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The SAS landing crafts had been hopping along Italy’s western shoreline for days now, chasing the collapsing frontline. Having been stood down yet again, the SAS had come ashore and taken over a spacious house to be their billet for the night, while Alessia and Alfredo had found another friendly local household to spend the night.
The elderly couple who had taken in Alessia and Alfredo were fond of opera. After dinner they had switched on a radio, and now the crackling voice of a tenor mixed with the warbling singing of the old man were reverberating through the house. Alfredo was no fan of opera, deeming it too bourgeoisie, but Alessia did not mind, especially as watching the old man happily singing reminded her of Nonno. Then, all of a sudden, the music was cut.
‘Attention. Attention. His Majesty the King and Emperor has accepted the resignation from office of the Head of Government, Prime Minister, and Secretary of State His Excellency il Cavaliere Benito Mussolini.’
They all stared at the radio as the news sunk in.
‘He’s gone. He’s really gone!’ cried the old lady.
Alessia laughed, she felt light, giddy with happiness. Her entire life she had known nothing but Mussolini’s rule, and now, now there was change, now there was hope.
Alfredo hugged her, Alessia kissed his cheek, then she kissed the cheeks of the elderly man and woman. Through the open window they could hear other people reacting to the news, spreading the word, voices that had been kept silent for 21 years were crying out and singing. They all rushed out onto the street, there was a wild celebration and anticipation in the air. War would end, their children were safe, their futures bright.
What felt like the whole town started to head to the piazza, Alessia lost herself in the jubilant crowd. Chants of ‘Benito è finito’ and the peeling of church bells rang through the night. Alessia followed the bubbling flow of people through the backstreets until she was hailed from above.
‘Alessia!’ It was Pat, leaning over a balcony railing and shouting down to her. ‘Alessia, what’s going on?’
‘Musollini has fallen!’
The men on the balcony looked round at each other, their faces dark.
‘We know, but, the war isn’t over,’ said Johnny, ‘you do know that right?’
‘I know, but …’ Alessia couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
‘Perhaps, just for the night,’ said Jim.
The men looked round at each other again, and Paddy shrugged.
Dave grinned, leaned back on his chair, and shouted into the house, ‘Oi, Reggie, you know where the flares are? Bring em’ out!’
Pat flashed her a familiar pearly smile and invited her in. ‘Come on up, you’ll get a good view.’
Alessia was ushered onto the balcony just as Johnny and Jock, with pyromaniac glints in their eyes, lit the fuses. Red and green flares shot up into the sky, to the delight of the crowd below. Reggie dug out yet more boxes of flares, which in quick succession were fired high into the night sky.
The men excitedly packed onto the balcony, turning it into a crush. Not being the tallest people, neither Alessia nor Pat could see anything.
‘Come on!’ Pat shouted over the noise, pointing to the trellis.
Alessia laughed. ‘Ok.’
They squeezed through the crowd to the trellis, and helped each other to clamber up. Having perched themselves high up on the rooftop, they could see the flares lighting up the town below. Streets and houses were lit up in brilliant technicolour, plumes of white smoke danced in the breeze. They could hear cheers and singing rising up from the crowds below. Alessia’s heart soared, made buoyant with joy, her cheeks ached from constant smiling. She turned to Pat, he was laid back, propped up on his elbows, watching her with an easy smile.
Smoke filled the air, until eventually it became so thick that the lights of the flares were obscured, then the decision was made for everyone to head into the house.
Once inside, Paddy finished off his drink and declared that it was time for singing.
‘Is he a good singer?’ asked Alessia.
Pat scoffed. ‘No.’
Empty bottle still in hand, Paddy started to sing, ‘Eileen Alannah, Eileen Asthore’
‘That’s a good sign,’ Pat whispered to her, ‘Eileen means Paddy’s in a good mood, and we’ll have a good night.’
‘Light of my soul and it’s Queen evermore
It seems years have lingered since last we did part
Eileen Alannah, the pride of my heart
Oh, darling loved one your dear smile I miss
My lips seem to cling to that sweet parting kiss
Mavourneen thy dear face I see at the door
Eileen Alannah, Augus Asthore’
‘Faithful I’ll be to the colleen I adore
Eileen Alannah, Augus Asthore’
Alessia leant over to Pat and quietly asked, ‘who’s his Eileen?’
Pat shrugged and shook his head. ‘No idea.’
Alessia looked back at Paddy, and listened to him. His voice was not good, it was more like chanting than singing, but he clearly felt the words.
‘Eileen Alannah, Eileen Asthore
The ocean’s blue waters wash by the shore
Of that dear land of shamrock, where thou doth abide
Waiting the day when I’ll call thee my bride
God bless you darling I know you are true
True to the boy who would die now for you
My heart is now bleeding to it’s innermost core
Eileen Alannah, Augus Asthore.’
She was sure there was an Eileen, Pat was either blind or he didn’t want to discuss it. But, picking over other peoples’ personal lives was not wise, especially now, loose lips cost lives was the mantra, and Alessia knew she was still an outsider to the SAS, so she decided not to press it.
Next on Paddy’s agenda, were trials of strength and agility. First off was lying down arm wrestling, a call went round for participants and Pat offered himself up. Pat and Dave were soon locked in battle, they reminded Alessia of childhood memories of her and her brothers playing on the floor. She laughed and shook her head, while their friends cheered them on. To her right another game was starting up. The men had to balance a glass of wine on their head, lie down, get back up, then down the wine like a shot of caffè, in a way no self-respecting Italian ever would. John Tonkin was down and up in a flash, leaving Jock on the floor covered in red wine after spilling his glass.
The ‘booze’, she had learnt that word from the SAS boys, was flowing fast and hard now. It didn’t feel comfortable to be the only woman among so many drunk men, many she barely knew, so Alessia decided it was time to leave. But before she got out the door, someone tapped her arm.
‘You’re going?’ Pat had come away from the arm wrestling to talk to her.
On top of his head he was sporting a hat stolen from the Bersaglieri regiment. She smiled at the sight of the plush black feathers fluttering above his head.
‘Sì. Thank you, enjoy your night. Buonanotte.’
‘Hold on,’ Pat pulled off the Bersaglieri hat, ‘it’s late, I should walk you back.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Alessia, but Pat had already chucked the Bersaglieri at Jim and grabbed his normal cap and jacket.
They headed out into the cool night air, the streets were still packed with revellers, only now they were merry in more ways than one. Everyone was happy; singing old love songs and hugging friends and strangers alike. As they walked back to the elderly couple’s house, neither spoke, but it was a comfortable, companionable, silence.
Nearing the house, Alessia could see Alfredo at the window. When he saw them, he waved his arms angrily, she could tell from his body language that he was muttering angrily too, but thankfully his words didn’t travel through the glass.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Pat with a smile. ‘Everyone else is celebrating.’
'He's the grumpiest man I know!'
Pat laughed.
Alessia hesitated, her smile fading, then she added, ‘Alfredo and Matteo, my fourth brother, they were childhood friends. After Matteo was killed, Alfredo has been …’ she struggled for the right word, then shook her head and shrugged, ‘I know he just wants to protect me, like my brother did.’
‘Alfredo does not look at you like a sister.’
Alessia rolled her eyes. ‘I wish he did.’
Bidding Pat goodnight, she headed into the house.
Alfredo started before she even had time to close the door.
‘Where have you been all night? Do you want me to talk to him?’ he asked glaring through the still open door at Pat’s back, just visible in the dark as he walked up the street.
Alessia shut the door. ‘No, Alfredo.’
‘Your brother asked me to look after you. You make that very difficult.’
Alessia sighed, suddenly feeling tired.
'Even after everything we've done together, you still -' Alfredo stopped himself, his jaw snapping shut as he visibly tried to calm his temper. He put a hand on her shoulder, and said softly, ‘you know that our parents talked.’
She looked away. ‘No, I don’t know, my parents are dead, Alfredo.’
She did know, but she wasn’t going to admit as much.
Alfredo’s lips twitched angrily, he knew that she knew, she turned away and headed up the stairs.