END OF SEASON
North Italy, Early October 1997
James knocked lightly on the front door and watched how Alessia opened it shortly afterwards. Looking clearly fed up, she gave him a wan smile that felt more like an ugly grimace. Then she took the bottle of wine that he had brought, and cheek kissed him out of politeness, or maybe pity. James immediately knew she felt resigned at the prospect of another evening listening to his boring stories of months before. He only wished she knew how tired he was of telling them, as well. At that precise moment, he would have gladly traded his supposedly exciting career, travelling the world as a cruise ship host for a dull, normal life without a second thought. But since this was how things had played out, he might as well make the most of the prestige and extra spare cash that his lifestyle afforded him.
Behind James, Berndt sprang out like a breath of fresh air. He greeted Alessia holding her hand eagerly and kissing it delicately. Making her blush and grin, he handed her an exotic bouquet exquisitely tied with satin ribbons that he was hiding with his arms folded back. Alessia was so taken aback that she almost gasped as she grabbed the bunch, observing it with wide open eyes. She was looking very pretty with all that make up she had put on, James thought, despite being such a petulant child. And that made him even more annoyed when she fluttered her eyelashes at Berndt as she smelled the flowers. Although James was well aware that Berndt was just teasing her.
“Sit here till Guido cooks pasta.” She led them to their seats at the table in her less than perfect English. “Are you tired of trip?”
“We’re fine,” Berndt said. “After disembarking in Venice, we went straight to my apartment in Mestre to drop off the luggage. And the very first thing we did was take a nap before catching the train here. We wanted to be well rested for your debut tonight,” he added, smiling mischievously at James. But James was bracing himself for the boring half-hour live performance at her uncle’s piano bar that they were due to attend that evening.
“Good, good.” She smiled back, having probably understood a third of what Berndt had just said. Then she immediately disappeared into the kitchen, where her boyfriend Guido was making dinner.
James shook his head as she left and whispered to Berndt.
“Her English is just atrocious. I don’t know what Guido sees in her. Other than, you know, her obvious talent with the flute,” he giggled.
“At least she is trying, because my Italian is very rusty. I actually thought she was quite nice and attractive for your average Italian girl,” Berndt replied just before their host arrived with a different bottle of wine from the fridge.
“Nice to have you back, James!” Guido gave James a big hug as he stood up to greet him. “And I’m really glad to finally meet you, Berndt!” They shook hands. “Can I leave this one with you while I finish the linguine? It may be best to open this bottle until the other one has chilled. I won’t be a moment.” Guido left the wine on the table and returned to his kitchen.
“Not a bad choice for such a low price. Probably the best you could afford on a student budget.” James looked rather unimpressed at the bottle’s label, standing up again to rummage around on the sideboard.
“I know being a Swabian I should know my wines. But I’ve always been more of a beer person,” Berndt admitted, looking like he was not bothered.
“And so is Guido. His parents may be Italian, but he was born and bred in the UK, just like me,” James told Berndt before screaming loudly to ensure that his old flatmate could hear him from the kitchen, “By the way, where are all the cork screws I used to keep in the top drawer?”
“I moved them to the kitchen when my dad and I did the clear out after you left for Mestre,” Guido explained, returning from the kitchen. “He came from the UK in the summer to help me get rid of my nan’s stuff that was still lurking around.” He handed James the bottle opener before rushing back to his pan on the cooker.
“I thought the flat looked different without those hideous rugs and the old sofa cover that stank of mothballs,” James joked when Guido and Alessia returned to set the table. “No matter how much pot we smoked, we still couldn’t get rid of the stench!”
“I’ve also replaced the twin beds with a double.” Guido smiled, glancing at Alessia, who shyly looked down. “I’m afraid next time you want to stay over, you’ll have to make do with the sofa.”
“Don’t listen to him, Alessia,” James teased as he poured himself and Berndt a glass of wine each. “A good, respectable Italian lady should remain chaste until at least the proposal.” He made fun of her, knowing that she wouldn’t have understood most of what he was saying. “Or the ripe old age of twenty five, whichever comes first.” James clinked his glass with Berndt’s with a wicked smirk before adding, “No te capissi un klinz?” in the Triestino dialect, proving he could speak her obscure local jargon better than she understood his universally spoken language.
Guido shook his head in disapproval of his snobbery before bringing up the dreaded matter for James in an attempt to change the topic. “Now, tell me about all those exciting places you have been travelling to during your cruise ship contract.”
“Well, where shall we start?” Berndt replied excitedly, rubbing his hands.
“I go for food.” Alessia stood up to get the dinner from the kitchen, likely trying to avoid listening to the same old rants.
“I just can’t believe it’s over. You have no idea how hard it was to spend six months working at sea without a single day off,” James complained. “It was like an endless prison sentence. And now that I’m finally free to enjoy some time winding down, it’s the last thing I want to talk about.”
“Oh, come on, I know it was not easy for me either. People think second officers have the best job in the whole ship. And we would, were it not for the bridge watches in the middle of the night and then the boring, repetitive safety inspections. But we still had some great times, didn’t we?” Berndt beamed at James, trying to cheer him up a bit.
“The few moments I spent with you were the only thing I enjoyed,” James replied as he rested his head on Berndt’s shoulder affectionately, locking his sight on Berndt’s for a long while, as though the rest of the world had suddenly disappeared.
Berndt had the most angelic blue eyes and cheeky smile James had ever seen. Not to mention his cycle sculpted legs and the boldness James badly lacked, as a skinny, freckled redhead with a big, Aquiline nose. He couldn’t wait to fly back home to Bristol the following day and introduce Berndt to his dad and sisters. It had been a tough cruise season, but it all seemed worth it in hindsight.
After dinner, James invited Berndt to join him downstairs. They sat at the Caffè Fratelli opposite while Guido and Alessia washed the dishes at the flat. It was a small, old fashioned Italian bar with an exceptionally large terrace which would have been previously packed with both cruise ship staff and tourists. But since the opening of the lounge in the Cruise terminal a few months earlier, business had declined considerably, and Mr. Bolcatto, the owner, who also happened to be Alessia’s dad, had transferred most of the staff to his other businesses. Despite all this, it was still a firm favourite for James, because the bar tender who still worked there, a friendly young boy from the former Yugoslavia, made rather good coffee that they sold for a very reasonable price. Particularly when most of Trieste’s bar tenders were infamous for their rudeness, and the locals for their coldness towards strangers.
As soon as James and Berndt walked in, the waiter followed them to the outside terrace. It had been months since James had last seen him, but his reappearance at the Caffè Fratelli had never failed to bring a smile to the boy’s face. It didn’t matter that James could never remember his name and called him the Illyrian boy instead. He was always happy and cheerful and didn’t seem to mind. He was also extremely shy, he only exchanged just a few words with James when the bar was not too busy. But on a quiet evening like this one, it felt odd that he hadn’t greeted him with his warm ‘Hello’, the only word he could pronounce in English, as he often used to.
Avoiding eye contact, the young lad cleaned up their chosen table and took their order very hastily, looking rather uncomfortable, to say the least. Was he perhaps shocked to see James behaving in such a playful manner with his lover? Even in Italy’s heavily patriarchal society and with the north of the country embroiled in a neo-fascist resurgence, James had never faced any backlash yet for holding hands or kissing Berndt in public. Could it be perhaps that his strict religious upbringing had got the best of him?
He served their drinks politely and, instead of hanging around for a chat as James had become accustomed to, particularly when there were no other customers, the waiter returned to the door threshold. And from there, he spent most of the time pretending to be minding his own business.
“That linguine was amazing.” Berndt tapped his belly as he sat back on the chair to relax, “but I shouldn’t have finished your plate, too.”
“I know. Guido has always been a gifted cook.” James agreed as he poured his second glass. “He’s learnt it all from his mother. We’ll probably eat at their restaurant, the famous Trattoria Siracusa, tomorrow evening when we arrive at Bristol. My dad and sisters love it. Although knowing Martin, he’ll probably make up some excuse,” James added with a bittersweet smile, as he remembered his brother-in-law turned foe, eagerly looking forward to his well-deserved revenge. “I can’t wait to see his face when he finally meets you.”
“Isn’t he the friend who you tried to smooch one drunken night during fresher’s week?” Berndt laughed.
“That was a long time ago,” James quickly replied, mildly infuriated. “He can be a pain sometimes. If he mentions the war, just ignore him. You can always excuse yourself saying that you’re tired and leave early if you want. I’ve booked you an hotel nearby for the first two nights so my Granddad Frank won’t bother you either. Then we can hire a car and drive to the Cotswolds and spend the rest of the week on our own.”
“Oh, wow, you have everything carefully planned already,” Berndt began to say and James’ gaze immediately fixed on him expecting the worst. Could this mean that Berndt was backtracking again from going back home with him and meeting his family? James was beginning to wonder when Berndt quickly changed the topic, likely trying to distract him. “Don’t look now, but our cute little barman hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we arrived,” Berndt noted, rather amused.
“It must be your imagination,” James dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t pay him any attention. He’s just a kid.”
“But he won’t be a kid forever.” Berndt raised his eyebrows cheekily. “How old do you believe he is?”
“He used to go to school with Alessia. I guess he must be about seventeen like her,” James guessed, looking at his watch impatiently after nearly half an hour waiting for Guido and Alessia to join them. “That’s why we’re always stuck for places to go since they started dating, and almost always end up at the cinema. In Italy, most nightclubs will not allow entry to anybody who is underage, unlike Austria or Germany.”
“That’s why I believe the waiter must be at least eighteen. Otherwise, how is he allowed to serve alcohol and work this late?” Berndt guessed. “Let’s ask him. The loser buys the drinks. Waiter! Waiter!” Berndt shouted to attract his attention as the young boy began to walk away to serve new customers at the other end of the terrace.
“Could we have the bill please?” James asked in Italian, glancing at Berndt when the waiter returned to clear their table. “I don’t think he understands any English,” James explained to Berndt as the waiter left again with the empty glasses and bottle.
“Excuses, but how many years you are...?” Berndt asked in his awful Italian when he returned with the bill. The boy’s face instantly blushed, and James pretended to look elsewhere to cover his embarrassment.
“I’m sixteen,” He replied in a very hushed voice, looking down as though he was ashamed to admit it.
“The drinks are on me, then!” Berndt reverted back to English, leaving a bunch of bank notes that added up to more than double their bill.
After counting the cash, the waiter took the amount required to cover their drinks and, unaccustomed to receiving tips, an occurrence highly unusual in Italy, he made a gesture towards Berndt as though he had forgotten something. But Berndt simply winked at him before catching up with James, who was already on the way out, not wanting to be part of Berndt’s antics.
“What is the Italian age of consent anyway?” Berndt continued to make fun once they were a few yards away from the Caffè Fratelli.
But James could not see the point of his joke. And besides, it was getting late, and they still had to catch the midnight train back after Alessia’s performance. They’d better go back to the flat and chase them. Hopefully, he could still get an early night ahead of their big trip the following day. He would need it if he was to remain calm when Martin’s sarcasm and his Granddad Frank’s hurtful remarks eventually made an appearance. After all, he didn’t want to scare Berndt away with his dysfunctional family.
