Annie Groves - Some Sunny Day

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.

‘At last. Put the kettle on, will yer?’ Christine demanded when Rosie opened the back door. ‘I’m parched.’ Christine was sitting with her feet up on a chair whilst she painted her nails a vivid shade of scarlet. Her hair and makeup looked immaculate and she was wearing one of her best frocks. Tight-fitting and in bright red imitation satin, it was a dress that Rosie knew her mother loved, whilst whenever she saw her in it, all Rosie could think was that she wished her mother wouldn’t wear it, and that it looked both cheap and too young for her.

It astonished Rosie to see Christine looking all dressed up and full of herself, when the Grenellis were experiencing so much heartache, but the last thing she wanted to do was provoke a row with her, so instead of saying what she felt she said quietly instead, as she filled the kettle, ‘I’ve just been round at the Grenellis’.’ Trying to keep the reproach out of her voice, she continued, ‘They’ve had some news, but it isn’t very good. The men are going to be moved to Huyton in the morning.’