Pasquale appeared that evening, after dinner, with a grim expression, and invited Enzo to a meeting at the San Giovanni a Teduccio section. Lila, alone with him for a few minutes, said:
“That was a shitty thing to do, this morning.”
“I do what’s necessary.”
“Did your friends agree with you?”
“Who are my friends?”
“Nadia and her brother.”
“Of course they agreed.”
“But they stayed home.”
Pasquale muttered:
“And who says they stayed home?”
He wasn’t in a good mood, in fact he seemed emptied of energy, as if the practice of violence had swallowed up his craving for action. Further, he hadn’t asked her to go to the meeting, he had invited only Enzo, something that never happened, even when it was late, and cold, and unlikely that she would take Gennaro out. Maybe they had other male wars to fight. Maybe he was angry with her because, with her resistance to the struggle, she had caused him to look bad in front of Nadia and Armando. Certainly he was bothered by the critical tone she had used in alluding to the morning’s expedition. He’s convinced, Lila thought, that I don’t understand why he hit Gino like that, why he wanted to beat up the guard. Good or bad, all men believe that after every one of their undertakings you have to put them on an altar as if they were St. George slaying the dragon. He considers me ungrateful, he did it to avenge me, he would like me to at least say thank you.
When the two left, she got in bed and read the pamphlets on work and unions that Pasquale had given her long ago. They helped to keep her anchored to the dull things of every day, she was afraid of the silence of the house, of sleep, of her unruly heartbeats, of the shapes that threatened to break apart at any moment. In spite of her weariness, she read for a long time, and in her usual way became excited, and learned a lot of things quickly. To feel safe, she made an effort to wait for Enzo to return. But he didn’t, and finally the sound of Gennaro’s regular breathing became hypnotic and she fell asleep.
The next morning Edo and the woman from the gutting room, Teresa, began to hang around her with timid, friendly words and gestures. And Lila not only didn’t rebuff them but treated the other workers courteously as well. She showed herself available to those who were complaining, understanding to those who were angry, sympathetic toward those who cursed the abuses. She steered the trouble of one toward the trouble of another, joining all together with eloquent words. Above all, in the following days, she let Edo and Teresa and their tiny group talk, transforming the lunch break into a time for secret meeting. Since she could, when she wanted, give the impression that it wasn’t she who was proposing and disposing but the others, she found more and more people happy to hear themselves say that their general complaints were just and urgent necessities. She added the claims of the gutting room to those of the refrigerated rooms, and those of the vats, and discovered to her surprise that the troubles of one department depended on the troubles of another, and that all together were links in the same chain of exploitation. She made a detailed list of the illnesses caused by the working conditions: damage to the hands, the bones, the lungs. She gathered enough information to demonstrate that the entire factory was in terrible shape, that the hygienic conditions were deplorable, that the raw material they handled was sometimes spoiled or of uncertain origin. When she was able to talk to Pasquale in private she explained to him what in a very short time she had started up, and he, in his peevish way, was astonished, then said beaming: I would have sworn that you would do it, and he set up an appointment with a man named Capone, who was secretary of the union local.
Lila copied down on paper in her fine handwriting everything she had done and brought the copy to Capone. The secretary examined the pages, and he, too, was enthusiastic. He said to her things like: Where did you come from, Comrade, you’ve done really great work, bravo. And besides, we’ve never managed to get into the Soccavo plant; they’re all fascists in there, but now that you’ve arrived things have changed.
“How should we start?” she asked.
“Form a committee.”
“We already are a committee.”
“Good: the first thing is to organize all this.”
“In what sense organize?”
Capone looked at Pasquale, Pasquale said nothing.
“You’re asking for too many things at once, including things that have never been asked for anywhere—you have to establish priorities.”
“In that place everything is a priority.”
“I know, but it’s a question of tactics: if you want everything at once you risk defeat.”
Lila narrowed her eyes to cracks; there was some bickering. It emerged that, among other things, the committee couldn’t go and negotiate directly with the owner, the union had to mediate.
“And am I not the union?” she flared up.
“Of course, but there are times and ways.”
They quarreled again. Capone said: You look around a little, open the discussion, I don’t know, about the shifts, about holidays, about overtime, and we’ll take it from there. Anyway—he concluded—you don’t know how happy I am to have a comrade like you, it’s a rare thing; let’s coordinate, and we’ll make great strides in the food industry—there aren’t many women who get involved. At that point he put his hand on his wallet, which was in his back pocket, and asked:
“Do you want some money for expenses?”
“What expenses?”
“Mimeographing, paper, the time you lose, things like that.”
“No.”
Capone put the wallet back in his pocket.
“But don’t get discouraged and disappear, Lina, let’s keep in touch. Look, I’m writing down here your name and surname, I want to talk about you at the union, we have to use you.”
Lila left dissatisfied, she said to Pasquale: Who did you bring me to? But he calmed her, assured her that Capone was an excellent person, said he was right, you had to understand, there was strategy and there were tactics. Then he became excited, almost moved, he was about to embrace her, had second thoughts, said: Move ahead, Lina, screw the bureaucracy, meanwhile I’ll inform the committee.
Lila didn’t choose among the objectives. She confined herself to compressing the first draft, which was very long, into one densely written sheet, which she handed over to Edo: a list of requests that had to do with the organization of the work, the pace, the general condition of the factory, the quality of the product, the permanent risk of being injured or sick, the wretched compensations, wage increases. At that point the problem arose of who was to carry that list to Bruno.
“You go,” Lila said to Edo.
“I get angry easily.”
“Better.”
“I’m not suitable.”
“You’re very suitable.”
“No, you go, you’re a member of the union. And then you’re a good speaker, you’ll put him in his place right away.”