The Shooting Star, page 1
THE SHOOTING STAR
SWAY OF THE STARS BOOK 1
FRANCES DALL’ALBA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to a name, character or history of any actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE SHOOTING STAR
Copyright © 2023 by Frances Dall’Alba
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission from the author. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via Internet or by any other means without the permission of Poinsettia Publishing is illegal.
ISBN: 978-0-6451162-5-0
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ALSO BY FRANCES DALL’ALBA
Australian At Heart Series
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Book 3 - The Silk Scarf
Book 4 - Rustic Denim Love
Eight Seconds
Jack & Eva
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CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Uncle Ben’s Letter
Author’s Note
Also by Frances Dall’Alba
For my grandparents, who took the gamble.
PROLOGUE
Falerna, Southern Italy 1944
Benito huddled under his coat on the verandah as rain dripped off old Mr Fetuletti’s eave, making puddles in the earth. The extra layer wasn’t shielding him from the cold. Not in late July. Instead, his father’s oversized, heavy woollen coat hid his shaking legs. Fear churned inside his stomach.
His twin brother, Nicolo, continued to slice the shovel into the soil furiously. Benito was supposed to be on watch. With no moonlight, the night beyond the old, disused fontana dei povere was as dark as coal. Nicolo warned they had to work fast before the sky showed its first rays of dawn. Old Mr Fetuletti was deaf, but that’s not what he had to look out for. Ever since Mussolini surrendered to the Allied forces six months ago, no one knew who to trust.
On a still afternoon a week ago, they’d discovered their parents’ lifeless bodies. For weeks, his papà had lain on his bed recuperating from a grenade attack. That day, they opened the front door to a ransacked home. The sight of blood-splattered sheets underneath their father seared his brain. His mother, sprawled on the floor beside the bed with a bullet wound to the chest, had left his body shaking uncontrollably. Together, he and Nicolo fled their home. They stumbled and tripped higher up into the mountains behind Falerna, tears blinding their way. Benito had gagged with every step he took, the vile taste caking his mouth.
Those who killed his parents were looking for his mother’s jewels. The ones passed down to her from her wealthy Roman family. Later that night, they risked everything. Before the morning servant could discover their parent’s blood-drenched bodies, Benito and Nicolo snuck back to the house to check if the jewels had been stolen. They avoided their parent’s bedroom. The jewels were not hidden there.
He remembered thinking how lucky it was that a year earlier, their father had shown them where the jewels were hidden, insisting they promise never to tell anyone. When they found them hidden behind a brick in the rock wall, nothing could stop the tears coursing down his face. His young mind clearly understood this was all he would ever have to remind him of his parents.
Benito blinked, sending droplets of water down his face. Dragging his thoughts back to the dark garden, he looked up just as Nicolo dropped the shovel and flung his saturated coat off, throwing it in his direction. Crouching down again, Nicolo reached into the hole with a wooden bucket tied to a sturdy piece of wood for yet another load of dirt.
Nicolo’s grunts in the quiet of the night alarmed Benito, and an involuntary shiver shook his shoulders. Without warning, tears trickled down his face. Biting his lip to control his chattering teeth, he let his face drop and whispered, “Oh, Mama e Papà, who will look after us now?”
His face whipped up when he heard Nicolo hiss, “Benito, come here quick.”
Dropping Nicolo’s coat, he stumbled on unsteady legs and ran towards him. “What’s wrong?”
Nicolo used his shirt to wipe his face of water and sweat. “Have a look. I think we’ve dug enough. We’ve been at it for a couple of hours, and I think we’re close. I used this branch to measure how far down we’ve gone, and it looks like it’s nearly four feet.”
Benito peered into the dark hole. Nicolo was always the numbers and figures one. At eleven years old, he was already smarter at maths and calculus. That came from their mama. What Benito got instead was his father’s height and build. ‘Strong as an ox’, his father used to say.
The reminder that he would never see his father again caused the constant pain around his chest to surface again. Peering down the dark hole, his hand came up and tugged at his coat’s lapel to try and ease the hurt.
The last week was spent hidden in the mountains. Fear drove them to hide the jewels until this stupid war was over. Once the jewels were safely hidden, they planned to leave Falerna and make their way to Roma, where their mother’s family lived.
Nicolo pulled at his sleeve and whispered, “Come on, Benito, carry those rocks over here. We need to get this done quickly and get away before the sun rises.”
Focusing back on the job at hand, he raced over to the pile of rocks they’d collected on the way and easily lugged most of them to the hole’s opening. His bare feet slid on the wet ground, causing the rocks to jam his thumb. Biting his tongue to stop the yelp that wanted to escape, he dropped the pile on the ground.
“We’ll put a rock below and some around the jewels, if we can, then pile more on top before we push the dirt back into the hole,” Nicolo quietly directed.
Benito rubbed at his sore thumb, trying to get some feeling back into it. The raindrops were falling bigger now, splashing mud onto his sodden toes. He was already soaked through, so it didn’t matter how much more it rained. With the earth softened around the fontana, it was making the job easier.
His mother’s jewels were wrapped in a protective leather pouch their father had made long ago. Nicolo lowered it into the deep, narrow hole.
“Okay, pass me the rest of the rocks one at a time, Benito. I’ll sit them gently on top.”
Nicolo used a sling made from a couple of shirts to lower them. Benito stood ready with the shovel they borrowed from Mr Fetuletti’s garden.
Levelling the ground for the last time, the first faint rays of the sun crept over the mountains. They returned the shovel to where they found it propped against the garden shed and then ran back to their mountain hideout.
Tears stung Benito’s eyes all the way, and his hand came up constantly to wipe his face. When they reached the hollow in the forest, it shocked him to see Nicolo crying. Oh no, not Nicolo, too.
Nicolo was the sensible, emotionally strong one. While Benito was physically taller and stronger, he always looked to Nicolo for direction and support. The twins’ only similarity was their dark hair. Watching Nicolo cry unhinged Benito completely, and he lost himself. Collapsing to the ground, he let the wracking sobs tear from his throat.
They awoke hours later after sleeping in a tangle of legs. Perched in a hollow on the side of the mountain, Benito sat up and looked out over the sparkling ocean. The rain from the previous night had dispersed completely, and only a few puffy white clouds dotted the glorious blue sky.
Glancing to his side, he watched Nicolo cracking walnuts. They took the full bag their mother kept in the cellar. Last season, he and Nicolo collected them as they fell from the trees near their home. Ever since their papà went to war, he and Nicolo had grown up fast. Each day they were forced to share the chores Papà once did. The only men left in the village were injured soldiers sent home to rest, s o they became responsible for much more.
“We leave for Roma tonight, Benito?” Nicolo looked up from the pile of walnuts.
Benito nodded. “Do you think Zia Rosa will take care of us?” he asked, voice cracking and full of hope that their mother’s sister would look after them. Without children of her own, she had always been kind to them.
“I hope so,” Nicolo replied solemnly.
Benito turned back towards the ocean, his lips quivering. That was before the war. Was Zia Rosa still in Roma? What about the uncles and their families? Their father told them the Germans had forced rich families out of their homes. They ransacked their paintings and jewels and used their homes as army headquarters.
Would they find their way, and would anyone still be there?
With shaking hands, he kneaded his side while cramps pressed against his stomach with each walnut he ate.
He gritted his teeth and shoved his hat on to hide his runny nose and tears. No more, Benito. You need to make Papà proud of you.
“Benito?” Nicolo’s hand came out and rested on his shoulder. “We’ll come back for the jewels one day. I won’t come back without you, I promise. We’ll do it together. It’s the only thing we have left from Mama e Papà.” He gave Benito’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ll take care of each other, Benito. It will keep Mama e Papà happy; I know it will.”
Benito swallowed. He was glad Nicolo sounded confident because he needed him to be. He didn’t want to be lost and alone because then he would have no one. He sniffled again. Grabbing Nicolo’s hand, he squeezed it tight. “Of course. I promise I won’t come back without you either.”
Turning back to the sun as it started to sink over the ocean, the last rays of the day rested on his legs. Warmth seeped into his skin, where only a constant chill had existed for the past week.
“Soon it will be time to pack our belongings, Benito.”
Benito glanced at Nicolo when his twin continued to speak.
“Papà said there was danger everywhere. He always gave us good advice. We must sleep during the day and walk only at night.”
Benito bobbed his head. It would be sad to leave Falerna without Mama e Papà.
Together, they watched the sun disappear. Neither moved.
A dangerous journey would begin that night.
CHAPTER 1
Malanda, Australia
Liz winced and pushed aside her phone when the front door slammed shut. It could only be her cousin, Sally. No one else would barge in that way.
She untangled her legs from underneath her backside and rose from the couch as Sally rounded the corner into the lounge room, running, chest heaving. “I … I came as soon as I received your message. What’s wrong? Is it Great Aunt? Is she okay?” Sally darted glances around the room, wringing her hands.
Liz’s jaw dropped. Her message didn’t sound that urgent, did it? “Oh my God, no, no, it’s not Nan.” She gave Sally an apologetic grimace. “I’m so sorry; I should’ve explained more. It’s just that I need to speak to someone before I burst. I honestly didn’t expect you to come until after work.” Liz pulled at her collar, shamefaced for acting like an ass and putting Sally at risk of doing something stupid on the road. “Please relax. Can I get you a drink of water?”
Sally rested her hand under her breastbone, her blue eyes widening in disbelief. When she could talk again, she huffed out, “Relax? Are you crazy? You send a message telling me to get here fast because something really urgent has happened, and you tell me to relax?”
Liz flinched as Sally’s words followed her to the kitchen. She didn’t need to be reminded how a split-second incident on the road could change a person’s life forever.
Returning with a glass of water, she pointed to the well-worn couch. “Sorry, Sal, I won’t do that again. I do desperately need your advice, and no one is dead. Nan is having her afternoon nap.”
Sally gulped down half the water and handed the glass back. Then she dramatically flopped onto the chocolate-brown couch, one leg hanging over the side. “If nothing is wrong with your grandmother, what’s so important I had to drop everything and run here? They’re going to kill me at work tomorrow.”
Feeling guilty as hell, Liz raked a hand through her hair and sighed. It was irresponsible of her to send an urgent message, but she’d reached breaking point and needed Sally here. Who else was there?
She sat gingerly on the opposite matching couch, not sure how to start the conversation. Delaying the inevitable for a few moments, she looked up at the wall of framed photos. Her grandmother had always been an avid photographer. The photos lining the wall chronicled her life after Liz came to live with her and her grandad as a toddler. She couldn’t remember anything about her parents who’d died in a fatal crash. Today she needed reminding of how lucky she was to have the world’s best grandparents. They’d raised her like she was their own, and they were her everything, despite the burdening responsibilities of the past few years.
Her gaze wandered from the photos back to Sally, who sat waiting with raised eyebrows. Standing up, she cleared her throat and began pacing.
“For goodness’ sake, Liz, what’s wrong? Are you going to tell me? I didn’t come tearing out here for nothing, did I?”
Liz stopped and chewed on the knuckle of her thumb. Then she flung her hand out in disgust and groaned. “I don’t know what to do,” she wailed.
Frustrated, she pushed her palms against either side of her face, walking in tight circles. Her words came out in a sudden rush. “I started cleaning out the old mechanic shop. I was going through Uncle Ben’s old papers, and I came across a letter addressed to me … I read it and—”
“Whoa, hold on there.” Sally was on her feet, grabbing hold of Liz’s shoulders. “Stop! How about one word at a time?” She forced Liz to sit beside her on the couch and took hold of Liz’s hand, eyeing the teeth marks. “Wow, you bit through the skin. What is going on?”
Liz looked at her hand in disgust before reaching for the small coffee table. She picked up Uncle Ben’s letter and handed it to Sally. “This is what’s going on.”
Sally took the bulky envelope and held it by the corner, dangling it in front of her eyes. “Is this going to kill me when I look inside?”
Liz scowled. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
Sally’s eyebrows arched. As though insulted, she dropped the letter onto her lap. “I wasn’t the one who nearly chewed my thumb off.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, open the letter and read it. It’s been tormenting me for a week. I was hoping I could ignore it, but my head won’t let me. But just be caref—”
Sally picked up the envelope, turned back the seal and held it out at arm’s length so the letter could drop safely out of harm’s way.
“No. Stop!” Liz shouted, stumbling off the couch and landing on her knees.
It was too late. Along with the letter, a whole wad of one-hundred-dollar notes fluttered to the floor.
Mesmerised, Sally’s eyes turned to big saucers. “Holy Jesus, Liz. Did you rob a bank?”
Liz scrambled for the loose notes, tucking them back into the envelope. The letter, she handed to Sally. “Don’t be so crass.”
Sally eyed her dubiously. “Are you going to explain?”
Liz sat cross-legged on the floor at Sally’s feet and chewed on her thumbnail this time. “The letter explains it all.”
