Chapter 2 Signora

For years when Nora O'Donaghue lived in Sicily, she had received no letter from home. Of course, her parents couldn't forgive her for loving Mario. They were upset that she had followed him to his small village in Sicily.

She had first known Mario when she was working in London, and she had been his red-haired princess, the most beautiful girl in the world. But in the end he had gone home to marry Gabriella. 'My family want this marriage very much,' he had said, 'and her family also want it. We are Sicilians; we must listen to our families.'

But Nora couldn't let him go. She didn't like to remember Mario's anger when she got off the bus in Annunziata, outside the hotel that he owned. 'You are making things very difficult for me,' he had said.

'But I love you,' Nora had replied.' And you love me. I have to be where you are. I will stay here always.'

The years had passed and Signora, as they had called her in Annunziata, had become part of the life there. She lived in two rooms in a house on the square. Her rent was low as she helped to look after the old people who owned the house. She made a little money by teaching English in the school every Friday morning and taking tourists round the church. She sewed a little and took what she made to a big town to sell.

And she loved every stone of the place because it was where Mario lived and worked. She watched him marry Gabriella and she watched his sons and daughters grow up. It was enough that he smiled up at her as she sat sewing in her window.

Signora realized that many of the men in Annunziata knew that there was a relationship between Mario and her. But it didn't worry them; it made Mario more of a man in their eyes. She always believed that the women knew nothing of their love, their meetings. They smiled at her over the long years as she slowly learnt their language. They stopped asking her when she was going home. She wasn't upsetting anyone. She could stay.

•

Signora's red hair began to go a little grey as her fiftieth birthday came near. But unlike the dark women around her, it didn't seem to age her. Probably Mario had got older too but she didn't notice it.

Signora always slept with her window on the square slightly open, so she was one of the first to hear the noise when Gabriella's brothers went to wake the doctor. Signora stood in the shadows and watched. There had been an accident, that was clear. Please God, not one of their children, she thought.

And then she saw Gabriella on the doorstep. She was holding her face in her hands and her cries went up into the mountains around Annunziata: 'MARIO, MARIO ...'

The sound came into Signora's bedroom, and her heart stopped as she watched them lift the body out of the car. She went down to the square. It was full of his family, neighbours and friends. It seemed he had been driving home from another village. He had missed a corner and the car had turned over many times. She had to see him, to touch his face. But hands reached out to her and pulled her back. Gabriella's brothers didn't want the whole village to see her crying, showing her love.

He was dead, and they all seemed to think that she would now leave. But Signora had lived there for twenty-six years. She didn't want to move. So she pretended not to notice the things that people said to her, the advice they gave.

Not until Gabriella came to see her. Signora welcomed her. Then there was a long silence.

'Will you go back soon to your country?' Gabriella asked at last.

'There is nobody for me to go back to,' Signora said.

'But there is nobody for you here, not now,' Gabriella said.

'Do you want me to leave, Signora Gabriella?'

'Mario always said you would go if he died — you would not stay here against the tradition of the place.'

Signora was shocked. Mario had told her how important tradition was to him and his family. She felt that he was speaking to her from the dead.

She spoke very slowly. 'I think at the end of the month, Signora Gabriella. That is when I will go back to Ireland.'

The other woman looked at her gratefully. She took Signora's hands in hers. 'I am sure you will be much happier,' she said.

'Yes, yes,' Signora said slowly.

•

Signora had made no plans. She had told no one that she was coming back to Ireland, not even her family. She had very little money, but she had always looked after herself. She would find a room. Then she would decide what to do next.

She was surprised at how much Dublin had changed. There were so many young people - tall, confident, laughing, brightly dressed. Before she left, Dublin had been a grey and dull place. Now it was a whole new world.

She found a place to have a coffee, and a girl of about eighteen served her. The girl had long red hair, like her own hair many years ago. She thought Signora was foreign.

'What country are you from?' she asked in slow English.

'Sicily, in Italy,' Signora said.

'I'm not going there until I can speak the language. I want to know what the men are saying about me.'

'I didn't speak any Italian when I went there,' Signora said, 'but you know, it was all right. No, it was more than all right. I loved it. I stayed for twenty-six years.'

'And when did you come back?'

'Today. Is that your name there on your shirt? Suzi?' she asked quickly, as the girl began to move away.

'Yes, like Suzi Quatro, the singer, you know?'

'Well, Suzi, where could I rent a room, do you think? Somewhere not too expensive,' Signora said.

Suzi thought for a minute. She seemed to be trying to decide something. 'What's your name?' she asked.

'I know this sounds funny, but my name is Signora. It's what they called me in Italy, and I like it.'

'Listen. I don't live at home now, because I don't like living with my family. And only a few weeks ago they were talking about renting my room to someone. It's empty and they'd be pleased to get a few pounds for it.'

'Do you think I could?' Signora's eyes were shining.

'But it's a very ordinary house. They have the television on all the time. They have to shout above the noise and of course my brother's there. Jerry s fourteen and terrible.'

'I just need a place to stay. I'm sure it would be fine.'

Suzi wrote down the address and told her which bus to take. 'Our name's Sullivan. They'll like you because you're a bit older. But don't say you came from me.'

•

Signora stood outside the Sullivans' house and knocked on the door. Would this be her new home?

Jerry opened the door. He had red hair and he had a sandwich in his hand. 'Yes?' he said.

'Could I speak to your mother or father, please?'

'What about?'

'I want to ask if I can rent a room,' Signora began. At that moment, the boy's father and mother came to the door. Signora repeated her question.

'And why are you looking for a room in this area?' the woman asked.

'I have been away from Ireland for a long time. I don't know many places now but I do need somewhere to live. I had no idea that things had become so expensive and ... well ... I came this way because you can see the mountains from here.' For some reason this seemed to please them. 'I would be no trouble. I would sit in my room,' Signora added.

'You haven't even seen the room,' the woman said.

Together they all walked upstairs. It was a small room with an empty cupboard, empty bookshelves and no pictures on the walls. There was no sign of the years that the beautiful Suzi had spent here.

Outside the window it was getting dark. The room looked out over land where there would soon be more houses, but at the moment there was nothing between her and the mountains.

'Its good to have a beautiful view like this,' Signora said. 'I have been living in Italy, and they would call this Vista del Monte, mountain view.'

'That's the name of the school our son goes to, Mountainview,' said the big man.

Signora smiled at him. 'If you'll have me, Mrs Sullivan, Mr Sullivan... I think I've come to a very nice place.'

They sat downstairs and talked, and immediately her gentleness seemed to improve their behaviour. The man cleared the food away from the table. The woman put out her cigarette and turned off the television. The boy sat in the corner watching with interest.

She told them she had lived long years in Italy and that her Italian husband had died there recently. She had come home to Ireland to make her life here. 'And have you no family here?'

'I do have some relatives,' said Signora. 'I will visit them one day.'

They told her that life was hard, that Jimmy worked as a driver and Peggy worked in a supermarket. And then the conversation came back to the room upstairs. She asked if they would like a month's rent now. 'Perhaps I could step outside while you talk about it,' she said, and went out to the back garden.

The Sullivans soon came to the door, their decision made. 'Come for a week, and if you like us and we like you, it could be for a bit longer,' Peggy said.

Signora's eyes shone. ' Grazie, grazie,' she said, before she could stop herself.

•

The next day, Signora started to look for a job. She asked in restaurants for kitchen work and was politely refused everywhere. She tried a supermarket and a newspaper shop but again without luck. Her search brought her towards the coffee shop where Suzi worked. She went in and the girl looked up, pleased.

'You actually went there! My mum told me someone was renting my room.'

'It's very nice. I wanted to thank you. Tell me, Suzi, why can't I get a job? Just an ordinary job, cleaning, tidying, anything. Am I too old?'

Suzi thought for a minute. 'I think you look a bit too good for the jobs you're looking for. Perhaps you should aim for something a bit better?'

So Signora decided to show some of her sewing, some pieces of work that she had done in Italy, to fashion shops and designers. Everyone admired her work and soon she was paid to make some baby dresses.

Then, sometimes, when she was sewing in the evenings. Jerry came and knocked on her door.

'Are you busy, Mrs Signora?'

'No, come in, Jerry. It's nice to have company.'

'You can come downstairs, you know.'

'Why don't you bring your school work up here. Jerry? Then you can be company for me and I can help you if you need it.'

They sat together all through the month of May, talking easily. Signora showed great interest in Jerry’s school work.

'Read me that poem again. Let's see, what does it mean?'

'It's only an old poem, Mrs Signora.'

'I know, but it must mean something. Let's think.'

So Jerry Sullivan learnt his poems, wrote his stories, did his sums. And a teacher said that Jerry’s school work had improved greatly, Suzi reported to Signora. 'My parents should be paying you,' she said.

But History was the only subject that Jerry was really interested in. Jerry thought the teacher, Mr O'Brien, was great.

'He's going to be the Principal of Mountainview, you know, next year/Jerry explained.

•

'Your mothers asking you and me to tea on Thursday with Jerry's teacher,' Signora told Suzi.

'Oh, I've heard a story or two about Tony O'Brien,' Suzi said. 'He likes the company of ladies. Be careful, Signora!'

'I'm never going to be interested in a man again,' Signora said honestly.

'I've said that before now, but the interest came back.'

The conversation at the tea party was a little difficult at first. So Signora began to talk, gently, almost dreamily, about all the changes in Ireland she noticed, most of them good ones.

And after that everyone relaxed. They talked like a normal family; more polite than many Tony O'Brien had visited. He had always thought that there was not much hope for Jerry Sullivan. But this strange woman seemed to have had a good effect on the family and the boy.

'I expect you loved Italy, if you stayed there so long.'

'I did, very, very much.'

'I've never been there myself, but there's another teacher at our school who lives, sleeps and breathes Italy. His name's Aidan Dunne. You really should meet him.'

•

Signora decided that she must try to get a teaching job of some sort. She could teach Italian to beginners, couldn't she? Perhaps this man at Jerry's school, the one that was a lover of Italy, might know some group or organization that needed Italian lessons. What was his name? Mr Aidan Dunne, that was it. She could ask him.

She took a bus to the school and knocked on the door of the teachers' room. A man came to answer it. He had thin brown hair and anxious eyes

'Mr Dunne? I've come to talk to you about Italian.'

'Do you know, I knew that one day someone would knock at the door and say that to me.'

They both smiled and it was clear that they were going to be friends.

Aidan Dunne explained about the evening class that he wanted so much. But the Department of Education was not being very helpful about money for the class. He had been worried that they might not be able to afford a good teacher. Now he felt there was some hope again.

Signora told him how she had lived so long in Sicily and that she could teach not only the language, but perhaps something about the life too. Could there be a class on Italian artists, for example? And then there could be Italian music and wines and food.

He was admiring her openly now. It had been a long time since Signora had been admired. She liked it. And she liked this good man, trying to share his own love of another country with the people around here.

The school bell rang. 'We can talk more at four o'clock, if it's convenient for you,' Aidan said.

'I have nothing else to do,' she replied.

'Would you like to sit in our library?' he asked.

'Very much.'

She sat there reading through the books they had on Italy. Aidan Dunne had probably bought them with his own money. Then she thought of Dublin. Where would they find the people to attend the class? She and Mr Dunne. She and Aidan. She shook herself a little. She mustn't start dreaming. That had been her problem, people had said.

At that moment the door opened and Aidan stood there. He was smiling all over his face.