The Italian Affair

by Helen Crossfield

  “This evening you have a pizza with me?” he asked.

  Issy hesitated as she remembered Dan’s fear that Bruno had been involved in the murder but she desperately wanted to see him again. She wanted to start living, and despite everything she could not deny the butterflies that crowded her stomach as he continued to search her face for an answer.

  She didn’t at this stage really know what she wanted from Bruno, but the fact that there was a huge attraction was undeniable and so she said the fatal words “Yes, I’d love to.”

  “Good” said Bruno smiling broadly. “I come ere again for you at 8 o’clock this evening.”

  “Ok” said Issy as feelings she had not felt since the first time she’d been with Jeremy caroused through her veins. “Until this evening, then” she continued. “See you at eight o’clock at the school.”

  As she turned to go up the stone steps to the school she sensed Bruno watching her until she disappeared. Maybe the next slice of the story would never have happened, if Issy had been told the things that Bruno would have liked to have told her but didn‘t. Partly because of the language, but mainly because of the cultural divide between them which Issy had not even guessed at.

  So Issy accepted dinner without knowing that whilst Bruno had not been involved with the murder, he had known intuitively what had happened.

  He’d been standing in Giovanni’s bar minding his own business enjoying a cappuccino and watching Issy’s long blond curly hair from behind, imagining what she would look like when she finally turned around to face him.

  On hearing the sound of a gun, Issy had turned much more quickly than he expected her to. As soon as he’d seen her face he thought it was the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Her cornflower blue eyes had momentarily caught his own. While she could not remember seeing him in the bar that first look would always stay with Bruno and haunt him in the intervening years.

  He’d watched in the bar that day as Issy’s face had contorted in fear in the immediate aftermath of the shot, and had noticed as she’d run past him that her deep red lips were still lined with chocolate powder from her cappuccino.

  Bruno had been unable to stop himself racing out of the bar after the blond haired vision following her as she ran at break neck speed in the direction of Via Maria Magdala.

  “Good God”. He’d realised as he’d looked at his watch. She would get there too soon. He needed to stop her otherwise this girl – whoever she was – would end up being implicated and could even die – and a force greater than himself that morning seemed to be driving him on. He had to stop her from being involved.

  Issy had got there a couple of minutes before him and as she had stooped down to help the dying man on the ground Bruno had caught hold of her hands and even at that first touch could feel at once her strength and a deep loneliness that sat within her soul – one which mirrored his own.

  He looked down at the dying man, a face he’d grown up with and wept silently. “An eye for an eye,” the family feud continued.

  Despite his grief, he knew they only had moments left to leave. Bruno wanted Issy to be safe away from the tawdry scene of organised crime and remain untouched by something so brutal. To have been seen to help would have implicated her in the work of the journalist. Something touched him from the heavens that morning and made him understand what he had to do.

  That is why he acted so quickly. Not out of guilt but because he intimately knew how the laws of the Camorra worked and he too was now at risk. They needed to get away until it was all over, otherwise this beautiful ethereal woman that had appeared unexpectedly before him in Giovanni’s bar would possibly die too and so would he.

  He also knew, because he was related as far back as time could remember to the philosophers of love that he had felt both a sexual tension and a connection of the soul Agape when he had got up close to Issy and touched her hand. It was the most powerful combination of the lot.

  Bruno’s tragedy was that he understood this. The wisdom of love handed down through his genealogy gave him knowledge but also gave him pain.

  Listen to any Neapolitan love song and the words and the music speak of the tragedy of love that is not possible because of circumstance and of love which ends because Eros and Agape do not co-exist. It is the intensity of broken love built on the wrong foundations that will hit you as you listen. There is no music in the world like a Neapolitan love song because they understand the beauty and the intensity and the tragedy of love.

  Naples – 8am local time 26 September 1986

  “Good morning” radiated Issy as she entered the sunniest classroom in the school to find her most difficult student Giuseppe had actually beaten her to it AGAIN.

  Issy glanced guiltily at her watch. “Damn,” she thought. “She was late and needed to get going.” As Issy pulled her teaching books and Giuseppe’s homework out of her brown leather bag she felt ridiculously happy and tingly. So un-feminist but she wasn’t actually able to stop herself.

  “I hope you had a wonderful weekend Giuseppe?” Issy asked.

  “Si,” Giuseppe said sleepily whilst playing the game of cat and mouse. “I go to Capri with my girl Francesa and my boat. And you Issy – what did you done this weekend?” asked Giuseppe in even worse English than he normally spoke.

  “What did you do this weekend is the correct version of that question” countered Issy.

  “I went,” Issy said using her hand with unusual enthusiasm and energy to indicate she was speaking in the past tense “to Ischia with Dan one of the teachers from the school.”

  “Ischia eez beautiful non?” replied Guiseppe. “But for me Capri is more beautiful. I invite you and this man Dan to come to Capri on my boat the next weekend with my woman.”

  “Wow” said Issy slightly shocked that Giuseppe actually wanted to spend a weekend with her. “That’s very kind but I couldn’t put you out like that.”

  “What?” growled Giuseppe unable to understand her English excuses. “You must come” he continued banging his fist on the table and responding in the sort of offended way Pasquale did when she turned down one of his invitations down. “And afterwards we go to San Carlo and watch the Tosca opera.”

  “Gosh. That sounds amazing” said Issy slightly taken back by the revised offer he was putting on the table. Not wanting to upset his Neapolitan generosity anymore than she already seemed to have done she agreed.

  “Ok” replied Issy. “That is a very kind invitation and I will accept and ask Dan a bit later if he wants to come too”. Embarrassed that by acquiescing to his demands she had somehow crossed the lines of him being the student and her the teacher Issy cleared her throat and began the lesson seventeen minutes late.

  After one hour of traversing most of the basic tenses, they left the room together agreeing where Giuseppe and Francesca would pick her up for their weekend away together.

  In retrospect, Giuseppe’s behaviour felt very much out of character and Issy felt somehow that Giuseppe’s offer was not just based on kindness. But that morning, with the sun streaming through the open windows and thoughts of an evening with the Adonis to look forward to, Issy didn’t give Giuseppe’s motives much more thought.

  And yet as he said his goodbye – it bothered her that he was being so kind.

  Naples – 7 pm local time 26 September 1986

  “You did what?” cried Dan on hearing she was dining with the underpant salesman that very same evening.

  “What’s the problem?” said Issy feigning indignation at his concern. “Do you think there is a big risk of me being in danger or something?”

  “Well yes in a word I do. I know he told you he had nothing to do with the Camorra, but there’s something about him that bothers me” Dan said petulantly.

  “What bothers you?” said Issy. “I can’t quell your fears if you don’t tell me what they are.”

  “Ok then. You asked so I will tell you what my fears are. It’s going to sound very mean and snobbish. And I’M never snobbi
sh” Dan said “I‘ve got nothing to be snobbish about.”

  “Go on” Issy said. “I’d entrust you with my life and, therefore, I care about your views.”

  “What really bothers me then Issy is why does the man sell underpants? I mean it seems such an odd choice of job for someone who looks like a Roman God and is not lacking in confidence or intelligence. I mean, seriously, what kind of career is it and that‘s my point. Who in their right mind would sell underwear from a dingy stall in Pompeii and more to the point why even sell them there? Most people I know go to Pompeii to wander round the remains of that fabulous ancient civilization which is still - pretty much - how it was before Vesuvius went and erupted all over it. It’s the last place on earth I would go to buy pants. I think it is his cover for something much more sinister if you’ll excuse the pun.”

  They were having this conversation in the Garden of Eden in exactly the same place that Bruno had taken Issy to after the murder.

  Issy had liked the privacy, and the view. But most of all she liked the stone bust of the Emperor Tiberius as it somehow made her feel close to Bruno. She’d taken Dan there after their lessons had finished to talk about the pizza proposal and Giuseppe’s surprise invitation to sail around Capri for the weekend with the opera thrown in as a grand finale.

  They sat on a piece of real antiquity, a stone column next to the Roman Emperor Tiberius. That was one of the things that Issy liked most about Naples. The random scattering of pieces of history, that in normal circumstances should have been labeled and housed carefully in museums in cool temperatures, rather than being used by the locals as pieces of outdoor furniture.

  Issy nodded. “That is actually very snobbish Dan. But I do kind of understand what you mean. If I told someone that I was going out for a pizza with an underpant salesman from Pompeii they would think I had lost the plot completely.”

  “Look the reason I didn’t want to expand was two-fold” said Dan. “Firstly, I think you are too beautiful, bright and quirky to be wasted on someone who could be quite dubious…and secondly…”

  “And secondly…what?” asked Issy.

  “Well you’re a ban the nuke feminist from Oxford who did it her way against the odds. What is someone like you doing with someone like him? I mean you are genuine and he is well…..he is a fake Issy sorry to say but that’s what I think.”

  Issy stood up and started to pace around the Emperor’s plinth. “NO you’re wrong Dan. He is NOT a fake. The reason I want to go out for a pizza with Bruno is because I believe he is innocent and a really nice guy. And ok yes I admit, I fancy the underpants off him and if you’d allow yourself to be honest I bet you do too.”

  Dan smiled a big wide smile and started to laugh at her sarcasm. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled her down next to him again as he started to become serious. He turned her face towards him and said. “Look. You’re still in a vulnerable state right now, trying to come to terms with your dad’s death finally and dealing with all the emotional trauma of losing Jeremy. Starting up some new complicated arrangement with a Neapolitan might undo all the good work, besides which you are no doubt also on the re-bound from Jeremy. I’m only saying this because I mind what happens to you I’m not doing it for any other reason. And you have to believe me on that one.”

  Issy looked at him and stroked his face. She was so grateful for his love and the way he cared about how she felt. He’d played a major part in how far she had progressed with herself over the last few days. Things from her recent and distant past had finally started to look like she may be able to start fitting them into place.

  As Issy’s mind had become clearer she was sure of one thing and that was, that Jeremy no longer had a place in her heart. I mean how could she still have residual love for a man who had just dis-guarded her after what they’d had together? It wasn’t so much that she was on the rebound rather she wanted to live a bit and be carefree for a change.

  “With regard to Jeremy by the way” Issy said “I am totally over him. You telling me all that stuff in Ischia about dad made me realise that the reason why I fell for Jeremy was because subconsciously I think I never really thought I could have him and so it was safe to pretend I was in love just like I pretended that dad wasn’t dead.”

  Dan nodded “There is probably some truth in that but I still think you loved him and he loved you. There are different types of love as you’ve told me already, and it is a well-known fact that a lot of people end up marrying or being with people who are just like their mother and father. With regard to Jeremy in my opinion that there was something in his life than made him unable to change the way things panned out. I’m sure he loved you”

  Issy nodded “I guess you could be right with some of that. Jeremy satisfied my child-like need to be spoilt and loved and also provided me with an illusion of safety just like my dad. But I never understood his soul and he never understood mine mainly because we never revealed who we really were to each other. I think he felt he couldn’t because of loyalty to his wife or some part of his past. And I didn’t know how to. My mind made me believe it was better to have him than to have no-one. I didn’t understand myself so I didn’t stop to think about my motives for getting in so deep.”

  “Ok. Well I’d agree with all of that. But without being rude, don’t try and divert us from the real point of this conversation. What has coming to terms with Jeremy got to do with Bruno and tonight?” demanded Dan.

  “Because for the first time in my life I just want to have some fun and throw caution to the wind. I have never done that in my life. When my dad died I went from being a six year old to a grown-up. You know what Dan? I agree Bruno’s job could be seen as being a bit odd and suspicious. But I’ve had one relationship in my life with a married man who was much older than me and totally unavailable as it eventually turned out. I want to just want to be with someone my own age. That is probably all I want right now, nothing more – is that so bad?”

  “Ok” said Dan relenting reluctantly. “Lecture over you more than anyone I know deserves some fun. Christ knows you haven’t had much of it. Ok I give in. You can go for a pizza but I am coming too.”

  “What?” Issy shouted. “You really don’t have to do that you know. What do you want to come along for? Don’t you trust me to have fun on my own accord?”

  “Oh I am sure you will have fun,” Dan replied winking. “But I still don’t trust Bruno and I want to know his intentions towards you are good ones before you go dancing off into the night with him that’s all.”

  Issy laughed. “That’s sounds like something my dad would have said had he been alive and been standing in front of me today rather than you.”

  “And that’s exactly why I’m saying it as he’s not and this is the first fun date you’ve ever been on so I’m going to watch over you until I know the signals are the right ones. Who knows what the definition of a date is for a Neapolitan man.”

  Issy was surprised at how concerned Dan was. “I can’t believe my gay friend who on his own admission has only had casual relationships is being so cautious about me going out with a man of my own age for a pizza.”

  “I know” said Dan sheepishly. “But I return to my original point. He sells underpants on a Pompeii market stall. What man in his right mind would do that for a living? There’s something he’s not telling us Issy. And I for one intend to find that out otherwise it might turn out to be a whole lot more fun than you or I could ever imagined it could be.”

  “Ok I give in” said Issy laughing at his sarcasm. “See you outside Giovanni’s bar at 8pm sharp as I don’t want you to make me late for my date. Oh and by the way I want you to come to Capri with me at the weekend by way of a deal. We’re going island hopping with Giuseppe and his girlfriend and finishing it all off with Tosca at the San Carlo.”

  “Fine” said Dan “in exchange for La Tosca at the San Carlo I’d pretty much do anything including spending time with your crazy student Giuseppe.”

  Naples
– 8pm local time 26 September 1986

  As Issy crossed the road to meet Bruno, she suddenly felt and looked European. She’d ditched the Oxfam clothing for one evening and dressed herself in a short cotton skirt, pale blue shirt, navy pullover wrapped around her shoulders and a pair of leather loafers.

  As she walked she watched Bruno’s reaction at seeing her again from behind a large pair of dark sunglasses. He certainly looked pleased so that was a very good sign.

  She pulled at her skirt, it wasn’t really her style but they didn’t seem to do simple, A-line beige cotton designs in Southern Italy and it was as far into the world of Neapolitan fashion as she was prepared to enter.

  “Had she sold her feminist soul,” she thought as her mind flashed back to her student union life at Balliol and the rallies for female students she’d led from the front with a large loud speaker. It wasn’t that she’d stopped believing in these things, it’s just that life in Naples demanded different approaches to everything from buying food to going on a date. And anyway all she had ever fought for was equality not hatred and denouncement of the male species.

  As she played with the arms of the pullover to ensure they remained strategically in the right place she suddenly felt nervous. “What if Bruno didn’t like her? What if they had nothing at all to say to each other?” One look over at him as she walked was all that it had taken to reduce her to a nervous wreck. “How on earth did she pass herself off as a feminist for so long?”

  Bruno‘s eyes continued to scan. It was going to be difficult for her to remain cool, calm and collected in these circumstances not least because Bruno looked much better dressed for his evening out than he had done during the day and his attire was immaculate – pink Polo shirt, dark blue jeans, and leather loafers – a look that only European men can truly pull off.

  “He may only sell underpants,” Issy thought to herself “but he kept himself very well groomed.” His hair was gelled back from his face, highlighting even more strongly his perfectly chiseled features.