THIS IS GETTING TO BE SERIOUSLY LONG AND I'LL HAVE TO BRING IT TO SOME KIND OF ENDING ONE DAY SOON. MEANWHILE...
Part 1: A Life In Pieces (click here) Part 2 Another Life In Pieces, part 3 A Life in Anguished Pieces, Part 4 A Life in Mobile Words, Part 5 A Life in Coffee Part 6 A Life in Loneliness, Part 7 A Life In Rags, Part 8, A Life in Confusion, Part 9, A Life In Families Part 10, A Life in Memories, Part 11 A Life in Contemplation, Part 12 A life in church, Part 13 A Life in Lasagne, Part 14 A Life in Chaos, Part 15 A Life in Gossip, Part 16, A Life In Custody, Part 17, A Life in Doubt, Part 18, A Life in Crisis, Part 19, A Life in "It Serves Him Right", Part 20, A Life in Paradise, Part 21, A Life in Holidays, Part 22, A Life in Emotions, Part 23, A Life in Fours, Part 24, A Life on a Bus, Part 25, A Life on the Ocean Waves, Part 26 A Life En-Route, Part 27, A Life in Argument Part 28, A Life in a Hotel Room, Part 29, A Life in the Woods, Part 30, A Life in a Mess, Part 31, A Life in the Freezer and Part 32, A Life in a Bar
A LIFE IN PASSION
At the sight of a prone Agatha crumpled and disgusting just inside the door to the bar, Rusty leapt to his feet, and groaned as his arthritic knees both complained simultaneously at the unaccustomed strain. Saphie put one hand out to help him and the Reverend Josiah Pike's mouth dropped so wide open he was in danger of suffering from terminal lock-jaw.
“What's she doing back here?” hissed Saphie. “She's supposed to be at Rheinfall!”
Before anyone could tell her they had no more idea than did she, the drama continued, this time in an even more unexpected direction..
The door swung open a second time and an irate and very excitable Italian gentleman followed Agatha through it and almost tripped over her twitching body. Then he leaped over her and lifted her head with one suntanned hand.
“This mad woman!” he shouted, clearly knowing that if he used English he'd most probably be addressing her fellow nationals. “This mad woman cause danger to Luigi's heart!”
Rusty thought that the strange little man might do something expressive and Italian next, like producing a shiny-bladed knife and hacking off Agatha's hair in a comic-opera-style dramatic scene, complete with a screeched aria in a high key. The Reverend considered it was highly likely that the man might produce a pistol and after threatening everyone in the bar, shoot Agatha in her cold, cold heart in return for some dastardly service she had provided him with. On the third hand, Saphie thought it would be most likely that the man would grab the nearest carabinieri officer from the street and have her hauled off for a heart-warming spell in jail after explaining that she had personally poisoned his entire family.
In short, they all wondered exactly what evil the repulsive woman had threatened international relations with.
But none of these things happened.
Instead, the Italian continued screeching “mad woman” at the top of his voice and then grabbed hold of Agatha by her shoulders and hauled her into an upright position.
“Mad woman!” he declamed again in a manner than could be called theatrical at best, and he surveyed the assembled holidaymakers in the hotel bar.
“What man have this woman?” he demanded, and swept the room with his eyes. He clearly wanted to know who Agatha was with, but as she had been sent packing by the bus company in conjunction with the hotel owner, there was nobody who could honestly say she was with them
It was the Reverend who gently half-raised one arm into the air, looking very much like a naughty schoolboy asking if he could be excused for the fourth time that day and expecting to be roasted alive for his cheek and weak bladder.
“Sit down!” hissed Saphie, “you don't know what she's done, and you might not want to be held responsible if it's very wicked.”
“She's probably committed murder, or worse,” added Rusty. “I'd not be surprised if that man said that she'd burned his village down or ransacked his granny's coffin on its way to the cemetary!”
They might have contributed further possibilities between them, but Agatha chose that moment to stir and start regaining some kind of consciousness. Her face slowly regained some of its old colour and her eyes squinted open, revealing lines of bloodshot veins.
“Is that you, Luigi?” she whispered liud enough to be heard in the four corners of the hotel lounge bar.
“Your little Luigi is here,” crooned the Italian. “He has come for you, sweet angel, he is going to make you his, oh mamma, weep tears of joy for me!”
“Luigi, I adore you … but I'm worn out,” she groaned, “after the night and day we have spent together, you and I, there is nothing left inside me! I am done for! I am in need of a large red wine! Oh, blessed Luigi and the big heart and bigger … you know what … I am here, I am yours, now and for ever...”
“What is going on?” demanded Rusty, seeing Tom, their coach driver, making his way from the far corner of the bar in order to see what the fuss was about. “Agatha, what in the name of goodness... “
“Oh, Luigi,” she sighed, and she draped her arms round the Italian's neck and allowed him to support her. Then she pursed her excessively-lipsticked mouth into a bow and slobbered all over his face, careless of where she smeared the carmine concoction she chose to encase her lips in.
“Luigi, you transported me to Heaven,” she sighed, you taught me the depth os an Italian man's love... you showed me what I have been missing all these years … but first, before you rearrange my smalls one more time in a burst of passion, I must tell my companions what I'm doing...”
She staggered towards the Reverend and sat down in the chair opposite him before she collapsed into it. She gave little consideration to Saphie, whose chair it was and who gave a little scream as the weight of a fragrant Agatha descended onto her lap.
“My darling Holy Man,” she burbled at Josiah, “you brought me here on this wild adventure, and I have found a true kinship in the trousers of dear, dear Luigi! So I am remaining here, in the country I have already learned to love and what I now call home … my thanks go to you, dear reverend, for bringing me here, but now I must go. Luigi has promised me a night in his four-poster, and I can't wait another moment!”
Then she fought her way to be self-supporting, causing Saphie to groan a second time, and clung on to the Italian as if love was about to go out of fashion.
“Take me, Luigi, take me...” she hissed, and the two of them, clinging together, made their way out of the bar, out of the hotel and to goodness-knows where.
“Goodness gracious me,” murmured Saphie.
“Crikey!” hissed Rusty.
“The h=Heavens preserve us,” concluded Josiah Pike.
© Peter Rogerson 19.04.14