Page 70 of Never Tear Us Apart
‘Do not worry, little one,’ Sal says kindly to David. ‘I know where your mother is.’ He turns back to me. ‘Christina came in today to ask me to help find her. Christina has the baby at her lodgings. Stella is at a house in the Gut. My former pupil, Vittoria – she is in terrible trouble.’
‘Vittoria?’ My heart drops as I remember her sweet smile the last time I saw her. ‘What happened?’
‘Christina will tell you.’ Sal waves his hand, turning his face away as his voice breaks.
Whatever has happened, it’s serious.
* * *
Christina opens the door with the baby in her arms and bends down to kiss David on top of his head.
‘Oh, Iamglad you are here,’ Christina tells him. ‘We are putting on a play and we need a leading man. Run upstairs, will you, and get fitted for your costume? You can take this great lump with you.’
Christina sets Eugenie down, and David lifts her as best he can as they make their way slowly up the stairs together, Eugenie tottering with her brother’s arms around her waist.
‘Dr Borg said someone would bring him,’ Christina says, watching the children.
‘That’s all she said?’ I ask, incredulous. ‘Like he’s a bag she’s left behind somewhere? He was crying his eyes out, poor little mite.’
‘You’re right, of course,’ Christina says regretfully, watching the children meet Alex at the top of the stairs, where heimmediately wraps them both in something satin. ‘But I am rather afraid we get hardened to all the tears. Perhaps the children’s tears especially. As if all this terror and death have become just another part of life. But he’s safe now, thanks to you. He can stay with me until the doctor collects him.’
‘Where is she?’ I ask. ‘What was so important she didn’t go back for her son?’
‘It’s my fault,’ Christina says. ‘Vittoria is in a bad way. She wouldn’t let the women she lives with call for help, so things got worse and worse. Then one came to me and told me the trouble. I knew Stella was in Mellieha today, so I telephoned a friend there and asked her to fetch her. I begged the doctor to see Vittoria. There was nothing I could do to persuade her to go to the hospital – she was too ashamed. The poor thing.’ Christina lowers her voice. ‘Seems she’s pregnant. Her friends tried to help her get rid of it yesterday. With a bottle of gin, a coat hanger and a hot bath. But the bleeding wouldn’t stop, and infection’s set in so quickly.’
‘David said she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I had no idea . . . Why didn’t she ask Stella to help?’
‘Shame, fear,’ Christina says, with a sad shrug. She points down the street. ‘Right at the top, on the left – the house with the red door. It will be open. Stella is with her now.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘I’ll see if I can help.’
‘Maia, darling.’ Christina pulls me back. ‘The boy is safe. No harm done – he’ll forget all about it by teatime. But what you’ll find in there . . . It will be harder to forget.’
‘I know, but I’m not afraid,’ I tell her. For the first time in my life, I think that might be true.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The red door is standing slightly ajar, just as Christina told me it would be.
It leads into a narrow hallway, and beyond, a splintered door stands open, leading onto a small, square, open courtyard. Here are the steps that lead to the first floor. Washing, covered in dust from the earlier raid, hangs on a line stretched between two balconies. The whole courtyard is in shadow except for one corner, which is lit by a slice of late-afternoon sun.
A young woman sits in that light, her blue dress made more vivid by it. Her head has fallen to her lap, and she is weeping. A cigarette held in a limp hand burns down.
‘Hello?’ I enquire softly from the foot of the steps. ‘I’m Maia, looking for Dr Borg and Vittoria.’
The girl looks up at me, her face gaunt, and gestures to the hallway behind her. I take the steps quickly, but as I move around her, she catches my wrist. I look into a haggard face stained with exhaustion and tears.
‘Are you a nurse?’ she asks. Her accent isn’t Maltese, though I can’t quite place it. ‘Are you here to help Vittoria?’
‘I’m not a nurse,’ I say.
‘We moved her to the big room – better light, you see, and the air from the sea? We left her during the raid – we had to, didn’t we? Do you think she knows we left her?’
Things seem very bad. I can hardly believe it. I only saw her the day before yesterday.
‘I don’t know.’ I wish I had something to tell this frightened woman, something to comfort her with, so instead I’ve chosen honesty. It dawns on me that I have walked into this situation as a twenty-first-century woman with no idea that death can be so near or so certain.
The hallway is lit at either end by a long, shuttered window. Another two women wait outside the room I was directed to. One leans her forehead against the door, her palm flattened against it. The other sits on the tiled floor, her chin resting on her chest.
