‘Sister Allegra Bassetti?’ he asked, extending his hand. ‘ Mi chiamo Giovanni Donelli. Benvenuta a Milano! ’
‘ Grazie, Father. You are very kind to have met me at such an early hour,’ Allegra replied shyly.
‘I know habits die hard, no pun intended, but you must get used to calling me Giovanni,’ he said, taking Allegra’s battered suitcase and guiding her through the crowd. The Piazza Duca D’Aosta was even more frenetic than the train station but it didn’t faze the taxi driver at all. The car horn had been installed to overcome that problem and they charged across Via Vitruvio towards Ca’ Granda, a short distance away in the historic centre of the city. Allegra’s eyes widened; from the single-car mountain town of Tricarico to Milano was a thrilling culture shock.
‘I’ll call by later tonight to see you’re OK,’ Giovanni said after he made sure Allegra was officially admitted to the university. ‘ E benvenuta di nuovo a Milano! ’
It did not take Allegra long to unpack her meagre belongings. With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, Allegra headed out to explore the busy grounds of the old university. Built in 1456 it had once been a hospital but now the Renaissance archways and lawn courtyards were home to the liberal arts faculties of Milano’s Universita Statale. Orientation week was in full swing and everywhere she looked there seemed to be students handing out brochures and pamphlets. Candidates for the Student Union, invitations to join anything from the Ca’ Granda Debating Society and book clubs to UNICEF. There was even a University Film Club and from the look of the upcoming attractions, Allegra decided that the Bishop of Tricarico could be more relaxed about the ‘men only westerns’. An hour later and overwhelmed by information Allegra headed through Ca’ Granda’s main stone archway towards Milano’s cathedral.
Il Duomo was only a short distance away and when she arrived Allegra stood for a time in the piazza, staring up at the vast cathedral in awe. Three and a half thousand statues adorned the roof and the stone walls, dominated by a 45-metre gold statue of the Madonna. Inside, the five aisles were separated by massive stone pillars and high above the space reserved for the choir, Allegra could see the small red light that marked the vault where, since 1841, a nail from the Cross had been secured. The world’s third largest church, after St Peter’s and the cathedral in Seville, it had taken over four hundred years to build.
Allegra had promised Nonna she would say prayers for the family, as Nonna had insisted that in Milano they would carry greater weight, and she sank to her knees in one of the pews, not far from the altar where Napoleon had been crowned King of Italy. Silently she mouthed the words, ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus…’ Allegra asked her God to protect her family and to see her through the coming years of study. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
…’
The security of the Catholic Church she loved so much could not be put into words. From deep within Allegra felt that she was destined to serve the Church and she thanked God for the opportunity to study so that she might help others. In her naivety Allegra was unaware that her quest for knowledge and deep spirituality would also lead her down a path filled with pain and confusion. Her quest would take her into an unknown world of deceit, discovery and the brutal reality of life and death.
As the sun set behind the Alps to the north of Milano, Allegra waited in her room for Giovanni. The thought of a man visiting her seemed strangely exciting, although she knew Mother Alberta would have been horrified, even though Giovanni was a priest. In the Mother Superior’s world men were not to be trusted in other than a crowded room, and even then caution was advisable. Allegra’s guilt about men was deep seated and she constantly fought against it. One particular incident often crept into her thoughts, causing her to pray for forgiveness.
Allegra had just turned sixteen in the early spring of her last year of school and one Sunday afternoon she had gone walking on the banks of the river. She turned off the old Roman Appian Way and made her way down to the river through one of several farms outside Tricarico. The winter snows still capped the highest parts of the mountains, but the lower snows had melted and the river tumbled over dark boulders worn smooth over the ages. She wandered along the bank until she came to her favourite place at the base of a large rock. It stood like a sentinel at a sharp bend in the river and was hidden from the fields by a small grove of oak trees. Allegra stretched out on the grass and as the warm afternoon sunshine filtered through her light cotton dress, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Sometime later she woke, startled by a movement a little further downstream. Sitting up she instinctively clasped her jacket to her as she heard someone approaching.
‘Carlo! You startled me!’
Carlo grinned. His swarthy young face was tanned and his long black fringe swung over his forehead.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to,’ he said, sitting down beside her.
‘How did you know I was here?’ Allegra demanded, sounding more accusatory than she meant to.
About two months before, Carlo Valenti had suddenly arrived in Tricarico with his family. The Valentis were Sicilians from Marsala, and their purchase of a large farm had created more than a ripple of conversation among the town’s traditional inhabitants. Dark rumours of drug money and Mafia connections and contracts on Carlo’s father had ebbed and flowed down the alleys and laneways of the little mountain village; but drug money and the Mafia were not the only topics of conversation, especially among Allegra’s classmates.
‘He’s not that good looking,’ Allegra’s best friend, Anna, had said.
‘Probably arrogant,’ Rosa, another of their group, decided.
‘Full of himself. All Sicilians are,’ agreed another. Among the young women of Tricarico Carlo had become an instant celebrity.
‘I saw you walking down the road,’ Carlo replied truthfully, not adding that he had seen her walking on the two previous Sundays and today he had deliberately waited for her to appear.
‘Carlo Valenti! You followed me here.’ Allegra was mildly offended by the invasion of her favourite place but strangely pleased that she should find herself alone with someone like Carlo.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I think things are just meant to happen. It’s God’s will,’ he added, using a line that had generated more than a little success with the young women of Marsala, particularly when he thought religion might be a barrier to conquest. ‘When I saw this figure walking from the top of the farm I hoped it would be you, and it was.’
Allegra felt a warm flush and her mind raced. Despite his suspicious background, she found the young Sicilian exciting. She knew her family wouldn’t approve, especially Papa, but deep down there was a small, insistent voice. It was one thing to be dux of her class but quite another to realise any of her potential. If she was ever to spread her wings and explore the world outside the mountains of Tricarico, the small voice seemed to be saying, she would need someone who was a little more worldly than the awkward young men of her area.
‘How are you finding Tricarico?’ she asked. ‘I suppose it’s a little dull after Sicilia?’
Carlo shrugged. ‘It’s different and the farm needs some work. It’s what you make of it, I suppose.’
She nodded and they fell into silence. The breeze was gentle and the sound of the river was soothing. Allegra began to relax and unselfconsciously she leaned back against her sentinel rock.
‘Why did you leave Sicilia?’ she asked, breaking the silence.
Carlo grinned disarmingly. ‘No doubt my father had his reasons. There are some things I don’t ask, but I wouldn’t believe everything you hear. We used to work my uncle’s farm in Marsala, and when this one came up, my father thought we should make the move to buy one of our own,’ he said. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Startled, Allegra turned to face him and he kissed her on the lips.
At first Allegra didn’t know what to do, then feeling slightly heady from the warm sunshine, she responded. Slowly at first, then she let Carlo take her in his arms and they slid onto the grass. She could feel him hard against her and suddenly one part of her mind was arguing with another. Carlo kissed her again and started to unbutton her dress.
‘No…’ she said weakly, her voice strangely hoarse. Before she knew what was happening, Carlo had undone her bra and when he kissed her nipples she found herself responding again, pressing against him. Carlo’s hand slid inside her pants and Allegra felt as if she was being lifted on a wave. ‘No…’ she whispered again. She gasped as Carlo guided her own hand to his trousers, which were undone. He was wet and hard.
‘No! You mustn’t!’ she said, struggling against him now. Fear had taken over, extinguishing her own desires. The harder she struggled the stronger he held her. He bit her nipples roughly as he continued rubbing her hand against him. Tears fell onto Allegra’s cheeks as Carlo arched back and let out a low growl. She could feel him on her hands, first warm, then sticky, until finally he released his grip.
