Saddle the Wind (72 page)

Many hours had passed.

Blanche sat on a hard wooden chair close to Gentry where he lay. Immediately after the attack she had bound his bleeding head. Since that time he had lain on his side on the mattress, silent, his eyes closed. She had done all she could to bring him to consciousness, but all her efforts had been to no avail.

Throughout the night in the pale light of the lamp she had sat on the chair, keeping her vigil, the deep silence of the room broken only occasionally by the distant sounds of gunshots. For all the long hours of this seemingly endless night she had sat looking into the shadows. She had wanted to sleep, to find some way of escape from the nightmare, but she could not. Rather, she had sat there as in some kind of trance, as if the events of the past two days and nights had numbed her senses.

Now, trying to shake the stultifying dullness from her, she got up. Her joints were stiff from the hours of sitting, and her eyes itched from lack of sleep, but she was hardly aware of such negligible added discomfort. Standing there in the dim light, looking down at Gentry’s unconscious body beneath her, the full impact of the reality came back to her. Tomorrow they must get away; she knew it. If they did not, she was afraid they would never survive.

Turning, she walked on silent feet to the mattress at
the far end of the room where Lisa and Adriana lay fast asleep. She could only thank God that Adriana was not really aware of what had happened the evening before. Held in Lisa’s arms during the fight, terrified and screaming, she had hidden her face and so had seen neither the knife nor the blow that Blanche had struck with it. When Adriana had eventually found the courage to look upon the scene, upon the corpse of the woman lying prone upon the floor, the knife had been hidden from her sight.

And Blanche had endeavoured to ensure that the child was not further enlightened. To enable her to tend to Gentry and the girls she had first covered the woman’s body with an old tablecloth. Later, when the situation was calmer and the two girls were sleeping, she had removed the knife and wiped it clean. Then, struggling with the heavy weight, she had dragged the body into the small room leading off the kitchen. Securely closing the door behind her she had moved back to the place where the body had lain. There was blood there. Taking a cloth she had wiped it up as well as she could, though from then on she had skirted the spot whenever she crossed the room.

Now she moved back across the floor and stood looking down at the tiled floor. Even in the dim light she could see the clean patch where the blood had fallen and where she had wiped away the stain. The words went through her mind:
You have killed another human being. You have taken a life
. But she had had no choice in the matter. And she knew that were she faced with the same situation she would have to do the same thing again.

She turned away and stood unmoving, hands hanging at her sides. After a while she raised her head and forced herself to look over to that part of the kitchen where
the shadows were deeper. It was there that Marianne lay.

Softly, Blanche moved to her side.

Marianne lay on her back on a small piece of matting that Blanche had found and laid there. Her body was covered by a tablecloth.

Blanche lowered herself and knelt on the tiles. Gently she pulled back part of the cloth to reveal the still face. She had closed the dead eyes. Now Marianne looked as if she were sleeping, and for a brief moment the strange, desperate thought flashed through Blanche’s mind that Marianne could wake, could open her eyes and turn to her. And Marianne would smile, and in that moment everything would be behind them. All the horror of the past two days would all be gone, and they would once again be as they were in happier times.

Lifting her hand, Blanche softly touched the back of her fingers to Marianne’s cold cheek. Then she let her hand fall back to her side and bowed her head. Marianne was dead. She had gone for ever, and with her going a part of Blanche’s life had gone too.

Remaining on her knees, she turned her head and looked back to where Gentry lay. When he recovered consciousness he would have to learn what had happened. And a voice in her head said perversely:
If
he recovers consciousness. She thrust the voice away.
No
. He might be gravely injured, but he would be all right. He would be. He needed medical help, though, and he needed it soon. She must get help for him as soon as it was light. If he didn’t get it …

Slowly, she got up off her knees. Moving back to the hard wooden chair beside the mattress she sat down. Staring into the gloom that was relieved only by the little flame of the lamp, she sat and waited for morning to come.

*

Standing at the head of the stairs, facing out into the surrounding ruins, Blanche watched as the dawn revealed the devastated landscape. Mercifully now the rain had stopped. There was something else, though; a pervasive smell of decay that drifted on the cold wind.

When the sky was light she turned and went back down into the kitchen. Moving to the mattress where Adriana and Lisa lay, she bent and touched Adriana on the shoulder and whispered her name. The child awoke at once, and Blanche saw a shadow of alarm appear in her eyes.

‘Mama …’

‘It’s all right, my darling. It’s all right.’

As Blanche spoke Lisa stirred and opened her sleepy eyes, and Blanche watched as the memory of all the horrors quickly touched the girl and brought her fully awake. Blanche laid her hand upon Lisa’s shoulder, patted her.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I must go out. I’m –’

Adriana broke in at once, her voice sharp with fear: ‘Oh, Mama, don’t leave us.’

Lisa added her protest, sitting up beside Adriana: ‘Oh, please, signora –’

‘Listen to me,’ Blanche said. ‘I’ve got to go and get help so that we can get to the docks. Once there we can find a ship to take us away.’ She gestured to where Gentry lay on the other mattress. ‘We need a stretcher to carry the signore.
We
can’t do it, and if we just stay here he’ll die.’

Adriana began to wail. ‘Oh, don’t leave us. Don’t leave us.’ And then a new, plaintive cry: ‘Daddy. Where’s Daddy?’

Blanche could hear the beginnings of hysteria in Adriana’s cries. ‘Hush, hush,’ she said soothingly. Then, ignoring the question regarding Alfredo she said, ‘All
right – all right, you can come with me.’ Then to Lisa: ‘But Lisa, you must stay here and keep a watch over the signore.’ As Lisa’s face showed her swiftly growing fear at being left alone in the place Blanche put her hands reassuringly on her shoulders.

‘No one else will come in. You’ll be safe, and we shan’t be gone long. And if the signore should waken, then tell him we shall be back soon.’ She pulled aside the blanket. ‘Come, Adriana – put on your coat.’

A few minutes later she and Adriana emerged from the stairs into the open air. At once Adriana wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant, pervasive smell – and in the same moment Blanche realized what it came from. It was the smell of rotting flesh. Briefly she put a hand up to cover her nose and mouth, but then she realized that there was no escaping from it; and not only would she have to put up with it but it was going to get worse.

Hand in hand, she and Adriana set off, clambering over the debris in the direction of the docks.

Near the Palazzo Reale she came across two young sailors carrying a rolled-up stretcher under their arms. She could see from their uniforms that they were British, and much relieved she hailed them and hurried towards them. On learning that she was English the men at once asked her if they could be of service. They were two of a team from HMS
Euryalus
, they said, seeking out injured survivors to take to the Piazza Mazzini for medical help. In answer to Blanche’s questions they told her that there was a British ship, the
Blake
, anchored in the port, which was shortly to leave with survivors for Naples. At that very moment, they said, survivors were being ferried out to the ship where she lay at anchor. At the words Blanche begged them to go with her. She had a friend who had to be taken to the docks, she said. He was unconscious, he had been
so for many hours, and she was afraid that if he didn’t get attention soon he might die.

The taller of the two bluejackets put a hand on her shoulder. Don’t worry, he assured her, they would see that she and her friend got to the docks all right.

Feeling that she could weep with relief, Blanche thanked them and, turning, took Adriana by the hand and led the men back towards the piazza.

A while later she stood in the kitchen watching as the two young men lifted Gentry onto the stretcher and turned to bear him up the stairs. Blanche called after them: ‘I’ll catch you up.’ She turned to Lisa and Adriana: ‘Go with the men. I’ll join you in a moment.’

They would not, though, but hovered beside the doorway. Blanche, her control at breaking point, snapped out angrily and sharply: ‘Go – now! Do as I say!’ And the two girls looked at her wide-eyed for a moment and then turned and went up the stairs behind the sailors.

Blanche moved across the kitchen floor to where Marianne’s body lay. Kneeling on the tiles she pulled aside the cloth that covered Marianne’s dead face. She still looked as if she were asleep. Words formed in Blanche’s head:
Marianne, I have to leave you
… There was no choice; she had to go; she had to care for the living. As she was about to replace the cloth her eye was drawn to the gleam of the rings on Marianne’s fingers. She couldn’t leave them for any looter or anyone else who chanced by. After a moment’s hesitation she lifted Marianne’s small hands, first the left, then the right, and then, with some difficulty, removed the rings. She put them into her pocket. Later she would give them to Gentry …

Carefully she laid the cloth back over Marianne’s face and got to her feet.

‘Goodbye, Marianne … my dear, dear friend.’

She took a breath, turned away and moved across the
floor to the doorway. Seconds later she was climbing the stairs for the last time.

As she emerged into the open air she could see the little procession not far ahead, the two sailors bearing Gentry on the stretcher, followed by Lisa and Adriana walking hand in hand. Their progress was slow. As she looked at them she saw Adriana turn and glance back anxiously over her shoulder. Blanche waved to her and the child waved in return.

As she set off, picking her way over the debris, Blanche’s glance was drawn to movement over to her right and she saw a little group of Italian soldiers moving about among the ruins not far away. They had a small, mule-drawn cart which somehow they were managing to manoeuvre through the congested streets. The soldiers were collecting up the dead. On the cart the bodies lay one on top of the other. On a sudden impulse Blanche changed her course and hurried towards the group. As she drew nearer two of the soldiers emerged from the ruins of a house carrying on a stretcher the body of an old man. Reaching the cart they laid the body on top of the others and then set off again bearing the stretcher between them.

Blanche reached the cart just as the other two soldiers appeared carrying the body of a teenage girl. She waited until the corpse had been deposited with the rest and then stepped forward. The soldiers looked at her inquiringly. ‘Yes, signora … ?’

‘Please – signori,’ she addressed them both, ‘– can you tell me – what is to become of the – the dead?’

One of the soldiers was several years older than the other. He, the nearer of the two, gave a little shrug. ‘They’re to be buried. Graves are being dug. At the English Cemetery – near the port. The bodies are being taken there …’

‘The English Cemetery?’

‘Yes. They’re digging mass graves.’ He shrugged again. ‘There are so many bodies.’

The thought went through Blanche’s mind:
Marianne, to be buried in a mass grave
. She could see pictures, images flashing. They were too horrible, and briefly the thought touched her that it might be possible for Marianne’s body to be taken back to England. After all, if there were ships arriving and taking people away, then perhaps … But then a second later she knew that it was a foolish thought; with so many injured to be taken away, no one would allow valuable space on board ship to be taken up with the transport of the dead.

The young soldiers were leaning against the side of the cart (they were inured to death now) taking a brief respite from their task. Having discerned from Blanche’s accented Italian that she was a foreigner, they asked her where she was from. England, she replied. They nodded; she should go down to the docks, they said. Perhaps she could find a ship to take her home. Yes, she said, that was her intention.

They straightened, preparing to get back to work. Briefly turning, Blanche saw that Adriana, Lisa and the two seamen carrying the stretcher had come to a halt and were waiting for her.

‘Oh, just a moment, please,’ Blanche said to the soldiers. ‘– Please wait.’

They halted and she turned and pointed off to the ruins of the villa above the basement kitchen. When would they be going there, she asked them.

They shrugged. Soon, quite soon.

She nodded, hesitated for a moment and then began to work at her hand, trying to take off her wedding ring. When it wouldn’t come off she spat on her finger in an effort to ease the ring’s removal. After a few moments
the ring was free. Holding it in the palm of her dirty hand she held it out to the soldier nearest to her.

‘Please,’ she urged him, ‘take it. Take the ring.’

He frowned. ‘What for … ?’

She gestured again to the ruined villa where Marianne lay. In the basement kitchen there, she said, there was the body of a young woman. ‘Please, please,’ she said, ‘be gentle with her.’

The soldiers looked at her with sympathy. The elder lifted his hand and gently closed her fingers back over the ring.

‘No, signora – it’s not necessary. We don’t want your wedding ring. I promise you – we’ll be very gentle with her.’ He patted her hand. ‘Obviously she’s someone close to you …’

Blanche nodded. ‘– My sister.’

She stood there with her hand outstretched, the ring closed in her palm. The soldier, lifting his hand higher, softly touched her cheek in a little gesture of comfort. ‘Listen, signora – you’ll get over all this one day. This terrible thing.’