Papa Georgio by Annie Murray Page A

put the table up again. Brenda got out the bag of sewing and we looked at the patchwork. It was a riot of sprigs and bouquets in pinks, yellows, blues and greens.
    ‘We’ll have to work out what to do with this green material,’ Brenda frowned. ‘Perhaps we could use it as a backing, or an edge for it? And when you go home you could have it as a quilt for your bed, if you like?’
    For no reason that I could possibly explain, when she said that, I felt a great big lump come up in my throat.

III.
    LOG BOOK
    We are eating oranges every day and now we are in the south we have seen them growing beside the road and lemons too. They look lovely. Grandpa says it’s getting towards the end of the season though.
    We drove through Naples, which is NOISY and SMELLY. Everything seems to be noisier in the south! There are horns blaring and little Fiat cars whizzing round the streets and whole families on one motorbike, even babies! It’s enough to make your hair stand on end!
    Grandpa told us that the ‘soldier-boys’ as he calls them, used to say, ‘See Naples and die. Smell Naples and you will die.’ Brenda said, ‘I see what they mean.’ We drove through a long tunnel where the air was choking blue.
    Then, when we came out of it we saw the sea sparkling in the sun, very blue and over the other side, purplish, was the volcano, Vesuvius. Grandpa says we’re going to climb up it. Brenda said, ‘Oh dear.’
    We’re in a campsite near Sorrento. Grandpa said I could put the legs of the caravan down and that we’ll keep them down for a few days, which is a relief. The camp is run by a family called the Sacchettis. They have three big boys and two girls. The young one, Maria Grazia looks a bit younger than me. She doesn’t speak much English but she’s got lovely long hair and she showed me her photo album which had crackly rice paper between the pages. The pictures were of her in a white dress in church with a veil and flowers in her hair. All the Sacchettis were in the pictures, looking very solemn. One of her brothers, Giuseppi, looks like a pirate with a big black moustache. I thought it looked like a wedding but Brenda told me it would have been her First Holy Communion in the Catholic Church.
    Maria Grazia taught me to say, ‘ Come si chiama ? – What is your name?’
    She’s OK. It’s nice to have someone to play with. We played catch and sort of tennis. But what I really wish is that Fizz was here. Will I ever see him again?

IV.
    We spent a couple of days exploring Sorrento and its pretty fishing villages. In a fit of missing Charlotte I sent her a post card edged with lemons. I was her friend even if she couldn’t be bothered with me, I reasoned.
    Then Grandpa started seriously sloping off.
    The first time he wandered off and stayed away for several hours.
    ‘Whatever is he going to come back with this time?’ Brenda wondered.
    First she was put out, then angry, and then worried.
    ‘Where on earth can he have gone? He really is naughty going off without saying.’
    ‘He’s probably found some old chaps in a bar to have a drink with,’ I told her. I was sitting with my legs dangling over the step of the caravan, trying to lure a dusty little white kitten closer to me. ‘You know how he likes boozing and speaking Italian.’
    Brenda laughed, so unexpectedly that the kitten fled in alarm. I turned to look at her. She looked so nice when she smiled or laughed.
    ‘Yes, you’re probably right dear!’ Her voice was lighter now. ‘Old wartime cronies. But he is the end, he really is. I’d hoped to get out and see some more of the sights.’
    ‘Well why don’t you?’
    Brenda sat down carefully by the table. I could see the veins in her ankles, above her white sandals.
    ‘Oh I couldn’t – not on my own.’
    I felt sorry for Brenda. She was so frightened of everything.
    Later I explored the camp, which was on three tiers, down a steep hillside. Each level was edged by a rickety wooden fence and some