It Began in Naples

By P J Barker

Curtis is at a loose end and feeling bored with his life in Perth, Western Australia after a recent breakup. He receives an unexpected phone call from a family member in Italy which gives him the chance to get out of his rut, do something good and give purpose to his life.

Unfortunately on his arrival in Naples something happens that will eventually send his life spiralling out of control and into a dark, violent place that he could never have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P J Barker
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781922956989

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

The weather was cold and wet with a gusty wind blowing the curtains about like the sheets on the washing line. Louvered windows are great in summer when the cooling sea breezes disperse the stifling heat build-up inside the house, but in winter the cold damp drafts and chilly wind seep through the small gaps in the glass, chilling the body to the core. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the temperature rarely drops below one or two degrees Celsius in mid-winter. It feels just as cold as it did when I spent time living in the northern hemisphere and it often dropped to minus 20°C. I guess it’s the huge gap from our summer highs that can hit 43°C to a day like now, a huge difference for the body to adjust and acclimatise to.

Time had passed slowly since I’d parted company with my ex-wife Stella. It was almost two years to the day since the divorce was finalised and our assets split. I was feeling frustrated and at a loose end having recently turned 42 and lacking any sort of direction or goals in life. Since we’d closed and liquidated everything in our business, I just couldn’t get motivated, uncertain of what to take on next. Sure, I had a large sum of money sitting in the bank and a house to live in, but today was one of those days I was feeling down and sorry for myself, the foul weather not helping my mood one bit. Usually a long motorcycle ride would break the boredom and put me in a good mood, but in this lousy weather, even that didn’t inspire me. My motorcycle was looking more forlorn than me sitting in the garage partially covered by an old blanket to keep off the dust. Time for another coffee, I thought, although this would be the third one today. When I get bored I have a bad habit of drinking way too much caffeine.

I was in the process of filling the jug and opening the coffee jar when the phone rang. Probably marketers calling again, as most people I know would just call me on the mobile. I ignored it and let the phone ring out which seemed to take forever. Then a couple of minutes later it started again and my curiosity got the better of me; whoever it was they were persistent. I picked up the receiver cautiously, still believing it was a marketer operating from a subcontinent call centre.

‘Hello.’ The line crackled with static and there was a longish pause. Shit! Like I’d suspected, it was marketers. Then as I was about to snap the receiver down, I heard a voice call my name.

‘Curtis? Is that you?’ Straight away I recognised the voice; she spoke with a distinct accent. It was my late brother Daniel’s wife, Rosa calling from Italy.

‘Rosa, how are you? It’s been awhile.’

‘Yes, it’s been too long; how the time flies.’

‘Not for me, my days seem to last forever. How are the kids doing? I probably wouldn’t recognise them now; they must have grown a lot since my last visit.’ There was a long pause and I thought the line had dropped out.

‘Yes they have, unfortunately that’s why I’m calling. It’s about Paolo. He’s been very sick lately and diagnosed with a cancerous tumour that needs to be removed. They would like to operate and remove it in the next few weeks before it gets bigger.’

Her voice tapered off and I could hear her sobbing. The terrible news hit me like a rock and I was stuck for words. This was the last thing I was expecting and my eyes started welling up with the shock. I swallowed hard, wiped my eyes quickly and tried to compose myself as best I could. This poor woman had already gone through hell and back with the death of her husband, and now she had to deal with yet another traumatic event.

‘How can I help Rosa? Just name it! I’ll do whatever I can for the poor little guy.’

‘This is a big ask of you, and I’m sorry, but I see no easier way to get his treatment started. He needs some of your blood type before they can operate. The hospital has limited access to your rare blood type and there is always a shortage in Italy. They hope to be able to get some in time, but there’s no guarantee. It would solve the problem if you are able to donate some before he goes into surgery. I will pay for your flight and have accommodation ready.’

She sobbed heavily after apologising a couple more times, so I let her cry while I also struggled to recompose myself. Grief was contagious, and unavoidable at these intense points in life. I moved my shoulders and stretched my neck, relieving some of the emotional tension and took a few more deep breaths.

‘Don’t worry, Rosa. I’m happy to help out. It’s the very least I can do. I have absolutely nothing on in Perth. I’m bored, its winter here and the warm beautiful weather in Italy is just what I need. Don’t worry about the airfare; I have the time, the money and I need to get out of my dreary routine.’

‘Thank you, thank you, Curtis! You are a very kind man.’ She burst into tears again and I let her sob for a while until she was ready to continue. ‘This has been difficult, but I wanted to speak with you rather than sending an email. I’m so sorry we haven’t kept in touch more often, Curtis.’

‘No problem Rosa! I’m the worst person for that. Send me all the details and dates for when you need me over there and I’ll book a flight. Tell the kids I said hi and give them a big hug.’

‘Will do! Thank you again. Ciao! ‘‘Bye Rosa and stay strong! I’m sure things will work out fine.’

We hung up and I sat for a while thinking how quickly life can change. What had started out as a mundane boring day with nothing purposeful to motivate me, had suddenly turned into what could possibly be a life saving journey.

For years my twin brother and I had joked about our rare blood type and how it made us different from most people. Our parents on the other hand were always worried about it, constantly reminding us not to do anything stupid or dangerous in case we cut ourselves badly and needed to be rushed off to hospital. Like most kids we ignored them once out of sight, getting our fair share of cuts and bruises over the years, thankfully nothing serious enough that needed a blood transfusion.

Daniel died in a tragic road accident the week after his daughter Daniela had started primary school. He was driving home and planned to swing by and pick her up from school on his way. Unfortunately he never arrived. Rosa received a call from the police telling her Daniel had been run off the road by another vehicle and his car had flipped over and landed upside down in a river. Unable to escape and with no one close by to rescue him, tragically, Daniel drowned. It came out later that the other driver was drunk while driving and he also had prior convictions. The irony was that Daniel’s rare blood type was not a factor in his death, which was our parents’ biggest fear. Unfortunately, against all medical odds, Paolo had inherited our problem, yet his sister Daniela had been lucky enough not to.

*

A couple of weeks passed before Rosa got back to me with definite dates. I was already mentally geared up for the trip and anxiously waiting for more news on Paolo. Finally an email arrived, and the news was encouraging. With the availability of my blood, the doctor had managed to book a time at the hospital where the surgery would take place. The date set was over a month away, but it was preferable if I could get over there in advance to donate enough blood for the big day. Also, I needed to be fit and healthy, so I would try to avoid being around sick people as much as possible. I considered myself reasonably fit and tried to eat mostly healthy food with only an occasional takeaway meal.

The day was still young so I changed clothes and set off to one of the local travel agents to sort out my flights. There were a number of places in Italy that I’d always wanted to visit, but never made it due to time constraints and other commitments. Top of my list was Mount Vesuvius and the city of Pompeii, then out to the coastal town of Sorrento.

I booked my flight into Naples, a good starting point for the short train ride out to these places. From Naples I could also get a train or bus over to the other coast for my stay with Rosa and the kids before Paolo’s surgery was due. I figured the entire journey would be relaxing, taking me about eight hours while passing through a good mix of interesting landscapes and scenery with an early evening arrival. I was lucky enough to get the flight I needed and locked in a couple of nights in a nice looking Pompeii hotel. With that taken care of I felt organised and motivated, something I hadn’t felt for a long time.

As soon as I arrived home I took the cover off the motorcycle, rugged up and went out for a couple of hour’s ride through the hills, a nice finish for what had been an unusual, but productive day. I could already feel myself mentally gearing up for what was going to be a long and emotional journey.

One of my least favourite jobs was taking care of the numerous household bills already due and the ones that would be due in my absence. I also checked my vehicle licenses and insurances, making sure nothing would expire while I was away. Finally, after many hours spent cutting grass and fixing my garden’s reticulation system, rechecking my passport and other travel documents, I felt like everything was taken care of and I was ready to go. I organised for a friend to drop around and keep an eye on my property while I was away. On the night before I was due to leave I caught up with a few friends for dinner at the local pub. The conversation was boring and drawn out. I was ready for a change.

Chapter Two

The flight from Perth to Dubai in the Arab Emirates was my first stop and a chance to rest before catching the following day’s onward flight to Naples. My flight was more comfortable than I’d imagined it would be, thanks mostly to the brand new 787 Dreamliner. The creature comforts onboard were amazing with the larger, roomier leg space, better air movement and an endless list of movies, TV shows and radio stations available on the in-flight entertainment system. The time seemed to go way faster than it did on my previous overseas flights; the older, more cramped and stuffy jetliners seemed to take forever. If I’d realised the flight would be so comfortable, I’d have skipped the Dubai stopover and flown right on to Naples. Guess I’ll put it down to lack of research on my part.

I had a comfortable, but uneventful evening in my Dubai hotel. In the morning, I finished an excellent and unusual mix of food for breakfast, checked out and waited outside for the airport pickup bus. The heat was already building and dressed in the same clothes I left home in, I was well and truly sweating when the air-conditioned bus finally arrived and whisked me away in comfort.

Once again I lucked out with my second flight onward to Naples. This time I scored a very spacious seat with plenty of legroom and close to one of the emergency exits on an almost new, Airbus Super Jumbo. The plane was only about two thirds full, so walking around was easy, no long queues for the toilets and the meal delivery was a lot quicker than on a fully loaded aircraft. I was feeling well rested and the shorter flight seemed to be over in no time at all. I was eager to get off the flight and start exploring on solid ground.

The flight touched down in Naples around 5.00 p.m., but it was somewhere around 6:45 p.m. before I was finally outside the airport terminal after waiting in the long, slow moving queues for immigration and passport checks and a frustrating delay in the baggage delivery due to a faulty conveyer system. Unfortunately, there was construction work underway outside the terminal building. The place where the passenger drop-off and pick-up would normally be was blocked, which was causing frustration and confusion for arriving and departing passengers alike, me included. The outside temperature was quite hot; I was sweating in the clothes I was wearing, walking around trying to work out where the shuttle buses or train station was to get me into the city.

I was getting tired and hungry now, and the numerous beggars looking for handouts and touts offering assistance for accommodation weren’t helping. Somehow with all the distraction, I missed the sign for the busses and went the in wrong direction. Finally my patience ran out; I’d had enough. It was time to find a taxi and pay the extra; I needed a shower and a change of clothes. Even this was easier said than done, but eventually I managed to hail a taxi. The driver pulled up and wound down his window.

‘Do you speak English?’ I asked.

‘Little bit. Where you go?‘

‘How much to the Central Naples Train Station?’

He gave me an indignant look as if to say, how dare you ask the price, I’m doing you a big favour. He mumbled something and handed me a dog-eared list written in various languages, pointing to my requested destination. I read 16 euros. I confirmed the price with him and he nodded, getting out of the taxi to open the boot. I loaded my own luggage into it, as he seemed reluctant to assist. I was in a hurry and wanted to get moving so it suited me fine. He slammed the boot shut and in moments we were on our way.

The traffic was chaotic, and despite this, the taxi driver sped like there was no tomorrow; he weaved his way from lane to lane cutting through crowded narrow back streets and others that were almost deserted, the sidewalks and alleys strewn with piles of garbage. We even travelled the wrong direction up a one way street. Luckily, no one came the other way.

The driver knew the city streets like the back of his hand. After forcing his way onto a hectic main street we eventually slowed, then mounted the kerb with a jolt, the front wheels coming to rest on the sidewalk as the driver forced his way into the small space between a rubbish truck and a row of tightly parked scooters and motorcycles.

We had stopped outside a large, crowded and grubby looking building. The driver was eager to get away and immediately thrust his hand out towards me.

‘Twenty euros,’ he demanded.

I argued that he had said 16 euros and that’s what was on the price list. He frowned angrily and demanded the twenty again. I had no small change and only twenty and fifty euro notes that I’d picked up from my bank in Australia.

‘Why twenty? What’s changed?’I asked.

‘I have go back empty, no customer here!‘ he snapped impatiently.

By now I was totally exhausted and getting into a long argument in a foreign country over a few euros was too much to handle at this point; I was already at my destination so I decided to hold my tongue and cough up the money. I figured I would have tipped the guy anyway so the end game would probably have been the same.

‘Okay! Get my bag out of the back and you can have your twenty. You win!‘

We squeezed out of the taxi doors and I grabbed my bag from the boot, handing him the note only as my bag left the confines of the vehicle. He swiftly pulled the money from my grip, gave me a phoney smile and we parted company.

‘Have a nice day! Not!’ I yelled angrily as he reversed, dismounted the kerb with a loud thump and forced his way back into the traffic. He ignored me completely, but it felt good to let off a bit of steam. What an absolute arsehole, I thought. I hope they aren’t all like that.

I located a hotel close to the railway station, one that I’d looked up on the internet in case I wasn’t up for an immediate train journey on arrival in Naples. Good job I did. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going any further without food and sleep; I was totally exhausted, physically and mentally. I checked in the rather shabby and rundown looking building, nothing like the picture shown online. It didn’t matter; one night was all I needed and then I’d be on my way. My room was clean, even though it was old and well used, providing me with a comfortable and well needed rest.

I woke early the next morning, my sleep broken by noisy, departing guests and city streets coming alive with traffic. The nearby trains sent small vibrations through the buildings foundation, and commuters flooded into the busy station heading for work. I didn’t mind, I was rested enough and had already built up an appetite for breakfast and coffee in the hotel restaurant.

When I figured most of the early commuters had arrived and departed the station, I handed my keys in and left the hotel, heading for the station. When I entered the main building I was amazed to find it teeming with people, many of them tourists with bags in tow and looking just as bewildered as I was feeling.

The noise was overwhelming and the air thick and clammy, not helped by all the human bodies and lack of decent airflow through the station. I stood back against a wall to gather my senses amidst the crowded chaos, something I wasn’t familiar with, especially in Perth where I lived. I looked for the Circumvesuviana ticket sales sign, and eventually figured out which ticket I needed and the correct platform for catching my train to Pompeii.

The ticket queue was long and there was plenty of jostling as people closed the gaps to stop queue-jumpers sneaking their way in. Surprisingly the employees behind the counter were reasonably efficient and the queue moved quicker than I anticipated. With ticket in hand, I made my way through a maze of busy walkways and stairs to finally arrive at the correct platform. Crowded and grubby as it was, I