On a train to Bologna, Italy, Sarah found she could sleep in a corridor balanced on her backpack

Shaz had fallen asleep on the ride to the campsite from the swimming pool in Christchurch. Sarah watched as Dad carried her sister’s limp body to the neighbors. Meanwhile, the furious sky cracked and flashed bright tendrils.

Crowded around the small doorway, Dad had a quick chat with the man and woman. They nodded and smiled and let him and Shaz into their caravan.

Moments later, Dad returned to Sarah and took her hand to walk over to the caravan. Shivering under the awning, they heard torrents of water pounding and lightning crashing.

Over the sky’s fury, Dad said, “stay with these people, Sarah, Mummy, and I have to move the tent. We’ll come and get you when it’s pitched, okay?”

“Okay,” a tiny sleepy Sarah replied. She turned and a round lady with curly brown hair welcomed her into the caravan. The lady smiled. She took the little girl to a bed where Shaz was still sleeping. Shaz had on a big white t-shirt. The lady handed Sarah a towel and a blue t-shirt.

“Git yersel dry poppet, n git some sleep. Yer dada’ll come fer yer later,” she said. With a big smile, she left Sarah and drew a concertina door across the entryway to the bedroom. She did as the lady told her and climbed on the bed. She lay down and listened to the TV chattering and the lightning sparking venom at the world.

The train journey

Eight years later, Billie and Sarah reached London and got across it without delay. They continued on to Dover, where they caught the ferry to Calais. Their journey to Paris and continued by train.

They got off the train and found a nearby café. The waiter charged them an extortionate twenty Francs for two bottles of Coca-Cola! The price for the pleasure of sitting on a Parisian pavement. The sixteen-year-olds sucked up every drop of their gold-plated Cokes.

Their next leg of the journey took them back underground to navigate the Metro to Gare de l’Est. The French train took the girls across Europe to Munich, Germany. From Munich to Bologna, Italy.

With no cozy roomette or even a couchette, Sarah found she could sleep in a corridor balanced on her backpack. During the day, the train stopped at several stations. Passengers jumped out to dash over to vendors. Sarah and Billie bought baguettes with ham and cheese. Bottles of Orangina, Perrier, Dr. Pepper, and Apfelschorle stood, vying for attention. The girls chose the latter.

The scenery passed in a blur. The girls read books. When not reading, they talked about nothing and walked the length of the train and back looking for the loo.

Bologna, Italy

Billie’s dad met them at Bologna Centrale and drove them in a doll’s house-sized Fiat 500 car. Sarah got in the back and Billie’s dad piled the baggage upon her. Billie sat in the front and chatted with her father.

Driving through the streets was like being on the twister ride at the fair. Sarah was slung from side to side as the car rounded corners on two wheels. Horns tooting, men shouting curses, and police officers’ whistles colored the sunny day.

Sarah felt a mixture of fairground thrills and that sick feeling of imminent death. Nausea didn’t leave her until she reached the apartment and her feet were on flat cobbles.

Billie’s father took the backpacks indoors, and the girls followed him in.

The apartment decor; baroque

Through a carved wooden door and up a flight of white with black veined marble stairs. The walls opulent with marble on either side and even on the ceiling. Sylvana’s home had marble columns to hold up the marble ceilings.

The reception area held mismatched gold-painted occasional tables with odd spider-shaped, spindle-legs. High-backed chairs on either side, their backs against the walls. The blood-red velvet cushion covers reminded Sarah of the curtains in St John’s church in Oxford.

The bedroom Billie and Sarah shared had twin beds and a chaise lounge. Shaped like an armchair but with a much-extended seat. She reclined on the golden velvet and imagined herself an actress. A cigarette in a long polished ebony holder, a waiter serving a cocktail.

The cuisine!

After a quick, lukewarm shower, Billie and Sarah found their way to the dining room. Sylvana had prepared a light lunch of bread and cheeses, salamis, and Frascati. The ice-cold white wine enhanced the flavor of the cheese. Sarah licked her lips.

Lionel and Sylvana asked their guests about their plans for the week, but the girls didn’t know. So the hosts helped them by recommending museums and galleries to explore.

Judith, Billie’s sister, arrived later in the day. She was on holiday from her Italian university. She was a contrast to her younger sister, being shorter and plumper and not as pretty. She was friendly, though, and spoke Italian, so Sarah and Billie joined her for a walk into town.

The humidity

The heat of August in Bologna humidity made the shower Sarah’d taken only an hour before a waste of water. She stepped over the threshold from marbled coolness to a sauna. Ugh, she felt like a six-hour-old cucumber sandwich. The heat shimmer rising off the stone pavements predicted more perspiration to come.

© Karen Madej, 2019. All rights reserved.

Disclosure: A slightly different, less edited version of this story was first published on another platform.