The Italian Romance

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Authors: Joanne Carroll
Tags: Fiction:Historical
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distraction, winked at his daughter. Sonia smiled like a naughty little child. He left Jacob and came across the room to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to him. He kissed her cheek with a loud smack and enfolded her further so that he could pat her back as he used to do. ‘Are you all right, Princess?’ he asked her.
    â€˜Very well, Papa,’ she said. She disengaged herself, but she was flushed, pleased at his affection. She unbuttoned her glove and pinched it off, finger by finger. ‘I have good news. I received a letter today.’
    â€˜Now!’ her father said. ‘Now, didn’t I tell you not to worry. See, Mama. I told you.’
    â€˜Oh, my dear,’ Rachel said. She held her hands to her cheeks. ‘What does he say?’
    â€˜He begs to extend his regards to you all,’ she said. ‘And he hopes for a speedy end to the war.’
    Her father’s eyes made her look away. He said, ‘As we all do.’
    â€˜And he’s well?’ Rachel said.
    â€˜Very well. They treat them with courtesy ... He says it is cold.’ She touched at her hair. They were silent, waiting.
    â€˜So. That is England for you,’ her father said at last. ‘Let us have coffee. Where’s Maria?’
    Rachel, her hands useless now on her lap, said, ‘This terrible war. What are they all doing? It’s ridiculous.’ She lifted a hand to her hair, too, and combed her fingers up under the bounce of curl over her ear.
    â€˜It’s not that bad,’ her father said. He walked to his chair, a soft-pillowed armchair covered in striped silk. He sat down and crossed his legs. ‘Not that bad,’ he said again. And just as he did, the young maid, dressed neatly in a black dress with a little white starched collar, bobbed into a curtsey at the door.
    â€˜Excuse me, Signori,’ she said timidly, ‘may I ask if you would like refreshments now?’
    Sonia caught the girl’s eye and nodded to her. The girl dropped another curtsey.
    â€˜Prego, Maria,’ her father said.
    â€˜Some rolls with it, if you don’t mind, Maria,’ Rachel said. She looked across the room to her son. ‘You must be hungry.’
    Sonia addressed the girl. ‘Are the boys in the kitchen?’
    â€˜Yes, Signora. Ruth is giving them some pasta.’
    Sonia nodded.
    The girl looked at the gentleman, but he was busy with a fingernail between his two lower teeth. She gazed then over at Rachel, who was leafing through a stack of music sheets balanced on the edge of the piano.
    Sonia said to her, ‘Thank you.’
    The girl, in her haste to escape, bumped into the sharp edge of the door. Sonia made a step towards her. No one else seemed to notice. The girl rubbed at her forehead and walked out, a little more slowly, into the hallway. When Sonia heard her steps fade, she said, ‘Who’s that?’
    Her brother was leaning his hands on the windowsill. He seemed to be examining the garden immediately below him.
    â€˜Who?’ her father said. He was using his tongue now to dislodge a remnant of lunch. Sonia was about to say, ‘The new maid,’ when he said, ‘Oh, the new girl. Maria. Susanna left.’
    â€˜Oh, no. Why?’
    Rachel said, ‘Some nonsense about the Germans. She’s gone to Sicily to get away from them.’ She raised her brows again, and shook her head.
    â€˜Little Maria is Guiseppe Tucci’s daughter. You remember her, Son,’ her father said to her. ‘She was born the year before Gianni, same day. Nervous little thing.’
    â€˜Who’s in Sicily?’
    â€˜No, it’s Sardinia,’ Jacob announced from the window. ‘Family connections. You know young Matteo Levi was killed.’
    â€˜Ssh,’ Rachel said. She put a finger to her lips.
    Her father whispered, ‘Partisans.’
    â€˜Oh, no,’ Sonia said to her father, also in a whisper.
    He

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