about ten years of age. It’s a pity but that’s the way it is. Better for her to live on her own rather than all the barneys they had here.’
Signora unpacked the coverlet with all the Italian place names embroidered on it. She had wrapped it in tissue paper and had used it to keep her jug safe. She had brought few possessions with her; she was happy to unpack them so that Peggy Sullivan could see how blameless and innocent was her lifestyle.
Peggy’s eyes were round with amazement.
‘Where on earth did you get that, it’s beautiful?’ she gaped.
‘I made it myself over the years, adding names here and there. Look there’s Rome, and that’s Annunziata, the place I lived.’
Peggy’s eyes had tears in them. ‘And you and he lay under this… how sad that he died.’
‘Yes, yes it was.’
‘Was he sick for a long time?’
‘No, killed in an accident.’
‘Do you have a picture of him, to put up here maybe?’ Peggy patted the top of the chest of drawers.
‘No, I have no pictures of Mario, only in my heart and mind.’
The words hung there between them.
Peggy Sullivan decided to talk of something else. ‘I tell you if you can do sewing like that it won’t be long till you get a job. Anyone would take you on.’
‘I never thought of earning my living by sewing.’ Signora’s face was far away.
‘Well what were you going to take up?’
‘Teaching maybe, being a guide. I used to sell little embroidered things, fine detailed work for tourists in Sicily. But I didn’t think they’d want them here.’
‘You could do shamrocks and harps, I suppose,’ Peggy said. But neither of them liked the thought of it very much. They finished the room. Signora hung up her few garments and seemed well pleased with it all.
‘Thank you for giving me a new home so quickly. I was just saying to your son I’ll be no trouble.’
‘Don’t mind him, he’s trouble enough for us all, bone idle lazy. He has our hearts broken. At least Suzi’s bright, that fellow will end in the gutter.’
‘I’m sure it’s just a phase.’ Signora had talked like this to Mario about his sons, soothing, optimistic. It was what parents wanted to hear.
‘It’s a long phase if that’s what it is. Listen, will you come down and have a drink with us before you go to bed?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll start as I mean to go on. I’m tired now. I’ll sleep.’
‘But you don’t even have a kettle to make yourself a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you, truly I am fine.’
Peggy left her and went downstairs. Jimmy had a sports programme on television. ‘Turn it down a bit, Jimmy. The woman’s tired, she’s been travelling all day.’
‘God almighty, is it going to be like when those two were babies, shush this and shush that?’
‘No it’s not, and you’re as anxious for her money as I am.’
‘She’s as odd as two left shoes. Did you get anything out of her at all?’
‘She says she was married and her husband was killed in an accident. That’s what she says.’
‘And you don’t believe her obviously?’
‘Well, she has no picture of him. She doesn’t look married. And she’s got this thing on the bed. It’s like a priest’s vestment, a quilt. You’d never have time to do that if you were married.’
‘You read too many books and see too many films, that’s your trouble.’
‘She is a bit mad though, Jimmy, not the full shilling.’
‘She’s hardly an axe murderer, is she?’
‘No, but she might have been a nun, she has that sort of still way about her. I’d say that’s what she was. Is, even. You never know these days.’
‘It could be.’ Jimmy was thoughtful. ‘Well in case she is a nun, don’t be too free with telling her all that Suzi gets up to. She’d be out of here in a flash if she knew how that young rossie that we reared carries on.’
Signora stood at her window and looked across the wasteground at the mountains.
Could this place ever be her home?
Would she give in when she
Signora unpacked the coverlet with all the Italian place names embroidered on it. She had wrapped it in tissue paper and had used it to keep her jug safe. She had brought few possessions with her; she was happy to unpack them so that Peggy Sullivan could see how blameless and innocent was her lifestyle.
Peggy’s eyes were round with amazement.
‘Where on earth did you get that, it’s beautiful?’ she gaped.
‘I made it myself over the years, adding names here and there. Look there’s Rome, and that’s Annunziata, the place I lived.’
Peggy’s eyes had tears in them. ‘And you and he lay under this… how sad that he died.’
‘Yes, yes it was.’
‘Was he sick for a long time?’
‘No, killed in an accident.’
‘Do you have a picture of him, to put up here maybe?’ Peggy patted the top of the chest of drawers.
‘No, I have no pictures of Mario, only in my heart and mind.’
The words hung there between them.
Peggy Sullivan decided to talk of something else. ‘I tell you if you can do sewing like that it won’t be long till you get a job. Anyone would take you on.’
‘I never thought of earning my living by sewing.’ Signora’s face was far away.
‘Well what were you going to take up?’
‘Teaching maybe, being a guide. I used to sell little embroidered things, fine detailed work for tourists in Sicily. But I didn’t think they’d want them here.’
‘You could do shamrocks and harps, I suppose,’ Peggy said. But neither of them liked the thought of it very much. They finished the room. Signora hung up her few garments and seemed well pleased with it all.
‘Thank you for giving me a new home so quickly. I was just saying to your son I’ll be no trouble.’
‘Don’t mind him, he’s trouble enough for us all, bone idle lazy. He has our hearts broken. At least Suzi’s bright, that fellow will end in the gutter.’
‘I’m sure it’s just a phase.’ Signora had talked like this to Mario about his sons, soothing, optimistic. It was what parents wanted to hear.
‘It’s a long phase if that’s what it is. Listen, will you come down and have a drink with us before you go to bed?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll start as I mean to go on. I’m tired now. I’ll sleep.’
‘But you don’t even have a kettle to make yourself a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you, truly I am fine.’
Peggy left her and went downstairs. Jimmy had a sports programme on television. ‘Turn it down a bit, Jimmy. The woman’s tired, she’s been travelling all day.’
‘God almighty, is it going to be like when those two were babies, shush this and shush that?’
‘No it’s not, and you’re as anxious for her money as I am.’
‘She’s as odd as two left shoes. Did you get anything out of her at all?’
‘She says she was married and her husband was killed in an accident. That’s what she says.’
‘And you don’t believe her obviously?’
‘Well, she has no picture of him. She doesn’t look married. And she’s got this thing on the bed. It’s like a priest’s vestment, a quilt. You’d never have time to do that if you were married.’
‘You read too many books and see too many films, that’s your trouble.’
‘She is a bit mad though, Jimmy, not the full shilling.’
‘She’s hardly an axe murderer, is she?’
‘No, but she might have been a nun, she has that sort of still way about her. I’d say that’s what she was. Is, even. You never know these days.’
‘It could be.’ Jimmy was thoughtful. ‘Well in case she is a nun, don’t be too free with telling her all that Suzi gets up to. She’d be out of here in a flash if she knew how that young rossie that we reared carries on.’
Signora stood at her window and looked across the wasteground at the mountains.
Could this place ever be her home?
Would she give in when she
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