Authors: Stella Russell
Surprised at why the collection of rubbish was so complicated, Issy decided to ask the obvious next question. “WHY on earth is it this difficult, is it the traffic?”
Gennaro’s answer to her second question was a HUGE shrug of the shoulders. A first clue to understanding some of the story that would unfold over the coming weeks – but on that first hot day in Naples she was too busy looking at the chaos to follow her inquisitive instincts.
And, anyway, new sights had sprung into view. In the midst of dusty old cars and scooters – which were parked in what looked like highly illegal places – Issy caught sight of wonderful pineapple shaped trees which lined the streets and fabulous cascading bougainvillea and geranium in shades of cherry, purple, deep pink and red tumbling in profusion over hundreds of ancient palazzo balconies.
With time on his hands, and hoarse from swearing at the traffic, Gennaro returned to the impertinence of his first question. “Who you running away from Issy”?
“God,” Issy thought. “Gennaro is bloody persistent. He’s like a pig looking for a rare truffle. He may only be driving a deli van, but he knows he’s onto something.”
Issy looked directly at him and decided to get the explanation over with. “I left England because….” Issy replied screwing her face up against the kaleidoscope of colour that streamed into the window on the crest of a sunbeam “….my heart was broken by a married man.”
“Why he leave you? He is the crazy man,” shouted Gennaro as he jumped up and down in the seat next to her.
“It doesn’t matter why he left me,” Issy said with a long sigh. “He just did. I really don’t know why. It’s a very long and complicated story and I doubt I will ever find out the truth of what really happened.”