Married Under the Italian Sun

‘That’s Vittorio.’

She was slightly nervous as he came towards them, wondering if Sam would recall their first meeting and connect him with the distress of the journey home. But Sam was smiling.

‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ he said.

‘Well, yes…’ Vittorio began cautiously, looking at Angel for guidance. ‘I was-’

‘No, don’t tell me, let me guess. I’m a bit forgetful sometimes, but I like to remember for myself, if I can. I know, you drove me home. That must be some time ago now.’

‘Just a couple of weeks,’ Vittorio said.

‘Jolly good. Jolly good. So you’re Vittorio?’

‘I work for the signora,’ he said gravely.

‘Well, I’m Sam. Oh, but of course, we’ve met, haven’t we? Have you brought all these roses on? Done a great job. I used to grow roses. You must come and talk to me about them.’

‘Come now,’ Angel said.

It was the start of an odd friendship. Sam and Vittorio took to each other, and over the next few days they had long conversations, apparently in total understanding. It was good to see her grandfather happy, but now Angel never seemed to have more than a moment alone with Vittorio. All the time he was either occupied with Sam or hard at work.

‘It will be harvest soon,’ he said. ‘And you want everything to be at its best.’

‘I might think you were still avoiding me,’ she suggested.

He gave her a brief kiss.

‘No, I want us to be together, but I won’t neglect my duty, even for you.’

‘What about your duty to me?’

He grinned. ‘I thought Sam came first?’

‘He does, it’s just-I miss you.’

It was a disconcerting part of Sam’s problem that he wasn’t equally confused about everything. He could still remember every funny story he’d ever heard, especially the rude ones, as Vittorio remarked with relish. And his ability to play chess was unimpaired. He’d trounced Roy and Frank so often that there was no more pleasure in it, and when he discovered that Vittorio was an expert player he fell on him with delight.

‘Thank you for being so kind to him,’ Angel said once. ‘I love hearing him laugh with you.’

‘I’m not being kind. I enjoy his company. He’s fantastic. And he can beat me at chess.’

‘I wondered if you were letting him win.’

‘Well, I’m not,’ he said in a chagrined voice. ‘And stop laughing.’

‘I can’t help it. It’s so wonderful to see him happy.’

‘He really is the only person in the world whom you care for, isn’t he?’

She touched his face. ‘You know better than that.’

With such moments they got by, sometimes stealing some time alone together, but more often having to be satisfied with being in the same room in the company of others. Sam’s friendship had made Vittorio part of the family, and it was a rare evening when he didn’t join them to watch television, play chess and study Angel silently.

Rescue came in the form of a weekend of Celebration Road, which Sam was determined not to miss.

‘Episodes from the archives,’ he explained. ‘Some of them haven’t been seen for years, so you won’t disturb me, will you, darling?’

‘I promise,’ Angel said fervently. ‘Would you-would you mind if I was away overnight?’

‘Anything you like, darling. Oh, look, it’s starting!’

Leaving him blissfully content, she was able to escape with Vittorio to wander the streets of Amalfi, doing little, saying less, needing nothing but each other. They stopped off in a newsagent, and while he bought a paper she looked around the shop and noticed a poster, advertising a lottery with a big roll-over prize that week.

‘Hey, I want to enter that,’ she said. ‘One ticket, please.’

‘Me too,’ Vittorio called. ‘Will you get me one?’

‘What about the numbers?’

‘You pick them for me.’

She bought two tickets, giving two sets of six numbers, and joined him on the way out of the shop.

‘Here’s your…’ she began to say, but he interrupted her, pointing to where a horse and carriage waited by the kerb, the driver looking around hopefully.

‘That’s the best way to travel,’ Vittorio said.

‘Lovely!’

It was a charming vehicle, painted yellow with blue and white cushions, and a large sunshade. He handed her aboard, calling, ‘Anywhere!’ to the driver, who hopped up behind the horse, which set off.

‘I’ve seen these when I’ve been here before,’ Angel said in delight, as the horse trotted through tiny, winding streets. ‘I’ve always wanted to take one. Oh, I forgot, your ticket.’

He gave her the price of one ticket and she said, ‘Which one do you want?’

He shrugged. ‘You choose.’

Holding them up in one hand she began to intone, ‘Eeeny, meeny-hey!’

The yell was jerked from her as the carriage jolted hard, throwing her against him, and depositing the tickets onto the floor.

‘We went over a stone,’ Vittorio laughed, helping her up. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Sure, fine. It was just a bit unexpected. Vittorio?’

Suddenly she had lost his attention. He was staring over her shoulder, twisting his head further as the carriage moved on.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘It’s him,’ he said. ‘It’s him!’

‘Who?’

‘Leo. My so-called friend who cheated me out of everything I had. I saw him…’

‘Are you sure? Where?’

‘There-no-in that street-driver, go that way, fast.’

The driver swore and began to back up.

‘Hurry!’ Vittorio shouted.

‘I have to turn the horse, signore,’ the driver shouted back indignantly.

Vittorio swore under his breath. ‘I can’t wait. He mustn’t get away from me.’ He flashed a glance at Angel. ‘Forgive me!’

Then he was gone, vaulting out of the carriage and tearing back down the road until he vanished down a side street.

‘Follow him,’ Angel called frantically to the driver. ‘Keep him in sight.’

At last the horse managed to turn, gather speed, and head for the street, arriving just in time for her to see Vittorio at the far end. In another moment he’d turned the corner and vanished.

‘Can’t you go any faster?’ she urged.

‘She is not a racehorse, signora.’

After what seemed like an age they reached the end of the street and found themselves facing the little harbour. There was no sign of Vittorio and nothing to show in which direction he’d gone.

‘Where now?’ the driver asked, drawing to a halt.

‘I don’t know. He’s vanished. I don’t know where he could be now.’

‘Some people will do anything to avoid paying,’ the man said cynically.

‘That’s not-’

‘I suppose he took your purse with him. It’s the oldest trick in the book.’

‘How dare you say that?’ she flashed, furious at his cynical judgement. ‘You know nothing about him.’

‘I know that he ran away without paying.’

‘Here’s your money.’

Angel pulled out some notes and pushed them into his hand before jumping out of the carriage. At the last