But, once down there, their spirits fell. There were long queues outside the two windows with “Baths” written above them; even more people, who had obviously already bought their tickets, were waiting their turns, sitting around and whispering.
One window was for men, another for women. “Oh, Lord, I just can’t go on any longer,” said Anna.
The boy spoke: “Come on, a bath will cool us down. Then, with any luck, we may find a hotel.” They joined their respective queues.
Even here in the basement the hot steam from the corridor with the bathrooms made the air damp and heavy. Meanwhile Antonio noticed that the people sitting down were staring at them, particularly at Anna; they would look and then whisper among themselves, though without malice, apparently, since no one was smiling.
Anna was quicker than the boy. After about half an hour he saw her overtake him in the next queue and go up to the window. When her turn came, she took out a hundred-lira note.
At this point Antonio was distracted by a low-voiced bickering between the person in front of him and the clerk at the window, who had no change, whereas the customer only had thousand-lira notes. “Please, I really must ask you to stand aside and let the others go ahead.” They were arguing in low voices, as though afraid of being overheard. At last the man stood to one side, grumbling, and made way for Antonio.
It was only then that he noticed that Anna too was having an argument at the next window. She looked red and panicked, and was looking desperately for something in her handbag. “Have you lost your money?” he asked her. “No, but they want some means of identification and I seem to have lost my card.”
“May I kindly have your attention, sir?” hissed the clerk to Antonio. “A bath? Eighty lira . . .”
“Do you want my identity card?”
A faint smile appeared on the clerk’s face. “Indeed I do,” he replied meaningfully. Antonio produced his identity card and the clerk copied the information into his register.
Meanwhile Anna was causing a stoppage in the women’s queue, which was humming with protest. A grating female voice from the window said finally, “Look, madam, if you haven’t got an identity card will you kindly leave the queue?”
“But I’m not feeling well, I must . . . ,” Anna was insisting, smiling weakly in an attempt to soften the woman. “There’s a gentleman over there who knows me, he’s got his card . . .”
The woman cut her short: “Look, I’ve no time to waste. . . . Now, please . . .”
Antonio led the girl gently away by the arm, and suddenly she lost her temper: “What behavior! You’d think we were criminals or something!” Her high voice echoed shockingly in the silence. People turned around in horror and began to whisper more fervently than ever.
“This is the last straw!” said Antonio. “Now what are you going to do?”
“How should I know?” retorted Anna on the verge of tears. “You can’t even have a bath in this loathsome town . . . I hope you’ve got a ticket at least?”
“I have, yes. . . . Now, look: I wonder if you could go in my place? . . .” They walked up to the assistant who was taking the tickets at the entrance to the baths and was drawling out the successive numbers as the queue proceeded.
“Please,” said Antonio beseechingly. “I’ve already got my ticket but I have to go . . . couldn’t the young lady use it?”
“Certainly,” said the woman. “Just go to Inquiries and register your identity card . . .”
“Look,” interrupted Anna. “Please . . . I’ve lost my identity card . . . but please let me have a bath all the same . . . I don’t feel well . . . look at my ankles . . .”
“My dear child, that’s something I can’t do,” said the woman. “If they were to find out, it would be me who’d suffer, I can assure you . . .”
“Let’s go,” said Antonio, losing patience himself. “It’s like the army here.”
People were staring at them harder than ever and as the couple moved toward the stairs to go back to the road, the whispering stopped for a moment.
“For goodness’ sake, let’s go and sit down somewhere,” moaned Anna. “I can’t stand up a moment longer . . . look, some gardens!”
The street did in fact run into the edge of a small park, which from a distance seemed to be empty. In fact, all the benches completely in the shade were occupied. They had to make do with a seat half-shaded by a branch. As soon as she was seated, Anna undid her shoes. Cicadas were chirping all around them; it was bleak and dusty.
In front of them, in a round clearing, they saw a large circular basin with a fountain playing in the middle. This was the only part of the gardens that was crowded, although it was completely in the sun. Women, and even men, were sitting on the edge, their hands dangling in the cool water; while in the pool itself was a crowd of restless half-naked children, playing with toy boats. They were paddling about happily, splashing each other, some were wet up to the waist, clothes and all, ignoring the protests of their mothers.
A dull haze hung over the town—possibly from the rotting rice fields which surrounded it—and this deadened the sunlight. But the heat seemed to be increasing.
“Look . . . water!” said Anna suddenly. “I won’t be a minute. . . .” And leaving her shoes, before Antonio could stop her, she hurried, smiling, to the fountain, murmured “Excuse me” to the people around the edge, leaped neatly over it and landed in the water, lifting her skirts a little. “Wonderful!” she shouted to Antonio, who had come up immediately, holding her shoes and the suitcase.
The surrounding people raised their eyes from the cool water to concentrate on this sudden vision in their midst. The heads, which had been nodding drowsily, became suddenly animated, a series of conversations broke out. Then a clipped voice spoke.
“Would you please climb out, miss? The fountain is for the children.” The speaker
