The Italian Inheritance by Louise Rose-Innes Page B

trying to survive in these conditions. He’d had to steal to stay alive , for G od ’s sake. She shuddered. And she thought her childhood was bad. It was a breeze compared to this.
    They rounded one more corner and came to a halt outside a wooden door painted in bright green. Someone had graffitied ‘Streetwise’ across the side of the building in bright, funky letters. It looked very urban and modern.
    “One of the kids did that,” said Rafael as if reading her thoughts. “Talented, isn’t he? He’s now at art school studying graphic design.” Anna noticed the pride in his voice.
    He really cares about these kids, she thought.
    He pushed open the door and a bell sounded somewhere in the depths of the house. In the hallway stood an empty desk with an open book on it and a pencil, tied to the book with string.
    “This is where the kids sign in,” said Rafael, scouring the most recent entries. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the team.”
    Anna followed Rafael somewhat hesitantly down the hallway and into a brightly lit room filled with tables and chairs. She really didn’t know what to expect. Anna had never been into a homeless shelter before.
    It was a large room for a house, and Anna guessed Rafael had knocked through to create it. A few tatty looking teens were sitting at one table eating something that looked like stew. As they passed, Anna got a whiff. It actually smelt quite good.
    “This is Cecelia,” said Rafael, waving at a homely , cheerful woman sitting at one of the tables under the window.
    Cecelia stood up and smiled at Anna. “Please to meet you,” she said in halting English. “Rafael told me you were coming to visit us.”
    “Please to meet you , too.” Anna smiled and shook the woman’s hand. “This is a lovely room.” She looked around her. Two huge windows let in ample sunshine, and both were framed by colourful yellow and blue chequered curtains held open with matching tiebacks. There were some threadbare but jaunty rugs on the polished wooden floor and the tables were clean and shining.
    “Thank you. This , you could say , is my office,” laughed Cecelia, “I like to keep it neat and tidy.”
    Rafael patted Cecelia on the shoulder. “Cecelia is the housekeeper and m ama to most of these kids. She practically runs the place.”
    Cecelia went off into peals of laughter. “I have lots of help,” she whispered to Anna conspiratorially. Anna liked her immediately.
    “Christiano does all the hard work, like fixing and building,” Rafael said as a lean young man of about twenty-five came sauntering in.
    “Mama, ciao. Rafael, ciao,” he called as he pulled up a chair next to the teens and high-fived the lot of them. “What’s for lunch? I’m starving.”
    Cecelia was ready with a large plate of stew. She grinned as she placed it in front of her son . “My boy has a healthy appetite,” she told Anna, her blue eyes twinkling.
    “It’s because I work so hard,” remarked Christiano, giving Anna an appreciative glance.
    “This is Anna,” introduced Rafael. Christiano grinned and gave her a friendly wave.
    “Let me show you around,” said Rafael hastily steering Anna away from Christiano and back through the door into the hall.
    “Here’s the admin centre,” Rafael told her, opening the door to another large room. This time there were blinds over the windows. There was a row of desks against one wall, all with computers on them.
    “We have full I nternet access here,” said Rafael proudly. “The kids can search for jobs online, or training courses. Whatever they want. We even have a volunteer teacher that comes in once a week and gives computer lessons. They’re always fully booked.”
    In the centre of the room stood four comfy arm chairs that had seen better days and a low, rounded table piled high with magazines and newspapers.
    “This is great,” said Anna taking it all in. “You do a great deal for these kids, don’t you?” The mixture of pride and