By now they had reached the dining-car, where Toni and Dante had taken a table. Dante stood up and graciously showed her to the seat beside him.
‘Here’s the ticket inspector,’ Hope said. ‘Let’s get the formalities out of the way before we eat. They may be able to find you a berth.’
But from that moment things went horribly wrong. As the others showed their paperwork, Ferne scrabbled hopelessly in her bag, finally facing the terrible truth.
‘It’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘Everything. My money, the tickets-they must have fallen out when I fell on the platform.’
Another search produced no result. Disaster!
‘My passport’s gone too!’ she gasped. ‘I’ve got to go back.’
But the train was now travelling at full speed.
‘It doesn’t stop until Naples,’ Hope explained.
‘They’ll stop to throw me off when they find out I’ve no ticket and no money,’ Ferne said frantically.
Hope’s voice was soothing. ‘Let’s see what we can do about that.’
Toni began to speak to the inspector in Italian. After a while he produced his credit card.
‘They’re issuing you another ticket,’ Hope explained.
‘Oh, that’s so kind of you. I’ll pay you back, I promise.’
‘Let’s not worry about that now. First we have to find you a berth.’
‘That’s easy,’ Dante said. ‘My sleeping-car is a double, and I’m only using one berth, so-’
‘So Toni can come in with you and Ferne can come in with me,’ Hope said, beaming. ‘What a splendid idea!’
‘Actually, Aunt, I was thinking-’
‘I know what you were thinking and you should be ashamed.’
‘Yes, Aunt, anything you say, Aunt.’
But he winked at Ferne, and she couldn’t help being charmed. The mere idea of this handsome, confident man doing what he was told was so idiotic, and his air of meekness so clearly an act, that she had to smile and join in the joke.
The inspector exchanged some more words with Toni before nodding and hurrying away.
‘He’s going to call the station now and tell them to look out for your things,’ Toni explained to Ferne. ‘Luckily you discovered the loss quickly, so they may pick them up before anyone else finds them. But, just in case, you must cancel your credit cards.’
‘How can I do that from here?’ Ferne asked, baffled.
‘The British consulate will help you,’ Dante declared, taking out his own mobile phone.
In a few moments he had obtained the emergency number of the Milan consulate, dialled it and handed the phone to Ferne.
The young man on duty was efficient. Quickly he looked up the numbers of the credit-card companies, assigned her a reference number and bid her goodnight. Calls to the finance companies achieved the cancellation of her cards and the promise of new ones. This was as much as she could hope for for now.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you,’ she told her new friends fervently. ‘When I think what could have happened to me.’
‘Don’t think about it,’ Hope advised. ‘All will be well. Ah, here is the waiter with a snack. Hmm, cakes and wine are all very well, but I should like a large pot of tea.’
‘
The tea was excellent, so were the cakes, which the others piled onto her plate.
‘When did you last eat?’ Hope asked.
‘Properly? Oh-some time. I left on the spur of the moment, caught the train from London to Paris, then Paris to Milan. I don’t like flying, and I wanted to be free to stop and explore whenever I wanted. I had a few days in Milan, shopping and seeing the sights. I meant to stay there overnight and go on tomorrow, but I suddenly changed my mind, packed up and ran.’
‘That’s the way to live!’ Dante exclaimed. ‘Here today, gone tomorrow; let life bring what it will.’ He took Ferne’s hand and spoke with theatrical fervour. ‘
‘I’m sorry,’ Ferne choked. ‘I can’t listen to that guff with a straight face.’
‘Guff?
‘No,’ Hope informed him, amused. ‘It’s an old English word and it means that you need a better scriptwriter.’
‘But only for me,’ Ferne chuckled. ‘I expect it works wonderfully on the others.’
Dante’s face was the picture of outrage.
‘The others? Don’t you realise that you are the only one who has inspired me to lay my heart at her feet? The only-Oh, all right; I usually get a better reception than this.’
His collapse into realism made them all laugh.
‘It’s nice to meet a lady with such an adventurous approach to life,’ he added. ‘But I expect it’s only while you’re on holiday. You’ll go back to England, your sedate nine-to-five life, and your sedate nine-to-five fiance.’
‘If I had a fiance, what would I be doing here alone?’ she demanded.
This made him pause, but only for a moment.
‘He betrayed you,’ he said dramatically. ‘You are teaching him a lesson. When you return, he will be jealous, especially when he sees the compromising pictures of us together.’
‘Oh, will he indeed? And where will these pictures come from?’
‘It can be arranged. I know some good photographers.’
‘I’ll bet you don’t know anyone better than me,’ she riposted.
‘You’re a photographer?’ Hope asked. ‘A journalist?’
‘No, I do theatrical work.’ Some inexplicable instinct made her say to Dante, ‘And he wasn’t sedate. Anything but.’
He didn’t reply in words, but his expression was wry and curious. So was the way he nodded.
‘Let the poor girl eat in peace,’ Hope admonished him.
She watched Ferne like a mother hen, finally declaring that it was time for bed. The four of them made their way back along the corridor and said goodnight. Ferne and Hope went into one sleeping car, Toni and Dante went on to the next.
As Ferne hung up the trousers she’d been wearing, a few coins fell out onto the floor.
‘I’d forgotten I had some money in my pocket,’ she said, holding them out.
‘Three euros,’ Hope observed. ‘You wouldn’t have got far with that.’
They sat down on the bed, contentedly sipping the tea they had brought with them.
‘You said you were English,’ Ferne recalled. ‘And yet you speak as though you’ve been here for some time.’
‘Over thirty years,’ Hope told her.
‘Do you have any children?’
‘Six. All sons.’
She said it with an air of exasperated irony that made Ferne smile and say, ‘Do you ever wish you had daughters?’
Hope chuckled. ‘When you have six sons, you have no time to think of anything else. Besides, I have six daughters-in-law and seven grandchildren.
‘When our last son married, a few months ago, Toni and I decided to go on our travels. Recently we’ve been in Milan to see some of his relatives. Toni was very close to his other brother, Taddeo, until he died a few years ago. Dante is Taddeo’s elder son, and he’s coming back to Naples with us for a visit. He’s a bit of a madman, as you’ll discover while you’re staying with us.’
‘I can’t impose on you any further.’
‘My dear, you have no money or passport. If you don’t stay with us, just what are you going to do?’
‘It just seems dreadful for you to be burdened with me.’
