what I say. We don’t want their sort over here. A ruddy danger to all of us, they are, not that some people have got the sense to see that,’ Nancy added with a challenging toss of her head, having turned round and seen Rosie standing in the doorway. ‘Ruddy Eyeties. Me dad says if he had his way he’d have the whole ruddy lot of ’em sent back to Italy before they start murderin’ us in our beds.’

‘That’s not true.’ The hot denial was spoken before Rosie could stop herself. Everyone fell silent and looked at her. She could feel her face burning with a mixture of anger and self-consciousness. She might know her own mind but she wasn’t generally one for speaking out and being argumentative. There was no way, though, that she was going to stand here and let Nancy Dale speak like that about her friends.

‘Oh, and you know, do you? Well, that’s not what Mr Churchill says. P’haps seeing as you think so much of them as is decent people’s enemies you ought to have bin teken away by the police along wi’ them.’

‘I’d rather be with my friends than with someone like you,’ Rosie responded. She could feel her eyes starting to burn with angry tears. The arrival of
the police in the middle of the night to take away the men, even if they had been led by kindly Constable Black, whom they all knew, had left her feeling frightened and upset. Not that she was going to let Nancy Dale see that, she told herself fiercely, but she was still glad that Mrs Verey’s arrival had them all hurrying to their posts, and the argument was brought to an end.

Rosie was supposed to be working on the uniforms belonging to some friends of Mrs Verey who were members of the WVS. With limited ‘standard’ sizes to choose from, many women were finding that the regulation uniforms they were supplied with simply did not fit, and dress shop owners like Mrs Verey, anxious to find ways to keep their business going at such a difficult time, were now offering alteration services.

Normally Rosie took a pride in turning the not always flattering clothes into neatly tailored outfits that brought grateful smiles from their pleased owners, but today she simply couldn’t focus on her work. When yet another accidental needle stab to her already sore fingers brought a small bead of blood, tears filled her eyes and her throat felt choked with misery. What
was
going to happen to Papà Giovanni and the other men? She looked at her watch. It wasn’t even eleven yet. She didn’t think she could manage to wait until after work to find out if there was any news. If she was quick and she could slip out the minute the dinner bell went, she would have time to run back home.

The workroom door opened and one of the other girls came in carrying two mugs of tea.

‘Here, Rosie, I’ve brought yer a cuppa,’ Ruth announced, putting down both mugs and then heaving a sigh as she sank onto one of the room’s small hard chairs. ‘There’s not a soul bin in the showroom, nor likely to be with a war on. I ’ate standing round doin’ nuffink; it meks me legs ache far worse than when I’m bein’ run off them.’ She took a gulp of her tea, and then added, ‘Mrs Verey sent me up to tell you that Mrs Latham will be coming in later to collect her suit, and that you’re not to take your dinner hour but that you can leave early to make up for it.

‘Oh and I need a favour of yer. I’ve torn me spare work frock. Can you mend it for us, on the quiet, like?’

All the girls who worked for Mrs Verey wore neat plain grey short-sleeved dresses trimmed with removable white collars and cuffs for washing. The dresses were made in the workroom, and the cost of them deducted from the girls’ wages so that any damage to them meant they had to be replaced.

‘I’ll try,’ Rosie agreed. ‘But I’ll have to have a look at the tear first. If it’s a bad one…’

Ruth grinned and winked before telling her, ‘It’s one of the buttonholes that’s bin torn. My fella got a bit too keen, if you know what I mean. Mind you, since it was his first time home since he joined up last Christmas, and he were at Dunkirk, I suppose there’s no point in blamin’ him. I’ll bring
it up later when Mrs V. is chatting with her friend. I’ve got to run. Me mam’s asked me to collect us ration from the butcher’s this dinner time and if I don’t get there dead on twelve there’ll be a queue right down the ruddy street. Ruddy rationing. Me da was saying last night that there’ll be clothes rationing next. Mrs V. will certainly have summat to say about it if they try that on.’ She stood up, gulped down her tea, and had almost reached the door when she turned round and said, ‘There’s a few of us goin’ dancing at the Grafton this Saturday, Rosie, if you fancy coming wi’ us.’

Ruth hadn’t mentioned the argument earlier with Nancy but Rosie knew that the invitation was her way of showing Rosie that she had her support, and she was grateful to her for that. Nor was she shocked by Ruth’s talk of how her dress had come to be torn. No one could live for very long in the Gerard Street area without becoming aware of what went on between the sexes. Not that Rosie herself was one for letting lads think they could get away with anything. Perhaps because she had spent so much of her time in a traditional Italian household, she had automatically absorbed the Italian attitude towards the difference in the freedoms allowed to young women and young men and the different way in which their transgressions were regarded. No way was Rosie going to have any lad or his family talking about her behind her back as being ‘easy’. She didn’t hand out her kisses like she had seen other girls do, as they embraced the new
freedoms the war had brought, giggling that it was their duty to offer fighting men a little bit of ‘home comfort’. Rosie was a sensible girl, though, and she was ready to accept that she could well feel differently if she were to fall in love. Just as she had witnessed the behaviour of those girls who saw the war as something that was providing them with fun, so too she had seen the very real grief and despair it brought to those women who feared for the lives of the men they loved.

She
was a long way from being ready to fall in love yet, though, and as she admitted to herself now, she was also secretly relieved that she was not subject to the same rigid traditions that prevented Bella from being able to go out to any social function, never mind dancing at the Grafton unless she was doing so under the watchful eye of an older married female relative.

Once Ruth had gone, Rosie went back to her sewing, trying not to feel too disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to nip home. She would eat her sandwiches just as soon as she had finished this seam, she promised herself, even though her appetite had vanished. The anxiety inside her was making both her head and her insides ache. Six o’clock – five o’clock now since Mrs Verey had said she could go home an hour early to make up for working through dinner – seemed like a lifetime away.

In the end Rosie’s need to be with her friends compelled her to take the short cut home, almost running there despite the city’s evening heat.

There was no sign of broken glass any more but the boarded-up windows and doors were a chilling reminder of what had happened.

She was halfway down Gerard Street when one of the neighbours called through her open door, ‘If you’re on your way to the Grenellis’, Rosie, there’s bin no news yet.’

‘But surely the men must be home by now,’ Rosie protested, shielding her face from the evening sun as she looked up to the narrow balcony where the young woman was standing, her baby on her hip.

The other woman shook her head. ‘I’ve heard as how they’re not letting any of them go until they’re sure that they aren’t Fascists. Daft, I call it. All the ruddy government needs to do is to come down here and ask around to find out what they want to know, not go locking up decent men. I heard this
afternoon as how Bella’s ma has teken it real badly, screaming and yelling and sayin’ as ’ow she were going to end up wi’out her father and her hubbie, on account of the government as good as murderin’ them. Maria were down at the church asking if the priest would come up and see her, so Fran Gonnelli two down from me, were sayin’.’

Like Rosie, Doreen Halliwell was not Italian, and Rosie guessed that she was more interested in gossiping about what had happened than offering any helpful information, so she didn’t want to linger in the street. Besides, her comments about Maria going down to Holy Cross church had made Rosie even more anxious to get to the Grenellis’ house and find out what was happening.

Fortunately the baby started to cry, giving her the excuse to hurry on her way.

Bella opened the door to her brief knock. Her olive skin had lost its normal warmth, leaving her looking sallow, her brown eyes shimmering with tears as the two girls embraced one another before Bella drew her inside.

‘Are they back?’ Rosie began, even before she had closed the door, desperate to be reassured that all was well.

But Bella was already shaking her head, telling her brokenly, ‘No! There is no news, good or otherwise, Rosie. I wish that there was.’ Her eyes, already red-rimmed from crying, swam with fresh tears. ‘All we do know is that all the men who were rounded up last night have been taken to the North Western
Hotel on Lime Street for questioning, and that we aren’t allowed to see them or speak with them. Aunt Maria has been down to the police station with food for them and clean clothes, but even though the police were sympathetic, they said there was nothing they could do to help, not with Mr Churchill himself having issued a general internment order against all Italian men aged between sixteen and seventy. They were saying at Podestra’s that even the Italian Consul in Liverpool has been taken.’ Her voice dropped. ‘My mother is taking it very badly. You know that she’s always wanted the family to go back home.’

Rosie nodded. Over the years there had been many passionate discussions around the Grenelli kitchen table about this subject, with Sofia saying how much she would like to go back to the village she had left as a small baby. Rosie could remember them quite clearly and she could remember too how much they had scared her and how much she had worried about the Grenellis going back to Italy and leaving her behind in Liverpool, pining for them. She had loved the whole family so much she had not been able to bear the thought of them not being there. As she grew older, every time the subject of ‘going home’ was discussed, Rosie had tried hard not to think selfishly of her own feelings but to recognise instead how hard it must be for the older generation of Italians, who had come to Liverpool genuinely believing that their absence from their homeland would only be temporary, and that once they had made enough money they
would be able to return home to retire. Now, in view of what was happening, Rosie could understand why Sofia wished they had left.

‘Aunt Maria is worried that she will be reported to the authorities, and she has begged her not to say any more. I hadn’t realised myself until now how strong my mother’s convictions are, or that she and my father…’ Bella chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. ‘Rosie, you must promise me not to say anything to anyone about what I have just said.’

Was Bella saying that her parents
were
Fascists? Rosie didn’t know very much about Italian politics other than what she had heard in the Grenelli kitchen, but she could see how shocked and fearful Bella was and so she nodded vigorously and gave her promise. It was ridiculous that anyone could think that men like Giovanni and Carlo could be mixed up in something dangerous and illegal.

‘Father Doyle has been round this afternoon,’ Bella added, ‘to see la Nonna and my mother…’

‘Doreen Halliwell was on her balcony as I came down Gerard Street and she told me that Maria had been to fetch him. Did he manage to…’ The girls were exchanging whispers in the scullery, and Rosie tugged on Bella’s sleeve, not wanting to go into the kitchen and join the others until she knew everything there was to know.

Bella shook her head dispiritedly. ‘Mamma won’t listen to anyone. Like I said, she is taking it very badly, Rosie. I have never seen her like this before. One minute she’s furiously angry, and the
next she just won’t speak at all. Then she says that we will never see our men again and that they are as good as dead, and that without them we might as well all be dead.’

Rosie shivered as she heard the fear in her friend’s voice. Somehow she had expected that it would be gentle tender-hearted Maria who would be the one to suffer the most, not her more fiery sister, but as though she sensed what Rosie was thinking, Bella offered sadly, ‘My mother has always been devoted to Grandfather Giovanni, and him to her. Aunt Maria says it is because she is so like his own mother. She cannot bear the thought of him suffering in any kind of way, and she is distraught that this has happened to him. Even Father Doyle was unable to comfort her. She has spent all afternoon on her knees praying that they will be set free and allowed to return home, but Father Doyle says that the British Government will not free any of the men until they are sure that they have combed out those amongst them that are true Fascists. He has asked permission to visit them, but he has been told that at the moment that is not possible. But with our consul taken along with the others, there is no one to speak to the authorities on their behalf.’

Bella’s revelations left Rosie too shocked to make any response for a few moments. ‘But surely the authorities must know which men they truly suspect of working against our country,’ she protested when she had recovered herself.

‘You would have thought so,’ Bella agreed, ‘but
according to Father Doyle there is a great deal of confusion caused by so many of our men socialising with one another and being unwittingly drawn into the Fascist organisation, although they are not Fascists in any way. It does not help that so many of the older men do not speak English very well, and have been saying how much they want to return to Italy, like my mother. It is only pride that makes them say such things and our own local police understand that, but Constable Black is concerned that the government may not understand this. And, of course, there are those who resent us and who are glad to see this dreadful thing happen to us,’ Bella added. ‘Let’s go into the parlour. Aunt Maria and la Nonna will be glad to see you.’

Bella did not say that her own mother would be glad to see her, Rosie noted, but she was too fond of her friend to say anything.

The good smell of soup and garlic from the large pan on the stove made Rosie’s stomach growl with hunger, but for once there was no familiar call to her to sit herself down at the table whilst la Nonna demanded to be told about her day, and Maria hurried to bring soup and bread, along with a glass of the watered-down wine the whole family drank.

La Nonna was seated in a chair beside the fire, watching Maria’s every movement with an anxious gaze, but it was Sofia who caused Rosie to feel the greatest fear. Bella’s normally assertive mother was sitting in a chair staring into space without
blinking or even turning her head to look at them as they entered the room.

‘She has been like this since Father Doyle left,’ Bella whispered.

At the sound of her granddaughter’s voice la Nonna broke into rapid Italian, speaking too quickly for Rosie to be able to understand.

‘La Nonna says that we need an Italian priest to help us speak both to the authorities and to God,’ Maria explained with a sad smile.

Italian priests without parishes of their own were permitted to preach within the Italian communities by the Catholic Church, but since they travelled from parish to parish, they were not always on hand.

‘Surely there is something that can be done,’ Rosie protested, a small frown creasing her forehead as she wondered why her own mother wasn’t here with their friends.

‘Everything that can be done has been,’ Maria assured her gently. ‘Those of our leaders who have not been taken have tried to speak to the government, but we have been told that we must wait and that there is nothing to fear for those who are not Fascists.’ Her mouth trembled and she blinked away tears.

‘But if that is so, then why do they continue to hold our men?’ Bella burst out fiercely. ‘Especially my grandfather. You know how devoted to one another he and la Nonna are, Rosie,’ she appealed to her friend.

Rosie nodded.

‘La Nonna cannot understand why they have not let him come home. We have tried to explain to her but she doesn’t understand. She is worrying about his chest, and if there is anyone at the police station to give him some cordial when he coughs. She is desperately afraid that the police will come back and take her away next and that she will never see Grandfather or any of us again. And my mother is just as distraught. She says it will kill my grandfather to be treated like this and that we will never see him or my father alive again. Oh, Rosie, I am so scared that she could be right,’ Bella admitted.

‘Oh, Bella, don’t,’ Rosie begged her, white-faced. ‘You mustn’t think like that because it isn’t going to happen,’ she went on stoutly. ‘It’s all a terrible mistake, Bella, it has to be. And as soon as the police realise that—’

‘But what if they don’t, what if—’

‘They will. They have to,’ Rosie insisted quickly. It was unthinkable that an elderly man like Giovanni should be taken away from his family and not allowed to return. Unthinkable too that kind-hearted Carlo could be mixed up in anything as dangerous as Fascism.

‘You can say that, but why are they keeping them for so long? Surely by now they must have realised that they are innocent.’

‘These things take time, Bella,’ Maria intervened in her calm gentle voice. ‘All we can do is pray for patience, put our trust in God and wait. Mr
Churchill knows how many of our boys are fighting for this country. He is a fair and just man and once he has assured himself that there is no danger he will set our men free, just as Father Doyle says.’

‘If that is true why aren’t they free already?’ Bella announced fiercely. ‘I am going to go to Lime Street now and demand to see my father and my grandfather.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Rosie offered immediately.

Maria shook her head and bustled both girls out of the parlour, closing the door behind her as she did so.

‘There isn’t any point in going to the North Western Hotel.’

‘We could take them food and clean clothes…’

Lowering her voice, Maria said tiredly, ‘You won’t be allowed to see them and besides…Father Doyle has already been down to Lime Street and been told that they are going to be moved in the morning. I haven’t told la Nonna or Sofia yet.’

Both girls looked at her in fresh shock. ‘Moved where?’ Bella demanded.

‘Huyton,’ Maria told them quietly.

‘The internment camp?’ Rosie whispered. She felt as though hard fingers had taken hold of her heart and were squeezing it so tightly she could hardly breathe. Early on in the war, certain streets on the new Huyton housing estate had been converted for use as an internment camp to hold those individuals who were considered a threat in the event of an invasion. Several roads in the estate had been
sealed off with an eight-foot fence of barbed wire, and internees were billeted in the cordoned-off houses, where they faced the prospect of being sent to the Isle of Man, or even deported to Canada.

‘Yes,’ Maria answered. As she spoke Maria’s head dropped as though in shame and through her numbness Rosie felt a fierce surge of anger that she should be made to feel like that.

‘They can’t be going to Huyton.’ Bella’s voice was more that of a frightened child than a young woman. Rosie could feel her own hope draining out of her, to be replaced by cold disbelief and shock. How could this be happening? ‘They might say they are being interned but that’s just another word for being imprisoned, isn’t it?’ Bella whispered, tears filling her eyes. ‘Oh, Aunt Maria, what’s going to happen to them?’

Maria shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Father Doyle says he’d heard that all those Italians who had been taken into custody were to be sent to somewhere near Bury – Warth Mills it’s called – where they’ll be held until the government combs out the Fascists. Then when that’s been done…’ Her voice trailed away, tears brimming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything about this to your mother or la Nonna, Bella. There’s no point in getting either of them even more upset than they already are.’

Rosie’s heart went out to Maria. She guessed that whilst it was concern for her elderly mother’s health that made her want to protect
her
from the
news, it was the worry about what Sofia might say or do that made her feel her sister couldn’t be trusted with the truth.

‘You’d better go home now, Rosie,’ she added gently. ‘Your mam will be waiting for news.’

Rosie hugged her tightly before turning to leave. She could sense that this was a time when the family needed to be alone although it hurt her too to know that she could not be part of the tight-knit circle of grieving, worried women because she did not share their blood, or their nationality.