Across the Lagoon

by Roumelia Lane

  Soon they were on their way, the coach cruising through the green countryside and sprawling villages, past familiar landmarks seen on other trips, until they were on the main route towards Trieste. Enrico did a thorough job of pointing out the sights. He had a booming voice, and he made everyone sit up and pay attention to what he had to say.

  As it was a fairly extensive tour they stopped a couple of times during the morning. Once at a little caf£ with an old church set in pleasant gardens at the other side of the road, and again at a village of yellow ochre cottages beyond which could be seen the first glimpses of blue sea. On both occasions Stephanie licked at an ice cream while Carol and Gray sat at an outdoor table with drinks.

  Towards lunch time the coach came out on to the coast road leading to Trieste and they were driven along a dramatic stretch where a green-clad cliff climbed high at one side of the road and fell down towards the Adriatic at the other. They seemed to be making straight for a blank wall of grey rock, but at the last moment a tunnel appeared and the coach went cruising through the bowels of the cliff which overhung the roadway.

  Carol fell in love with her first views of the outskirts of Trieste. Enrico had at last put his microphone down and there was time to let one's gaze wander at leisure over the scenery. Amongst the greenery rising up on her left, white houses were dotted, and opulent-looking villas. On the sea side Gray leaned in close to point out to her the city, floating hazily in the distance, and Mira- mare Castle, a fairy-tale structure on a nearby promontory.

  They stopped for lunch at the Ristorante Alia Marinella, a rambling leafy establishment situated directly at the side of the coast road. At separate tables where vines and small trees showered greenery within the glass enclosure, the party dined on Triestine dishes and local wine.

  At their table, which looked out towards the sea, Stephanie chattered to Gray about the coach ride. She had changed her seat several times during the morning. She didn't have much to say to Carol. Not that Carol noticed. In no mood for conversation herself, she was too busy soaking up the dreamy pleasures of the day.

  After the meal there was a few minutes to spare for stretching one's legs. Along with other members of the coach party the three of them crossed the road to the narrow ribbon of promenade adjoining. There was no beach, just a lot of craggy rocks on which the odd couple of holidaymakers here and there were catching the last of the summer sun. Stephanie went to the edge to gaze down at the frothy waves swivelling round the rocks, while Carol and Gray strolled near by.

  Once everyone was on the coach again and they were cruising towards the city, Enrico told them in his commanding tones that the main tourist attraction was the Capitoline Hill, and castle of San Giusto, and that here the coach party would be spending the first part of the afternoon.As they came into Trieste with its sloping busy streets and tree-shaded squares, where shawled women stood beside flower stalls, the guide pointed out to them a two-hundred-year-old canal running several blocks into the city's market centre. Then he packed away his microphone and belongings, presumably to take a break while his party was sightseeing. The coach drew in at the top of the famed hill for the passengers to alight. Enrico led the way to the main square. After that everyone was left to their own devices for a while.

  The place was fairly well populated with tourists. The main focal point on the huge circular terrace where they roamed was a giant sculptured memorial of grappling muscular men with shields. Stephanie, shooting one of her hostile looks at Carol, grabbed Gray's arm on the other side of her and chatted away gaily to him as they moved towards the monument.

  Most of the tourists had cameras and were busily snapping their friends against this and that. Carol, watching Gray's profile against their historic surroundings, cursed herself, as she did every time they came out, for leaving her own camera behind in England. The chances she had missed of capturing his likeness! Pictures she could have kept for ever to remind her of this magical summer. The cooling breeze, telling her it was almost at an end, seemed to make itself felt around her heart as they walked.

  Beside the memorial Gray stood to study the sculpture, then turning to Carol, he said with his dry smile above Stephanie's non-stop chatter, 'If you're interested, it was done by Attilio Selva in 1934.'

  He, took her arm and guided her towards the castle. Stephanie clung on to her uncle at the other side. They passed the cathedral and the weathered columns of a Roman basilica. Carol hadn't a clue what they were, but Gray had his guide book handy. However, he didn't refer to it much as they strolled around the interior of the castle.

  Across the drawbridge and into the guardroom he led her to the weapons around the wall, while Stephanie drew his attention to other things, such as the cannons and the old stone archways. Eagerly she beckoned him on with her through the castle museum and the waiting chamber with its carved wooden chests. On the way Gray led Carol to the Venetian room where Flemish hunting-scene tapestries and gilded chests were on display.

  Stephanie took her uncle's hand and tugged him towards a narrow staircase. It led out on the bastions, and at once they were met with an incomparable panorama of Trieste. As Carol melted at the scenery, Gray dropped an arm lightly across her shoulders to point out, 'See, there are the hills of Carso, and the gulf. We've a clear view from Grado to Istria.'

  From the castle they went down a twisting path to see the Roman amphitheatre. Stephanie wanted to roam about the tiers of stone-faced seats, but Carol felt giddy looking down towards the rectangular stage. She had come to the conclusion that she just didn't have a head for heights. Anyway, Gray didn't lose his patience with her as she thought he might. He guided her away from the scene and suggested that they call that it as far as the sightseeing was concerned and go and look for some refreshments.

  He found them an outdoor table on another part of the castle called the Fiorito Bastion, the flowered bastion, which had the most impressive hanging gardens. While they sipped their drinks and gazed at the views, Stephanie watched Carol and said, 'This is high up. How is it you're not frightened up here?'

  'I don't know. I suppose it's because the drop appears to be more gradual,' Carol smiled. She hadn't missed the cattiness in the younger girl's tones, but she paid no attention to it.

  She had reason to be reminded of it later, though, when they were making their way back to the coach.

  She knew by the way Stephanie was hurrying ahead that she intended to get the seat next to her uncle. There was no doubt that she would have succeeded if it hadn't been for Enrico's tidy mind.

  To keep one jump ahead Stephanie went barging in the front way, but the guide was there talking to the driver, and in his booming schoolmaster tones he told her, 'The other door on. Grazie.'

  By this time Carol was halfway down the coach. She took the seat she had sat in previously. Gray casually settled himself in beside her. While everyone was ambling aboard and prattling on about the sights they had seen, Stephanie slid into one of the vacant seats and stared morosely out of the window.

  As they started out again there was a ripple of excitement amongst the passengers in the coach, for they were now on their way to the Yugoslav border. The high spot of the crossing was the sight of the shops and kiosks selling hand-made goods of the country, and the uniformed Customs men gathering up the passports. They were dour, formidable-looking individuals with penetrating stares, and Carol was glad she had Gray's protective bulk between her and them.

  Posonjnska—an unpronounceable name as far as Carol was concerned—where the caves were, was about twenty-five miles inside Yugoslavia. After cruising for some time through countryside not so different from that of Italy, except for the crops growing in the fields and the peasants pushing the ploughs, the coach arrived at their destination. Skirting the town, it drew in at a spot where lots of other coaches were parked, and tourists gathered in an open space flanked by cafes and gay umbrellaed tables.

  Carol saw the mouth of the caves, a great yawning black entrance in the hillside, as soo
n as she stepped down from the coach. She hoped she wasn't going to get an attack of nerves like she had done at the Roman amphitheatre. She knew nothing about caves, and Enrico's information, which he trotted out as he led his party across the space, didn't exactly help her morale. According to him, the grottoes were the second largest in Europe and a colossal number of feet underground.

  Inside the entrance, along with the other guides, he turned his group over to the cave attendants and left them to their fate. Much excited laughter arose when it was discovered that cloaks with hoods were being handed out. Apparently it was quite cold below, which to Carol seemed rather ominous.

  She took the cloak an attendant tossed her, a rough woollen garment, and put it on feeling like something out of the eighteenth century, Gray looked even more dramatic in his—rather like Doctor Hyde, a character in one of her brother Clive's books, she thought with a twinkle.

  Stephanie had rapidly fastened the button at her throat and was already flapping ahead. Carol soon saw why. On rails leading into the tunnel a sort of open train, rows of double seats drawn by a little green engine, was waiting for them. Obviously determined to sit next to her uncle this time, she hovered about, blocking Carol's way until he had chosen a seat, then promptly she dropped in beside him.

  The seat was vacant in front of them, so Carol took this one. She felt a little apprehensive at having to sit on her own. She could feel the cold air wafting around her from the tunnel, and as the train started to move towards the craggy opening she had to resist an urge to jump off. Another thing that frightened her horribly was the feeling that they were making straight for the pitted wall which was lit up ahead of them, then at the last moment they swung away from it and continued in another direction.

  The train picked up speed and while she was sitting stiff with tension Gray's hand came down on her shoulder. He leaned forward to say close to her above the rattle, 'Keep your head down and your shoulders in.

  The walls and roof come in pretty low at times.'

  She knew what he meant. As the train jerked and swerved in a dozen different directions the seats shaved damp, encrusted masses of rock and weird overhanging formations. Soon, however, the journey became smoother. The caverns they were entering now were large and airy. Carol began to relax sufficiently to take note of her surroundings. Everywhere was pleasantly lit and to her there was a rather macabre beauty in the huge gnarled arches of rock and the grotesque fissures.

  She was feeling a lot easier when the train eventually stopped for everyone to alight; almost to the point of forgetting that they were several hundred feet below the surface. There was so much room everywhere. Indeed, as Gray took her arm on the paved platform, the sight that met her eyes was of space, and yet more space. But that was a poor way to describe a scene which drew a gasp of delight from her lips.

  Ahead of them, huge caverns as big as mansion halls were draped with the most fantastic shapes. Jagged stalactites cascaded down over columns of rock, like petrified snow-capped waterfalls. More of these spiky curtains cloaked slender pillars, trailed from crevasses, clefts and ledges, and festooned the roof in clusters, some of which reached almost to the floor.

  The natural colours of the caves which were quite astounding, rust reds, silver greys, yellows, ice blues and moss greens, were highlighted by the skilful illuminations. Looking around, Carol thought one could almost imagine oneself in the middle of some rather exotic dream sequence. Except for the cold.

  She* shivered and Gray, gripping her arm, said with one of his rare, sloping smiles, 'We'd better keep moving.'

  With Stephanie alongside he led the way and for the next half hour or so they followed the dozens of other sightseers making a tour of the caves. There was lots to see. They walked up and down slopes and over hand- railed bridges gazing at twisting chasms below, where other people were walking. Over a swaying suspension bridge with roped sides, they saw the dark waters of the underground lake. And much to both girls' fascination, up alongside the curving walls of one cave a series of naturally formed grottoes, like small shop windows, were lit to show tiny toy and folk figures in various tableaux. Country scenes mainly, there were turning water-wheels and windmills, toadstool tea- parties, and a gnome rhythmically swinging his axe over a pile of logs.

  When they came back to the vast hallway of the main cave the Yugoslavian guides, using a variety of different tongues, were describing the various facets of their surroundings to their own respective language groups.

  Carol, along with the others, was listening at a distance to the English-speaking guide, when something happened that she was sure she would never forget as long as she lived.

  Though she had found the experiences of the last half hour enchanting, she was far from insensible to the fact that they were several hundred feet inside the earth. And secretly she longed for the sunshine and trees and countryside up above. Standing next to Gray now, with Stephanie a little distance away, jumping on tiptoe to try and catch what the guide was saying, she was thinking that it couldn't be much longer before they were making their way back to the train, when suddenly the lights went out. Without any warning, the whole area of the underground caves was plunged into total darkness.

  Seeing only blackness everywhere, Carol had to stifle a scream. In those first few seconds all kinds of horrifying thoughts sped through her mind. How were they going to get out? What if they had to stay down here for ever?

  Unable to contain her terror, she flung herself against Gray and clung to him. In the darkness his arms came round her and he held her close.

  And that was how they were some time later when the lights, just as mysteriously, flashed on again.

  The darkness had lasted for possibly no more than a few seconds, but to Carol it had seemed an eternity. And she wasn't the only one who had found it scaring. There were nervous laughs and distinct gusts of relief all around as people, petrified to a stop by the sudden blackness, started to shuffle on their way again. The English-speaking guide, looking just a little paler, continued his chatter with a sickly smile.

  Only Stephanie acted a little oddly. Though she was unaffected by the light failure, her gaze, when they were restored, was riveted on Carol locked against Gray. She made no comment, laughing or otherwise, but her dark eyes were lit with that peculiar brilliance before she swung her glance away.

  Thankfully Gray didn't linger after the light incident. He led the way back to the train just about to start on its next run to the surface. As he was still close to Carol he sat in the seat beside her. Stephanie, drifting along on her own, dropped into a vacant seat a little way in front of them.

  Carol had never been more glad to see daylight. As they left the train at the end of the line and walked out into the sunshine she said with a strained laugh, 'Caves are all right, but I don't think I want to see another one for at least fifty years!'

  Gray, his arm still across her shoulders where he had helped her to dispense with her cloak, said with his sloping smile, 'Don't let the faulty lighting put you off. Situations of the kind we experienced down there are probably very rare.'

  'Once is enough for me,' Carol laughed. Gray gleamed his amusement down at her as they walked away.

  Neither paid much attention to Stephanie scuffing along beside them.

  Enrico was across the space, gathering his flock together for the tea-time break. Gray guided Carol into their seat in the coach. Stephanie sat behind them. When everyone was aboard they drove into the town and were given a light meal in a very modern restaurant, its triangular frontage planted with the most magnificent rose trees.

  Carol wasn't particularly hungry. Too much was happening today. And as though her heart wasn't full enough Enrico, during the meal, gave details of the final stop on the day's tour. This evening, on their way back through Trieste, he informed them, they were to see a Son et Lumi£re, a play in sound and light, in the park of Miramare Castle.

  Carol knew what a Son et Lumi£re was. She had seen one when she had gone o
n a school trip once to Winchester, and had been fascinated by the eerie effect of amplified voices and clever lighting.

  Her eyes were alight with surprised pleasure now as she turned to Gray to exclaim, 'I didn't know we were going to stop at Miramare Castle!'

  He gave her his slow smile and said deeply, 'I thought I'd let it come as a surprise.'

  After the meal there was a few minutes to spare before returning to the coach. Gray sat and smoked a cigarette, so Carol offered to accompany Stephanie on a stroll round the block. The younger girl accepted loftily. During the walk she kept three or four steps ahead, so there was little opportunity for conversation. In any case Carol was far too lost in her rose-tinted world to want to spoil it with chat.

  Peeping down a street, however, pretty with white- faced cottages and flowering tubs placed at intervals along the pavement, she made an effort to be sociable and commented gaily to her companion, 'It's a lovely town, but I wish it had a more pronounceable name than Postojnska.'

  While she was laughingly battling to get the name out Stephanie shot her a moody look and said cattily, 'You're so juvenile. Anyone knows the English way to say it is Postumia.'

  'Postumia! Yes, that's much less of a mouthful.' Carol smiled about her, blissfully impervious to the barbed tones.

  When they got back in sight of the restaurant everyone was making their way across the road to the coach. The girls hurried along and Carol saw Gray giving her a wave from the doorway. By the time they arrived he was waiting for her to precede him into their seat. Though Stephanie had managed to push in front of Carol as they boarded the coach, she had no choice but to go past Gray's bulk to the seat behind them.

  Enrico arrived with the coach driver and soon they were on their way towards the Yugoslav border. After the same stern reception at the Customs they trundled off happily on Italian soil again. The coach got caught in the noisy evening traffic in the city of Trieste. Scooters, bicycles and cars jammed around them, and smiling vendors held ice cream on sticks at the windows, 'Gelati! Gelati!'