Page 73 of Never Tear Us Apart
‘I do understand that,’ I say. ‘Not only do I understand it, but I admire you, more than you know. But . . . just to forget him, like a piece of unwanted baggage?’
‘I did not abandon him,’ Stella says, stamping out the stub of the cigarette. ‘We were in Mellieha to see a patient, the mother of a friend of David’s, when we had to leave quickly. I got word Vittoria was very sick. We had to get back to Valletta. So, we all get on the bus, all three of us. But David – solike his father – he didn’t want to leave his friend there. So we all get on the bus – he gets off again. It was crowded. No one saw. I didn’t see him get off. But he did, because he wanted to. And then he regretted it. Perhaps next time he will think twice.’
My mouth falls open in disbelief. ‘There was a raid – your five-year-old son was alone in the middle of a raid!’
‘And so was Vittoria,’ Stella says. ‘And a hundred other children. Young men burnt half to death or with their limbs torn off. Old women trapped under rubble. Which of these souls should I save first? You tell me. Where do I go first? Who do I let die? Or should I let all of them die because my son got off the bus?’
‘Vittoria died anyway,’ I say, and regret it at once.
‘She did.’ Stella lowers her eyes. ‘But at least I was there to ease her pain, as were you. I knew that David would be safe.’
‘How? He’s hardly more than a baby himself, and yet you drag him around the island with you, leaving him to take care of his sister, as if . . .’
‘As if I am a mother, doing her best for both her children in the middle of a war,’ Stella finishes for me. ‘Do you think I don’t know how this war harms him and my daughter? Two years ago, he was a happy little toddler with a father and a mother and a sister on the way. Now, his father is gone; his home is gone. His mother must travel the island day and night to help the injured and the sick, when there is no one else. I tried to leave him with a neighbour at first, but David will not be left, because he knows that one day his father left and never came home. So, I take him with me. I take them both, wherever I go, so that we are always together – at least until my stubborn little boy forgets he is afraid and decides to get off a bus.’ Stella’s shoulders drop. ‘At the end of each day, I believe that tomorrow will be theday I break, the day I cannot fight any longer. But at the beginning of each day, I make a promise to start again, to fight for my country and my people and for my children. To keep us together. As we are meant to be. You can think what you want of me, but I knew that David would be safe, because he is my son. And the people of Malta know me, and they know my son. I knew someone would take him to a shelter and bring him to me, and I was right, wasn’t I?’
I nod.
People are starting to walk down the street, weary and sad in the aftermath of the raid.
‘I also knew that Vittoria would die alone and in pain if I got off the bus to go and fetch him. I made a decision – it’s one I can live with. If you can’t, then that is your problem.’
Christina comes around the corner with the children. As soon as David sees his mother, he tugs free of her hand, racing into Stella’s arms. She scoops him up as he flings his arms around her neck, talking excitedly in Maltese. Any trace that he was alone or abandoned seems forgotten as Stella hitches him onto her hip and Christina brings the little girl to her.
‘Here she is,’ Christina says, bouncing the baby as she walks. ‘Here’s Eugenie.’
The little girl’s eyes light up, and David scrambles down as Eugenie is passed into Stella’s arms. The love between them is almost palpable. Stella isn’t a cold, neglectful mother – she’s a woman stretched almost to breaking point, who still manages to find love and compassion every day in the middle of relentless violence.
Then the words Kathryn said come back to me, suddenly perfectly clear:So tragic, poor Grandmama.Such a tragic loss so young. I think it broke your father’s heart for good.
‘Stella.’ She looks at me, defiant. ‘You are the most remarkable woman, but you need to know how important you are.Yes, to everyone you treat – but to your children, too, and to me. You can’t save the world.’
Stella lifts her chin and gives me a scathing look. ‘What kind of a mother would I be if I didn’t try to do just that?’
Chapter Fifty
When I return to the half-house, Sal is sitting at the kitchen table, picking at a single fillet of fish. Another is sitting in a pan. Going to the stove, I collect the fish, slide it onto a plate and sit down opposite him.
‘You did not come when the raid began,’ he says almost accusingly. There is a sheen of sweat on his tanned forehead. His eyes are lowered.
‘Vittoria.’ I make myself say her name. ‘She was . . . dying. None of us could bear to leave her in her last minutes.’
Now, he looks up at me, and I am startled to see tears in his eyes.
‘She’s gone?’
I nod. I’d almost forgotten how much the professor liked his young student. I should have been more careful with my words.
‘I watched her grow up, so full of hope and promise, and how quickly the world brought her to this.’ He shakes his head. ‘Sometimes, I just feel the weight of it all. Of being where I am not meant to be. Of having lost my future, my love, my child. And the war, and the violence that falls from the sky, and in the middle of it all, a young woman driven to an act that has killed her. Much of the time, I am able to shoulder it, but not today. When you did not come back when the sirens sounded, I was afraid I’d lost you, too.’
‘Sal, I’m so sorry,’ I tell him, reaching a hand across the table to cover his. ‘We’re trying to make sense of something that has no rhyme or reason.’
We sit in silence for a long moment.
‘If you could, would you want to go back? To find your wife, your child, to try to begin again?’
Sal shrugs. ‘I am sure she has moved on. What could I do but hurt and shock her?’
‘I want to behere, Sal,’ I tell him. ‘Here right now and for the rest of my life.’
