by Sophie Love
“I’m sorry,” Keira said over her shoulder. “Scusi. Scusi.”
Just then, someone fought their way to the front of the queue and stopped beside her. Not her Romeo, sadly, but a young man in glasses giving off a studenty vibe.
“Need help?” he asked.
“Please. I just need a ticket to Salerno,” she told him.
“A day return? Or are you traveling for longer?”
“One way, actually. I’m not coming back.” She said the last statement with a tone of perhaps too much relief. She hoped the kind stranger didn’t pick up on it. She wasn’t trying to insult anyone.
“Okay,” the stranger said, punching some buttons on the screen. “Get your wallet. Are you paying card or cash?”
Keira rummaged through her purse for her wallet and pulled it out. She didn’t want to get into a situation whereby she was fumbling with foreign currency, further holding up the impatient queue behind her, so just used her personal card to pay. She was sure Heather would let her claim it on expenses at a later date.
“Okay, the ticket will pop out here,” the young man said once Keira was done punching in her PIN. He pointed to a slot at the bottom of the machine.
Keira put her wallet back inside her purse and crouched down to collect the ticket from the slot. Once she’d fished it out, she straightened back up.
“Thanks for all your help,” she said. But the stranger had already gone. I guess he was in a hurry, Keira thought.
Paying it no more attention, Keira pulled her case through the crowds in the direction of the platforms. She found the gate she needed. Several failed attempts to scan her ticket later—during which she realized she’d been trying to put it into the machine upside down and back to front—she finally managed to get the gate to open. As she heaved her case through, someone shoved into her back, making her stumble.
Suddenly there was pandemonium around her. A station security guard chased after the person who’d pushed Keira and tackled him to the floor. He was joined shortly by a police officer and a dog.
Keira hurried past. It all just felt very tense here in Naples, like everyone was waiting for the next disaster to strike. Tackling a guy to the ground for not having a ticket seemed kind of heavy-handed to her.
She hurried along the platform and boarded the train, feeling relieved by the comparative safety it afforded her. Her heart was racing, she discovered, probably from adrenaline. But there was also a sense of accomplishment there, a pride at having succeeded more or less on her own.
There was an announcement over the speaker in Italian that went by too quickly for Keira to translate on her app, but she heard the key word Amalfi, and that was enough to satisfy her.
The train pulled out of the station.
“Goodbye, Naples,” Keira said, waving at the view of the grimy backstreets. “Goodbye and good riddance.”
It seemed that the further they went from Naples, the better the view became. It opened up, encompassing the whole city. Remarkably, it actually looked pretty nice from a distance. Keira thought it was a shame she hadn’t had the chance to experience the city in a more pleasant way or learn what it really had to offer. Perhaps if she’d had a proper tour guide from a decent company she’d have been shown some decent locations. Antonio had clearly just been after a quick buck. She felt bad for Elliot for getting scammed when he was clearly under immense stress right now.
But her worry for Elliot quickly turned to worry for herself. He’d made it quite clear that a lot was resting on her shoulders. This article held the fate of Viatorum in its power. It was a lot of responsibility for Keira, and a hell of a lot of pressure when she was already feeling below par.
She took her laptop out of her case and opened up a blank document. The interviews from yesterday were utterly useless so she hadn’t even bothered typing any of them up. Plus she’d been exhausted on her return to the hotel, had then been forced to part with a lot of change in order to use the shower, and also hadn’t even had a chance to eat. So really, this was her first opportunity to write and she ought not to beat herself up too much.
She stared at the blank page, at the blinking black line on the screen that seemed to be willing her to type. Nothing came to her mind. Nothing at all.
You’re already too stressed, she told herself.
Instead, she sat back, trying to relax and take in the sight of the beautiful Italian countryside that had opened up around her. Everything would be different in the next location, she hoped. The words would flow out of her.
Just then, the conductor came over. He asked to see her ticket.
Keira opened her purse and started searching for it, trying to recall whether she’d put it in the back zipper compartment or inside her wallet. As she looked, she realized her wallet wasn’t there.
“Oh no!” she cried. “I can’t find my wallet.”
She racked her brains, trying to remember when she’d last had it. She’d used it to buy a ticket, had put it back in her purse after paying, she was sure of it. Then she remembered the stranger who’d helped her make the purchase. He’d disappeared during the time she’d put her wallet back in her purse and crouched down to retrieve her ticket. Had he been watching to see where she put her wallet? Had he taken the opportunity to pickpocket her?
Had she been foolish to trust him? She’d let her guard down and it had backfired majorly.
The downright sneakiness of it all made Keira choke with emotion. It was worse, in a way, than having someone barge into her and steal because he’d pretended to be helping her. Although, she had also experienced someone barging into her. Either one of them could be the culprit.
So much for a victory. She’d felt so proud of herself for getting here on her own but now she felt like a silly little girl. Naive. Her tears began to fall.
“You have no ticket?” the conductor asked her. He looked completely unimpressed.
“It’s in here somewhere,” Keira replied. She’d used it to get through the barrier after all.
Finally she found it in the back zipped compartment of her purse. As the conductor stamped her ticket, looking completely unaffected by her tears, Keira noticed that the couple in the seats ahead of her were watching on with sympathy.
“You were pickpocketed?” the lady asked. “Naples can be very bad for that.”
Keira rubbed her tears from her cheeks and nodded glumly.
“Can we do anything to help?” the women asked. “Do you need some euros?”
Keira smiled, comforted, but shook her head. She still had her cell phone and that was the main thing. One call to Heather and she knew everything would be resolved. She just had to wait until an appropriate hour to call her. Even crazily efficient assistants had to sleep at some point, she reasoned.
“Are you sure?” the lady pressed. “I hate to see people in distress. I’d love to help if I can.”
Keira was about to turn down her kind offer once again when she realized that perhaps the couple sitting across from her might be able to help after all. They looked happy together and were clearly on some kind of outing to the coast. A romantic date? After a presumably long marriage?
“Actually, maybe you can help,” Keira said, grabbing her notebook and pen. “I’m a travel writer from a magazine based in New York. I’m doing a piece on Italy and romance. Can I ask you some questions? How about we start with what your secret to love is?”
Instantly, the woman’s soft face turned into a scowl. The man beside her looked equally as angry.
Keira flinched back, unsure of what she’d said to anger them both so much. Was it rude to ask people about love in Italy? She hoped not—it would certainly make her piece harder to write! Or maybe she’d committed the ultimate faux pas. Maybe these two weren’t a couple at all, but siblings.
“We can’t answer that,” the woman said. She folded her arms, looking aggrieved.
“I’m sorry, was that too forward?” Keira asked, chewing her pen with consternation.
; “It’s not that,” the man chimed in. “We just wouldn’t know how to answer it. We can’t stand each other.”
Keira laughed nervously, unsure whether this was just the Italian sense of humor that she wasn’t understanding.
But what the man said next took her aback completely.
“We’re getting a divorce.”
“You are?” she exclaimed. “But… but you’re traveling together to the coast. Isn’t the Amalfi supposed to be renowned for its romantic scenery and fine restaurants?”
“Yes, along with one of the best divorce lawyers the country has to offer,” the woman said bitterly. “We’re traveling to her office to sign the papers finalizing our divorce.” She cast suspicious eyes at her husband. “At long last.”
Keira felt incredibly tense and awkward. What had she gotten herself into?
“What do you mean at last?” the man snapped at the women. That they had an audience seemed to suddenly elude them both. “I’m the one who’s been asking for years!”
“Only because you want to marry that young floozy,” the woman snapped back. “I asked for one in ’seventy-nine! You were the one who kept delaying it. You only want it now because it suits you!”
They began speaking in Italian then, bickering loudly. Keira buried her face in her hands, feeling very uncomfortable and embarrassed.
If ever there was a bad omen, this was it.
CHAPTER TEN
Less than an hour after leaving Naples, Keira’s train pulled in at the Salerno station on the Amalfi Coast. It was a small station, with just a few platforms connected by overpasses. It wasn’t a particularly attractive station either, looking like its heydays were far in the past. Gray concrete columns, overhead electric cables, it was hardly a luxurious start to a supposedly beautiful part of the world.
Keira stepped off the train—leaving the still arguing divorcees behind—and wandered into the main ticket office, looking around the station, searching for the new tour guide who was supposed to be waiting, certain that Heather had told her someone would be there to greet her. But as the station cleared out of passengers, most of whom were heading off for daytrips in the sunshine, Keira discovered she was left standing alone.
It was too late to call Heather back; in New York it was still the middle of the night and unless she was a robot, as Keira sometimes suspected, Heather would be sleeping. So instead, she fired off an email, informing Heather of both the fact her wallet and money had been stolen, and also that the new tour guide had not arrived to meet her.
With nothing left to do, Keira dragged her heavy case toward the bus terminal where she was supposed to be boarding an ongoing bus to Positano with her guide. Despite all the setbacks, she felt good for having survived alone for so long. Bryn would be proud, she thought, of her little sister acting so independently.
The Salerno bus terminal was little more than a few parking bays. Keira headed toward the red coach which had a sign saying its destination was Positano. But it was as she got on board that she realized that the guide was supposed to be supplying the tickets. And thanks to the pickpocketing, she had no money to pay for one. Once again, things had taken a turn for the worst.
“I was pickpocketed in Naples,” she explained to the bus driver.
He looked at her with an unimpressed expression. “And?”
“And would I be able to take the bus to Positano?”
“Without paying,” he added. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”
Keira could already tell this was going terribly.
“Look, I can give you my business associate’s information. She’ll pay you after.”
“I’m not a taxi,” the man replied gruffly. “I can’t send you an invoice!”
He waved Keira off.
She stepped off the bus again, starting to feel anguished. Why hadn’t the new tour guide come to meet her? This was turning into a disaster.
Just then, Keira saw a sightseeing bus pull into the terminal and a family of American tourists climbed out. They were clad in hiking gear, the dad with a huge camera around his neck, the mom wearing a fanny pack. There was a little kid with them too. Keira had never felt so happy to hear her language spoken in a familiar accent, or see a little slice of home.
“Excuse me!” she said, hurrying up to them.
The father of the family turned, his expression revealing his surprise to be approached by a fellow American.
“Hey, what can I do for you?” he asked, his accent strong and southern.
“I had my money stolen in Naples,” Keira told him. “I was just wondering if you might have some spare euros I could use to get a bus? I just need to take a connecting bus to my hotel and then I’ll be able to speak to my company back in New York and have some money wired over. I can give you my card.” She went to open her purse, then realized all her business cards were in her wallet. “Scrap that. I can give you my details and I can pay you back.”
“Oh no,” the man said. “I sure would like to help but we just spent all our money on souvenirs.” He opened up his bag, showing an array of ornaments. He closed the bag again. “I’m sorry, miss. I’d love to help out a fellow countrywoman if I could.”
“Hank,” the woman who Keira assumed to be his wife said, “what about the pass?”
“Here, I could give you this if it’s any help?” He handed her his sightseeing bus pass. “It’s valid for the day. Goes all along the coast.”
His wife chimed in. “It’s a beautiful journey.”
Keira took the pass. It was better than nothing. “Thanks,” she said.
As the family bid farewell, Keira found herself wishing they didn’t have to go. They were a lifeline to home at a time when she felt very alone. But then she overheard the kid say to her dad, “Should I pray for the homeless woman?” and the dad reply with an emphatic, “Yes, Courtney. Pray very hard.”
She frowned, insulted. She’d only spent a day in Naples and was already getting mistaken for a homeless person!
She went over to the open-top sightseeing bus and showed the driver the pass she’d been given.
“Do you know how long it will take to get to Positano?” she asked.
He looked at her, confused. “This is the scenic route,” he said. “A sightseeing route. It takes about two hours to get all around the mountains and coast. If you want to get there fast, take the actual bus.”
There was no point arguing with him, or explaining her predicament. Keira sighed, resigned that things just weren’t going to go her way today.
*
The bus took a winding route up the cliffsides. The view was stunning, but since she was terrified of heights, Keira freaked out at every turn. She wished desperately that at the very least she could have a solid roof above her, something that would help make her feel contained and secure. As it was now, the open-plan top was making her feel even more vulnerable and exposed. Every time they curved around the side of the cliff it looked as if they were a mere inch away from plunging over the side and down into the dark blue ocean beneath. Either that, or she had visions of tipping out of the bus entirely, falling over the railings never to be seen again.
She did have to admit that the scenery was beautiful, the ocean clear and sparkling, bright pink flowers and lush green trees sprouting out of the cliffside in any of the spaces not already taken over by houses or stores. It seemed as if there was a building crammed into any and all crevices, stacked upon one another like Lego bricks, and just as brightly colored. If she hadn’t been squeezing her eyes shut every five seconds, Keira would have found the whole thing breathtaking.
After what felt like hours, Keira’s bus pulled into a bay at the bottom of the cliffs in Positano. She got off the bus, her legs wobbling beneath her, and looked around. She was surrounded by cliffs, the houses built onto the sides like she’d seen before. There was a strip of beach which was crowded with people enjoying the warm sunshine, and boats dotted the blue waves. It was otherworldly, and breathtakingly beautifu
l.
Of course, Keira had no time to enjoy herself because she was, once again, completely stranded. She had no idea how to get to her hotel, no map to use to guide her there, and there seemed to be next to no cell phone coverage in the valley of the mountains.
She headed toward the beach where a small stone structure proclaimed itself to be a “ristorante.” There was a terraced bar outside, filled with people drinking cocktails. Keira went inside.
“Ciao,” she said to the waiter behind the bar.
He smiled at her as he continued drying a glass with a dish towel. “Ciao.”
“Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” he said, grinning even more widely. “What can I get you?”
“Actually, I’m not here to drink,” Keira explained. “I wondered if you could tell me where the Oceano Hotel is?”
“You’re staying there?” he asked. “It’s a lovely place. Best views. Right at the top of the cliffs.”
Keira was relieved that he knew where it was. “Could you tell me how to get there? I came by bus so I don’t have a car.”
The man put down his glass and towel and leaned his elbows against the bar. “That is going to make things difficult for you.”
“Why?” Keira asked.
“The bus goes to the top but it stops running early on weekdays. You will have to climb.”
“Climb?” Keira asked, her eyes widening. She couldn’t tell whether the man was joking with her or not. Her experience at the Naples train station had made her suspicious of people who seemed to be offering help.
“Yes, you need to take the steps up through the village all the way to the top. Fifty flights. Quite a trek.”
Keira groaned internally. She had her case with her. She’d been lugging it around for what felt like forever!
“Maybe you should have a cocktail or two before you go?” the waiter added with a smarmy wink.
Keira turned on her heel and stormed out of the cafe, feeling her throat thicken with emotion. She looked at the cliffs behind her and saw the stone steps the waiter had been talking about. Was it really the right way to her hotel?