Papa Georgio (17 page)

I was running when there was a sudden flash of light, an engine: a car coming along the road. It was a distance away, but the jerking flash of the headlights came quickly closer. I hadn’t expected anyone to come up here – why would they at this time of night? Maybe someone had a cottage in the fields somewhere?

All my desperation welled up. Whatever happened I had to stop them – they
had
to help!

Before I was even expecting it the car came round a bend and was in front of me, the lights blinding me for a second. There was no time to think – I leapt into the middle of the road, waving my arms and jumping about like a maniac.

‘Stop! Stop –
aiuto
!
Aiuto
! Help me!’

They kept driving, fast, and for a nightmare second I thought they were going to drive straight at me. They must have seen me. They slammed the brakes on. The engine died, but they left the lights on. Into the quiet, the car doors opened.

And my heart skidded and leapt into my throat. I recognized them as they walked towards me on this lonely road, all in black, until they were all standing round me. Three young men, one with a beard –
the banditos
.

‘
Aiuto
,’ I managed to say again. ‘
Aiuto
– please, please….’

Everybody

I.

They looked just like characters in a gangster movie with their black clothes and swarthy faces.

No wonder I was frightened, I thought, seeing them again. Only this time they were standing round Grandpa’s hospital bed in Naples, and were all wearing big soppy smiles, which got even soppier when they saw me.

‘Ah – the little one!’ they cried and I was treated to lots of Italian style patting and face pinching. But I didn’t mind.

The three
banditos
turned out to be twin brothers, Marco and Giuseppe and their bearded friend Andrea, and they weren’t frightening at all. They were as kind to me as if I was their little sister. They’d turned back to go up the road to Vesuvius again because Giuseppe thought he had dropped his wallet in the car park. They didn’t speak English, but when they saw me frantically crying and pointing up the mountain saying my Grandpa was hurt and my auntie (I called her Mamma because I didn’t know the word for auntie) was down in the café, they beckoned me to the car and drove me there.

Brenda of course went off into an almighty flap, and while she did so, they called an ambulance. I had to take them up there, feeling our way to the horseshoe dip with torches. It didn’t feel scary with them all there, only I was desperately worried about Grandpa.

He regained consciousness on the stretcher as we brought him down the mountain. We’d just reached the path again, after the tricky scramble across the rough, sloping ground. There was a low groan from the stretcher, and suddenly, out of the darkness Grandpa ‘s voice came quite distinctly,

‘What I need now,’ he pronounced, ‘is a Damn Good Drink.’

‘It’s all right Grandpa,’ I said, a grin spreading across my face in my joy and relief at hearing him. ‘You’ll soon get one!’

The ambulance men didn’t understand of course, but they were very kind. Actually it was over a week before Grandpa got his DGD. They kept him in hospital in Naples with concussion, a badly cut head, a broken leg and all sorts of cuts and bruises. They patched up my cuts and bruises too, when we got there. I was amazed to see how many I had, especially the big bash on my left shoulder, but otherwise I was all right.

And apart from the shortage of vino, Grandpa had a lovely time. Seeing his white hair and little boy expression, the nurses seemed to think he was cute and heroic and, like most Englishmen, a bit mad. They treated him with motherly sweetness. As the message got round of what had happened he sat up in bed holding court and
everyone
came to see him!

Giuseppe never did find his wallet though and I felt rather bad about that.

Brenda had had a pink fit about all of it at first, from the moment I appeared in the café with the trio in black and blood on my shirt. Grandpa was thoughtless and irresponsible and not safe to be let out! Then, after a rant, she realized we were going to have to go back up there and get him and she started crying. And when we came back she was all soft and relieved and tearful.

Eventually though, another realization hit her. To visit Grandpa she was going to have to drive – in Naples.

‘But I can’t!’ she said, going all big eyed.

‘I bet you can.’ I must have sounded heartless but after the mountain I felt strong, as if I could do anything.

The next morning I told Fizz what had happened. He was lovely. He saw all my cuts and bruises and he looked really worried.

‘That looks
bad
. Are you OK? And what about your Granddad?’

We were outside the Ship of Dreams and Maggie came over as she saw I had a bandage on my knee.

‘What’s happened there? Are you all right darlin’?’

So I told them both and Maggie’s eyes were full of concern and her face softened.

‘My stars, what a terrible thing – and you all up there on your own with him! You must have been frightened weren’t you, you poor little lamb?’

‘A bit,’ I admitted.

‘I’ll tell Archie when he gets back from the shops. He’ll want to go to the hospital and see him.’

Completely amazed by this, I clamped my mouth shut to stop myself saying ‘no don’t!’ I couldn’t say that could I? It was so rude and what did Grandpa have against Archie anyway?

Fizz was extra nice to me that morning. We went into the Ship of Dreams and talked to Pecky who was as grumpy as ever.

‘Shut up!’ he squawked in his crotchety voice, shifting excitedly from foot to foot. Then he gave a shrill but quavering whistle.

‘He’s started imitating the kettle,’ Fizz said with a grin.

‘Shut up!’ came from little Clarey who was on the bed at the side.

‘See – now she’s picking it up,’ Maggie said wearily. ‘Don’t you start that now young lady – ‘ She picked Clarey up, burying her face in the little girl’s tummy to tickle her and Clarey roared with laughter.

Fizz and I went out and played Frisbee and went off exploring round the camp and we fed Esmerelda the Queen Pig some cheese rinds. We didn’t talk about anything sad. We just played and Fizz told me jokes and it was the
best
. Because although I felt strong, and the butterfly was still with me, if I stopped and thought about it, especially lying in bed last night, I was back on the mountain on my own again and it seemed to spin round in my head and make me feel scared and sick. And I didn’t want to do that – I just wanted to have fun. It felt as if Fizz was the very best friend I’d ever had.

II.

Brenda did drive through Naples.

‘All that
awful
traffic,’ she said, ‘And on the wrong side of the road. But it’s got to be done.’

She sat bolt upright at the wheel, her hair, which had grown quite a bit now, hanging in floaty little waves. She hadn’t been able to keep all that perming up and it looked softer now.
She
looked softer.

‘Now dear, I’ll need to concentrate, so best you don’t talk to me unless it’s strictly necessary,’ she said, as if normally I was the worst chatterbox in the world.

‘OK,’ I said.

She did it all right. Of course she did, with a few ‘oh dears’ and ‘damn and blast its’ through all the seething, hooting, swerving Naples traffic. In fact she seemed to have a better sense of direction than Grandpa. When we finally braked in the hospital car park she turned off the engine and leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

‘Phew!’ Then a startling sound came from her – a giggle which just burst out. When she looked round at me her face was pink and she was looking very twinkly and pleased with herself.

It made me giggle as well. We both sat and roared with laughter.

‘Well dear,’ Brenda chortled when she could speak again. ‘All we’ve got to do now is get back again!’

‘You can do it,’ I said. And for some reason this set us off again.

‘Well, yes, perhaps I can,’ she said wiping her eyes. ‘Let’s hope for the best, anyway.’

Grandpa was sitting up in bed in a pair of pale blue pyjamas. The bandage on his head covered his left eye and tufts of white hair stuck out from it at odd angles. There was a white caste on his right leg and various plasters on his arms and hands. His visible eye which was ringed, panda-like, with bruising, peered out warily at Brenda as she came near with her parcel of grapes and peaches.

‘Hello, My Little Dears,’ he said, with the face of a small boy who has been caught with his fingers in the jam. ‘How did you get here?’

‘I drove,’ Brenda said breezily, picking something off her sleeve.

‘
Did
you? How marvellous! Clever girl!’

There was a silence, then Grandpa said, ‘Well, I’m very sorry my dear. No fool like an old fool, is there?’

‘There certainly isn’t,’ Brenda scolded.

Grandpa ventured a grin. ‘What an adventure, eh? Come here, My Little Dear!’

And Brenda gave him a proper smile then and leaned forwards and was folded in his arms. When she sat up she was looking a bit tearful.

‘I was so frightened I’d lost you,’ she sniffed.

‘Ah no – you don’t lose an old Soldier Boy like me that easily,’ Grandpa said. ‘Now – your turn, little Janey…’

And I cuddled up against Grandpa and felt his arms tight round me.

‘We’ll always remember that, won’t we? Our Vesuvius Adventure?’

I nodded, my head against his chest. Of course I’d remember!

Everybody came, those few days. It was amazing. By the end of the week Brenda was quite blasé about driving through Naples and Grandpa was well in with the nurses and talking about buying them presents. Even the Sacchettis at the camp gave us chocolates to take to him.

And whenever we got there to visit him in the afternoons, there was almost always someone with him. That first day he’d asked me to ‘drop a line to my young friend Alberto, will you? Let him know what a silly old specimen I am?’ We were supposed to go up to Cellina that week and I was disappointed not to be seeing Maria and Giovanna and Laura and Clara. But I sent them a postcard which Grandpa dictated, spelling out the Italian words for me.

First of all though, the
banditos
came and all stood round the bed looking soppy and pleased, almost as if Grandpa was their headmaster and they his favourite pupils. There was lots of smiling and jolliness, even though none of us had much clue what anyone else was talking about. Even despite this they managed somehow to flatter Brenda and made her blush and Grandpa slipped me a wink.

Alberto came of course. On the third day we arrived to find him sitting by the bed and Grandpa was looking ever so happy. He had brought a big bouquet of flowers. When Brenda and I walked in Alberto got up to greet us. I saw his lovely kind face, he gave me big hug, and I felt as if I’d known him forever. We all felt like family already.

He spoke through Grandpa, but looking at me. ‘My girls want to see you again,’ he said smilingly. ‘They keep saying to their mother, “When is the English girl coming, Mamma? We want to see Gianni – we want to play with her, to do her hair. You must ask her to come – on and on they go!’ Grinning, Alberto sagged, to show how worn down he was by all his daughters and stroked my cheek again. ‘You will have to come – or I shall never have any peace!’

‘Oh, yes please,’ I said. ‘
Per favore
!’

Alberto visited twice that week and once when we came there was an elderly man in black sitting by the bed, who turned out to be the priest who worked in the hospital. He and Grandpa were chewing over old times during the war together.

And then one afternoon when we arrived, from a distance I saw the back of a familiar figure sitting there, in large silhouette against the window.

Archie Chubb.

III.

He lumbered to his feet and I expected him to boom out, ‘Ulloor!’ in his normal way. But instead he seemed quiet, and a bit bewildered, almost as if we’d woken him from a dream. He said, ‘Oh…’ and then, ‘Er – please, you have the chair,’ to Brenda. When I saw his face in the light from the window I was shocked because it looked as if he’d been crying. Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks, but it did look like that, and that was awful.

‘I’d best be off,’ he said, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair. I noticed he was wearing sandals - with socks. Oh dear, I thought. (YOU DON’T WEAR SOCKS WITH SANDALS!)

‘Oh there’s no need – do stay for a bit,’ Brenda said politely.

‘No…’ Archie seemed vague. ‘I’ll be on’t road.’

‘Very good of you to come,’ Grandpa said. And he sounded warm, as if he meant it. Sometimes Grandpa said nice things just to be charming but I could tell the difference.

‘No, it’s a pleasure,’ Archie said. He went to Grandpa and shook hands, and softly he said, ‘Thanks. I’m very grateful. I’ll come in again.’

‘Look forward to it, old lad.’

I watched in amazement as Grandpa and Archie Chubb parted as if they were the best of old friends. Archie seemed different, frailer. But then I’d hardly seen him in a while – not since he’d been ill.

Grandpa watched him leave along the ward, then shook his head.

‘Poor fellow. Well, well.’

‘Well that was nice of him to come and see you,’ Brenda said, puzzled.

‘Yes…’ Grandpa sounded very far away for a moment, then he rallied himself. ‘Hello My Little Dear.’ He kissed Brenda’s cheek as she leaned down. ‘And now, how’s my splendid granddaughter today?’

‘I’m fine,’ I smiled.

But Grandpa still seemed wrapped up in his thoughts. ‘It does explain a lot,’ he said, half to himself.

‘What dear?’ Brenda, in her neat blue frock was tidying up, putting the little bag she’d bought down on the side table. ‘I’ve brought you one of those cakes – and some more grapes….’

‘Archie – ’ Grandpa looked back and forth at each of us as if he was trying to decide something. I was perched on the side of the bed and Brenda came and sat on the chair. ‘I’ve been such a fool…’