Shadows from the Past: A Collection of Short Stories for Short Journeys by Malcolm Hollingdrake

Author:Malcolm Hollingdrake [Hollingdrake, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Malcolm Hollingdrake
Published: 2016-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

***

The sun was warm as Marietta and I crossed to the waiting car, with my autumn coat over my arm and my suitcase carried by Marietta’s brother, Marco.

“We have over an hour’s drive. I’ve told Marco to drive so we can see the sea and not throw up. He thinks he’s a racing driver but he’s not, he’s just typically Italian and drives with his emotions and not his brain.”

I had taken a travel sickness tablet before the flight but ‘popped’ another to be totally safe. Maybe his ears were near his emotions too so he might not have fully comprehended the instruction.

I had met Marietta at the local Italian restaurant when it had first opened five years previously. John and I would spend every Wednesday evening enjoying a mid week break; a chance to chat and relax away from the marking that was part and parcel of teaching. John was a Deputy Headteacher of a Primary School and I taught English 11 to 18 so you see, mid week breaks were our salvation.

Roberto, the owner and Marietta’s elder brother, had grown up the hard way, leaving school early and seeking his fortune in Germany. He spent a year washing dishes and then progressed to the kitchen proper, where his true apprenticeship over the grills and pizza ovens was served. He moved to England and then, in partnership with a cousin, opened his own restaurant. Success followed and the restaurant became his. He then opened a second. Soon his small Fiat was replaced and a red Ferrari became his pride and joy. To him, it was a sign that he had achieved one of his goals. There had always been questions about the speed of success.

“Roberto has bought a small villa just outside Sorrento. Our mother will use it in the summer, it will be cooler than the apartment, a more refreshing sea breeze. He does look after the family,” Marietta said drawing me out of my thoughts.

Marietta stared out of the window as the car crawled with the traffic through Naples. Even the view of Vesuvius, a disappointing Pen-y-Ghent of a lump off to the left, no smoke or snow, proved totally uninspiring. I smiled thinking my opinion would change rapidly should it decide to awaken.

What I did know was that Roberto brought staff from his home village to work in his restaurants. To many it was the opportunity of a lifetime. There were few English. Sometimes I would help out in the bar when Friday or Saturday proved crazy. A sign pointed in the direction of Pompeii but little was visible from the three-lane highway.

“I promise we’ll visit and you’ll love it. The petrified people... “ She moved her arms and became one, her face contorted as if in agony. We both giggled like kids.

“And where else will you take me to see your Italian magic?”

“All planned but first we’ll get home and if time allows a swim in the sea of Sorrento.”

The bright Mediterranean world changed colour as we entered the tunnel that swallowed the Strada, yellow lights flooding the darkness.

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