Sixty Summers

by Amanda Hampson

  ‘I saw them,’ said Fran. ‘From upstairs. Two guys on a green scooter. They’re long gone.’

  Maggie undertook a pointless search under the seats. ‘Would you recognise them? Did you get the number plate?’

  Fran shook her head and pointed up towards the attic. ‘I was right up there.’

  ‘Well, good thing my passport is tucked away in my suitcase,’ said Rose.

  ‘Mine too. But my phone was in there. Wallet. Credit cards. Everything else …’

  Rose nodded. ‘Same. Oh, bugger … the iPad! I was using it on the train. And my glasses too.’

  ‘Okay, let’s go back inside and work out what to do,’ said Maggie calmly.

  They locked up the van and went upstairs, gathering in Fran’s room to discuss the options. Rose was all for reporting it to the police. Maggie was against it. ‘I can’t see the point. We can’t identify them. There’s no chance of getting our stuff back. And, if they check the van, we’ll get fined for having an unregistered vehicle. And they’ll probably impound it.’

  ‘Didn’t you even look at the papers?’ asked Rose.

  ‘I didn’t have my glasses on. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Let’s not debate that right now,’ suggested Fran. ‘The chances of getting the stuff back are so low, anyway. I agree with Maggie, it’s not worth the bother.’

  Vincenzo, when they told him, was sympathetic and unnecessarily apologetic. He offered them the use of his phone and computer to organise for their mobiles to be deactivated and order new cards. By the time all that was complete, it was early evening. Maggie, always the one to think ahead, had fifty euros tucked away with her passport for emergencies. They walked into town, found a small pizzeria and ordered pizzas and a cheap bottle of wine, and sat at a table outside on the piazza.

  ‘The pensione is paid for two nights,’ said Maggie. ‘Vincenzo will probably let us stay until the cards come through, anyway. He feels pretty bad about it.’

  ‘What cards have you got, Fran?’ asked Rose. ‘How much on them?’

  Fran had known this was coming. ‘I’ve just got a cash card. I don’t have a credit card.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Rose, not to be put off. ‘How much money have you got available?’

  ‘In total? All up? About five hundred pounds.’

  ‘That’s fine. We can live off your five hundred pounds until the cards come through and pay you back,’ said Rose. ‘They said a couple of days.’

  ‘If all else fails, we could try and sell the van, I suppose …’ said Maggie doubtfully.

  Rose laughed. ‘I think we’ve got more chance of getting our bags back.’

  ‘We could get money wired from home, I suppose,’ said Maggie doubtfully.

  ‘Let’s not ask for help from our families unless we’re really screwed,’ said Rose. ‘The whole point is to do this under our own steam. Plus, we’ll never live it down.’

  Evening fell soft and slow, couples and families wandered by enjoying a leisurely passeggiata in the Italian tradition and children played together while their parents caught up with friends. The pizza vanished almost as quickly as it arrived. Maggie gave a satisfied sigh and took a sip of her wine.

  ‘I think food actually tastes better when it’s a diminishing resource,’ remarked Rose.

  ‘We’re hardly going to starve, Rose. You don’t seem as upset as I would have expected,’ said Fran.

  ‘I’m extremely upset,’ said Rose. ‘Never mind my stuff – I loved that daypack; all those dinky pockets.’

  ‘Are you really?’ asked Fran. ‘You both seem relieved. You’ve been so tied to home. It’s like you’ve only been half here.’

  ‘You never said anything about it before,’ said Rose.

  ‘What am I going to say? It’s not my place to complain. It’s just the way it worked out. Maybe I’m envious. I don’t need my phone because no one depends on me.’

  ‘I envy you. Peter had Max texting me about this presentation or whatever it is he’s doing —’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Maggie. ‘I do feel a bit lighter. It’s the first evening I’ve felt like I can relax, knowing there won’t be a load of problems waiting for me at the end of the evening.’

  ‘And not looking over your shoulder all the time, either,’ added Rose.

  ‘I was just being silly about that. Too much adrenaline. Hyper-vigilant.’

  ‘Maybe some good will come out of this,’ said Fran. ‘Look, to be honest, until this happened, I was planning to go home tomorrow or the next day.’

  ‘What?’ asked Rose, bewildered. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I didn’t have a chance. I really do appreciate you bringing me and there’s been some good moments, but overall it’s been stressful. I know that sounds ungrateful … I feel very beholden.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so grumpy,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’ve had the odd moment too,’ admitted Rose. ‘You should be happy we’re dependent on you now, Fran.’

  Fran nodded. ‘Actually, I do feel better. It feels more equal.’

  ‘So the upshot of this disaster is that it’s cheered us all up!’ Rose lifted her glass in salute. ‘To the unexpected!’

  Maggie and Fran chimed glasses and echoed her words.

  ‘I know neither of you subscribe to the idea that everything happens for a reason,’ began Fran. ‘But what if this did?’

  ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ said Maggie. ‘This is the closest we’ve got to our first experience here.’

  ‘With a bit of squabbling thrown in for authenticity,’ said Fran with a smile.

  Rose grinned. ‘Our gift to you.’

  ‘We have somewhere to sleep. All we need is food and petrol,’ said Maggie. ‘I think we should forget the credit cards and keep travelling.’

  ‘Are you serious? That van will never get out of Verona!’ said Rose. ‘Did you hear the death rattle coming from under the bonnet?’

  Maggie was undeterred. ‘Maybe. But I think we should give it a go. We’re flying out of Rome in two weeks, right? Let’s get our cards sent to the hotel there. If we’re really careful, we can live on Fran’s cash until then. It’s roughly … thirteen euros a day each.’

  ‘I’m not sure we even remember how to be that careful,’ said Rose.

  ‘Where would we go?’ asked Fran.

  Maggie shrugged. ‘Anywhere. Just head south. If we get stuck, we can get ourselves to Rome somehow.’

  Rose was suddenly the cautious one. ‘There are so many things that could go wrong with that van —’

  ‘I’m all for it,’ interrupted Fran. She glanced across at Rose and smiled. ‘And Rose is too.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Around town ‘the Beast’, as it was now known, had been sluggish, the engine spluttering ominously from time to time. It had damage on every panel, warning off other drivers, and the passenger door had a habit of flying open on left-hand turns. But now, apart from the odd hiccup, it roared along the Autostrade towards Bologna, evidently at home on the open road. Maggie was less at home, her foot still trembling nervously on the accelerator.

  Bologna was less than two hours from Verona and seemed like a good trial run. Intersections and roundabouts were confusing but, now they were on the Autostrade, it was relatively simple to follow the line of traffic. The slow lane was bumper to bumper with trucks, so she settled in the middle lane and tried to ignore the cars coming up behind her and overtaking at speed. In the back of her mind was the terrifying prospect of the van dying right in the thick of all this traffic.

  Since she couldn’t drive, Fran had been appointed navigator, in charge of the fold-out map, a role she performed calmly and competently, managing to throw in the occasional encouraging comment. Rose, wearing Maggie’s reading glasses, was immersed in a guidebook to camping grounds, and making sure the passenger door stayed closed.

  Overnight, life had become analogue, with all its limitations, many of which they had yet to encounter. Maggie’s
anxiety levels ebbed and flowed. One minute she felt stressed that she was uncontactable, the next, she reasoned that her family were all quite capable of taking care of any situation – and it would be helpful for them to realise that.

  It was definitely good to be moving under their own steam. Yesterday, they’d been on a high, rushing to put everything in place for their departure. They stocked up on food and a new pot for the camp stove they’d inherited. They only had one large pot, so their culinary repertoire was limited to rice or couscous with vegetables and meat. There was no means of keeping food cold, so they had to shop each day. Breakfast would be fruit, bread and tea.

  Vincenzo had donated extra blankets and pillows, and sent them off to buy a calling card that they could use to make international calls on the phone at the pensione. Fran had no need to notify Louis. Rose left a message on Peter’s phone, but Maggie had needed to speak to Kristo.

  Initially, he was upset about them being robbed, and then he was annoyed that she wasn’t going to wait in Verona for her credit card to be delivered, so she could buy a new phone. She had travel insurance, all she had to do was sit tight for a couple of days and everything would be delivered to her. ‘Are you trying to run away from us – so we can’t even contact you? It’s just stupid!’

  There was no way to explain this situation to him. ‘Kristo, it’s only for another couple of weeks —’

  ‘Couple of weeks! Why are you doing this to me?!’

  ‘Please don’t shout. I’m doing this for me … I need to feel free —’

  ‘Well, you’re not free. Why pretend? This is Rose. She’s behind it. Giving you stupid ideas. I bet it was her idea to go off air. Have you really lost everything? Or did you throw it in a river?’

  ‘Don’t fight with me, Kris. I have my own “stupid” ideas. I don’t need help from Rose. No one is forcing me. I’m just trying to make this whole thing work – so it’s not a total waste of time.’

  ‘It is a waste of time – and fucking money! I knew that from the start. Everyone said it. Everyone! Here I am, trying to do the right thing. Be the good husband. Now you’re pushing me over the edge.’

  ‘Look, I have to go. I’m using a phone card and —’ Maggie began.

  ‘A what?! What in the hell is that? Maggie, be reasonable.’

  ‘I have limited minutes on it. I don’t want to waste them fighting with you.’

  ‘Okay, fine!’ he said and hung up, not realising that he couldn’t call back and apologise, as he always did when he calmed down. Not her problem.

  It seemed that, for the first time, all three of them were excited and wanted this to work, but Maggie knew it was a game. If it got too hard, they could stop. They still had a safety net that they’d never had in earlier days.

  Rose located a camping ground just north of Bologna. Fran guided them off the Autostrade and, using a GPS monotone, through the various turn-offs and roundabouts to the camping ground. The approach to the place was an untidy collection of rural and semi-industrial areas, but the camp itself was pleasant and green, with sites neatly laid out under the shelter of symmetrical rows of trees.

  The back of their camp site was delineated by a high hedge and Rose suggested they reverse into it for more privacy. Maggie wanted to avoid reversing altogether, as the van was heavy and visibility was poor. She was not keen on making a public spectacle of herself but agreed to give it a go. The Beast had other ideas, and was determined not to be pigeonholed. To make matters worse, Rose stood beside the van, yelling instructions and drawing unnecessary attention to the exercise.

  Maggie’s foot started to shake again, and sweat trickled down her back.

  ‘Mags, let’s go in frontwards. It really doesn’t matter,’ suggested Fran.

  Maggie wanted to get it right and not have to put up with Rose telling her how it should have been done. But more than that, she wanted to get out of the van. She did a loop around the campground, easily nosed the Beast into the site and switched off the ignition.

  Rose popped up at the driver’s window. ‘What are you doing?’

  Fran leaned across Maggie and said firmly, ‘Rose, just leave it.’

  Rose shrugged. She slid open the side door and gazed into the van. ‘Oh boy, it’s gonna be tight tonight.’

  ‘It’s much bigger than the Kombi,’ said Fran. ‘We’ll be fine. It’ll be cosy.’

  Maggie knew Rose was right, it would be tight, but the van was still larger and better organised than the Kombi had been. Although the mattress took up most of the space, the floor itself was a platform raised above the wheel arches, which allowed for their bags and supplies to be stored underneath. The interior walls had been insulated with plywood and had a few hooks for hanging bits and pieces. It was a conversion put together with some thought, but not much money.

  Maggie got out of the van and opened the back doors wide. She kicked off her shoes, crawled onto the bed and lay down. The air was warm and she could feel a patch of sunlight on her bare feet.

  ‘Should we catch the bus into Bologna this afternoon?’ suggested Rose, sitting in the doorway.

  ‘You go,’ said Maggie. ‘I’ll stay here. It’s really very comfortable. I want to relax.’

  Fran got in and lay down beside her. ‘Let’s just rest for a while. We’ve done well today. There’s no rush. And also, let’s be frugal, but not anxious, about the money situation.’

  ‘We can’t keep staying in camping grounds,’ said Rose. ‘This cost ten times what we paid on the last trip. We need to find free places to camp.’ She lay down on the bed next to Maggie and began to sing, ‘Three old chookies laying in a van, three old chookies laying in a van, if one old chookie should accidentally …’

  ‘Fart?’ suggested Fran.

  ‘Oh, please, no,’ said Maggie, laughing.

  ‘It’s what brought us together,’ said Fran.

  ‘And keeps us apart,’ added Rose.

  ‘Anyway, it needs to rhyme with van,’ said Maggie.

  ‘… should accidentally … something …’ continued Rose, ‘… there’d be two old chookies laying in the van.’

  ‘That made no sense whatsoever, Rose,’ said Fran. ‘Let’s have some quiet time. I think a restorative nap is in order.’

  Maggie drifted off into a dreamless sleep and, when she woke, the sun was low and streaming onto the bed. On her left, Rose snored quietly, and on her right, Fran was curled up like a child. In her groggy state, she was swept back forty years to some intangible feeling of freedom; a time of fresh dawns and the days that unfurled of their own accord, with no sense of time or urgency. A time when they had thought nothing of driving through strange countries, sleeping under the stars and befriending strangers. The feeling passed like a flash of sunlight and she came back to the present with a jolt, wondering when she had become so cautious and careful. Nowadays she viewed everything through a prism of anxiety, obsessed with making sure nothing ever went wrong.

  Maggie shuffled forward on her bottom and got out of the van. The light was fading and the camp was busy with arrivals settling in for the night. There was a mix of large luxurious motor homes and older more basic vans – nothing quite as basic as the Beast.

  An older couple had pulled into the site next door. They had a Peugeot station wagon and a trailer that popped open to become a neat caravan/tent arrangement. The two of them worked silently and efficiently, well-practised in erecting their accommodation and snapping out their collapsible chairs and table.

  Maggie got the stove out from the floor space. She made tea and woke the others. They’d bought some fresh focaccia that morning and pulled it apart to have with cheese and tomatoes and olives. It was a simple meal but Maggie knew the sting of the salt and earthy taste of the oil on the focaccia would fix it in her memory.

  When Rose realised that their neighbours were Australian, she urged the couple to come over for a cup of tea. Don and Ann, from Adelaide, were on a three-month tour of Europe, seasoned campers with quick-dry clothes and
sturdy walking shoes. Don had a good look inside the Beast. ‘Basic but functional. How do you ladies all manage sleeping in there?’

  ‘We’ll let you know in the morning,’ said Rose with a grimace.

  Hands in his pockets, Don bent over and peered under the false floor. ‘Very basic. Shame whoever did the conversion didn’t make some sliding containers so you could keep things in order. Look at this, Ann.’

  Ann came over and conducted her own inspection. ‘If you come across some plastic milk crates, they might fit under there, help you get organised.’

  ‘Doubt it,’ said Don. ‘You want some proper boxes on locking castors and rope handles, so you can —’

  ‘We’re happy with the Beast just as she is,’ interrupted Rose briskly.

  Maggie turned to her in surprise. ‘Are we? First I heard of it.’

  Fran agreed. ‘We want to keep it simple.’

  Don invited them over for a tour of their camper trailer, which was like a soft-top caravan with seats that folded into beds and a proper kitchen. He opened cupboards and drawers. Everything was tucked away, ordered to military precision.

  ‘I might come and bunk in with you two tonight,’ said Rose with a wink.

  Ann gave Rose an odd look but Don laughed. ‘We’re about to head into town for a look-see and a bite. Why don’t you ladies come along with us? You don’t want to be dragging the big beastie into the city.’

  Next thing, they were all packed into the Peugeot and on the road. It was only fifteen minutes into Bologna and Maggie felt a sense of relief at being a passenger with no responsibilities. Her magnified mirror and makeup had been in her bag, so she had no idea what she looked like, and could only assume disastrous. Her clothes were crushed, face naked, hair tied in a knot, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  As they walked into the Piazza Maggiore, the sky overhead was streaked with a lemon and orange sunset. The restaurants clustered around the square buzzed with life; the ancient buildings were a dramatic backdrop to the theatre of the piazza itself. Buskers and backpackers, groups of tourists and young people lounged on the steps of the pale pink basilica.