Phew another first for me! This is a short story approx 1300 words.
This is a brief visit to Florence...
PP
Fraudulent Family
With two fingers pressed against her temples, Veronica walked into the wallpapered sitting room and squatted on the low riempy stool facing the fading fire in the fireplace. It had been a difficult day; the secret she had kept secret for years had threatened to emerge. The secret, that been carefully hidden, and Veronica had hoped forever, had come tumbling out. The blonde curls relating to her son’s paternity cascading on to the lunch table, for all astute to consider. Aunt Mabel in her usual provocative way had alerted the communal interest. Aunt Mabel had always suspected her liaison with Harry. Many years ago, she had seen their entrancing looks. They were too young in those days to acknowledge the attraction; or to take heed. But Aunt Mabel had remembered their visible bond.
Veronica was a pretty young woman. She worked hard at school. Walked home with her friends and continued her studies into the evening. She was Head of the library and spent many hours classifying books, carefully placing them on the teak shelves in the sparsely lit library, while waiting for Harry and the boys.
Harry was unable to concentrate in class. His mind would wander out through open windows onto the green turf where sports games took place. He had lots of stamina and could out-train most players in his rugby team.
The lunch that fateful day started with scarlet borcht. Perhaps, it was an omen of the red fiery blood to flow through the veins of the family that brief meal.
“So tell us Veronica, how is Charles doing at school these days?” Aunt Mabel enquired pointedly.
“I think Charles can tell you himself. Hey, Charles?” Veronica suggested proudly.
Charles, only just four, was more intrigued by the potato floating in the borcht. It was like an iceberg in the warm red sea; he was not immediately prepared to speak to the gathering eyes. He mumbled to himself dunking the potato with the spoon. Veronica covered up for him by relating about his fifty meter sprint which he won on Wednesday at an inter-school athletics competition.
It had all happened when Veronica bumped into Harry in Florence, Italy. They were both back-packing in Europe and by some strange co-incidence they were at the Duormo on the same day.
Veronica was standing in the long pay queue to climb the six hundred stairs to the outside of the dome and experience the spectacular one hundred and eighty degree view of the old city of Florence. When, along walked a t-shirt and khaki shorts clad, capped blonde guy. She looked at him of course, all girls would have – he was so tall and fair, blue eyed and medium length blonde curls oozing from below the cap.
“Oh! My gosh, Harry? What are you doing here?”
“Veronica? Same as you I suspect?” he said with a broad grin, eyeing her backpack.
“I didn’t know you were here?”
And they chatted incessantly about the sights of Florence: The Ponte Vecchio, the squares, the churches, the amazing art at the Uffuzi. It would have been much more pleasant if they had explored these places together. Never mind they have found each other now. Veronica withdrew from the queue and moved towards the Church steps where they sat down.
“Where are you staying?” Veronica enquired excitedly.
“At a back-packers on Piazza Dante” said Harry.
“I am also at a back-packers near the Ponte Vecchio. I was stalling lunch ‘till after all the stairs but, are you hungry?”
“Of course I am! Aunt Mabel didn’t tell me you were in Europe.”
“No, Harry, she wouldn’t have. She doesn’t think that we should be friends. She always tries to keep us apart at gatherings. I wonder why? Oh well, so much for her keeping us apart now! Strange that we should be traveling in the same place, at the same time?”
The two travelers walked elatedly down the cobbled road towards a quaint deli with two seater tables and chairs. Their wares were displayed behind glass to tempt the passing tourist, one could choose, and then sit down or carry on eating and walking. The coffee smell that wafted from the little kitchen was mouth watering and tempting. Harry and Veronica chose to sit and catch up on news.
Munching through his pizza slice Harry could barely breathe between bites relating the sights of one country visit and the next. He had had a wonderful time. He had been on a few tours and had met lots of Australians.
“The Australians can party! They don’t seem to require sleep, those from down under.”
Harry found himself sleeping on the bus between countries and often missing the changing sights.
“It is difficult to do everything with everybody on a tour! One does not want to miss out.” Harry reassured.
“Where are you going next?” Harry asked wiping his cheesy mouth, and gulping his coffee.
“Home! I have to return home, Harry, I have been away for three months. My funds are low! And you?”
“No, I am going to Switzerland. I have a God Mother there and she is dying to see me. I think she last saw me when I was baptized…”
They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing in the green gardens near the Michelangelo statue of David. It was surprising that these two had been kept apart so successfully all these years. The sun did not set until late and eventually they were asked to leave the gardens by the security guards and were impelled start their long walk back. The discussion arose as to whose back-packers was better, they definitely were not sleeping separately tonight. Veronica’s back-packer unquestionably sounded better, with a good view of the Arno River. Settled then, Harry was to change back-packers!
The two, spent a clandestine evening together, sharing stories and dreams. Veronica lay awake, listening to the Italians chatting loudly in the streets, and could not imagine life without Harry. She was tempted to go to Switzerland but, she had no more money, Switzerland was expensive. They would not have to pay for accommodation but, food and travel, it was still too much, and she must go home.
The lovers flew out of Florence airport in separate planes; with lots said and unsaid, there was no doubt that they would see each other immediately on Harry’s return.
Harry met up with a university friend after Switzerland and went to Spain. He happened to be on the train that fateful morning when the bomb went off. Harry never returned.
Veronica kept the secret to herself she was unable to share her grief and simultaneously announce that the baby she was carrying was Harry’s. Nobody was interested anyway. They were surprised that Veronica had been so careless, and had fallen pregnant. As time went on so the hush remained a hush. Nobody knew what had gone on in Florence, it was not necessary to tell them. Especially, when Harry’s body was flown to South Africa for his funeral and everybody was so sad and shaken. Seven months later Veronica produced a healthy boy. She felt special, and had a living memory of Harry.
Aunt Mabel let her curiosity get the better of her that day at the lunch and she said:
“Strange how Charles looks exactly like Harry did when he was a boy…” In a murmur, audible for all.
“So, Veronica do you have a man waiting in the eaves? When are we to meet him?”
“No, Aunt Mabel I haven’t, and possibly never shall. There is nobody else in my life except Charles!” She said blushing after Aunt Mabel’s former remark.
And with that Veronica pushed her chair back noisily on the wooden floor and got up from the table and left the conniving interrogator. She could not bear to be there for more questions or comments. Everybody’s mind was ticking. But, not many could confirm her liaison in Florence. That was still her treasured secret!