“But I must see her again.”
“Then what?” Jack now pulled the same fish face as Lattarullo and raised his hands to the heavens. “Nothing will come of it, sir.”
“Perhaps not. But I have to know.”
“Now isn’t the moment to fall in love. Certainly not with an Italian. Besides, her mother gives me the creeps.”
“It’s not the mother I’m interested in.”
“They say one should always look at the mother before making a play for the daughter.”
“Valentina’s beauty will never fade, Jack. It’s made to last. Even you can see that.”
“She is extraordinarily beautiful,” he conceded. “Do what you must, but don’t come crying on my shoulder when it all ends in tears. I have far more important things to think about. If I don’t get laid tonight I’m going to bugger Brendan!”
But when they arrived back in town neither felt like dancing. Instead they wandered along the sea front. A couple of old men sat in their boats mending sails, their wrinkled, toothless faces lit up by hurricane lamps. On closer inspection it was clear that they were using stolen tapestries for their purpose. Someone sang “Torna a Sorrento” to the accompaniment of a concertina, his doleful voice echoing eerily through the streets. The sky blue shutters were all closed and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder what went on behind them, whether the occupants were asleep or peeping through the cracks. Reluctant to return to the boat, they ambled up one of the narrow alleyways. A young woman appeared. Jack’s face lit up. She was one of the girls he had admired that morning. With long curly hair and brown skin she was comely with a loose, dreamy smile.
“Come and see what Claretta can do for you. You look weary,” she purred as they approached. “Italian women are famous for our hospitality. Let me show you. Come.”
Jack turned to his friend. “I’ll be five minutes,” he said.
“You’re mad.”
“You’re the madman. At least I’ll come out with my heart intact.”
“But your cock might not be.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I don’t want a sick number one. I can’t replace you.”
“A man needs a fuck. I’m sure I’m going blind. A blind ‘Jimmy’ is no use to you either! Besides, I’ll be helping the economy. Everyone needs to earn a living.”
Thomas watched as Jack disappeared into the house. He leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. Alone in the empty street he thought once again of Valentina. He would see her the following evening for the ceremony of Santa Benedetta. He couldn’t bring himself to think further than that. If he could sketch her then he would have something to remember her by. To take away with him. He felt sick in the stomach with longing. He had read love poems and the works of Shakespeare but never believed that such intensity of feeling really existed. Now he knew better.
A few minutes later Jack emerged with a large grin, still doing up his fly. Thomas dropped the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and scrunched it into the stones with his foot. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go back to the boat.”
In the morning they awoke to a magical sight. The MTB was adorned with flowers. Red and pink geraniums, irises, carnations, and lilies. They were carefully woven around the railings and scattered like confetti on the deck. Rigs, who had been on watch, had fallen asleep. He had seen nothing but the large audience in Covent Garden which had applauded his dream rendition of Rigoletto. Thomas should have been furious. To fall asleep on watch was a serious offense and one which could cost them all their lives. But the sight of those flowers, bright, vibrant, and innocent, softened his anger. He thought of Valentina, of the evening ahead, and he slapped the offending sailor on his back and said, “If you catch the criminals who did this, sleep with them at once.”
9
T hat morning, as predicted, they reached the barn to find the arms were gone. Lattarullo groaned and shrugged. “Bandits! We should have come earlier,” he said, shaking his head. Then, in a bid to win their favor, for he knew he was the major suspect, he told them of more dumps he had just been informed of. Thomas laughed. It was what he had expected. After all, this was Italy. What’s more, he needed an excuse to stay another day and Lattarullo had given him that excuse. He patted the carabiniere on the back. “Then we will have to find the others before Lupo’s men do, shan’t we?”
Once Lattarullo had gone, the two men ambled off to the trattoria for a drink. They found Rigs and the others sitting in the sunshine surrounded by girls. Rigs only knew opera Italian but this seemed to satisfy the girls, who were all laughing with him, caressing his cheeks and stroking his hair, much to the chagrin of the more handsome of the crew members.