Paradiso: Utterly gripping and emotional historical fiction (The Paradiso Novels Book 1) by Francesca Scanacapra

Author:Francesca Scanacapra [Scanacapra, Francesca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silvertail Books
Published: 2021-05-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Although there had been no embroidery work for my mother during the war, it was not long after its end that things began to pick up. A gentleman with a haberdashery shop in Cremona came to our house regularly, bringing linens for her to work on.

She set aside a work area by the kitchen window and kept the space around it scrupulously clean. There she would sit for hours in deep and silent concentration, speaking only when strictly necessary as she focused on metre after metre of recurring pattern. For my mother the quiet, repetitive work resembled some kind of meditation.

One day in late July a young girl called Fiorella arrived at Paradiso.

‘Signora Ponti,’ she said, ‘Signora Marchesini would like to see you about some work. She asks if you can come to Cascina Marchesini tomorrow afternoon.’

My mother looked up from the sea of bed-sheets which surrounded her and slipped her needle through the collar of her dress. I could see that she was pleased.

‘Tell Signora Marchesini I shall be there at half past four, if that is convenient for her.’

Fiorella gave a sort of curtsey and nodded. ‘She will be at home all afternoon. Come to the side door. Pull hard on the bell-rope.’

‘Graziella,’ said my mother, rubbing her neck and stretching her arms, ‘I’d like you to come with me tomorrow. We’ll take Zia Mina’s bicycle. We can load it up and balance it between us.’

Cascina Marchesini was the largest farm in the area and had been in the family for many generations. The Marchesinis were not like us, or like other people in the village. They were rich.

Signora Marchesini had a motor car. There were very few cars in the village then. It was not unusual to see an ex-military vehicle, or maybe a Fiat Topolino occasionally, but Signora Marchesini’s sleek, ultramarine-blue Alfa Romeo was an extraordinary vision. Its engine made a roaring noise which announced its approach from far away. Rumour had it that she had been given it by Mussolini himself.

I had seen Signor Marchesini on his tractor going to market. Sometimes his son would ride along with him. He didn’t go to my school in the village.

My father said their house was so big, it had its own church. To me, this made the family incredibly exotic and mysterious.

I was so excited that I irritated my mother all afternoon with questions about the Marchesinis, but as she was not native to Pieve Santa Clara she knew little about them, except for the fact that they had a very big house, lots of cows and lots of money. In the end, she sent me outside to play.

I bounded into Zia Mina’s garden bursting with excitement.

‘Zia Mina! Zia Mina! I’m going to Cascina Marchesini!’ I exclaimed, hopping from foot to foot.

My aunt stopped what she was doing and scowled. ‘What would you want to go there for?’

‘Signora Marchesini has some work for Mamma and I’m going to help carry it and we’re going to see

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