She imagined the sand creeping up the tubular metal legs of her folding chair. She hated going to the beach when she couldn’t swim. The sticky sand and the searing sun were fun only if you could find respite in the cool water. But it was her time of the month and even just wearing her swimming suit would be awkward, in the circumstances. So there she was, sitting on a folding chair under her family’s old beach umbrella, wearing comfortable shorts which suggested her predicament to every passer-by.
Everyone except her seven-year-old brother. ‘Why isn’t Rosa swimming?’ Carmelo asked Mum after two minutes. He did that every time.
‘Women’s business,’ Mum replied, like every time.
She hid behind her magazine. She usually went straight to the photo story and read until the glare of the sun made her eyes hurt, but today she started with the main story: Ringo Starr was having a tonsillectomy. She hoped that British surgeons knew their stuff, because she would never entrust her favourite Beatle’s throat to some of the Sicilian ones.
For lunch, she could look forward to a tray of oily pasta bake. It had seemed a terrific idea in the morning, when she’d helped Mum cook it, but now it felt way too heavy and unrefreshing for a day in the sun. She took a swig from her metal water bottle. Even the water had turned into hot soup. If only Mum and Dad had let her stay at home.
‘If we were going for a few hours, yes. But not for the entire day,’ Mum objected when Rosa asked. She could have said the same about coming to the beach.
‘Will you play tamburello with me?’ Carmelo thrust the tambourine-shaped racket on her lap.
‘No, thanks.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to get sweaty.’
‘If you get sweaty, jump into the sea.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’
Rosa rolled her eyes. ‘Just drop it, please.’
Carmelo tottered off and she followed him with her gaze. He asked Dad, but he shook his head and stretched himself on his towel. Mum had already disappeared in the water, leaving a trail of rubber flowers which had broken free from her swimming cap, one bobbing head among all the others. Rosa sighed. Lucky people. The water sparkled and quivered in its aquamarine beauty, stretching to the horizon where seagull and sailing boats mingled their snow-white wings. The turquoise water looked good enough to drink.
‘Will you play with me?’ Carmelo’s voice rang from a distance. Who could he be asking now? Rosa turned to look. Her brother was harassing a stranger, a boy about her age, thrusting his tamburello racket at him. Rosa sprang to her feet: Mum was in the water and Dad was sunbathing in a semi-catatonic state, so it was her duty to shout to Carmelo to leave the stranger in peace. She filled her lungs, ready to bellow, but her breath stuck and wouldn’t come out. The stranger was looking at her.
He wasn’t handsome according to the fashion, but there was something about his warm smile and his demeanour that attracted her. For one thing, he was looking at her little brother with respectful interest rather than irritation.
‘Sure,’ he said, taking the racket from Carmelo, then led him to a patch of beach without towels or umbrellas and they started playing. Rosa turned her chair so that she could keep an eye on… her brother, of course. The other boy started off with some very good throws, but then adjusted his game to suit Carmelo’s limited skills. Each time Carmelo didn’t manage to catch the ball, they took it in turns to retrieve it and Rosa noticed that, if the ball landed on somebody’s beach towel or sandcastle, the boy always went to retrieve it, sparing Carmelo the embarrassment. After a good half and hour, Carmelo began to look droopy and, a little later, he dropped his racket in the middle of the game and sat on the sand, while the ball flew over his head. ‘I’m tired.’ Typical. The other boy kindly ran after the ball. Carmelo then got up and said something to his companion, who started following him. Rosa’s heart went on overdrive as she saw them coming towards her! She dusted the sand off her legs and wiped the sweat off her face with the edge of a – sandy! – towel.
‘This is my sister,’ Carmelo said, pointing unceremoniously to her. ‘She can’t swim today: she’s doing women’s business,’ he declared solemnly.
Rosa wished the sand would swallow her, as her cheeks whooshed on fire. The stranger boy pinned his eyes on his feet and blushed pink too, even under his golden suntan.
‘But my friend and I can swim, can’t we, Rosa?’ Carmelo asked her.
‘Yes, you can,’ she muttered with the little voice she could summon.
Then she watched them from under the brim of her sunhat as they walked away together, the chubby little boy clinging on the arm of the tall sinewy boy. He had narrow hips and lovely straight shoulders. Oh, how she wished that she was her brother.
‘Women’s business,’ Mum replied, like every time.
She hid behind her magazine. She usually went straight to the photo story and read until the glare of the sun made her eyes hurt, but today she started with the main story: Ringo Starr was having a tonsillectomy. She hoped that British surgeons knew their stuff, because she would never entrust her favourite Beatle’s throat to some of the Sicilian ones.
For lunch, she could look forward to a tray of oily pasta bake. It had seemed a terrific idea in the morning, when she’d helped Mum cook it, but now it felt way too heavy and unrefreshing for a day in the sun. She took a swig from her metal water bottle. Even the water had turned into hot soup. If only Mum and Dad had let her stay at home.
‘If we were going for a few hours, yes. But not for the entire day,’ Mum objected when Rosa asked. She could have said the same about coming to the beach.
‘Will you play tamburello with me?’ Carmelo thrust the tambourine-shaped racket on her lap.
‘No, thanks.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to get sweaty.’
‘If you get sweaty, jump into the sea.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’
Rosa rolled her eyes. ‘Just drop it, please.’
Carmelo tottered off and she followed him with her gaze. He asked Dad, but he shook his head and stretched himself on his towel. Mum had already disappeared in the water, leaving a trail of rubber flowers which had broken free from her swimming cap, one bobbing head among all the others. Rosa sighed. Lucky people. The water sparkled and quivered in its aquamarine beauty, stretching to the horizon where seagull and sailing boats mingled their snow-white wings. The turquoise water looked good enough to drink.
‘Will you play with me?’ Carmelo’s voice rang from a distance. Who could he be asking now? Rosa turned to look. Her brother was harassing a stranger, a boy about her age, thrusting his tamburello racket at him. Rosa sprang to her feet: Mum was in the water and Dad was sunbathing in a semi-catatonic state, so it was her duty to shout to Carmelo to leave the stranger in peace. She filled her lungs, ready to bellow, but her breath stuck and wouldn’t come out. The stranger was looking at her.
He wasn’t handsome according to the fashion, but there was something about his warm smile and his demeanour that attracted her. For one thing, he was looking at her little brother with respectful interest rather than irritation.
‘Sure,’ he said, taking the racket from Carmelo, then led him to a patch of beach without towels or umbrellas and they started playing. Rosa turned her chair so that she could keep an eye on… her brother, of course. The other boy started off with some very good throws, but then adjusted his game to suit Carmelo’s limited skills. Each time Carmelo didn’t manage to catch the ball, they took it in turns to retrieve it and Rosa noticed that, if the ball landed on somebody’s beach towel or sandcastle, the boy always went to retrieve it, sparing Carmelo the embarrassment. After a good half and hour, Carmelo began to look droopy and, a little later, he dropped his racket in the middle of the game and sat on the sand, while the ball flew over his head. ‘I’m tired.’ Typical. The other boy kindly ran after the ball. Carmelo then got up and said something to his companion, who started following him. Rosa’s heart went on overdrive as she saw them coming towards her! She dusted the sand off her legs and wiped the sweat off her face with the edge of a – sandy! – towel.
‘This is my sister,’ Carmelo said, pointing unceremoniously to her. ‘She can’t swim today: she’s doing women’s business,’ he declared solemnly.
Rosa wished the sand would swallow her, as her cheeks whooshed on fire. The stranger boy pinned his eyes on his feet and blushed pink too, even under his golden suntan.
‘But my friend and I can swim, can’t we, Rosa?’ Carmelo asked her.
‘Yes, you can,’ she muttered with the little voice she could summon.
Then she watched them from under the brim of her sunhat as they walked away together, the chubby little boy clinging on the arm of the tall sinewy boy. He had narrow hips and lovely straight shoulders. Oh, how she wished that she was her brother.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
‘You’ve made a new friend today,’ Rosa commented with pretend nonchalance to Carmelo. Now that they were in the car on the way home, there was no way he could embarrass her again with the stranger. Still, she had spent the last hour planning how to get out of Carmelo information about the other boy without making her brother suspicious.
‘Yes. He’s very nice,’ Carmelo replied.
‘What’s his name?’ she asked casually.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What have you been talking about for all that time?’
‘You.’
Rosa’s breath caught in her throat, just as Dad pulled the choke to start the Fiat 500’s engine. ‘W-what did you say about me?’
‘I told him that you play tamburello very well when you don’t have women’s business. I told him that it’s nice to have a sister and that he should get a sister too.’
Phew. The Fiat’s engine shuddered to life.
‘What did he say about getting a sister too?’ Rosa asked, smiling.
‘Nothing. He wanted to know more about you.’
The car leapt forward. So did Rosa’s heart.
‘Yes. He’s very nice,’ Carmelo replied.
‘What’s his name?’ she asked casually.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What have you been talking about for all that time?’
‘You.’
Rosa’s breath caught in her throat, just as Dad pulled the choke to start the Fiat 500’s engine. ‘W-what did you say about me?’
‘I told him that you play tamburello very well when you don’t have women’s business. I told him that it’s nice to have a sister and that he should get a sister too.’
Phew. The Fiat’s engine shuddered to life.
‘What did he say about getting a sister too?’ Rosa asked, smiling.
‘Nothing. He wanted to know more about you.’
The car leapt forward. So did Rosa’s heart.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
‘You were ever so red in the face yesterday at the beach,’ Mum said accusingly to Rosa, as they wrapped the day’s pasta bake tray in a tea towel. ‘If you don’t feel like coming to the beach, you can stay at home. I’ve asked Maria next door to keep an ear open for you, if you need anything.’
‘No, thanks. I want to come with you,’ Rosa replied without hesitation, then hastily added, ‘I’ve promised Carmelo a game of tamburello.’
Mum stopped and peered into her eyes. ‘I’m very happy that you want to come with us. But remember: beach romances last as long as one tide.’
How had Mum guessed? Rosa flushed to the root of her hair and looked away.
‘No, thanks. I want to come with you,’ Rosa replied without hesitation, then hastily added, ‘I’ve promised Carmelo a game of tamburello.’
Mum stopped and peered into her eyes. ‘I’m very happy that you want to come with us. But remember: beach romances last as long as one tide.’
How had Mum guessed? Rosa flushed to the root of her hair and looked away.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Pino was glad to have agreed to play with the little boy, Carmelo, even if it had meant missing out on seeing his friends at the pier that day: the boy was sweet and his sister even sweeter. It was touching how much he loved her. From what he had told him about her, she sounded like a really nice girl and, when Carmelo had suggested that he should get a sister too, he felt like saying: ‘I’d like to share yours.’
When he saw Carmelo arrive with his family, Pino made himself busy fixing his family’s crooked beach umbrella. He didn’t want them to think that he had been scanning the beach searching for them for the past hour, which was exactly what he’d done.
‘Hello! We’re here and we’ve ready to play. Rosa is going to play with us too,’ Carmelo shouted, running to him.
Pino turned around and his heart skipped a beat. There she was, racket in one hand, the other hand holding her arm shily. She looked beautiful.
‘That’s… great,’ he said, smiling at her.
As they started the game, Pino reminded himself to resist the temptation to show off but keep it nice and simple so that Carmelo wouldn’t get bored and go away, taking Rosa with him. Pino couldn’t have played any harder anyway, distracted as he was by Rosa’s legs, as she leapt on the sand like a gazelle to catch the ball. She was very good at tamburello and it was clear that she too was making an effort to keep the game slow for Carmelo.
Each time he received the ball that her racket had touched, Pino felt a frisson of excitement as if he was touching her hand. It was fun and bliss. Unfortunately, after a little while, Carmelo dropped his racket and sat down on the sand. Pino knew that this meant that the game was over.
‘I’m hot. I want to swim,’ Carmelo said.
Pino glanced at Rosa and saw his disappointment reflected in her face too. She wasn’t wearing a swimming suit today either.
‘How about you go and get a sip of water? It’ll make you feel better, then you can play tamburello a little more,’ she said encouragingly.
Sweat beaded her upper lip and forehead. Surely she was thirsty too, but she didn’t want to go and get a drink too. Instead, she said, ‘While you take a drink, we’ll keep the ball in the air without letting it drop. I bet that we can.’
She knew her brother very well because he instantly jumped to his feet and said, ‘I bet you can’t!’
‘We’ll show you.’ She smiled at Pino and his heart floated. There were in this together.
While Carmelo sat under the umbrella, sipping water and shouting, ‘I’m not coming back yet!’ they carried on playing together, just the two of them, diving, leaping, running, light like birds on the wings of love. But eventually Carmelo got tired of it, and insisted that he wanted to swim. It wouldn’t have been right to continue playing with Rosa, but neither was kind to leave Rosa behind.
‘You two go. I’ll take a rest under the umbrella,’ she said kindly.
Reluctantly, Pino left her on the shore and accompanied Carmelo in the water. Never mind: the season had only just started. There would be plenty of chance to be together.
In fact, they met again the following day and the one after. Games of tamburello were followed by swimming and water games. Carmelo demanded to jump off Pino’s shoulders into the water. Rosa seemed to know when his shoulders were starting to get sore, and always distracted her brother with other games. She swished in the water like a mermaid, with her olive skin glittering in the sun and her long hair trailing behind her. They were both still young, Pino realised it, but he liked her a lot, and not just because of the way she looked. He would make her his wife one day, however long he had to wait.
At one point, when Carmelo was underwater, showing off how long he could hold his breath, she suddenly said: ‘I don’t know your name yet.’
It was true: Carmelo always called him ‘my friend’ and had never asked him his name. She looked timidly at him, as if the question had been gnawing inside her but she had only just mustered the courage to ask it.
‘Giuseppe, but they call me Pino. My mum even calls me Spino, thorn, when I’m being a thorn in the flesh,’ he said lightly. Then, suddenly serious, without thinking, he added, ‘And you are Rosa, rose. There’s no rose without thorn.’
Her cheeks instantly turned pink, like rose petals, and she averted his gaze. Pino instantly regretted the words that had tumbled out of his mouth. He had gone too far and embarrassed her. Luckily, just then Carmelo burst out of the water, gasping: ‘Did you see me?’
For the rest of that day, there was a certain awkwardness between them. If it hadn’t been for Carmelo, probably Rosa would have retreated under the family’s umbrella.
So the following day, when there was no sign of Carmelo and Rosina’s family, Pino was convinced that it was because of what he’d said. What a stupid idiot, and how presumptuous to say that she couldn’t exist without him: he should have said ‘there’s thorn without a rose’, even if that wasn’t scientifically true. What if Carmelo had heard him, told his parents, and they’d decided not to come to the beach anymore? He waited and waited, then gave up and decided to go down to the pier to see his friends. Just as he was about to leave, he recognised a little voice shouting, ‘My Friend! We’re here!’
There they were, the entire family, with all their beach stuff. Suddenly, the sea sparkled more, the sand felt softer and the world an altogether better place.
Carmelo ran towards him, and Rosina’s eyes too. ‘Our car broke down! We had to walk,’ the little boy revealed.
Hearing that, Pino rushed to offer help to carry their stuff. Naturally, he went to the signora first, but she gave him a icy glance and didn’t let go of her bags. Her coldness gave him a shiver. Did she know about what he’d said to Rosina?
When he saw Carmelo arrive with his family, Pino made himself busy fixing his family’s crooked beach umbrella. He didn’t want them to think that he had been scanning the beach searching for them for the past hour, which was exactly what he’d done.
‘Hello! We’re here and we’ve ready to play. Rosa is going to play with us too,’ Carmelo shouted, running to him.
Pino turned around and his heart skipped a beat. There she was, racket in one hand, the other hand holding her arm shily. She looked beautiful.
‘That’s… great,’ he said, smiling at her.
As they started the game, Pino reminded himself to resist the temptation to show off but keep it nice and simple so that Carmelo wouldn’t get bored and go away, taking Rosa with him. Pino couldn’t have played any harder anyway, distracted as he was by Rosa’s legs, as she leapt on the sand like a gazelle to catch the ball. She was very good at tamburello and it was clear that she too was making an effort to keep the game slow for Carmelo.
Each time he received the ball that her racket had touched, Pino felt a frisson of excitement as if he was touching her hand. It was fun and bliss. Unfortunately, after a little while, Carmelo dropped his racket and sat down on the sand. Pino knew that this meant that the game was over.
‘I’m hot. I want to swim,’ Carmelo said.
Pino glanced at Rosa and saw his disappointment reflected in her face too. She wasn’t wearing a swimming suit today either.
‘How about you go and get a sip of water? It’ll make you feel better, then you can play tamburello a little more,’ she said encouragingly.
Sweat beaded her upper lip and forehead. Surely she was thirsty too, but she didn’t want to go and get a drink too. Instead, she said, ‘While you take a drink, we’ll keep the ball in the air without letting it drop. I bet that we can.’
She knew her brother very well because he instantly jumped to his feet and said, ‘I bet you can’t!’
‘We’ll show you.’ She smiled at Pino and his heart floated. There were in this together.
While Carmelo sat under the umbrella, sipping water and shouting, ‘I’m not coming back yet!’ they carried on playing together, just the two of them, diving, leaping, running, light like birds on the wings of love. But eventually Carmelo got tired of it, and insisted that he wanted to swim. It wouldn’t have been right to continue playing with Rosa, but neither was kind to leave Rosa behind.
‘You two go. I’ll take a rest under the umbrella,’ she said kindly.
Reluctantly, Pino left her on the shore and accompanied Carmelo in the water. Never mind: the season had only just started. There would be plenty of chance to be together.
In fact, they met again the following day and the one after. Games of tamburello were followed by swimming and water games. Carmelo demanded to jump off Pino’s shoulders into the water. Rosa seemed to know when his shoulders were starting to get sore, and always distracted her brother with other games. She swished in the water like a mermaid, with her olive skin glittering in the sun and her long hair trailing behind her. They were both still young, Pino realised it, but he liked her a lot, and not just because of the way she looked. He would make her his wife one day, however long he had to wait.
At one point, when Carmelo was underwater, showing off how long he could hold his breath, she suddenly said: ‘I don’t know your name yet.’
It was true: Carmelo always called him ‘my friend’ and had never asked him his name. She looked timidly at him, as if the question had been gnawing inside her but she had only just mustered the courage to ask it.
‘Giuseppe, but they call me Pino. My mum even calls me Spino, thorn, when I’m being a thorn in the flesh,’ he said lightly. Then, suddenly serious, without thinking, he added, ‘And you are Rosa, rose. There’s no rose without thorn.’
Her cheeks instantly turned pink, like rose petals, and she averted his gaze. Pino instantly regretted the words that had tumbled out of his mouth. He had gone too far and embarrassed her. Luckily, just then Carmelo burst out of the water, gasping: ‘Did you see me?’
For the rest of that day, there was a certain awkwardness between them. If it hadn’t been for Carmelo, probably Rosa would have retreated under the family’s umbrella.
So the following day, when there was no sign of Carmelo and Rosina’s family, Pino was convinced that it was because of what he’d said. What a stupid idiot, and how presumptuous to say that she couldn’t exist without him: he should have said ‘there’s thorn without a rose’, even if that wasn’t scientifically true. What if Carmelo had heard him, told his parents, and they’d decided not to come to the beach anymore? He waited and waited, then gave up and decided to go down to the pier to see his friends. Just as he was about to leave, he recognised a little voice shouting, ‘My Friend! We’re here!’
There they were, the entire family, with all their beach stuff. Suddenly, the sea sparkled more, the sand felt softer and the world an altogether better place.
Carmelo ran towards him, and Rosina’s eyes too. ‘Our car broke down! We had to walk,’ the little boy revealed.
Hearing that, Pino rushed to offer help to carry their stuff. Naturally, he went to the signora first, but she gave him a icy glance and didn’t let go of her bags. Her coldness gave him a shiver. Did she know about what he’d said to Rosina?
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
There’s no Rose without Thorn, he had told her. She’d replayed that moment in her mind all through the night. Yes, he must like her too. Holiday romances last as long as one tide, mum had told her. They were so young. What were their chances? There was no way their parents would let them see each other after the beach season. Then, the following summer, he might have forgotten all about her and she would be heartbroken. Mum would say, ‘I told you so.’
Still, Rosa was burning to see him today. The Fiat 500’s suspensions groaned under the weight of the beach paraphernalia that Dad had strapped to the roof. The pasta lunch travelled on the parcel shelf, filling the inside of the car with its tomatoey smell. Delicious. Maybe being in love had made her hungrier.
They rumbled out of the town, past the hippodrome and through the woody patch. Just as they were climbing the last hill, the car’s engine growled lower and lower, until it died.
‘Cavolo, cabbage!’ Dad cried.
‘Mind your language,’ Mum snapped.
‘What happened?’ Carmelo asked.
Dad pressed switches, pulled levers, but all the car did was splutter and die again.
‘We’re only a short way from the beach,’ Rosa said, hopefully. ‘We can walk.’
Dad shot her a bad look. ‘It’s not all about getting to the beach.’
‘How are we going to get back home?’ Mum pointed out.
‘We can ask for help from the people at the beach,’ Carmelo said.
Nobody considered his suggestion. Dad tried to wave down another car, but it didn’t stop. There was very little traffic and it was mostly Vespas and Lambrettas. After half an hour, Dad sighed and said, ‘Let’s walk.’
They walked in silence, Rosa lugging the towels and two chairs, Mum carrying the food, Carmelo the tamburello rackets and his beach toys, and Dad the umbrella and the rest of the chairs.
Would Pino be waiting for them, or had he given up waiting and gone to see his friends. What if he thought that his sort-of love declaration had scared her off?
When they finally got to the beach, he was there.
‘Our car broke down!’ Carmelo shouted, running towards him. Rosa felt like running too, but didn’t. Pino immediately rushed to help them. Rosa cringed as Mum gave him the cold shoulder.
‘My dad has jump leads and a tow rope in the car. I’ll ask him to help you, if you like,’ Pino offered Dad.
Dad’s face lit up. ‘Yes, please.’
Pino’s dad, Signor Liotta, was very happy to help. Mum was forced to meet Signora Liotta and chat to her until all her frostiness had melted in the sun.
Pino’s Dad offered to drive Dad back to the car in his Alfa Romeo Giulia.
‘We want to come too!’ Carmelo shouted, interpreting Rosa’s wishes too. His desire was granted. The two dads rode in the front of the Giulia, while the three of them sat in the back, with Carmelo sitting in the middle. Thankfully, because bare-thigh-contact with Pino would have been much too electrifying for Rosa, who was already discombobulated by everything that was happening.
The Fiat 500 was still where they’d left it, looking abandoned and forlorn. Pino jumped out and helped his Dad with the jumpstart leads, while her Dad opened the back of the car and rummaged in the engine. Rosa admired Pino, who looked and sounded every bit as deft and knowledgeable as the two men, while Carmelo watched the engine in awe. In a short time, the car was fixed.
‘Get in the car, kids,’ Dad said.
‘Can I go have another ride in the Giulia?’ Carmelo pined.
The Giulia was bigger and more luxurious than the Fiat, and Signor Liotta was visibly flattered by Carmelo’s preference. ‘By all means, if your father is happy with it.’
‘If your sister comes with you,’ Dad replied.
Carmelo turned a pair of pleading eyes to her.
‘Sure,’ she answered readily.
So off they went, Carmelo in the place of honour at the front next to Signor Liotta, while Rosa and Pino sat in the back, sliding closer together at every corner of the road.
When they got back to the mums, Rosa was happy to see that her mum looked relaxed. ‘They are a nice family,’ she whispered in Rosa’s ear. That was it: Mum was giving her blessing. If Pino liked her as much as she liked him, a happy future awaited her.
But the big surprise was yet to come. Dad whispered something into mum’s ears and she had nodded. Then, Dad walked up to Signor Liotta and said, ‘We’d like to thank you for your help. Would you care to come to dinner at our house tomorrow night?’
Pino’s eyes glowed with hope and Rosa imagined his heart drumming in his chest like hers. Signor Liotta gave a glance to his wife, who nodded. ‘We would love to,’ he said.
Still, Rosa was burning to see him today. The Fiat 500’s suspensions groaned under the weight of the beach paraphernalia that Dad had strapped to the roof. The pasta lunch travelled on the parcel shelf, filling the inside of the car with its tomatoey smell. Delicious. Maybe being in love had made her hungrier.
They rumbled out of the town, past the hippodrome and through the woody patch. Just as they were climbing the last hill, the car’s engine growled lower and lower, until it died.
‘Cavolo, cabbage!’ Dad cried.
‘Mind your language,’ Mum snapped.
‘What happened?’ Carmelo asked.
Dad pressed switches, pulled levers, but all the car did was splutter and die again.
‘We’re only a short way from the beach,’ Rosa said, hopefully. ‘We can walk.’
Dad shot her a bad look. ‘It’s not all about getting to the beach.’
‘How are we going to get back home?’ Mum pointed out.
‘We can ask for help from the people at the beach,’ Carmelo said.
Nobody considered his suggestion. Dad tried to wave down another car, but it didn’t stop. There was very little traffic and it was mostly Vespas and Lambrettas. After half an hour, Dad sighed and said, ‘Let’s walk.’
They walked in silence, Rosa lugging the towels and two chairs, Mum carrying the food, Carmelo the tamburello rackets and his beach toys, and Dad the umbrella and the rest of the chairs.
Would Pino be waiting for them, or had he given up waiting and gone to see his friends. What if he thought that his sort-of love declaration had scared her off?
When they finally got to the beach, he was there.
‘Our car broke down!’ Carmelo shouted, running towards him. Rosa felt like running too, but didn’t. Pino immediately rushed to help them. Rosa cringed as Mum gave him the cold shoulder.
‘My dad has jump leads and a tow rope in the car. I’ll ask him to help you, if you like,’ Pino offered Dad.
Dad’s face lit up. ‘Yes, please.’
Pino’s dad, Signor Liotta, was very happy to help. Mum was forced to meet Signora Liotta and chat to her until all her frostiness had melted in the sun.
Pino’s Dad offered to drive Dad back to the car in his Alfa Romeo Giulia.
‘We want to come too!’ Carmelo shouted, interpreting Rosa’s wishes too. His desire was granted. The two dads rode in the front of the Giulia, while the three of them sat in the back, with Carmelo sitting in the middle. Thankfully, because bare-thigh-contact with Pino would have been much too electrifying for Rosa, who was already discombobulated by everything that was happening.
The Fiat 500 was still where they’d left it, looking abandoned and forlorn. Pino jumped out and helped his Dad with the jumpstart leads, while her Dad opened the back of the car and rummaged in the engine. Rosa admired Pino, who looked and sounded every bit as deft and knowledgeable as the two men, while Carmelo watched the engine in awe. In a short time, the car was fixed.
‘Get in the car, kids,’ Dad said.
‘Can I go have another ride in the Giulia?’ Carmelo pined.
The Giulia was bigger and more luxurious than the Fiat, and Signor Liotta was visibly flattered by Carmelo’s preference. ‘By all means, if your father is happy with it.’
‘If your sister comes with you,’ Dad replied.
Carmelo turned a pair of pleading eyes to her.
‘Sure,’ she answered readily.
So off they went, Carmelo in the place of honour at the front next to Signor Liotta, while Rosa and Pino sat in the back, sliding closer together at every corner of the road.
When they got back to the mums, Rosa was happy to see that her mum looked relaxed. ‘They are a nice family,’ she whispered in Rosa’s ear. That was it: Mum was giving her blessing. If Pino liked her as much as she liked him, a happy future awaited her.
But the big surprise was yet to come. Dad whispered something into mum’s ears and she had nodded. Then, Dad walked up to Signor Liotta and said, ‘We’d like to thank you for your help. Would you care to come to dinner at our house tomorrow night?’
Pino’s eyes glowed with hope and Rosa imagined his heart drumming in his chest like hers. Signor Liotta gave a glance to his wife, who nodded. ‘We would love to,’ he said.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
‘Can you play tamburello with me?’ Melino asked Pino.
‘I never say no to a game of tamburello,’ Pino replied, sending Rosa a meaningful glance. ‘In fact, neither does your grandma.’
‘Grandma, play with us!’ Melino piped.
‘I’m not as good now as when I was fourteen,’ Rosa admitted.
‘Yes, your grandmother was a great player. But she didn’t show off: she played slowly, to make sure her brother didn’t get bored,’ Pino said with a smile.
‘Was that the great-uncle that I’m named after?’ the boy asked. Melino was a nickname for Carmelo.
‘Yes.’ Rosa smiled and thought longingly of her little brother, who had brought them together. He was no longer with them but his memory lived on in their grandchild, in their marriage, and in the game of tamburello.
‘I never say no to a game of tamburello,’ Pino replied, sending Rosa a meaningful glance. ‘In fact, neither does your grandma.’
‘Grandma, play with us!’ Melino piped.
‘I’m not as good now as when I was fourteen,’ Rosa admitted.
‘Yes, your grandmother was a great player. But she didn’t show off: she played slowly, to make sure her brother didn’t get bored,’ Pino said with a smile.
‘Was that the great-uncle that I’m named after?’ the boy asked. Melino was a nickname for Carmelo.
‘Yes.’ Rosa smiled and thought longingly of her little brother, who had brought them together. He was no longer with them but his memory lived on in their grandchild, in their marriage, and in the game of tamburello.
Stefania Hartley was born and grew up in Palermo, Sicily. She left her sunny island after falling head over heels in love with an Englishman, and now lives in the UK. Having finally learnt English, she now enjoys writing romance and short stories. Find out more on her website: http://www.stefaniahartley.com/
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