Chapter Six
Lily had called early in the morning, far too early, though on picking up the call and hearing her voice, Kate realised just how much she missed her. Even though she’d only been gone a day, she felt so far away from the family she loved dearly, who had been her rock through the torment of Matt leaving and the divorce. But she put a smile in her voice and told Lily all about meeting Jamie and what her first day in Rome had been like, making sure to leave out all the details about falling asleep on the street and almost being arrested, which would’ve had her sister jumping on the first available plane in a panicked bid to sort her out. Lily and Anna had both been unable to get time off work to come with Kate on her spontaneous trip, but secretly she was glad. Being alone was scary, but it was also exciting, and if she was going to face the rest of her life without fear, she had to learn to do things on her own. Lily had filled her in on the latest pregnancy details – she still wasn’t drinking coffee and the thought of an onion bhaji (which she usually loved) made her want to run for the toilet, but other than that she felt fine and not anywhere near as tired as she had done in the first few weeks. Anna was fine too, and she sent her love, and had told Lily to tell Kate that she had better behave herself because she didn’t want to see her on the news embroiled in some international scandal. No chance, Kate had said with a self-conscious laugh and silently vowed that she could most definitely never tell Anna or Lily about her encounter with the Italian police.
Breakfast in the gold and claret restaurant at the hotel was welcome, and a few pastries washed down by hot black coffee did wonders for her hangover. She gazed around at the copies of Renaissance paintings that graced the walls, looked through the windows at passers-by and even scanned a discarded copy of The Times, all at once enjoying her surroundings but feeling incredibly guilty and irresponsible at the thought of her credit-card balance once she got home and had to actually pay for all of this. But as she had been travelling alone, the one luxury she would allow herself was a good hotel that felt safe and comfortable, and that was certainly what she had found. At one point during breakfast she found herself chatting to a lovely family from Kent who had brought their ninety-year-old grandma to Rome to celebrate that quite remarkable birthday – something she would never have done on holiday with Matt, who was a fiercely private man who would rather face a firing squad than make small talk with a stranger.
After going back to her room for a quick freshen up, she grabbed her brand new guidebook, handbag and jacket and headed out into the city.
It was tempting to make a beeline straight back to the Spanish Steps, though she tried to deny the reasons for this. She was highly unlikely to see the same police officer ever again, and certainly not the morning after and in the same vicinity, not in a city as busy and sprawling as Rome. Still, her attempt at logic didn’t stop her from thinking about him and half hoping he would appear before her, with that delicious smile that almost mocked her and eyes that seemed constantly on the brink of laughter. Her guidebook had told her to visit landmarks that were furthest from her hotel first so that if she was left with limited time on her last few days she could stay closer to her base and fit more in. It also said that Rome needed to be enjoyed slowly, like a good wine, and to Kate that seemed like sound advice. The Colosseum looked like a good place to start. After some time studying her map and working out distances, she decided that she would walk. It would be a lot of walking and more than she would contemplate doing at home, but the sun was shining and this early in the summer the heat was still manageable. Besides, she was in no rush to get anywhere really, and at home she was almost always in a rush, which was why she rarely walked.
The main streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of tourists and residents and cars and buses tearing to and fro. Umbrellas would appear above the crowds every few yards, followed by snaking lines of young people wearing matching T-shirts from some school or tour group or other. Architectural wonders waited on every corner – magnificent colonnaded frontages in white marble, elaborate fountains and sculptures – while secluded alleyways offered respite from the sun with their gleaming cobbles and fascinating shops hidden behind faded pastel façades. Cafés lined the pavements and piazzas, calling her in with the lure of divine-smelling coffee, and gelato shops had mouth-watering displays of every colour and flavour Kate could think of, and more besides, in glass-topped freezers.
But she pressed on, resisting the lure of all the tasty treats on offer, and was rewarded by her first glimpse of the Colosseum around twenty minutes later, a sight which caused her to stop and stare and catch her breath. She had seen it on television, of course, and in more photos than she could count, but nothing could prepare her for the sheer scale and majesty of it. There was row upon row of mammoth stonework, arches built into each section and huge chunks missing from the top two layers, and Kate could only imagine how big and imposing it must have seemed all those hundreds of years ago when it first stood proud and intact against an azure sky. Even emperors must have stood where she stood now and felt tiny and insignificant in the presence of the mighty structure.
Grabbing her phone from her bag, she began to take photos.
‘Scusi!’
She turned to see a man flash past her, an apology on his lips as he caught her arm. He was wiry, his accent slightly odd in comparison to the other Italian she had heard during her visit, and he looked as if he needed a good bath. Kate frowned and watched him disappear into the crowds, but the moment was soon forgotten as her attention turned to the building again.
After a few more photos, including a rather skew-whiff attempt at a selfie, which she immediately sent to Anna and Lily, she stowed her phone in her jacket pocket and dug in her handbag for her purse. Matt would never have paid the entrance fee to get in, as had been proved by many visits to the remains of English castles, which, he argued, looked just the same inside as out and so he couldn’t see the point in getting ripped off. She’d lost count of the times they’d driven to some dramatic outcrop, stood at a distance to look at the history perched upon it, and then he’d been champing at the bit to get away again and find a decent pub for a pie and mash dinner.
It was strange, but though she distinctly recalled picking her purse up from the bed before she’d left the hotel, putting just enough euros in it for the day ahead, it wasn’t in her bag now. Paying more attention, she looked again, and a sense of panic welled up from her guts. It wasn’t there. Had she dropped it? She felt sure her bag hadn’t been open until. . .
Shit! She’d just opened her bag, hadn’t she, to get her phone out? And then the collision with the man who had seemed in an awful rush to get somewhere. Next thing her purse was gone. Had she definitely put it in that morning? Yes, she was sure she had. So where was it? She didn’t want to believe it, but the truth was staring her in the face. She’d been robbed!
More than anything she felt a numb sort of shock at the idea. And then it turned into distress. She’d never been robbed before; had never imagined it would be so upsetting. Trying not to cry, she scanned the crowds for a sign of the man but couldn’t see anyone that looked like him. Not that she would have been sure anyway – she had hardly seen his face for more than a second – and she had no idea what she would do if she did see him. But across the sea of people, she could see a pair of police officers on horseback. She fought her way through the crowds as she headed towards them.
‘Mi scusi!’ she panted as she finally made it. She paused, and pulled out her guidebook, flicking to the first page where a handy list of phrases was printed. ‘Parla Inglese?’ She looked up hopefully. Not only was she uncertain either of them would speak English, but her accent was so dodgy that they might not understand the question, even asked in their native tongue. One of them could well speak English, but they weren’t going to if they didn’t know they were supposed to.
‘Yes,’ one replied to her unutterable relief. ‘Are you lost?’
Kate blinked at him. They were standing in
front of pretty much the biggest landmark in Rome. Did he often get British people telling him they were lost while standing in front of the Colosseum? If so he must have the patience of one of the very many Catholic saints she had seen churches dedicated to on the way here. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I think my purse has been stolen. Just now.’
He sucked in his breath and shot a glance at his colleague. ‘You will have to file a report,’ he said, looking at Kate again.
‘A report? So you can’t help me?’
‘I am sorry but we are on duty here. They will help you at the questura.’
Kate tried not to show her exasperation, which she was sure wouldn’t help her cause. ‘What’s that?’
‘The . . .’ He looked at his colleague again.
‘Questura. . . police house,’ the other man offered, before turning his attention to something that was obviously far more interesting in the crowds of visitors.
Kate presumed he meant police station, and it was easier to go with this than question it. ‘Where is that? Is it far away?’
‘Via di San Vitale. Not too far by taxi.’
‘But I don’t have any money for the taxi now – it’s just been stolen!’
‘Do you have a companion to help?’
Kate thought about phoning Jamie. It was lucky that she still had her phone in her pocket and she had to be thankful for small mercies. It also meant she could access her online banking and hopefully get some funds. Her credit card had been in her purse, so that would have to be cancelled, but her bank debit card was in the hotel room along with her passport. She wouldn’t be destitute, but it was a mess just the same.
‘Yes,’ she said with an air of resignation. ‘There is someone I can call.’
‘That is good,’ the policeman said, and then looked in the same direction his colleague was staring. Kate wondered if that was it, and she was wishing desperately right now that the police officer on duty here was the same one who had been so gallant last night. She was quite sure he wouldn’t have fobbed her off with vague advice to go and walk to a police station that she had absolutely no idea of the location of and no money to get to.
‘Thanks,’ she said. Not knowing what else to do and still feeling shell-shocked, she began to walk away. After a few steps she halted and pulled her phone from her pocket. Her finger hovered over Jamie’s number. But it wasn’t yet three and he would still be in meetings. Besides, he didn’t need some helpless English woman leaning on him every five minutes. She could do this, and she was going to prove to herself and the world that she could cope no matter what disaster befell her. Via di San Vitale. . . That was the address the policeman had given her. She opened up her maps app and tapped it in, a route appearing on the screen and a timescale for getting there. OK, it didn’t look so bad after all. And she’d wanted an adventure in Rome, hadn’t she? It wasn’t quite the one she had envisaged, but adventure it was. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to start walking.
A little over half an hour later, with her stomach now protesting that she had skipped lunch, Kate arrived at the police station. As with everything in Rome, it was housed within an impressive stone-fronted building, its entrance adorned by a high arch with a police officer stationed at either side of the doorway. Feeling more than a little apprehensive and half expecting to get stopped and told she wasn’t important enough to go in, she walked past them.
The interior was completely at odds with the grand façade, bearing more resemblance to the council buildings at home than to anything she’d seen so far in Italy. A tired but attractive looking woman in uniform at the reception desk gave her a tight smile. Kate couldn’t help but notice her very impressive chest, barely contained by a shirt straining to stay buttoned, and the sort of cheekbones she could only dream of.
‘Buongiorno.’
‘Hello. . .’ Kate reached for her guidebook, but the woman stopped her.
‘Hello. Can I help you?’
‘I hope so. I need to report that my purse was stolen.’
The woman nodded and turned to a computer screen, where she began to click the mouse. ‘I will need some details.’
‘OK.’
‘Your name please.’
‘Kate Merry.’
‘Write please.’ She pushed a blank pad and pen towards Kate, who duly noted it down and pushed it back. The woman copied it into the computer.
‘Do you want me to write my address too?’
‘I will take the name of your hotel at the moment. . .’ the woman replied, but the rest of the sentence was drowned out by the sound of raucous laughter as a group of officers appeared from a side door. They looked as though they were downing tools for the day, some unfastening their utility belts and switching off radios. The policewoman looked up with an impatient sigh, obviously not quite as amused as they seemed to be. Then Kate glanced around, and they saw each other at the same time.
‘Kate!’ he said.
Kate stared. It wasn’t that unlikely that she would see him at his station, but the idea just hadn’t occurred to her while she had been so preoccupied with the task of reporting her robbery. But there he was, large as life and even more handsome than she remembered – her saviour from the night before.
‘You are offering yourself?’ he asked with a cheeky smile.
‘Huh?’
‘To go to jail?’
‘Oh, you mean handing myself in?’ Kate couldn’t help but let out a breathless giggle, despite the very dodgy signals it was probably sending out. A man like him was bound to be married with at least fifteen kids. He looked like the sort of man who would be very good at making children. And they weren’t exactly alone. The woman behind the desk cleared her throat in a very obvious manner.
‘I can help this lady, Orazia,’ he said in English, presumably out of courtesy to Kate.
The policewoman, Orazia, shrugged. It was meant to look nonchalant but Kate noted that there was another expression underneath it. It might have been jealousy, or maybe just disdain, but although she was pretending not to care that he wanted to help Kate, she obviously did. Kate looked away, not wishing to be on the receiving end of the contemptuous gaze that now turned on her and saw some of the policeman’s colleagues nudge each other and grin. One of them called to him in Italian, and he laughed, but didn’t offer a reply as they walked across the reception and through another door at the far side.
‘Are you in trouble again?’ he asked. ‘I am glad to see you are not drunk this time.’
‘I’ve had my purse stolen. At the Colosseum,’ she began, and then recounted the events as briefly as she could. Somehow, it didn’t seem half as scary or important as it had before she had seen him, and his presence as he listened gravely was comforting, as if he could somehow make everything better just by being there.
As she came to a finish, he took himself through a little door and around to the other side of the counter, where he began to tap details into the computer that Orazia had abandoned in favour of sipping coffee at a desk and poring over a file. Every so often she would throw a guarded glance in their direction, trying for all the world to look as if she wasn’t taking any notice of their exchange but obviously listening very carefully.
‘I do not know what we can do to get your purse back, but you will be able to make a claim with your holiday insurance,’ he said as he typed. ‘Do you have money at your hotel? A card?’
‘I have some. Luckily I didn’t take everything out with me and the hotel has a safe.’
‘What about your friend?’
‘Jamie?’
‘Yes. Was he with you today when your purse was stolen?’
‘Oh, no. He’s in meetings today. We’re not really here in Rome together, we just sort of met up for dinner last night.’
‘Oh. And is he meeting you for dinner tonight?’
‘Why?’ Kate asked, her heart suddenly beating like a parade drum at the thought that he might be about to suggest they had dinner together tonight instead.
Which would be ludicrous, of course, and would never happen, and she wasn’t sure why she had even thought of it.
‘I would have to tell him to keep the wine bottle away from you,’ he said with that irresistibly mocking smile that Kate was beginning to know well already.
‘Oh, I’m not doing that again,’ Kate laughed, a curious mix of relief and disappointment flooding through her. ‘I’m drinking water from now on.’
‘Perhaps just a little wine.’
‘Maybe a little.’
They fell silent as he began to tap some more details into the computer. She could hear raised voices from beyond closed doors and the steady whir of a fan next to Orazia.
‘So,’ Kate began when she could bear the silence no longer, ‘you looked like you were about to end your shift?’
‘Scusi?’ he said, looking up.
‘Work . . . you looked as if you had finished work for the day.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘You’ve been on duty since last night?’
‘Illness – I had to help.’
‘That’s a long time to work.’
He nodded.
‘I bet your family don’t like it.’
‘My mother is happy; she has too many children and a small house,’ he smiled.
‘So, you live with your mother?’
‘Yes. She tells me to find a wife every day,’ he said, turning his gaze back to the computer. Orazia let out a cough. Kate looked at her. She seemed to be wholly absorbed in her file but Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that she had some opinion on what was going on. But perhaps Kate was seeing more in the situation than there really was. Whatever, it was doubtful she was going to enlighten Kate and it probably wasn’t worth worrying about. Perhaps she was just annoyed about the fact that her colleague was flirting. If that was what he was doing. . . He was certainly giving away a lot of information. And he had leapt at the chance to assist her, despite being at the end of his shift.
Rome is Where the Heart is: An uplifting romantic read, perfect to escape with (From Italy with Love Book 1) Page 6