The Italian Affair

by Helen Crossfield

  “Issy,” Dan said. “I came here on condition you get closure one way or the other. If you’re meant to find Bruno you will. You know I’ve got mixed feelings about him. But after what happened to Jeremy I can fully appreciate how you may want to take risks and not waste your life not knowing what happened to him and if you could have made something of it together. What I don’t want you to do is fret all the time about him. If the Gods want you to bump into him then they will make it happen. Let’s go and speak to Gennaro. At least he may be able to help narrow the search down and tell exactly where in Pompeii Bruno might sell his underpants.” As they climbed up the familiar stone steps of the school Dan said. “It seems really odd to be here when we said we’d never come back.”

  “Never say never,” Issy replied as she strode ahead of him anxious to get on with the reason for coming back.

  As Issy burst through the front door of the school, she found Gennaro sitting as his desk as per usual, cigarette in hand. When he heard the commotion he looked up. Whatever disappointment he may have felt towards them when Issy and Dan had left he did not show it now. He seemed genuinely delighted to see them and immediately jumped up to give them a traditional Neapolitan greeting.

  “What a pleasure, Issy Mead” Gennaro said with a lot of enthusiasm. “And Dan as well,” he added as Dan arrived a few paces behind. “You both come here for a job?” he joked.

  “Er, not exactly Gennaro,” Dan replied. “We came here to firstly say hello and see how you and the school are doing without us.”

  “The school is doing really good,” Gennaro replied still grinning from ear to ear. “I now have three schools not one school so .... I am pleased. The sun is always shining and this is a wonderful city so all is beautiful and you? What you two doing now?”

  “Well I’m working in an art gallery in East London” Dan said “and Issy is a journalist, normally investigating one thing or another when she is not writing obituaries. So all in all I think we prospered since we left. It feels wonderful to be back though despite some of the crazy things that happened to us when we lived here. Naples has a lot going for it I just think we got embroiled in something too complex and hope we didn’t spoil your teaching curriculum by leaving.”

  Gennaro didn’t look like a man who wanted to waste his time on the past and complexity and his next question was aimed squarely at Issy as he knew she had not just come along to say hello.

  “So, Issy Mead why you really come here today?” Gennaro asked in that familiar sexy sly way he used with her on that very first day in the deli van stuffed full of pig quarters and salamis.

  Issy looked up at him and smiled at his wonderful emotional intelligence and knew there was little point making small talk so got straight down to business. “Well you know when you collected me from the airport on my first day in Naples?”

  “Si, of course, you were running away from a man who break your heart and I ask you why? You look so white that day” Gennaro continued using his hands to indicate Issy’s blood had drained from her face to the floor. “What happened with this man?”

  “Well to be honest Gennaro that’s one of the reasons I am here. He – his name was Jeremy – died a few years after I returned to England although I never saw him in the intervening years and I found out about what happened to him almost inadvertently. His death came as a shock. He lived his life according to how he thought others wanted him to live it and it killed him. So I er.....I decided I didn’t want that to happen to me. Remember the night I thought Dan had gone missing?”

  “Si,” Gennaro said sitting back down on his chair. “How is it ever possible for me to forget that night?”

  “Well I started to tell you that I’d been out for dinner, or should I say we’d been out to dinner, with the underpant salesman from Pompeii.”

  “Si,” Gennaro replied again. “I remember as you had to translate the underpant for me.”

  “Yes,” Issy said moving her feet awkwardly on the floor, “that’s right. Well the simple truth is that I came here with Dan for a week to try and find him. I felt something special happened the first time we met which was the day the journalist was shot here in Via Maria Magdala. When I found out that Jeremy died because he had never taken life’s chances, I decided to try and find the underpant salesman from Pompeii. Something or someone told me to come here and find him and so here I am.”

  Gennaro lit another cigarette and leant back in the chair smiling again. “Si, of course, I thought maybe you would return. The underpant man came ‘ere after you left and gave me this letter for you. I thought you would return one day. We talked. He liked you. In fact he tell me he loved you from the first moment. I understand I am the Neapolitan man. Here is the letter. Read it and then go to Pompeii. If the gods want you to meet him you will. That is how the life works here and how we believe it can happen even now.”

  Sorrento – 11pm 4th November 2000

  Issy sat on the veranda of the hotel in the centre of Sorrento – either side of the hotel grounds olive trees and miniature lemon trees provided a private avenue and shrouded the air with a heavy scent. Lying on the sun lounger Issy re-opened the letter and read it again trying to not lose anything in translation.

  “Dearest Issy,” the letter said in Italian.

  “I have not seen you for a few days, but hopefully when you are ready you will read this letter and come and find me. Before you decide if you want to see me again you deserve to know a little about me. I believed when I first met you, and will always think this way, that we had a very special connection. Fate intervened that day in Via Maria Magdala. It is the only explanation for why we met.

  I cannot tell you everything about me in one letter, but what I can tell you is that I am a good man. I have opted out of the life that was mapped out for me for a simpler life. One in which I do not have to do things that betray who I really am.

  Your friend Dan asked me why I am an underpant salesman from Pompeii, in a way which suggests that it seemed an odd thing, even a suspicious thing to be doing.

  There is a very uncomplicated answer. I sell pants because there is a good market for these here as I am sure there are in your country, you have shops like The Marks and Spencer that seems to provide pants to most people of the population – across the ages, the sexes and the classes.

  Here in Italy and Naples, we do not have such a big wholesaler of pants, so it is a very good business. And I am a very good businessman in a profitable and recession proof market.

  You then may ask why I do this from a market stall rather than a shop. To have a shop is to be part of the system that I have opted out of. I do not have to pay protection money and it is easier for me to sell this way and I do not pay the taxes – always a good reason to opt out of anything.

  And thirdly, you may ask why I sell underpants at Pompeii. This is the most important part of my story. You can if you want ignore the first two points, they are as the English might say ‘tongue in the cheek’ if you will excuse the pun. From being a young boy, I can remember never being really happy or comfortable with the life, and the rules, I was destined to live by.

  I could not find a solution to my conundrum and so I looked back in time and found much to learn from the ancient Romans and particularly the Emperor Tiberius – a dark and reclusive ruler, mainly because he never wanted to be Emperor. And so we shared a similar sense of not wanting to be the person others wanted us to be.

  Rather than become as depressed as Tiberius was by his situation, as this man did have the clinical depression in my humble opinion, I decided to change my life and ‘opted out’ of the work or the way of work – for want of better words – that my city might have expected me to do.

  When I took you to the garden that day we met, you may remember I hugged the statue that stood on the veranda overlooking the Bay of Naples. That Issy is a statue of my friend the Emperor Tiberius.

  You may find this next bit slightly crazy, but something tells me you will understand. I found t
he courage to change because of the Emperor. It was he who gave me the courage to do something different with my life which otherwise would have been deeds which are not altogether honest, and things which I cannot do.

  Sometimes, when I have time I go into that garden and I sit down next to him. I have my lunch with him and talk things through. It helps me. Often people who are dead can teach you much more than those who live. And I enjoy the time we spend together, this fine Emperor has taught me much.

  I knew in those seconds and minutes after the Via Maria Magdala affair that he had advised me to do the right thing. I could have been the one firing the shot if I had opted for a different life

  Whilst this is the course I have taken I do not judge others. As they must make their own decisions and learn their own lessons in life.

  And so finally I come to the bit I want you to understand the most. Why I work in Pompeii?

  The answer is simply this. Working in Pompeii every day of my life is a salutary lesson in life. It was once a wonderful and rich city which was destroyed in a moment.

  I go there often, when the tourists have gone home and walk on the ancient Roman roads. I sit quietly amongst those amazing ruins. When all is silent, I can hear the ghosts of those who lived there many years ago and who died going about their business, their lives, their jobs, their homes. The majority of these people old and young, rich and poor all gone in an instant.

  They teach the most valuable lesson of life Issy which is to live for the now. On that morning in AD79, the inhabitants of Pompeii were taken totally unaware by the pine shaped column of smoke that rose above them. They did not know they had minutes to live. Some of them died regretting the past and worrying about the future, but when the volcano erupted the ones who died the happiest, were those who were just living in the present and enjoying the moment.

  If you close your eyes and just enjoy each precious second, you will be able to find joy and peace that you may not have believed was possible.

  Most people live in the past, or live in fear of the future, but those of us who make the most of each second of each day understand true happiness

  And so that is what the ghosts of Pompeii remind me of every day of my life and that is why I love my job. I would not be able to sell underpants or do my work anywhere else.

  And so Issy I come to my final words.

  In my heart and in my soul I know you will understand me and what it is I have to say, because I could see by looking deep into your eyes that you like me were dealt cards in your life that you would have preferred to have been different.

  You can never hide pain from another who has experienced something similar, for they will see in you what they feel deep within themselves.

  I love and respect you Issy, and will always want you however long I live on this earth. If we are meant to find each other again we will.

  If when you get this letter something has happened to me and you cannot find where I am have a good and wonderful life by being true to yourself and living for today. By remembering me, you will remember Pompeii and how you should live your life. Don’t be crushed by the fear of losing love like you lost your father or the belief that your life will always be sad.

  Enjoy every moment of your life as if it were your last Issy so the memories you leave behind for others for that is what will remain are good ones and your own life will be enriched.

  I love you because of your soul I pray every day now and forever we will meet again.

  The Underpant Salesman from Pompeii”

  Sorrento – 7am 5th November 2000

  All night long Issy sat on the veranda holding the letter until the watery morning sun surprised her with its intensity. After getting up out of the sun lounger fully clothed, she’d woken Dan for an early breakfast and they now sat together the impressive hotel dining room with Issy reading the content of Bruno’s letter out loud and Dan just listening with his mouth wide open.

  When she’d finished the last sentence Issy looked up at her dearest friend over the top of a large rustic urn of fresh lemons and asked him. “How did he know I would one day come back here again to try and find him?”

  Dan stared back unable to speak at first. “Because, because ….. God Issy I have no idea. I mean everything about you two is like one big unbelievable bloody coincidence. First he happens to see you in the coffee shop. Then he rescues you from being implicated in a murder at exactly the right moment and despite us both leaving Naples he seemed to know one day you’d meet up again. All I am certain of now is two things. The first is that I’ve got goose pimples just thinking about it all as we are CLEARLY going to find him this week and the second is that I owe you an apology as I obviously got him totally wrong.”

  “Dan, I totally forgive you,” Issy said. “All you were doing was looking out for me. Being an underpant salesman from Pompeii did seem highly un-plausible especially after we’d heard him play so beautifully in the restaurant.”

  “So what are you going to do now?” Dan asked sipping at his freshly squeezed orange juice and taking a huge bite out of a large sugary pastry.

  “WE,” Issy said emphatically “are going to go to Pompeii this morning to find Bruno. I need to see him again and find out if I still feel anything for him. I need to seize the moment and live for today. I need to put the past behind me and unbundle everything. I want to be free Dan and do what I need to do. For the first time in my life I need to stop thinking about the needs of others and lose the guilt I feel for simply being alive.”

  “Wow,” Dan replied. “Ok, well we don’t have a Vespa anymore so we’ll have to either get a train or a bus or a…..”

  “Cab,” Issy said quickly. “We’ll definitely get a cab. I can’t wait for Italian trains and buses today I just need to get to Pompeii as soon as possible. Hopefully if we leave now we’ll arrive as he is putting his stall up and arranging his pants.”

  “Ok,” Dan said laughing. “I’ll let you be the tour guide today. Let’s just hope we find him I couldn’t bear it if after all this he didn’t sell underpants there anymore.”

  “Oh he will,” Issy said. “I read you the letter. If he is not there he is either sick or dead. And I tend to agree with what you said. If we are meant to be together he will be there today.”

  Pompeii – 8.00am 5th November 2000

  There were no stallholders to be seen anywhere when they got to Pompeii bang on 8 o’clock so Issy and Dan decided to take an unescorted tour of the ancient city before the rush of tourists and to kill time waiting for Bruno to get to work.

  Walking arm in arm down narrow cobbled streets gauged by chariot wheels they stood in front of amphitheatres, ancient stone columns and stared in awe at the mighty dormant Vesuvius towering high above the ruins looking much darker and ominous close up.

  The sun ricocheted off the lava coated stone-work illuminating murals and ancient words carved into the walls of both simple and more luxurious looking residences painting a thousand words of the lives and desires of those that lived within their walls.

  “This is the most beautiful sacred place,” Issy said as she closed her eyes imagining the lives of those long gone.

  “Yes,” agreed Dan softly not wanting to disturb the silence “If you listen carefully you can even hear them speak. The dead are still walking around here Issy. It is extraordinary I can almost see their ghosts flitting in and out of houses they’ve never really left.”

  “I know,” Issy enthused “it is much more atmospheric than I ever imagined it to be and it’s nice to have the place all to ourselves. Look at these inscriptions I wonder what all these words say that are carved into the walls?”

  “Well, you’re the Classics scholar Issy you tell me. Can’t you make anything out?” Dan asked.

  Issy peered at the walls more closely. “Not exactly it looks like most of the words are a derivative of Latin,” she said “but as most of pictures are extremely phallic I dread to think what the translations might be.”

&nbs
p; “Oh,” Dan laughed. “We must be in a public building of some sort then. Surely they didn’t carve out penis shaped pictures on their walls at home?”

  Issy laughed. “It looks like they might have done. There are loads of pictures of curvaceous beautiful women for added titillation as well. Maybe Pasquale’s ancestors lived here and moved to Ischia after the eruption.”

  As they continued to amble, a few more tourists started to arrive and it felt like the right time to be making a move. As they walked towards the exit, they stumbled upon what looked like an open air morgue with bodies frozen in time and solidified by volcanic ash.

  Issy grabbed Dan for support as she put one hand over her mouth. “This is unreal,” Issy said as she stood and stared at the silent screams on the faces of mummified bodies contorted by death some of them crawling across the floor.

  “I’d heard all about the remains of those who’d had died here and how they’d been preserved by the hot lava. But just seeing them here like this makes everything that happened suddenly seem much more real” Dan replied as he followed her out of the morgue.

  “And much more tragic,” Issy said squinting against the pale yellow morning sunshine.

  “Are you alright Issy?” Dan said as he watched her grab onto a stone wall for support.

  “I’m fine. It’s just that one of those men in here – the one with his mouth wide open and his body coiled in pain is exactly how my dad looked when he hit the floor. I just wish he hadn’t died like that. I wish I didn’t have that as my last memory of him. The truth is my dad died in pain screaming except no sound came out of his mouth. I sat with his body for over an hour until my mum came home. I spent all that time trying to wake him up trying to talk to him, trying to make him laugh. When he didn’t respond I all could do was look at his bloody Extra Large bright yellow Marigold washing up gloves trying to figure out what the hell had happened. I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head for as long as I live and that man’s face in there looked exactly like his.”