GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic for Love (25 page)

Driving through San Jose, along streets lined with palm trees under an azure-blue sky, Lyn felt like she was entering a picture postcard. It couldn't have been more different from the dock town she had grown up in.

Ben chose a route that took them down The Alameda, one of the town's oldest and most exclusive streets.

‘Is your parents' house one of these?' asked Lyn excitedly, staring up at the enormous mansions.

‘I'm afraid not,' laughed Ben.

Soon they arrived in Little Italy, where Lyn saw delis with awnings in the colours of the Italian flag, old men playing
bocce
and groups of women chattering loudly in Italian.

‘This is us,' said Ben, pulling up at a large house. It looked odd to Lyn, and she couldn't work out why. Then she realised – it was made entirely of wood. Where are the bricks? she wondered.

Lyn took out her compact mirror and checked her face. She was never normally one to get spots, but she was run down after the long journey and had an enormous pimple on her cheek. She was painfully embarrassed at the thought of Ben's family seeing it. Hopefully they would realise how tired she was and suggest she go straight to bed.

‘My mom's organised a big dinner to welcome you to the family,' Ben told her.

‘Oh no – but I just want to lie down!' said Lyn.

‘I'm sorry. She kinda insisted.'

Lyn sighed and powdered her nose, as Ben took her things out of the boot. Then she followed him up the steps to the porch, where the door flew open to reveal a crowd of people, all bustling to be the first to meet her. Ben's mother got there first, pulling Lyn to her bosom. A light-skinned Italian, what she lacked in natural beauty Mrs Patrino made up for in her perfectly coiffed hair and smart clothes. Mr Patrino, a handsome man much darker than his wife, took his new daughter-in-law's hand and greeted her in heavily accented English. His eldest son, Leo, had evidently inherited his good looks, while Leo's young wife Thelma seemed like a movie star, with her perfect hour-glass figure.

When Leo went to kiss Lyn on the cheek, she remembered her pimple and instinctively turned away. ‘Cold fish,' she heard him mutter to his younger brother Armand.

Before she could respond, Lyn found herself faced with a stream of introductions. It seemed the entire extended family had come round in her honour and she estimated there must be more than twenty people there.

Lyn could see through to an immaculate dining room, which contained the longest table she had ever seen, decorated with beautiful glass candlesticks and expertly laid.

‘Why don't you go take a shower before we eat?' Mrs Patrino said. Something in her tone made it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order.

‘I don't need to take a shower,' Lyn replied. She had never liked being told what to do.

‘Go take a shower,' Mrs Patrino repeated.

Several of the aunties and uncles were listening to the conversation. Lyn felt her cheeks burning. Was Ben's mother suggesting, in front of them all, that she wasn't clean?

‘I'm sorry, but I'll take a shower when I want to,' she said. She was exhausted and overwhelmed and sorely wished she could go to bed.

Ben took her by the arm. ‘Why don't we sit down?' he suggested, taking her over to the dining table. The other guests followed suit.

‘Let's see the rings!' cried her new sister-in-law Thelma, and all the aunties excitedly craned their necks as Lyn held up her hand, now decorated with the diamond engagement ring and gold band Ben had given her at the station, in place of the old pot-metal ring that had been there before.

‘You must be so relieved to finally have them,' said Ben's Auntie Catherine.

‘Oh, I didn't mind the other one,' Lyn replied. She didn't want to seem like she was criticising Ben's mother for the fact that her parcel hadn't got through.

But she realised from the look on Mrs Patrino's face that her comment had not been taken as intended. Ben's mother didn't say anything, and bustled out to the kitchen.

She returned soon afterwards with the first course: plates of an enormous, spiky, bulb-like vegetable. ‘What is it?' Lyn whispered to Ben.

‘Artichoke,' he told her.

Lyn watched as the others peeled off a layer at a time and dipped the pieces in oil before sucking on them. Cautiously, she tried peeling off a layer of her artichoke. She sucked on the end of the leaf, but it was hard, and nothing came away.

‘You've got it the wrong way round,' said Ben, laughing. He took the piece from her and turned it around.

‘Oh, whoops,' said Lyn, trying to cover the mistake, but prompting laughter from around the table.

The next course was equally alien, but Ben informed her it was called ravioli. The little parcels of pasta were covered in a tomato sauce, heavily flavoured with garlic, and to Lyn the taste was overwhelming.

To her surprise, that wasn't even the main course, and now a further dish was presented, this time of meat. Again, tomatoes and garlic featured heavily.

The conversation was mainly about food, as the women discussed the pros and cons of different recipes and, to Lyn's surprise, the men joined in passionately too.

Lyn attempted to contribute. ‘We don't eat garlic in England.'

‘Oh, don't we?' said Mrs Patrino. Once again, Lyn's comment had not been well received.

Lyn felt more desperate than ever to lie down somewhere comfortable and private, but she knew she had to struggle on until the interminable meal was over.

At last, Mrs Patrino brought out a large apple tart, and Lyn realised the banquet was drawing to a close. She silently thanked God for the sight of something that did not, as far as she could see, contain garlic, oil or tomato. The tart was delicious, and was followed by tiny cups of bitter coffee. Lyn found it undrinkable, but didn't dare ask for tea.

Afterwards, she reached for her cigarettes. A good smoke always followed a meal in her parents' household. But before she had opened the packet, Ben's brother Leo said, ‘Put that away.'

Lyn assumed he was going to offer her one of his. ‘Can I have a fag off you then?' she asked.

Leo simply stared at her, and Ben nudged her to be quiet. She was too exhausted to work out what she had said wrong this time.

After much hugging and kissing, the Patrinos said goodbye to their guests, and only Ben's parents and his younger brother Armand remained. ‘We've put you in our room, so you can get a good sleep,' Mrs Patrino told Lyn. It was the first night Lyn and Ben would be spending together since their honeymoon five months before, and she couldn't wait to be in his arms again. But to her horror, with no spare beds in the house, Mr Patrino had taken the couch in the living room and Mrs Patrino had set up camp in the corridor, right outside their door.

There was little chance of a romantic night with her mother-in-law in such close proximity, and the thought of her out there sent Lyn into hysterics. ‘Cut it out!' Ben pleaded, but it was no use – the giggles were unstoppable.

A few hours later, Lyn had finally drifted into a much-needed sleep when she was woken by a shuffling sound. She looked round, bleary-eyed, and saw the outline of a man in just a nightshirt stumbling towards her with arms outstretched. His eyes were open but had a strange, glazed look in them.

Lyn let out a piercing scream that made Ben sit bolt upright. The man, who Lyn now realised was Ben's brother Armand, blinked in confusion.

‘What's he doing here?' Lyn cried.

Mrs Patrino came flying into the bedroom, slamming on the light. ‘Armand! Back to bed!' she barked, and Ben's brother, now awake and intensely embarrassed to find himself in the wrong bedroom in just his night shirt, scuttled out.

Lyn collapsed into a shaking heap. After her long journey, the endless dinner full of humiliations and now this ordeal, her nerves were frayed. ‘Is this how it's going to be living here?' she asked Ben. ‘Your mother sleeps outside the door and your brother wanders in with no trousers on?'

Ben tried to soothe her, holding her to him. ‘Don't worry,' he said. ‘We'll get our own place as soon as I can find a job.'

It was well into the early hours before Lyn fell asleep for a second time.

In the morning, Armand's sleepwalking was not mentioned, but breakfast brought a fresh embarrassment. ‘Do you want one egg or two?' Mrs Patrino asked Lyn.

‘I couldn't possibly eat two of your eggs,' she replied. She was used to the wartime ration of one a week.

Mrs Patrino stared at her as if she was mad. ‘What are you doing with this one?' she asked Ben, gesturing at Lyn, and went off to make the breakfast, shaking her head.

Mrs Patrino gave Lyn one day off to recover from her journey, but after that she began instructing her about her responsibilities as Ben's wife. First, there was the laundry – which, in an Italian household, was solely the responsibility of the women.

Mrs Patrino proudly showed Lyn her brand-new washing machine, knowing she would never have seen one before. ‘Aren't you glad you're in America now?' she asked.

Lyn bristled at the comment. It reminded her of people back home who thought GI brides only got married as a ticket to a better life. ‘I'm here for Ben,' she retorted.

Mrs Patrino showed her where to put the soap and how to start the machine, and then took her over to the electric mangle. Apparently every sock and pair of underpants of Ben's was to be fed through this contraption so that they came out beautifully pressed.

Next Lyn was taken into the kitchen. Ben's mother was planning a
zuppa di lenticchie
for lunch, and asked her to help by washing the lentils. As Mrs Patrino popped out for a minute, Lyn turned on the tap, picked up a sieve and poured half the lentils into it. They went straight through the holes and down the plughole. She quickly turned off the tap and put the remaining lentils back on the counter.

‘Where's the other half of the lentils?' Mrs Patrino asked as she came back in.

‘Um, they went down the drain,' Lyn replied.

Mrs Patrino shook her head. It was the last time Lyn was called on to help with the cooking.

That didn't mean she was off the hook, however – she was put on washing-up duty instead. With the extended family visiting frequently, it was quite a job, and Mrs Patrino had a number of strict rules. The glasses were washed first, then the cutlery, then the plates. Then the pots needed to be scrubbed with steel wool, the stove washed down, the sink cleaned and the taps polished to perfection – a total of an hour's work after each meal.

Why do they get to sit there doing nothing? Lyn wondered, as her husband and his father and brother relaxed after each meal. But to Mrs Patrino, a spotless home was a woman's greatest achievement. Everyone said you could eat off the floor at her house, and they were probably right. She could sometimes be found cleaning those floors in the middle of the night to make sure they shone.

Lyn soon failed to live up to Mrs Patrino's exacting standards. Her first load of laundry consisted mainly of Ben's underwear, and she didn't see the point of putting it through the electric mangle. She hung up the clothes and, once they were dry, folded them and brought them to the bedroom. She was just putting them away when Mrs Patrino entered the room.

‘What are these?' she asked, lifting up a pair of Ben's smalls.

‘Um, a pair of underpants?'

‘Iron them, please,' demanded Mrs Patrino. ‘Ben isn't used to
this
.' She threw the garment on the bed.

Later, as Lyn passed the kitchen, she overheard voices talking at the table and the words ‘My
God
, did you see that laundry?' followed by much laughter. Were Ben's family mocking her behind her back?

Lyn was pleased, however, to find an ally in her sister-in-law Thelma, who was no more a favourite of Mrs Patrino's than she was. In fact, Thelma was something of an outcast in the family, having married Leo only after she got pregnant. Although Leo and Thelma didn't live with his parents, it seemed that they were still required to eat there almost every night of the week, and whenever they did, Thelma was roped into dish-washing duty too. Soon the girls were trading complaints about their mother-in-law.

‘Ugh, she's so
bossy
!' moaned Thelma.

‘Iron Ben's socks! Press his pants!' mimicked Lyn. ‘My son isn't used to
this
.' They both collapsed into giggles, which only intensified when Mrs Patrino marched into the kitchen, looking displeased.

Lyn had begun to notice another problem with her mother-in-law. When Lyn and Ben were around each other they often hugged, held hands or kissed. ‘You just can't keep your hands off him, can you?' snapped Mrs Patrino, when she saw the young couple cuddling.

‘I think she's jealous over her sons,' Lyn told Thelma.

‘It's true,' she agreed. ‘Her life revolves around her beloved boys. But you know the difference between her and us?'