Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
PARIS, 13 APRIL 1985
LUCREZIA
In the space of half a day, I held a train ticket in my hand.
Now that my father was gone at last, the time to go back to Casalta had finally come, and I couldn’t wait. I wanted to devour the distance between me and home. Oh, the butterflies in my stomach were more a hurricane than a flutter. I could go home!
There was no Fosco Falconeri there any more. My father was dead, and I was free.
Claude watched me as I prepared my bag. Even though he had offered to go with me, I sensed he was annoyed about this disruption to his routine. Nothing had ever interfered with my work before. Nothing until now. I could see a hint of scarlet around him now. He was irked by this whole thing: he could mask his true feelings, but his aura, a thin but bright halo of red, spoke the truth.
‘You’ll have to hand over everything to Sophie,’ he grumbled.
‘I will, don’t worry. It’ll all go smoothly,’ I reassured him. I was going away, but all he could think about was how this would affect our work.
I examined a row of dresses before choosing three, a deep red one down to my ankles, a blue one to the knee, and a short turquoise one, each with matching high heels. I laid them on the suitcase, where Bernardo, my little faithful stuffed dog, waited already. Then I remembered about the funeral: I picked a black dress with a tulip skirt, black shoes and tights. My father’s funeral. The thought was surreal.
‘I’m sorry I can’t come with you, I can’t cancel things like this, at the last minute…’
‘I know, it’s fine. Don’t worry,’ I repeated. It was better than fine – Claude didn’t do well in a supporting role. He wouldn’t accept being a background character in the play that was about to unfold.
‘Well. Sophie will do the work that you should be doing.’
I thought we’d established that already. Never mind. ‘Well, yes. Thank you.’
‘Let me cook you something nice and light, yes? And then off to sleep for you. It’ll be a long journey.’
‘I’d love that. Thank you.’
We looked at each other – for a moment, I felt we were on the verge of a real conversation between a boyfriend and a girlfriend, one that would go beyond formalities and discussing who was going to handle the agenda while I was away… an authentic connection between us.
But the moment passed.
And it wasn’t the right time to elaborate anyway. There was already so much happening, it wasn’t wise to talk relationships now, when everything was intense as it was, and confused, and I was about to take such a huge step.
No. Our relationship would have to wait until I came back.
I took out Bianca’s letters from a drawer in my dresser. There were precious few, and I’d read each of them so many times, I knew them by heart.
I didn’t even know why I kept them. I suppose that even if they caused me so much heartache, they were my last and only link to home. The first letter was decorated with flowers and butterflies and stickers. It was so Bianca.
To Lucrezia Falconeri
Istituto Lugano
15 May 1973
Dear Lulu,
I hope this letter gets to you!
I miss you so much. I’m sleeping in your bed because I need to feel you close, but it doesn’t really work. Father said you’re in a very good school and you’re lucky to be there…
A school? A very good school . Indeed.
Matilde says you shouldn’t be there. It’s one of those things she says that must never be repeated to Father. I don’t think you should be there either. I think you should be here with us. I just want you home.
I saw Vanni in the village. I hope I’ll catch him alone sometime so I can explain what happened to you, even if I know I can’t really tell him the whole story…
The mention of Vanni made my heart skip a beat, just like it did back then. Knowing that he was looking for me, that I’d left him without an explanation, without saying goodbye, killed me then and did again now. How many times I’d wondered if he remembered me.
In my reply, I’d decided back then, I would reassure her that the Istituto Lugano was a very good school.
I didn’t want them to know the truth.
3 June 1973
Dear Lulu,
I miss you so much. The house is empty without you. I try to help Matilde as much as I can, and look after Nora and Mia. Father said that with Mum gone and you away I’m the lady of the house. I don’t like that much, but I don’t think I have a choice. I hope you’ll come home soon. I asked Father when you’re coming back, but he said not to be inquisitive . He never tells us anything. I suppose it’s for our own good. I try to believe it, but I don’t think that you being away from home is good at all, for anyone.
Matilde is angry with Father. The other day she was talking to her sister on the phone and she said she would have looked for another job if it wasn’t for us needing her. I got a real fright: imagine if she left us, too!
I met Vanni in the bread shop, and had a chat with him. I was scared that someone would see us, but it was a few days ago and Father hasn’t punished me yet, so I hope nobody told him I spoke with an Orafi. You know the way his men are everywhere, especially Diego. It’s like he has eyes all over the village.
5 July 1973
… I miss everything about you, but especially when we used to sit on the stairs at night and look at the stars. Nora and Mia fall asleep early, and it’s not safe to sit there with two little ones. So I sit on my own. I used to hear the long-ago voices there, but since you’ve gone, I don’t any more. They’re just whispers and I can’t make out the words. I miss my gift. But not as much as I miss you…
Learning that Bianca had lost her gift made my heart ache for her. I knew how important it was for her, for her identity. I wrote back to her saying that she shouldn’t worry, that it would come back soon, when we were reunited. That I’d come home as soon as I was allowed, to please ask Father to let me come back.
I went through the next few letters. Every time Bianca mentioned Vanni, it was like a stab in the heart. I couldn’t write to him, of course – I’d get him into huge trouble. And when she told me about having a good time with our sisters, I was taken by a bout of envy so sharp, so cruel, I didn’t know what to do with it.
… Time flows so fast. We are good, but missing you as always. I spend many afternoons at the hazelnut tree…
… we’re all at the seaside, as you can see from the postcard! We’re all getting very brown and my hair is turning blonde with all the sunshine! Every evening I need to drag Nora away from the beach because she never wants to go inside! Mia sits in the shade with her sketchbook all day long…
… I’m sending this Christmas card early because I really want it to get to you in time! Merry Christmas! I wasn’t sure they sold chocolate duckies there in Switzerland so I bought you a packet and you can put the shiny wrappings on the tree!
She sounded so cheerful in this one. There was a card each from Nora and Mia. Nora’s was a stick tree with a big, bold ‘Merry Christmas’ written in red above it, while Mia’s was an exquisite gouache snowy scene. It was incredible for an eight-year-old; she’d inherited our mum’s talent.
Happy birthday to us! Even if you’re not here, I can feel you close… I think of you every day. I wish you were here, so much, you can’t imagine. But I still go to the hazelnut tree, and it makes me feel better. It feels good not to be alone. I know I have our sisters, but…
This affectionate reference to Vanni slayed me. Even if I knew it was unwise, I couldn’t resist: I wrote a note to him, a simple hello, and a little sketch of our tree. I asked Bianca to give it to him. But either she never did, or he didn’t bother to reply, because there was no answer.
And then, there was the last letter she ever sent me. It’d been written hurriedly, Bianca’s usual pretty handwriting turned into a scrawl.
My dear Lulu, I know these words will hurt you, but it’s for your own good, I promise. It’s better for you and for us that you stay away. This will be my last letter.
Oh, Lulu, please know now and always that I love you.
Bianca
It’s better if you stay away.
But I couldn’t! Even after all that happened, I couldn’t stay away from Casalta, from my sisters! I had to speak to them. I wrote and wrote, but they never answered. Bianca wanted me away; they wanted me away.
It was then that I began to build my inner wall. I piled all my emotions behind it, and hid them from view. From everyone, and from myself too.
Lying in my bed at night, sitting in the common room doing those inane jigsaws, walking alongside the lake I’d grown to hate, I played my daydream over and over again in my mind, like an obsessive film. Walking up the path to Casalta, seeing my sisters, dipping my fingers in the fountain, climbing up the stairs where I used to sit with Mum…
Soon after, I was allowed to leave the Istituto Lugano – the very good school – for a boarding school where I’d stay until the age of eighteen, the école Aubert. There, in the Swiss Alps, I found some peace.
My sisters had moved on, Vanni had moved on. Even Casalta had moved on.
Without me.
I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep; I lay in my bed for hours, until finally I drifted off – and then opened my eyes at the darkest hour of the night, after a dream so sweet, I felt my heart had liquified.
I was at the hazelnut tree with Vanni, sitting side by side with our legs dangling. We were children again, on the cusp of adolescence, innocent and yet on the threshold of feelings that went beyond friendship. He came closer to me, and I looked into his hazel eyes, green on summer days, like the leaves around us. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I closed my eyes and we stayed like that, in silence and peace.
He kissed the top of my head. It was then, with that kiss, that my dream ended, and I opened my eyes in the dark.
I lay waiting for dawn, and the time to go home.