A Richer Dust Concealed

by R P Nathan

  Sitting there in the backpackers’ bar on that hot summer’s night in Rome, I had yet to hear of Polidoro or Bragadino or the Cross of St Peter and Paul. Surrounded by dark walls and cheap art posters, Amstel on tap and low denomination bank notes of various currencies stapled to the beams, I had no knowledge of Venetian Cyprus and was oblivious to the sieges of Famagusta and Nicosia. Surrounded by young Scandinavians and Germans and even a few other British, all travelling round Europe, here for a few days and wanting to party, I knew or cared about as much as a recent sciences graduate would be expected to about any of those subjects: a big fat nothing.

  It was all about to change of course – within minutes in fact – when I was to meet her for the first time and all of that history stuff started to matter. But at that precise moment I couldn’t have cared less. Because all I could think about was that – yet again – Julius and Duncan were doing my head in.

  “So-oooo,” said Duncan, opening his eyes wide and sending his drawly American accent into overdrive. “Are they babes?”

  Patrick looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I haven’t actually met Maya. And Sarah’s my cousin so it’s hard to say. I think she’s good-looking...” He shrugged. “What do you think, Julius?”

  “Sarah was fifteen when I last saw her.”

  “You know what they say: sweet fifteen.”

  “That’s sixteen, Duncan.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, what was she like?”

  “Spotty. With a brace.”

  “Ugh,” said Duncan making a face.

  “Well, I bet they’ll both be really nice.” I gave Patrick a supportive smile.

  “Well, I guess you’ll be looking after them then,” said Julius, grinning in a way that made me want to punch him even more than normal. “I just don’t see why we had to meet them at a touristy student place like this when we could have gone somewhere more properly Italian.”

  “Because we’re touristy students perhaps..?” I said.

  “I’m just trying to broaden your horizons. Personally I think we should have gone to that little enoteca by Piazza Navona. That’s a wine bar John,” he said smiling at me condescendingly.

  I glowered. “Yes. You told me.”

  “Well I know you have trouble with the language.”

  I felt Patrick’s hand on my arm. The holiday hadn’t actually come to blows yet but it felt oh so close at times.

  “Well thanks for agreeing to come here,” said Patrick hurriedly before I could say anything. “Sarah had suggested it.”

  “It’s tolerable,” said Julius. “But in future don’t say I’m always deciding where we’re going.”

  I felt the blood rise in me. “You are always—”

  “Whoa!” said Duncan in awe. “Look at those girls over there. Are they Italian? They are bell-issi-maaa.”

  “Bellisime…” said Julius thoughtfully, following his pointing arm. “I’m not sure if they are Italian. But come on Duncan,” he said getting up. “Let’s go and find out.”

  I scowled at Julius’s back as he disappeared into the crowd by the bar. Took a sip of my lager and looked over at Patrick in annoyance. “What time were they meant to be here?”

  “Half an hour ago.”

  Somehow it was always like this. Patrick and me sitting together, saving the table, while Julius and Duncan were off having fun. I was wondering – not very nobly – whether I should abandon my friend and go and join the other two – who, however loathsome, were at least talking to girls – when Patrick suddenly stood up and waved. “There they are!”

  I looked round and choked on my beer.

  Two girls were jostling their way towards us. The one in front, waving back to Patrick, was five-eight with short spiky blonde hair. She wore a thigh-length flowery summer dress, her legs and arms bare and tanned. The girl behind was taller and wore an elegant black top and shorts. Her skin was deep brown, her legs long and lightly muscled, her hair cut into a sleek black bob. This second girl was objectively beautiful, and Patrick gazed helplessly at her. But I was drawn back to the one in front: her eyes almond shaped and nose deliciously straight. Her friend may have been beautiful, but she was cute.

  “Hi Cuzz,” she said giving Patrick a kiss, her voice rasping hoarse and gorgeous. “Isn’t it cool meeting up in Rome? This is my best friend Maya. You remember me telling you about her?”

  “Of course.” He blushed. “And this is my friend John.”

  “Hi John. I’m Sarah.” She held out a slender bronzed arm and I felt a jolt juice through me as I shook her hand. “Let me get some drinks,” I croaked happily. By the time I got back to the table, Patrick was sitting by Maya, leaving a place for me next to Sarah. Sarah smiled a gleaming white smile at me. “So how long have you been over so far?”

  “Two weeks,” I said, smiling back.

  “We’ve done almost three. And are you enjoying it?”

  “Oh we’re having a really good time,” said Patrick enthusiastically.

  He looked at me and I looked at the girls and nodded vigorously. It was amazing how Julius and Duncan not being around really lifted my spirits and made me forget that the last fortnight had actually been pretty rubbish. “It’s been brilliant.”

  “So where’ve you been?”

  “Well,” said Patrick, more talkative than he’d been on the entire holiday. “We started in France obviously. Paris, then down to Nice and Cannes.”

  “All those beaches,” said Maya longingly. “Yum.” She had a broad Lancashire accent and the combination of this and the classical beauty of her face made anything she said kind of mesmerising. Patrick had to give his head a little shake before he was able to continue.

  “After France we came to Italy. Milan, Pisa, Florence and here. How about you?” His eyes were locked onto Maya but it was Sarah who answered.

  “Well we skipped through Paris,” she said. “Only spent a couple of days there because it was really expensive. We didn’t even get to go to the Louvre.” She looked accusingly at Maya; but her friend just shrugged so that her hair shivered and fell about her shoulders.

  “I think we had a pretty good time in Paris,” Maya said decidedly.

  “What did you do?” Patrick asked, his eyes wide.

  She gave him an enigmatic smile. “We went to Père-Lachaise cemetery.”

  “The cemetery?”

  “Well, it was free. And I’d always wanted to see where Jim Morrison was buried.”

  “Who’s Jim Morrison?”

  “How can you not know Jim Morrison? Lead singer of The Doors?”

  Patrick shook his head.

  “You must know them. Riders on the Storm?” She started to sing it.

  “Anyway,” Sarah interrupted, giving her a look. “We were trying to save our money for later. So after that we just hung out in Montmartre.”

  “That’s where we met those Canadian guys.” They looked at each other and giggled.

  Patrick and I exchanged a men-of-the-world kind of glance.

  “Then where?”

  “After that,” said Sarah. “We kept going east into Germany. Frankfurt. Berlin. That was amazing. Are you guys going there?”

  Patrick and I looked at each other uncertainly. “Maybe…” I said, knowing full well that it wasn’t on the itinerary Julius had planned for us.

  “Well you should. Just to see the Wall. It was really moving.”

  “It were OK…” said Maya with a strained expression. “But it were crawling with loads of other skanky inter-railers. And most of the time we had to live off jaffa cakes. Bloody hell, Germans eat a lot of meat.”

  “We’re both vegetarian,” explained Sarah.

  “I’m veggie too,” I said happily.

  “Are you?” She smiled at me and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “It’s not easy is it? Europe isn’t designed for people like us. Anyway,” she said taking a sip of beer, “after that we went down to Prague, then Greece for a few days on the beach. Took the ferry over to Bari and then her
e.” She was momentarily distracted as she rummaged in her bag. “I don’t suppose either of you have got a cigarette?”

  “I thought you were giving up?” said Maya. Sarah shrugged and smiled at us appealingly.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t smoke.”

  “Wow,” said Sarah looking straight at me, so that I felt my heart bang in my chest. “Veggie and a non-smoker: your body really is a temple isn’t it?”

  I laughed and was about to give her a suitably worldly yet extremely funny riposte when—

  “Were you asking for cigarettes?”

  I swivelled round and found to my horror that Julius had materialised at my shoulder. “Marlboro Lights OK?” At the same time a large tanned hand appeared on the table between Patrick and Maya.

  “Hi,” said Duncan in his deepest voice.

  “Blimey,” said Maya appreciatively. “You’re a tall lad aren’t you?”

  Sarah stood up. “Hi, Julius,” she said breathlessly. “You probably don’t remember me.”

  “Of course I remember you, Sarah,” he said smiling at her and she grinned back at him. We went through the whole introduction thing once more and somehow, when we’d all sat down again, Duncan was between Patrick and Maya and Julius had inserted himself next to Sarah.

  “So what have you ladies been up to tonight?” asked Duncan sitting square on to Maya, baring his big pearly teeth at her.

  “We were at a lecture,” said Maya, tossing her head, her hair transforming to a shimmering black waterfall.

  Duncan gagged. “A lecture? On holiday?”

  “About Venice. It were Sarah’s idea.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Sarah hurriedly. “It was part of a series on the history of Italian cities.”

  “Any good?”

  “I’m the wrong person to ask. I’m a sucker for anything to do with Venice. What did you think, Maya?”

  “Oh it were too gruesome for me. Loads of stories about people getting impaled or dropped in canals or that one about the guy in Cyprus—”

  “Bragadino? Oh, I loved that story,” sighed Sarah.

  “That’s because you’re gross,” said Maya.

  “What’s it about?” I said trying to get Sarah’s attention again.

  “Oh it’s fantastic.” Her eyes shone as she looked at me. “It was 1570 and the Venetian Republic was still really powerful: Venice controlled a big chunk of mainland Italy called the Terraferma – places like Verona and Padua – and loads of Greek islands including Crete and Cyprus. But the Ottoman Empire – that’s the Turks – wanted Cyprus because it was strategic and fertile and the usual blah-blah-blah. So they invaded and surrounded the capital, Nicosia. But it didn’t put up much of a fight and they broke through and massacred everyone inside. Like 20,000 people.”

  “Sarah.” Maya had visibly paled. “I don’t want to hear this again.”

  “And then they moved on to Famagusta, which was the main port, where this guy Marcantonio Bragadino was the captain—”

  “Sarah—”

  “And they laid siege to it for almost a year and at the end of it—”

  “Sarah, stop it!” Maya’s voice was sharp, serious.

  “Don’t be so delicate.”

  “I’m not being delicate.” She made a face. “It’s horrible what happened to them and I don’t want to have to hear it again. I mean it.”

  Sarah looked at her friend for a moment then gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she mouthed. “So anyway,” she continued after a second’s awkward silence, looking around, changing the subject. “How long are you in Rome for?”

  “A couple more days,” said Julius. “Then we’re heading further south to Naples. I really want to show the guys Pompeii and then go and climb Vesuvius to put it in context for them.”

  I choked on my beer. He wanted us to do what?

  “That sounds like fun,” said Sarah wistfully. “But Pompeii will have to be in the next trip for us. This time we’re going up to Venice.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. Via Bologna. We’ve got a friend from Uni who’s au pairing there.”

  “You know,” said Julius clearing his throat, making sure everyone was listening. “You’re making a mistake going to Venice.”

  Sarah was taken aback. “How come?”

  “Because a) we’re headed in the opposite direction.” He smiled at her and – infuriatingly – she blushed in return. “And b) because Venice is massively overrated.”

  “Is that so?” said Sarah grinning. “Well a) perhaps we could meet up later on: maybe Paris just before we all go back? And b),” she said adjusting her seat a little and, fixing Julius with a stare I would have gladly been the recipient of, “Just what is so overrated about Venice?”

  ◆◆◆

  We left the bar at one but I’d lost track of their conversation a long time before that.

  I tended to tune out Julius’s voice whenever he started talking about art or history… or anything really. But clearly Sarah did not possess the same filter. She hung on his every word, smiling when he smiled, enthralled by his anecdotes, and wasting her own husky, lovely voice on discussions about Titian and Veronese when she could have been talking to me about… well about other stuff.

  I had nothing to contribute to their discussion, so I just sat back, drank my Amstel and watched Sarah’s face, animated, wonderful and increasingly a touch blurred.

  “I need a pizza,” said Duncan as we milled in the street afterwards.

  “Me too,” said Maya.

  Duncan regarded her with a look of respect. “All right.”

  “OK,” shrugged Julius. “Let’s go to that pizzeria we saw on the way up here. That seemed pretty authentic.” Patrick shrugged and nodded.

  “Fine,” I said woozily, starting to walk the other way. “I’ll see you all back at the room.”

  “Well, where are you going?”

  “McDonalds.”

  Julius looked like he was going to be sick. “You don’t go to McDonalds in Italy. Just come for a pizza and stop being such a geek.”

  I hated it when he called me a geek. “I want some fries. Is that OK? You want me to bring you some back?”

  “No of course not—”

  “I’ll have some,” said Duncan. “And maybe a Big Mac too?”

  Julius looked at him wide eyed.

  “Well, I’m hungry,” he said unabashed.

  “Let’s just go,” said Julius. “Enjoy your food.”

  “I will.”

  “Hey wait, I’m coming too.”

  Both Julius and I turned in surprise.

  It was Sarah.

  “I love their salad bar,” she explained.

  “Well maybe,” Julius said, his voice suddenly shaky. “Maybe we should all stick together and—”

  “No that’s cool,” she said. “Let’s have our food and then meet up back at your hotel. Come on John.”

  I blinked happily, not quite sure how this turn of events had occurred.

  “Chop, chop!”

  I hurried after her.

  We didn’t talk. We just concentrated on getting to Piazza di Spagna as soon as possible. And even though I’d had too much to drink, and even though it was clearly Julius she liked, it still gave me a thrill to be with her in the warm dark of the Roman night. It flowed around us as we moved, liquid black surrounding us, filling the space between us. I luxuriated in her proximity, the clatter of her shoes on the cobbles, and the faint scent of her perfume. The mellow buzz of the alcohol in my head and the heat of the night combined, folding in with the rhythm of our footsteps, faster, faster.

  But when we got to the Spanish Steps the McDonalds was shut as were the bars and cafés around it. The place was only dotted with the travelling students and young lovers who normally crowded there, and in their place was a strew of cardboard and polystyrene cartons.

  Sarah sat down on one of the steps with a sigh. “Shall we go and get pizza with the others?”r />
  I regarded her for a moment. The others meant Julius and I didn’t need any more of him tonight. I shrugged. “If you want, I’ll walk you there. But after that I’m just heading back to the hotel.” I pulled out a tatty map from my jeans and tried to orientate myself.

  “Have you got food and drink back in you room?”

  “Some.”

  “Then, let’s go to yours.”

  I lifted my eyes from the map. She was stretching out a leg, poking a toe at a piece of litter. The leg was long and shapely. She looked up as I watched her and wrinkled her nose at me. “If that’s OK?”

  Of course it was OK.

  We set off but after only a couple of minutes I stopped again and looked around in confusion. We’d ended up on a street which wasn’t marked on the map. I squinted at the crumpled paper but it made no difference. The street just didn’t exist. I gave the map a hopeful quarter turn and Sarah burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t know where your hotel is do you?”

  “Of course I do. We just need to backtrack a little…”

  “Look, your place is near the station isn’t it?”

  “So?”

  “Well the station is north and north is in that direction.”

  “And what are you? A homing pigeon? How do you know where north is?”

  “How do you not know?”

  I frowned at her but we started walking, and after only a minute I said in surprise, “Oh hang on, this is our road coming up now…”

  “You see. You should have believed me.”

  “Well I would have, but I assumed you were wrong. Here’s our hotel.”

  “Oh one star,” she grinned looking at the sign. “Luxury.”

  We trudged up the three flights of stairs to the top. I opened our door and turned on the light and even I was a little shocked at the mess in the room.

  “We were going to tidy up tomorrow,” I said hurriedly. “Look, that’s my bed. Just clear the stuff off it and make yourself at home.

  “Thanks,” she said sweeping a pile of clothes onto the floor. “It’s just like home.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and gave it an exploratory bounce.

  I held up a bar of Toblerone and a bag of Ruffles. “You choose.”