Devotion. Louisa Young

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      Dear Heart

      Oggi ti scrivo in Italiano! I don’t know what the Italian form of Riley would be. Rilino? Reelee? No, not really – today I write to you in English as usual. But I did go shopping with Susanna in what used to be the ghetto, and I said buongiorno a lot, to all kinds of people who mostly seemed to be cousins on Aldo’s father’s side, I think. Susanna introduced me to everybody as cucina which I thought meant kitchen but apparently not. Or perhaps as well. It is all VERY Jewish – you know how in England people are only Christian when they’re in a church, but here it is a part of everything – food, music, traditional lines of work, all kinds of rules and habits, as well as synagogue. Aldo and Susanna seem to have masses of the culture but none of the religion. Interesting – and nobody seems to hold it against them at all. Aldo has a little gang of chaps he plays cards with – Signor Seta next door is his best chum I think – he has quite a saucy wife who wears her floral housecoat very tight – the men all wear hats and have bright eyes and call for each other like small boys wanting each other to come and play—

      This is a short and sweet one – like you! I will be home before you know it. Ti adoro! You probably recall what that means.

      She had that day taken a long walk with Aldo. Striding beside him she felt like Kitty scurrying after Tom – after all, she’d never had a brother. She smiled. He glanced back, and slowed down for her.

      ‘You know we came here for our honeymoon?’ she said. ‘I keep catching glimpses of my younger self, loitering in that doorway, say’ – she pointed at the vast, shadowy entrance to an invisible courtyard beyond. ‘Or eyeing up a statue, or considering the light on the river.’

      ‘Perhaps we passed in the street,’ he said.

      ‘1919!’ she said.

      ‘Those strange days …’ he murmured.

      ‘I’d been a nurse,’ she said.

      ‘I was a soldier,’ he replied, and they looked at each other, and they both knew that they did not want to look back at those times when their countries had just been at war, and at their selves in the shock of survival.

      ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘life is long, if you’re lucky, and who knows – who knows what is coming?’ With which she very much agreed.

      ‘Look,’ he said. ‘The Arco di Tito. Come. I give you a tiny history lesson. So. First Jewish people came to Rome two thousand years ago to ask protection against King of the Syrians, and they stayed. Then later, after destruction of Jerusalem and burning of the temple, Emperor Tito brought Jews back for slaves. Look—’

      They were coming up to the great arch, looming against the blue above them.

      ‘It looks just like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris,’ she said.

      ‘This is the original,’ he said, with a little swagger. ‘See, look inside.’

      The vault of the arch was like a slice through a great church or temple: the ornamental ceiling squares and flowers looking almost Tudor, and the carved stone panels at the sides.

      ‘Look,’ he said. ‘You see the menorah? Trumpets?’

      She looked. ‘Oh,’ she said.

      ‘And the prisoners carrying them – those are the Jewish prisoners. Jews paid their ransom, and took them into their community – where we still live. Our great great great great etc., etc., grandparents. Good, yes?’

      She didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

      ‘And Tito had a Jewish fidanzata, Queen Berenice. A long long time we have been here.’ They gazed for a while and Nadine thought how little she had ever thought about being Jewish.

      As they walked on, he said, ‘Most of Roman Jews won’t walk under that arch. Pride and loyalty. But me, I’m more modern. Not so religious. You?’

      ‘Not so religious,’ she said.

      He took her arm and tucked it into his. ‘Come, my little sister. I buy you an ice cream.’

      This full relaxation with this new man in her family made her feel safe, in new territory. A good feeling.