Orvieto

This is from a novel I am editing. What do you think? Does this prologue work?

PROLOGUE

Alessandra lifted the ornate, brass handle of her writing desk to reveal a small orange, glass bottle. Tiny in her palm, she wrapped her fingers around its careful curves. Each familiar memory washed through her mind.

Her dad’s treasured cologne. Unique. Infused with an earthy aroma of Sandalwood, Bergamot and lemon protected her from fear. He could have been sitting in front of her. Had it been twenty years since they said their last goodbyes?

She pulled out the stopper and breathed in his calming aroma.

 A bundle of accusing white envelopes from the hospital jostled against each other. She finally rang the bell to say she was Cancer clear. In remission? She hoped it would stay that way. Her doctors insisted on monthly blood tests; just to be sure.  

‘What do you think? Should I do this?’ she said.

Ever present, she could almost hear her dad urging her on. Having a conversation never felt weird. In life, he would be the sensible view in a chaotic battlefield. When she was a child, after another argument, he would persuade her to apologise if she were in the wrong.

Talking to his wife had the same effect.

A soft breeze brushed against her cheeks as her pen softly spread across the page. Another message on Facebook seemed unfair. Besides they were of another generation, where the personal touch was appreciated.

Hi Aunty Bella

I am your niece Allesandra.

This letter must seem a little strange, because I have never got in touch before, but I wanted to reach out. Mum misses you. She keeps your photograph on her bedroom side.

The real reason for the letter. Alongside the picture of her dad; her little sister. More of a memory than someone she wanted to talk again. Not in person anyway. Without her brother George, it would have been impossible to share her fears about dying.

The last line scratched out, she continued.

I found a lump a year ago, and mum pushed me into seeing the doctor. She saved my life. Every appointment, treatment session, she was there.

Please, I would like to get to know you. We are all scared to reach out. You must be afraid too, but we cannot allow the past to write our future.

Allesandra dropped the pen on the paper, unsure of what to put next. Would this be causing more harm than good? She gripped on to the bottle, inhaling its contents. His presence closer than ever.

She still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Yet, something her dad said to her as a child stuck in her memory.

We might think we know best, half-pint, but sometimes it is better to talk. She is your best friend, and perhaps you were both in the wrong. Funny how that nick name stuck. They watched re-runs of the show when she was eight, and the little girl in pigtails, with a temper to match her fiery freckles stuck with her.

If you feel like this is the wrong time, then I will understand, but I would like to get to know you more.

Lots of love

Allesandra xx

Taking out three first class stamps and an airmail sticker, Alessandra sealed the scented envelope. Aunt Bella’s name and address on the front, she glanced at the framed painting. Orvieto’s rolling hills stretched into the distance. Its cobbled streets real. Stone houses bathing in the early morning light. It was difficult to remember exactly what they were like. Her last trip, when she was four, a mixture of confusing memories. A frail lady, with silver hair. Grandmama, she was told to call her. 

His usual caring nature, taking her away when the adults got upset. A lady, so like her mum, hovering in the background.

Alessandra hadn’t understood why they left so hastily. It was only as she got older the true story emerged.

Eighteen, and pregnant with her, she was given a choice. To have an abortion, forget about love. Leave the mistake behind. When she arrived in England, with nothing more than one packed bag, her dad’s parents took them in.