4. W.I.H.E. Festival: Re-Member - Sallie Durham - Plumpton England
The Revenge of the Widow Guiliana Govini Domenica. Sunday. Once it was the most welcome and tranquil word in the Italian language – now it’s a mockery to me. Domenica, Domenica – the day when everything changed. A bright, spring morning of broken promises. Matins done, and the Vespers bells not yet singing on the hilltops of Umbria. The smell of jasmine, before, so sweet and innocent, stinks of betrayal now. My son, Guido, coming back from the Church of St Mary of the Consolation, running into the kitchen, his curls flying, his mouth wide with happiness – I will never see him like this again. Mama! I’ve invited someone to lunch, do you mind? He’s from Rome and he’s been watching our choir. He’s very important. His name is Signor … Guiseppe Tarantino, a man says, stepping into my kitchen – the cheek of it – no man has crossed the threshold since my poor Antonio fell to the waves. Then he bows. He’s wearing a buttoned burgundy jacket and a fine hat with a black feath...