Page 155 of Good Sisters

‘Hi.’ She was shy. I got out and went around to her. I felt her hand slip into mine.

Marco resisted hugging her. ‘Welcome to my house,’ he said.

‘It’s much bigger than it looks in photos,’ Clara said. ‘I don’t like the colour of your shutters.’

Marco laughed. ‘We’ll change them and you can choose the colour. Now, will you come in and meet my mother? She is preparing the cake for you.’

Clara hesitated, then tentatively followed Marco inside, still holding my hand.

‘Come, come.’ Marco opened the door to the kitchen.

I could feel Clara tense. Anna turned around and squealed. She came rushing over with her arms outstretched.

‘No, Mamma,’ Marco warned her.

She pushed him aside and shuffled straight over to us. Clara squeezed my hand. I tried to put out my arm to stop Anna, but she was not to be deterred. She put her hands up to Clara’s face, looked into her eyes and said, ‘Mia caraClaretta.’

Clara was frozen to the spot. None of us moved.

Slowly, Clara let go of my hand and put it on her grandmother’s shoulder. She gently pulled back. ‘I am glad to meet you, but please don’t touch my face.’

Marco translated. His mother dropped her hands and spoke to him.

‘She is very sorry. She is just so excited to meet you at last.’ Anna nodded, she turned to the oven and took out a freshly baked cake. ‘Torta perClaretta,’ she said.

She cut slices while we sat down and handed one to Clara.

Clara looked at it and pushed it away. ‘It’s soggy. I can’t eat soggy food.’

‘Marco, can you please explain to your mother that it’s not the cake. Clara just has issues with the texture of food.’

To make up for Anna’s disappointment, I ate my slice and Clara’s.

Clara looked around the kitchen. ‘Everything is very old here.’

Marco laughed. ‘Yes, we ’ave lived here for a long time. We like the old things. They ’ave memories.’

‘It smells funny.’ Clara sniffed the air. ‘Everything is different. It’s not home … it’s …’ I saw her hands flapping. I could see her cheeks were flushed.

I was too late to stop it. She began to rock, then cry, scream and hyperventilate. I had to get her out. I half carried her to the car and sat her in the back seat. I climbed in beside her. I didn’t touch her. I knew I had to let this run its course. I handed her her blanket and played ‘Fernando’ on my phone.

She cried and cried. Marco and his mother stood at the front door with tears streaming down their faces. I left Clara and went over to them.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘It’s okay. It’s just a lot for her to take in.’

‘Do you want to leave?’

‘No. We need to let her calm down. She has her blanket and her music and she needs quiet now. I’m going to sit beside her until she feels better. It could be a while. Why don’t you go inside and I’ll come and get you?’

Twenty minutes later, Clara stopped rocking and crying. She laid her head against the seat in front. ‘I want to go home, Mummy,’ she whispered.

‘Okay, sweetheart. We’ll go. Let me just tell Marco and Anna.’

Marco was crushed. Before we left, he asked if he could show Clara something he had got for her. I wasn’t sure, but I felt bad about the whole fiasco, so I said okay.

He came over to the car holding a tiny chocolate Labrador puppy. He had floppy ears and a black button nose.

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