The Italian Affair

by Helen Crossfield

  Dan looked across at her and said quite abruptly. “Issy this weekend is going to be impossible if you’re going to talk about what happened all the time. We just made a deal. You agreed not to talk about things that happened today so don’t.”

  “Ok,” wailed Issy. “But you’re going to have to help me take my mind off things by telling me about what I can expect when we get to Ischia. Tell me what it’s like, what kind of food they eat anything just TALK to me.”

  “Well the first thing we’ll do when we arrive is eat the best frutta del mare we can get our hands on,” Dan said with a relief in his voice that suggested he was pleased she had volunteered they change the subject. “There are lots of divine little restaurants I know around the port all serving fresh fish, risotto and different sorts of pasta. You’ll love it. We can then get back to the quaint hotel I’ve booked as it’s nearby. We’ll sleep soundly after the sea air and a bottle of Ischian wine and wake up feeling refreshed. I can guarantee you that. Does that sound good?”

  Issy nodded as Dan talked. “Yes I it sounds more than good, I hope I’ve still got my appetite.”

  “Yes,” said Dan “it will be a shame if you’ve lost that. You’ll have to try the Spaghetti alla Whores as well while we are there. It’s a type of pasta sauce and the islanders invented it. It’s full of peppers, capers, olives, anchovies and garlic.”

  “Whore’s spaghetti?” Issy asked, momentarily distracted by the translation. “Why on earth is it called that?”

  “Maybe cos it’s quick and easy,” quipped Dan trying to turn comedic in his attempts to divert her attention from the dark events of earlier.

  Issy laughed at Dan’s joke when she knew she shouldn’t. She was a feminist. It didn’t feel right. But she was too tired to be politically correct, and anyway her track record with men was leaving her a bit exposed on that front at the moment.

  “Ok. I’ve heard enough. Please don‘t keep talking about food” Issy said sleepily “I need a big bowl of pasta and glass of wine right now. The sea air has started to make me feel hungry and tired and hopefully when we get there you’ll take me straight to your favourite restaurant.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dan staring ahead “it’s the first thing we’ll do when we arrive I know a few really good ones. But first of all let’s find somewhere on this boat that is comfortable and where we can sit down.”

  As evening fell over the Tyrrhenian Sea the last of the burning red embers in the sky disappeared and the water reflected the darkness of the sky above.

  “This looks like it’s probably the best place to have a nap,” Dan said as they found a quiet area on the top deck of the ferry. “Rest your head on my shoulder and try and get some sleep, we’ve got at least thirty minutes before we get to Ischia.”

  As soon as they nestled into one another three irregular solid shapes appeared on the horizon like giant sea monsters.

  Dan tugged at Issy’s arm “Look over there Issy. You can now see all of the three islands in front of us which means the end is in sight. That’s Capri, the most famous and sophisticated one over there, Ischia is the biggest and directly in front of us and the smallest island to the left is Procida.”

  As they steamed ahead towards Ischia, Dan and Issy kept their eyes fixed on the three islands and the closer they got the more and more illuminated each island appeared lit by small bright white lights that twinkled and danced under the blackening evening sky.

  “Thank you for inviting me to come here,” said Issy. “The islands look really magical from here.”

  But despite her words as she snuggled up to closer to Dan again, Issy felt increasingly anxious. She tried desperately hard not to show it but the night sky brought with it a sense of foreboding and fear. Familiar thoughts raced around her mind as yet again Issy wondered what the hell she was doing on a boat heading towards Ischia. And yet to speak about her anxiety and her fear the inevitability that something awful would happen would unnerve Dan and she had promised him she’d not mention the events had that happened in Via Maria Magdala again or at least not until later in the weekend.

  They must have sat holding each other, rocking and swaying with the waves for almost thirty minutes when the general noise around them woke Dan from a light slumber.

  “Issy wake up,” he said sleepily trying to get his bearings. “It looks like we’ve nearly reached Ischia and we need to go below deck to get on the Vespa so we avoid the crush getting off. Did you sleep ok?”

  Issy had not slept a wink, but tried hard to look as if she had as she fumbled for her bag. “Er, yes I think I must have dozed off for a bit,” she said softly not wanting to arouse suspicions.

  “I can’t wait for you to see the island” said Dan as the proximity to dry land raised his spirits. “It really is a special place. There are a lot of Germans who come here particularly to take the thermal waters as they are rich with vitamins and minerals from the volcanic rock.”

  As they finally drove off the ferry, Issy’s grogginess was immediately transmuted by the vibrant energy and teaming nightlife around Ischia Porto which seemed to rush forwards to welcome them ashore.

  Hundreds of colourfully dressed islanders filled the narrow cobbled streets either walking in pairs or large groups as they took their evening walkabouts congregating noisily on street corners and in the tiny piazzas.

  Olive skinned faces laughed, gesticulated, smoked profusely and embraced each other warmly just like their Neapolitan neighbours. But there was an additional laid-backed attitude and friendliness that Issy immediately warmed to.

  “This feels like we’re on holiday,” she said to Dan finally smiling for the first time all day. “And it smells and looks like a giant fish restaurant. Look at those amazing plates of shell-fish sitting on top of that mountain of ice and at that lobster over there – it‘s huge.”

  “Yes, that’s why I suggested a seafood supper,” Dan said. “This is fresh fish at it’s tastiest. Just take a look at all those cobbled streets around the port. At this time of the evening the whole place is filled with table after table of diners eating al fresco.”

  Issy stood with her mouth wide open as she took in the sounds and smells of this fertile island and watched as the locals and the tourists took part in what can only be described as a vibrant giant street party.

  There was just so much laugher and enjoyment. Young couples in love coquettishly flirting, families enjoying huge doughy pizzas and big groups of friends of all ages sharing sea food platters to celebrate the end of the working week and the beginning of the weekend ahead.

  “I love this place already,” Issy announced enthusiastically as she breathed in deeply to savour the atmosphere. “It has the feel of a carnival. Is it normally like this?”

  “Yes. It’s always got a really good buzz about it” shouted Dan. “It has everything you need in life, food, sea, sand, thermal waters, laughter and love.”

  After squeezing the Vspa into a miniscule space down one of the cobbled streets, Dan led her to one of the most traditional looking restaurants on the edge of the water near to where they’d parked.

  “Ok,” Dan said as soon as they’d sat down. “This is not going to take long. I know the menu here off by heart. I suggest we order a bottle of Ischian wine and the a simple dish of food each like spaghetti with clams as soon as we catch the waiter‘s attention.”

  “Sounds perfect to me,” replied Issy as she nibbled on bread sticks that had been placed in the centre of the table and scanned the restaurant before resting her eyes on one particular family.

  “Oh my God Dan,” Issy exclaimed. “Look over there, it’s Pasquale sitting in our restaurant” whispered Issy. “He has transformed from being a lusting lingerie shop owner to being a devoted father and husband with two beautiful daughters either side. I wonder how he‘d behave if we went up to say hello.”

  Dan laughed as Issy grabbed him and put her hand over his mouth, to try and stop him calling out Pasquale’s name. But unfortunately, her ha
nd was not as big as Dan’s mouth.

  “Pasquale,” Dan shouted over the hubris in the restaurant.

  As soon as Pasquale heard his name, he turned round unperturbed at being disturbed and beamed and waved at them both.

  He was squashed at his table between his wife, who looked like the sort of extremely well dressed woman whose undergarments were as sophisticated as her outer garments, and the equally well turned out daughters, who fortunately took their looks from their mother and not Pasquale.

  Gone was the longing and lust for Issy and in its place was a deep sense of joy as he sat surrounded by the people he loved the most – a patriarch extraordinaire.

  “I must have done something terrible in another life” said Issy. “He’s coming over, and he looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. What a bloody nerve.”

  Pasquale didn’t attempt to do what many English men would do in that situation and blank them but rather bounded over to where Issy and Dan sat with the energy of a small torpedo.

  “Ciao my friends,” he said his chest bursting with pride and gesticulating towards his table. “See over there, this eez my family we er… how do you say? We have home here. What you think, Ischia is beautiful?”

  “Yes so far so beautiful” said Issy smiling but finding it hard to look him in the eye given her experiences with him on her first day.

  “You stay here tomorrow?” said Pasquale. “You want lunch at my ‘ome?”

  After few moments of silence as Issy weighed up mentally the pros and cons of having lunch with Pasquale en familie, she finally decided to go with the following excuse, which was quite tactful for a Yorkshire feminist whom Pasquale had recently lusted at.

  “It’s really kind of you Pasquale, but we are not sure what our plans are for tomorrow. We’ll probably take the Vespa around the island. Thanks for the invite but we’ll have to say no on this occasion – maybe another time?”

  Dan smiled as she spoke but looked slightly miffed that there’d been no consultation about it and Pasquale picked up on his hesitation.

  “Non? Why not?” asked Pasquale incredulous at Issy declining his extremely hospitable invitation. “It eez importante to have the friends, have the dinner, have the dinner con the friends” he said getting almost incandescent that she’d had the bloody nerve to turn him down AGAIN. And he wasn’t going to leave it there. No SODDING way.

  “Ok. Here is telephone number. Ring Pasquale non?” he said adamantly whilst writing the phone number down on a paper napkin and thrusting it in Issy’s face.

  “Ok, if today not possible, you and you come to my ‘ome tomorrow, you ring me?” he said pointing to both of them. And then he did the thing with the phone up to his rubbery ear again.

  “Look we’ll say no for tomorrow as well as we’ve got a packed weekend but another time definitely. It’s really kind of you” said Issy looking apologetic at his crestfallen face.

  As Pasquale walked away from their table towards his brood he didn’t stay downcast for long. His rage at Issy for turning down his invitation for lunch seemed momentary, approximately one second to be exact – after all he still had everything in life he could possibly need and it was sitting right in front of him at the table in the far corner.

  The timing of Dan and Issy’s food could not have been more spectacular. Just as Pasquale left them, their spaghetti with clams arrived.

  And they both dug in. The hunger, the fear they’d lived with all day and the superbly fresh taste of the clams and seasoned spaghetti meant that they didn’t say another thing to each other until the fishy flesh from inside the oval-shaped brown shells and the spaghetti had been eaten and the Ischian white wine Biancolella had been drunk.

  . Despite being 10 o’clock, the restaurant was still filling up. Tempting though it might have been to people-watch they decided sleep took precedent. As soon as they finished their wine they asked the waiter for the bill.

  “I would normally suggest a quick walk around the harbor to soak up the atmosphere but I think we should head straight back to the hotel,” Dan said. “You look totally worn out. It shouldn’t take us long before we are tucked up in our beds.”

  “Ok” said Issy compliantly. “We can do more sightseeing and stuff tomorrow. I’d love to explore a bit more but I tend to agree we probably need some sleep now.”

  As they both got onto the Vespa, Dan shouted above the engine and the street noise. “Ok, hold on tight, the hotel we’re going to sits high on that piece of volcanic rock over there that protrudes out into the sea so you need to cling onto me. I don’t want to lose you. Not here and certainly not today.”

  “It looks like a castle” said Issy looking upwards whilst holding on as tight as she could as Dan revved the engine and they made their way down a narrow road that linked the island to the castle.

  “Our hotel is next to Castello Aragonese that’s the name of it. Oh and before we get there” said Dan suddenly remembering something. “It’s the only hotel on the island I know really well. It’s really quaint and the bedrooms have the most amazing views. But before we get there you should know something that might spook you a bit?”

  “What” shrieked Issy. “I hope it‘s not something bad?”

  “It depends” replied Dan “on how you react to what I’m just about to tell you.” Dan took a deep breath, and slowly explained. “There is a cemetery of nuns within the Castle and therefore pretty much at the hotel. The place where we’re staying used to be a monastry. When the nuns died they were sat on chairs in a chamber until their bodies wasted away and they were just skeletons.”

  “What?” shrieked Issy unsure how Dan could possibly be driving in the direction of somewhere so macabre given the day they’d both had.

  “Don’t worry you heard correctly the first time,” Dan said apologetically. “I’ve never really given it much thought before now. But given the day we’ve had I have to tell you about it before you read it when we arrive. There is lots of information available so you may as well hear it from me first. Apparently, they sat the nuns on chairs to prove that the body is just a vehicle for carrying the soul and that the physical form is temporary.”

  “That sounds about right speaking from bitter experience” said Issy sardonically.

  “I actually found it really interesting the first time I found out about it,” Dan continued. “But it kind of doesn’t fit with the day we’ve just had. If this is making you feel uncomfortable, we’ll have to find somewhere else. We can quite easily turn back. I’m sorry I only just remembered because of everything else that’s been going on.”

  “It makes me feel more than BLOODY uncomfortable Dan,” Issy said with a sigh. “But it’s those that live that frighten me more than those who’ve died. I don’t want to start looking for another hotel. Let’s carry on. At least if it’s a cemetery it will be sacred ground and in Italy that may mean that we’re safe.”

  As she said those last words Issy turned her head in the opposite direction to the one they were travelling to. “Safe from what?” asked Dan afraid now that someone might be following them.

  “Nothing – it’s absolutely nothing. I’m just jumping at shadows. Don’t worry let’s get to the hotel and forget about it,” Issy said in as controlled a voice as possible.

  And yet despite her denial Issy had seen another vespa following behind them which had pulled off the road out of view as soon as she’d turned her head.

  While Dan had slept on the boat, Issy had also felt a similar presence lurking in the shadows but had said nothing because she’d promised him she would not talk about the murder.

  “God,” she thought to herself as they continued up towards the hotel with a cemetery. “When and how is the nightmare going to end?” All she’d done was tried to help a dying man and now she seemed to be paying the price all over again.

  As dark shadows jumped inside her head, she shivered and sank one side of her face into Dan’s back to try and block out the thoughts that now plagued her mind ob
sessively on a never ending loop. She looked out to the vast velvety black sea that seemed both endless and threatening under the dark night sky.

  But there was no relief there either. Dancing images of contorted faces appeared on the surface. They seemed to come from the nunnery high above.

  As Issy closed her eyes and tried hard to change her thought patterns ghoulish shapes were replaced by images of the Adonis pulling her from the dying man, the blood seeping out onto the pavement and then further into the road following them as they ran away from it. As they entered the hotel gates she screamed silently in the hope that by tomorrow she would wake up and find that today had only been a dream.

  Ischia – 8.00 am local time 24 September 1986

  Dan had been absolutely right about the views. “Mama Mia,” shouted Issy as she opened the wooden shutters in her bedroom as far as they would go to appreciate the full beauty of her magnificent unending view.

  The sea had transformed overnight from something that was dark and menacing into a stunning turquoise expanse which shimmered under a full sun bursting with pearls of light.

  Beyond the sea were white sandy beaches, green and lush mountains and a variety of indigenous flora and fauna. It was like a little slice of paradise framed by pale wooden shutters.

  They’d obviously travelled quite a way up last night thought Issy as she looked down at the drop beneath her. The vertical view was just as breathtaking as the horizontal one. Peppered with ancient walls and little archways, the islands seemed voluptuously fertile and Ischia Porto itself was dotted with orange and blue fishing boats and yachts resting in the harbour.

  Dan had told her that the hills around Ischia were full of olive groves and lemons and that the reason the island was so fertile and green was because it was formed out of volcanic rock.

  “How utterly idyllic,” Issy thought as she breathed in the organic perfume of citrus with her face turned towards the sunlight.