Adrian D'Hage - The Omega scroll

Giovanni reflected that the small robing room with its worn wooden floor hadn’t changed since he’d been an altar boy. With a sense of pride he followed his old mentor into the chancel and was instantly embarrassed. In a rare departure from the form of the Mass the congregation stood and applauded. Giovanni waved, smiling, while Monsignor Vincenzo Abostini winked at his protege conspiratorially. He had let it be known beforehand that he did not think the good Lord would mind. In another rare event, the bell-puller’s wife, Signora Farini, had been pressed into rehearsing on the small pedal organ.

‘And now that we have welcomed Father Donelli, let’s all sing the Lord’s praises with Hymn number 803, “All glory, laud and honour, To thee redeemer King”.’

La Signora Farini, her plump face flushed with pride, pumped the wooden bellow pedals for all she was worth and the organ stool creaked alarmingly under her weight. The Vienna Boys’ Choir would not have felt threatened, but what the little congregation of the parish church of Addolorata might have lacked in choral training, they made up for with enthusiasm.

Thou art the King of Israel, Thou David’s royal Son…

Israel was nearly 3000 kilometres away, but as the words of the old hymn echoed through the little Italian village, it was clear that Christ’s impact on the shores of the Tyrrhenian had been no less than on the shores of Galilee – love, tolerance and a sense of community. When it was not distorted by the power and corruption of the Vatican and other Christian hierarchies, Christ’s message had a surprising resonance with that of Abraham and Muhammad.

‘I could get used to this life,’ Allegra murmured, leaning back in the stern of the dinghy and closing her eyes, soaking up the rays of the morning sun. ‘Do we have to go back tomorrow?’

Giovanni pulled on the oars with a powerful and steady rhythm and with each stroke the little dinghy surged forward, the emerald and turquoise of the Tyrrhenian Sea glistening behind the wooden keel.

‘I thought you said you would rather be working on Professor Rosselli’s assignment?’

‘It’s a toss up, but this probably wins,’ Allegra said, half opening one eye. ‘Where are you taking me, Giovanni Donelli?’ she asked, feeling strangely mischievous. ‘Because I’m not sure Cardinal Petroni would approve.’

‘Well, I wasn’t planning on telling him, but there’s a little cove around the next point. Papa used to take us there for picnics when we were kids. You can only get to it from the sea so the whole family would get in the fishing boat and he would anchor it off the rocks and row us ashore.’

‘ Sei fortunato! You’re very lucky to have grown up here. Do you know this is the first time I’ve ever been in a boat?’

‘Really?’ For a moment Giovanni was surprised, then he laughed. ‘I don’t suppose they have many dinghies in Tricarico. We’ve been spoilt here. I miss the sea.’

The two fell into an easy silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of the oars in the rowlocks. Allegra let her hand dangle over the side, watching the sandy bottom through the crystal water. At first she had been apprehensive and had thought about telling Giovanni her secret but the day had dawned so beautifully and the breeze was so light that the Gulf of Policastro held only the gentlest of swells, and fears. The Apennine promontory was covered in small pine trees and as they rounded the point and the little beach came into view, Allegra felt completely at peace with the world.

The keel grated gently on the grey stony sand and Giovanni shipped the oars and helped Allegra out of the dinghy. Together they carried the rug and the picnic basket up the beach onto a small tongue of grass under some pines.

‘Swim before lunch?’

Allegra’s peace was suddenly shattered. ‘Giovanni…’ She hung her head. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you. I can’t…’

Giovanni was suddenly concerned and he took her gently by the shoulders. ‘Can’t what? Is something wrong?’

‘I can’t-’ she stammered. ‘I can’t swim,’ she blurted out and coloured with embarrassment.

Giovanni gently lifted her chin with his finger so their eyes met.

‘My fault. And I could kick myself. I should have realised that when you said this was your first time in a boat. Were you really saying this is your first time on the coast?’

Allegra nodded.

‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘Think of it as another one of life’s little adventures. If you feel up to it we’ll just wade in up to here.’ Giovanni measured his hand against Allegra’s slender waist. ‘And I’ll give you your first lesson, deal?’

Allegra nodded again, still miserable.

‘Only if you smile.’

‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully.

He took her hand and guided her down to the water’s edge. ‘It’s pretty natural to feel nervous but trust me, if you need to you can reach the bottom. The first thing I will show you is how to float. Watch this.’

Allegra followed him into the warm water and with Giovanni’s hands supporting her, she allowed herself to be coaxed onto her back. Then she panicked and flung her arms around him, coughing and spluttering.

‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Rilarssasi. Relax,’ he said softly, holding her.

‘You must think I’m such an idiot,’ she said, her head down, arms still around his neck.

‘You should have seen me on the end of a rope off the breakwater with Papa holding the other end. I was terrified.’

His voice was steady and reassuring but as Allegra raised her head her thoughts were thrown into confusion. Carlo had been a terrible transgression but somehow this was different. This seemed like a natural force that was overwhelmingly strong. How could something that felt this right be so wrong in the eyes of the Church.

‘Want to try again?’ Giovanni’s voice sounded strangely hoarse as Allegra laid back in his arms. At first he supported her and then he slowly let her sink until the only thing holding her up was the Tyrrhenian, and a trust in this man who seemed even more pleased than she was at her achievement.

Back on the beach the sun was warm on Allegra’s shoulders as she opened the picnic basket Giovanni’s mother had packed.

‘Olives, smoked fish, fresh bread, pickled onions – your mother must have thought we were coming for a week!’

‘Now that would start people talking,’ he said, handing her a plastic cup. Little rivulets of condensation dribbled down the sides of the bottle of Bianco Malvasia as Giovanni filled their glasses.

‘ Salute! ’

‘ Salute! And thank you for the swimming lesson,’ she said, conscious again of how close they were sitting.

‘You were a natural. Well, almost,’ he said, his blue eyes dancing as Allegra grinned sceptically. ‘Another couple of lessons and you’ll be swimming the bay from point to point.’

‘Can we come back here again one day?’ Allegra asked, handing Giovanni a roll with a little of everything from his mother’s hamper.

‘Probably, although it is hard on both of us, non e vero?’ Giovanni mused, for the first time putting his own inner struggle into words.

Allegra nodded, acknowledging her own feelings. ‘Why did you become a priest, Giovanni?’

‘That part wasn’t hard. A deep love for the Church. A need to give my best to those around me, and the fact that I would follow Christ wherever he sent me,’ he said, smiling warmly.

‘Do you know where he is going to send you?’

‘No. And I think that is only revealed bit by bit. Who knows where we will end up after university?’

‘It would be nice if we could finish up somewhere together,’ she responded, the wine dissolving her inhibitions.