The day had warmed as the cloudy sky over Naples cleared.


This is turning into a pleasant day, Margaret thought to herself: as she settled into a seat atop the bright red tour bus.

Then, suddenly, a gruff exclamation interrupted her peaceful thoughts, "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Margaret looked up with a start, jolted back to reality. Richard was scowling as he stood in the aisle leaning over her. Her heart sank, what had she done now?

"I want the window seat!" he said, terse and frowning.

Reluctantly, she pushed herself up on the open side of the bus. He's reverted to type, she thought, It had been too good to last. Richard had been positively pleasant on the ferry over from Sorrento; he'd always liked sea voyages, well, short ones anyway. "You always want things to suit yourself, you're selfish," muttered Margaret under her breath. She knew in her heart that it was useless to protest, he'd still just ride roughshod over her feelings as a matter of principle.

Hearing her mumbled protest Richard retorted. "No! It's my right to sit where I want to. I've earned it," he said, sliding awkwardly into the outside seat on the top deck of the tour bus.

Margaret just shrugged as she took the aisle seat next to him in silence. At least I'm not hemmed in by the old bastard, he can go to hell for all I care, she reflected, as she watched him struggle with his seat belt. She had to admit to herself that he had become frail. Unfortunately, his advancing age and dickey heart hadn't done anything to soften his nasty demeanour; if anything, he'd got even grumpier as he'd got older.

Richard did up his seat belt and wriggled his bony backside, trying to get comfortable in the hard shape of the red moulded plastic seat. Then he straightened his grey flat hat and looked around. Apart from the couple in front of them, who sounded Australian, the other tourists on the bus were babbling away in some foreign lingo. The jabber of voices brought it all back to him. He didn't like foreign holidays, nobody spoke English and the food was muck.

It had been Margaret's idea to come to Italy and the children had paid for the trip as a fortieth wedding anniversary present. He didn't like being bossed around, even by the kids, but he'd been left with no choice. Margaret didn't know her place either, that was always half the problem. He was the bread winner, the decision maker; the old cow just didn't know her place. What was she doing now! Why was she leaning across in front of him? There was precious little space in the seats anyway. "What're you doing woman!" he cursed as he squirmed, turning his shoulder to block her out.

Margaret, exasperated, shook her head. "It's the ear phones, Richard. We have to plug them in so that we can hear the commentary," she explained, trying to keep calm.

"Hmmp, you could have said... Asked!" Then, trying to appear reluctant, he leant half way back in his seat. Margaret carefully stretched across and pushed the plug on the end of a red wire into a small panel on the outside wall of the bus.

"Here," she said brusquely, handing him a bundle of red wires, "Plug yours in." Then, working the knobs on the ends of her wires into her ears, she thought. At least these will block out his rude comments.

Richard snatched the bundle out of her hand, picking at the tightly wound wires to unravelled them. He'd watched his grand-daughter using this sort of thing to listen to music on her disc player thing, so he had not trouble sorting out what to do. Suddenly, his ears were assaulted with a loud burst of noise. It was music, but far too loud. He jerked the knobs out of his ears, relief. "It's too loud” The music, it's too loud, I can't put up with that," he whined, turning towards Margaret. Richard's abrupt reaction startled Margaret. She'd been enjoying the light Italian music. "You just have to adjust the volume dear," she soothed him in the sweetest voice that she could manage. Still Richard looked confused, probing his ears vigorously with his bent arthritic forefingers. Cautiously she leant across and pushed the volume control button a couple of times. Then, catching Richard's eye, she said, "There, that should be better. Try them again dear."

All Richard could manage was, "Damn stupid things," as he pushed the knobs into his ears again.

This time Margaret thought that she detected a little smile on Richard's face as he heard the music. Waving to catch his attention, she grinned and gave him a thumbs up sign.

His face softened further and he nodded.

At this hint of harmony Margaret relaxed just a little. "Maybe we'll get through the day without any more rancour," she thought to herself, more in hope than expectation.

Margaret's contemplation was interrupted by the bus shuddering as the engine burst into life. She felt a little thrill coarse through her; they were off on a little adventure.

While the passengers sat there in anticipation, a dark skinned, exotic looking young lady in a smart red uniform bounced up t e stairs. Starting at the back, she worked her way down the aisle; chatting to the passengers as she checking their seat belts.

At Richard and Margaret's seats, she leant over looking down at them. "Seat belts on? Yes, that is good." Looking into their faces she smiled warmly and then asked, "English?"

Returning the girl's smile, Margaret nodded and said, bravely, "Si, hable ingles."
The girl's smile broadened as she nodded, "You will need to be on channel two for the English language commentary."

Margaret understood immediately what she was saying and nodded with the best "Garcias senora," she could manage.

As the young lady moved on to the next seat, Margaret tapped Richard on the shoulder and, as he turned towards her, said, "You need to be on channel two for the commentary.”

"I heard," he replied. "I'm not deaf you know... . And, you shouldn't try and talk to them in their lingo. If they want us here they should damn wel1learn English. So, just use English next time one of them tries to speak to you!"

All Margaret could do was shrug, she didn't agree with Richard. She liked trying to talk to the locals. She thought that it was polite to at least try and use their language. Still, there wasn't anything to be done, if she protested, said anything, there'd be a scene.

So, avoiding controversy, Margaret said, "Excuse me," before carefully leaning across in front of Richard to check her channel. She was on channel one so she pushed the appropriate button to bring up channel two. She noted that Richard's ear phones were still on channel one, but, feeling momentarily rebellious, she didn't say anything. With his bad eyes he'll not be able to adjust it himself, she thought. Then we'll see who he needs to help him out.

As the bus pulled forward, lurching out of the cobbled car park and into the seemingly chaotic stream of traffic; the music continued. It wasn't until they were rounding the fountain in front of the New Castle that the commentary began. Margaret heard it in crisp English, s a young lady with a Scottish accent. Listening to the introduction she held her breath, waiting for some reaction from Richard.

Abruptly, right on queue, he jumped up in his seat, squirming around towards her. "I've only got some bloody wog talking on this damn thing," He cursed, pulling out his ear pieces and shaking them in her face. "What have you got?" he demanded.

"It's a Scotswoman, very nice too," she replied with a broad smile.

Richard's face turned from red to purple, "How'd you get that!"

Still smiling Margaret turned towards him and replied demurely, "Weren't you listing dear." Then, pausing, she put her hand gently on his arm, "You need to be on channel two for the English commentary. You've probably got Italian."

Richard snorted, tossing his arms in the air, "How the bloody hell would I know!"

"Let me do it for you dear... you might have trouble reading the numbers," soothed Margaret, as he snorted again. She leant across and clicked Richard's channel button. "Try it now love; I think that I've got it right for you."

There was no thank you from Richard, not even a hint of a smile. Pushing his ear phones into his ears again, he turned away and ignored her. Margaret knew not to expect any more from the grumpy old sod but She had at least in her mind, scored a point. She could wind him up when ever she wanted. Not that it did her any good.

The tour bus wound its way through the traffic choked streets, up into the hill suburbs surrounding Naples. Margaret relaxed a little. Richard seemed engrossed in the commentary and she was surprised not to hear a peep out of him. The tour commentary, punctuated with light music, had a sort of hypnotic effect on her. She found herself enjoying the breeze as they drove around the city in the weak autumn sun.

Nearing the end of the tour, the bus descended into some of the city's less attractive areas, with narrow, grubby streets and decrepit tenements. Here, Margaret expected some negative remark from Richards. Something like, 'You can see that these Ities live like animals,' wouldn't have surprised her, or 'How can they live like that, it's like a pig, sty,' but Richard said nothing. Actually, when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye it appeared as though he'd nodded off. That's a bit of a relief, she thought.

After a brief drive through the edge of the central city, past plush designer shops, the bus pulled up back where they had started the tour. Margaret waited as the other passengers to crowd around the stairs, jostling as they hurried off the bus, before moving herself. Richard was still quiet and, giving him a tug on the sleeve, she said, "Time to go love."

Richard didn't move.

Moving her hand to his with, "Wake up now," she realised he was stone cold. She shook his shoulder again and he slumped forwards. It was then that it dawned on her, Richard was dead.

---

Return to CONTENTS