Once off, they were approached by a taxi driver in his somewhat dilapidated vehicle. ‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked them in Italian.
‘Piazza Umberto, to Hotel Andiamo,’ replied Raj, much to the amazement of the driver.
After a while, they decided to make their way downstairs into the piazza, where they found a table in the sun near the entrance of the hotel, and sat down.
Mario came out and handed them menus. ‘You can make your selection from here, but I must tell you that the best food cannot be found on the menu because it’s on its way up from a boat.’
‘Lovely!’ exclaimed Norah.
‘What is it?’ Raj asked, concerned that it might be some mollusc or squid.
‘Flounder,’ he replied, putting his fingers to his lips and making a kissing sound. ‘It will be baked with tomatoes, garlic, olives and capers. I can serve you with either pasta or rice.’
‘Pasta,’ said Norah.
‘Rice,’ said Raj at the same time, and Mario left, laughing, to give the cook instructions.
He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of cold, crisp white wine and three glasses. For a moment, they thought he was going to join them for lunch, but were relieved when they found it was only for a toast, in which he thanked Raj for helping liberate his country. He pointed to his missing ear and added, ‘And a souvenir from the war, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Raj replied, at which he took a large swig and left with his glass.
Norah sipped her wine, but Raj noticed her excited demeanour had disappeared and she was looking irritated.
‘Something wrong?’ he inquired as he quickly scanned the last few moments in his mind, wondering what he had done to cause her mood to shift.
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She pursed her lips. ‘It’s silly.’ She waved away the thought and consequent discussion.
‘No, please. I’m sure it’s not,’ Raj said, preparing for the worst.
Norah rolled her eyes, ‘I’m not trying to diminish the importance of your – or any Allied soldier’s – effort in the war,’ she began. ‘However, I don’t feel nurses or women receive the same respect when one is expressing gratitude for their service.’
Raj hadn’t taken notice, nor had the thought crossed his mind. ‘I’m sorry, Norah.’
Norah took another sip. ‘I do realize you are, in fact, dressed in uniform and I am not. I would like to believe that is the reason.’
Raj smiled. ‘Whether others decide to thank you or not wouldn’t matter anyhow.’ He took a sip.
Norah’s eyebrows lifted.
‘I say that only because, even if they did, their mild-mannered thank yous would dull in comparison to how truly thankful I am. Your service to the war changed my life.’
Norah giggled. ‘As yours did mine.’
Raj bowed. ‘Thank you for your service, sister.’
Norah returned the bow. ‘Thank you for your—’
Raj held up a finger. ‘No, I do not deserve your praise, or
anyone’s for that matter. You saved lives. Countless lives. Mine included. I am the luckiest man alive.’
Norah tried to hide the tears that began to well in her eyes. There better be a God, she thought. It would be cruel to bring such a wonderful man in my life only to snatch him away from me – don’t you dare do it.
After they managed to drink half the bottle of wine, which left them feeling tipsy, Mario returned with their lunch. Pasta for Norah and rice for Raj. A filet of flounder swimming in a sea of olive oil, topped with green olives, morsels of capers, cloves of garlic, and diced tomatoes. As they took their first bites, they agreed it was by far the best meal either of them had had in Italy.
When Raj asked for the bill, he told him it would be added to the room charge, which reminded Raj that he hadn’t asked them how long they would be staying in his establishment.
He didn’t care. ‘Whenever you leave, you leave,’ was his answer.
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After the last sip of wine, Norah and Raj set off to explore the island, and in particular, the Villa San Michele. The sun was still high above them in a cloudless, deep-blue sky, though a refreshingly mild breeze blew in from the sea as they made their way through the narrow streets. Norah stopped now and then to admire the rose bushes of all colours, which decorated their path.
‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ she rubbed the velvet petal of a pink rose between her fingers. ‘I hope to have my very own garden overflowing with roses one day.’
After about the tenth time she stopped, Raj plucked an orange rose from a bush. ‘Here.’ He held it out to her. ‘Now you can stop taking breaks at every flower and look at this one. You can also use it to remember our time together. Press it between the pages of a book for safekeeping.’
Raj looked at his watch – it was 4.30 p.m. After taking in one final view, they headed back to the piazza. The journey back was all downhill and much less strenuous, taking them not nearly as long, especially since Norah chose not to stop to look at the roses this time, and chose instead to admire the one in her hand. They went back to wandering through the narrow streets, which opened up into the piazza and the hotel. It had been a tiring afternoon, and so they both plonked themselves in a couple of chairs to rest their weary feet. Soon, Mario appeared as if from nowhere with some glasses and a bottle of water.
‘So, the dancing will start soon, and eating and drinking,’ he told them with pride.
‘Dancing?’ Raj and Norah recited in unison. Norah with delight, and Raj with reluctance.
‘Shall we?’ Norah asked as she noticed Raj’s expression. She hooked her arm in his.
They made their way down and into the piazza, where already a small crowd had gathered in anticipation of the night’s revelry.
Mario applauded when he saw Raj in his clothes and asked the two of them to follow him. When he got to the centre of the crowd, he clapped his hands to silence everyone and informed them of his guests of honour.
Each line was greeted with applause, and Raj didn’t know whether Mario knew he spoke Italian, for the stories he was feeding them were wildly untrue and made Raj out to be much more than what he really was – like tales of Raj single-handedly shooting down a German aircraft that was headed to bomb an orphanage.
‘I speak Italian,’ Raj said when he finished.
‘Yes, I know. Giuseppe told me.’
‘But what you told them isn’t true.’
Mario’s reply was a shrug and one word: ‘And?’ He grinned from ear to ear, adding, ‘They need something to be excited about tonight. And you are the first British army officer they have met. A little story here and there doesn’t hurt.’
Raj was going to correct him, and felt even more guilty when the talk he and Norah had at lunch sprang into his memory. However, he thought twice about it. Maybe it didn’t matter. They were looking for an escape from the horrors the war had brought. Weren’t he and Norah doing the same?
This excerpt from ‘Raj and Norah: A True Story of Love Lost and Found in World War II’ by Peter R. Kohli and Shaina Kohli Russo has been published with permission from HarperCollins India.