As a lazy dusk engulfed the Maiori coastline, Andreas wondered what the tourists would be like, driving down all the way from Naples he heard. Here he was, waiting in his silver Alfa Romeo at the edge of the precipice, waiting for a bunch of Londoners, wishing he had something positively better to do, when a tiny red car pulled up. Two middle-aged women, one slightly older than the other, and a man in his fifties, got out, looking at Andreas, with a sense of anticipation. Yes, the people from London, definitely (Andreas rolled his eyes mentally). Looking a tad ridiculous, the man in a lemon-printed t-shirt. Surely bought on the way, while crossing the Amalfi coastline. And the women, both in denim. Nice.
‘È molto più lontano di questo?’ the older woman asked, smiling slightly at Andreas. ‘Siamo abbastanza stanchi. Molto traffico da Napoli’
Andreas grinned. ‘Solo un pochino da qui. Non tanto’. Just a tiny bit from here. Not much.
‘I quite like the look of him. Hair-gelled. Gangster-ish’. Damayinti winked at Helen. ‘Sigh. The chutzpah of youth!'
Darkness decended from the heavens, almost like a bunch of rain clouds on time-lapse. And before they had reached the villa, it started to rain, across the Tyrrhenian, moving towards them, quickly enough for Martin to pull out a waterproof. Andreas coughed.
So, here they were at last, on one of the toughest assignments together. Waiting for the next set of directives. Waiting with their Ruger LCRs, armed with lemon-printed summer clothes, and some Hibiki stashed in Martin's bagpack.
After Andreas left hurriedly, saying something about having to meet his brother down at the promenede, Helen put the kettle on. ‘Coffee, please darling.’ Martin was at his old-man best. ‘Sure sire. What else can I get you? Some freshly-baked Biscotti to go with it?’ Sass from Helen. ‘Need to go grocery shopping in town tomorrow morning’, Damayinti laughed teasingly, ‘Lucky we got some bread. And my precious teabags from London’.
The rain had stopped. Helen opened the kitchen door and set out the deck chairs. It was a breathtaking sight outside. No assignments for now. Just tea, company, and the gentle summer breeze over the cliffs. ‘Martin, you old soul! Stop being grumpy for once. We’ll get your favourite cookies tomorrow, and some good Italian coffee. Now, before we get caught up in the relentless game of living, come outside and enjoy the evening'. So they sat. As the evening rolled into night, casually, and the warm city lights lit up the promenede down below.
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