Free The Hiding Place by Trezza Azzopardi Page A

Uh, hang on. South . . . Church . . . Street. They continue, but the next row is North Church Street, the one after that, Greek Church Street. Intersecting all three is West Church
Street. It’s like a bad dream. Celesta is furious to discover there is more than one church: she was using her own as a guide.
    She decides to take them to The Moonlight. As they turn the corner, they are blinded by the headlights of a big car travelling fast. Celesta pushes her sisters into a doorway as it tears down
the street. It’s dark and raining hard, and at the wheel, Joe Medora has his mind on other things; he takes no notice of the four little girls pressed flat against the wall.
    ~  ~  ~
    Eva has filled Luca with bread and Chocolate Nesquik, and has put her in one of her mother-in-law’s shawls. Now Luca sleeps in the middle of the sofa, caught between
Eva’s husband Yusuf, and Najma, his mother. Najma says nothing, but she loves having this baby in her house; she watches Eva carefully for maternal clues, tweets soothingly at Luca when she
stirs. Luca’s mouth is open, her legs are splayed, she has one hand pointing a finger into space and the other curled tightly around the chain she snatched from Eva’s throat. She looks
very at home.
    Aaah, whispers Eva, What a Pet.
    Yusuf stretches across the sofa and touches Luca’s foot.
    Such a beautiful child, Missus, he says, grinning up at my mother in the doorway.
    You don’t want to disturb her, Mary, says Eva quickly, You can leave her with us for tonight – she’s no bother!
    Ta very much, love, but she’s coming with me, says my mother. She lifts Luca into her arms with a groan. The chain in Luca’s fist dangles, slips and falls on to the floor.
    Sorry about that, she says, as Eva bends to retrieve it. My mother sighs, pulls the wing of her cardigan around Luca’s body.
    Suppose I’d better go and have a look at the place first. No point in bringing the kids back if it’s not . . . livable-in. Eva makes a face at Yusuf, and takes Mary’s arm.
    We’ll both go, shall we? See what sort of mess they’ve made.
    ~
    The living room is lit with a faint orange glow from the street-lamp. Eva can see Mary’s body quaking in this dimness: she tries the light-switch.
    They’ve turned off the electric!
    It’s on a meter, says my mother, Under the stairs, in the kitchen. I’ve not got any change.
    And starts to cry. Eva takes Mary’s hand and leads her back into the street.
    Go and find your kids, she tells her, We’ll sort this out for you. Come back in the morning.
    Eva takes a ten shilling note from her purse, and presses it into my mother’s hand.
    Bus fare, love. And get yourself something to eat on the way. You look all in!
    ~
    When the bus finally comes, Eva helps Mary into a seat. She leans over, lifts Luca’s fist, and kisses it.
    What a Pet! she shouts, stepping back down on to the pavement.
    Eva pulls her coat tightly across her chest. She watches my mother’s face in the window until the bus moves off.
     
five
    For the second time in our lives, my father stands over me with a clenched fist. It won’t be the last, but he remembers the hospital visits as the worst. He’s
weeping.
    Bambina, he chants. Bambina, Bambina, Bambina. In truth, my name has deserted him; he can’t remember what I’m called. All thoughts of Joe Medora, of what he will say to Mary –
what he will do – are drowned beneath this hymn he sings to me. Salvatore sits next to my bed, now and then passing a hand over the wet hairs on his head. He hears the soft cries of a
child at the far end of the ward, and the catch of air in his own throat as he bends to search for his handkerchief. He finds it folded in his trouser pocket and passes it to my father, who uses it
to hide the sight of me, holding the square open and drawing it down in a veil from forehead to chin, repeatedly, like a man wiping sweat from his face. He hasn’t touched me yet.
    A nurse brings two cups of tea; the