Italian Affair

She lay back in the bath and stretched out her legs. Ah..h..h, time to relax at last. She let out a long satisfied sigh and closed her eyes. In her mind's eye a large fat woman [NOT herself] panted loudly as she waddled hastily across a cobbled village square. An old black sedan drove up on the opposite side of the square. A car door slammed, there was a pause and the fat woman cried excitedly, "Guiseppe, Guiseppe," and broke into a faster waddle.

She snapped open her eyes and sat up in the bath. What was THAT all about, she wondered. Why on earth did 1 imagine that? She frowned and sternly put her mind to more practical reminiscences. Had she fed the cat before work? Was it Jim's turn to cool., tea? Surely it was.

Jim cooked tea. They had a pleasant evening chatting about their respective jobs, planning the next day, reading. She turned out the light on her side of the bed and prepared for sleep. It wouldn't be hard after that lovely hot bath. She was drifting nicely into slumber when they came into focus again ...

They were all having tea in their kitchen - Guiseppe, his mother (the large fat woman), his father and his sister, Angelina. Their voices were raised and his sister was gesturing angrily. It seemed that Guiseppe had recently broken off his engagement to Angelina's best friend and she was giving him a piece of her mind (in Italian, but it all made perfect sense). The heart of her best, truest, most dear friend in all the world was broken, broken into a thousand pieces.

The wedding - it was ruined. Guiseppe was a fool, a mad fool. He had fallen in love with an attractive foreign woman - a scarlet Jezebel, said Angelina - and no good would come of it. Guiseppe said he had heard enough. He thrust back his chair and left abruptly.

She fell asleep.

When she awoke the next morning she could remember the dream vividly. For instance she knew that Angelina was pronounced with a hard 'g' (Angel-I-na). Boy! Did that girl have a temper! She puzzled over it for a while and then dismissed it. At work she absent mindedly used an Italian phrase at morning tea. Her workmates joked - was she thinking of going to Italy? She didn't know what they were talking about.

The next morning in that drifting haze between sleep and wakefulness she saw them again. Guiseppe was in a prison cell. His parents were with him. "I didn't do it. It was not me," he was saying. She could see he hadn't slept. His hair and eyes were wild. He paced the floor. His mother was crying large fat tears. His father was muttering about foreign women: How could his son have involved himself with a married woman. Did he have no shame. And now, the murder of the husband. He sat down on a bench with his head in his hands. "I didn't do it,' said Guiseppe. "Can't you hear me?"

"What?" she said.

"I've been telling you to get up. Can't you hear me?" said her husband from the bathroom. He was shaving.

"Oh, yes," she said, dazed. "I thought you were Guiseppe."

Her husband put his head around the door. "What did you say?" he said. "0h!" she said. "Nothing. It was just a dream."

"I hope so," said her husband. "The only man's name 1 want mentioned in this bedroom is mine." They laughed.

"You know, " she said over breakfast, "I don't think he did it."

"Who?" said her husband (say what???).

"Guiseppe," she said. "I don't think he killed whoever it was they said he did." Her husband looked at her. "What on earth are you talking about?" he said with exaggerated patience.

She gave herself a quick shake. "It's that dream," she said. "It seemed so real. It was nothing."

Her husband watched her, puzzled, as she hastily got up and stacked the dishes. That night she dreamt of Guiseppe again. He was alone, pacing. There were bars on his window and the moon was shining through. He paced. He sat. He sprang to his feet and shook the bars. "I am innocent," he said. "I am innocent, but who will believe me."

The next morning she told her husband about it.

"That's weird,' hesaid. 'Fancy dreaming about the same thing two nights in a row. You haven't been working too hard, have you?"

"It's not a joke, " she said crossly.
"Of course not, " he said. "Sorry!" She didn't notice the troubled look on his face.

Her boss had mislaid some notes. He was sure they'd come back from the typist. Check your desk, he said. They might have ended up there by mistake. "I am innocent!" she cried light heartedly. What was all the panic about; they'll be found. Everyone was looking at her.

"What?" she said. "What? What?"


"You're talking Italian again," said her boss. Two of the typists whispered to each other. They wondered if she were cracking up.

She was worried. That night she decided not to sleep. She stayed in the kitchen and drank coffee. It was getting out of hand. If the dreams kept up, they'd all think she was losing her mind. Perhaps she needed a holiday. She had been working very hard. Even Jim said so.

She was a bit of a wreck at work the next day but she kept her head down and her mouth firmly closed. She was yawning terribly by afternoon tea so she left early saying she had a headache. When she got home she collapsed on the sofa. Her husband shook her awake for tea.

"Are you all right?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "Just catching up. You know 1 couldn't sleep last night."

"You've been doing too much lately," said Jim. He looked at her strangely.

"Do you think you should see a Doctor?"

"I'm all right," she said.

She fell asleep on the sofa again after tea. Jim carried her to the bedroom. He was worried. He rang the Doctor. They agreed she should come in for a check up. They were all gathered in the courtroom. The gallery was crowded and the noise was deafening. Angelina was on the witness stand. Tears were running down her face. Her parents were wailing loudly. Angelina was shouting to be heard. Only Guiseppe was silent. She hadn't meant to kill the foreign man. It was all a mistake. She had meant to get rid of the evil woman who was ruining her best friend's life and making the fool of her only brother. She was a scarlet Jezebel and she deserved to die. "Her body should be eaten by the dogs and the wolves," she screamed. It wasn't clear how, but Angelina was confessing to the murder. The courtroom was in an uproar.

The noise woke her up. Jim had the vacuum cleaner out.

"Thought I'd give it a bit of a whisk around and save you doing it, ' he said. "You look terrible."

"It's 0K," she said. "Angelina did it."

He looked at her.

"Angelina," she repeated. "It wasn't Guiseppe after all."

"Get dressed," he said. "I'm taking you to the Doctor."

She had to go. Jim wouldn't listen to her. "I've had enough of all this nonsense," he said. "You need help."

The Doctor listened to her story, made encouraging noises and asked her to wait while he made a call. He had a friend he wanted her to see. A man who specialised in 'this sort of thing'.

"I'm PERFECTLY all right," she said.

"Of course," he said. "Of course."

She was admitted to the Psychological Unit of the local hospital 'for observation'. They gave her sleeping pills to stop the dreams. She became quite disoriented. She called Jim Guiseppe by mistake, only once, but the following week they decided to try shock treatment. She fought it. They gave her tranquillisers and did it anyway.

After a month they pronounced her cured. She was allowed home. They advised her husband to keep her on the sleeping pills and tranquillisers. She slept most of the time. She lost a lot of weight. Jim decided to take her away for a holiday. He was going to take her to Cannes but a friend offered them a fortnight in his new timeshare apartment. in Naples. Jim hesitated. Italy was NOT his first choice of country but the accommodation was FREE. Anyway, she was cured now. To make himself feel better about it all he included a week in the country and arranged for a hired car. She didn't care where they went. She just wanted to sleep. Since the shock treatment she couldn't think straight anyway. Whenever she tried to remember anything, thoughts and images just tumbled around inside tier head. It wasn't worth the effort. "Whatever you say," she sighed (in English) when Jim mentioned Italy. (He thought that was a good sign.).

After a week away she felt much better and by the second week she was even going shopping. Jim was watchful for a relapse and anxious for her to keep on with her medication so she tool,, it when he was watching. Life was a pleasant haze for her now.

At the end of that week they drove into the country and stayed overnight at an old Inn. She was almost her old self and although Jim didn't know it, she was sleeping without the pills. She was enjoying Italy and so was Jim. Let's stay on an extra week, he said. She agreed. They stopped in a small village for some wine and salad. She sat on a seat by an outside table while Jim went inside to order.

The sun was warm and relaxing. She was stretched outin the chair, almost dozing when she noticed a large fat lady come out from one of the villas. A car had just driven up on the other side of the courtyard and a young man of about 28 got out. As she looked over he slammed the car door and their eyes met. Their glance locked. It was only for a second, it was an eternity. Then the silence was broken. "Guiseppel Guiseppel" cried the fat woman.

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