Bella Italia Read online

  Hans looked at her inquisitively. Not understanding her.

  “I mean, shouldn’t it be me reacting the way you are? You know … being the worried mother and all.”

  “So what you’re really trying to say is that I’m a wimp?”

  “Yeah, well, kind of. No, seriously, that’s not what I meant. On the contrary, this kind of a reaction says a lot about you and really speaks to your character. You’re concerned. But you can’t control everything. They told us when and where they were going; we have to learn to trust him. If we don’t, he will start to do things behind our back.” She took her hand off the table slowly and raised her eyebrows. “So? Am I wrong or right?”

  “No, you are absolutely right. You never told me that you could read minds before.”

  She gave him a wink. “It’s my hidden talent. Tomorrow I will reveal all the deep and dark sexual desires you’ve been hiding away all these years.”

  She saw how her comment brought on a slight smile.

  “Would you like a beer, worrywart?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet, maybe later.”

  7

  Hans got up from his chair at exactly nine p.m. Even though they had discussed it extensively last night, he walked to the door, opening it hesitantly, and stopped.

  “Just go ahead,” Petra said, determined.

  “So you think that …”

  “I don’t think anything. Just do what you think is best.”

  He nodded and stepped outside and started walking. From the corner of his eye he could see that Berry and Marion were looking at him from their terrace. To be polite he raised his hand to greet them and took a right. Their next-door neighbors were young people from Germany. They were also out on their terrace. Their baby, who cried a lot during the day, was sleeping inside. He nodded at them and kept walking.

  At the end of the road he took another right. About a hundred yards farther, he took a left at the intersection and strolled casually along a few tents, most of which were sealed hermetically. Except for the last tent in the row, where a man sat in front on a small fold out-chair. He was drinking a bottle of beer and seemed to be enjoying himself. When Hans made eye contact, the man gave him a friendly smile.

  Hans took a right at the next intersection. On this path he could hear the sound of music in the distance. It was cheerful music, something made to please a broad audience.

  It steadily became more crowded. Couples, people with small children, young people intimately entwined and walking arm in arm, and small groups of rowdy boys. The atmosphere was fun and jovial. He stopped at the swimming pool entrance. He needed to take a moment to take it all in and get a good overview. He then continued at a steady pace toward a group of adults standing by the stage. He stood right behind them as if he was also interested in whatever was happening on stage.

  Slowly he gazed across the crowd. He was roughly in the middle of the square, located directly in front of the Olympic pool. A boy, about ten years old, was on stage. He was dressed like a pirate and waved his sword around to the beat of the music. A group of adults and children right in front of the stage cheered him on enthusiastically. Probably friends and family, he thought.

  The music stopped and the show’s host thanked the boy and announced the next act. It was a girl about the same age. She was also dressed as a pirate. He panned the crowd again and discovered Niels. He was standing next to the outside bar with his friends, tapping his foot to the beat.

  Comforted by the thought that he knew where his son was and that he was having a good time and everything seemed safe, he returned to the entrance. When he got there, he turned around one more time.

  The road he took was named Corso Lago di Garda and was four times wider than all the other roads. It was the main artery of the park and ran from the swimming pool to the rear exit, close to Lake Garda.

  Before he reached the rear entrance, where the guard stood faithfully at his post to check if the hordes of people who wanted to enter were wearing the correct wristbands, he took a right. The Cave was located next to one of the three restaurants that were spread out across the park. It was a big hall, and when he walked in he was hit by a wall of sound. The place was full of video games and almost every station was taken. The ages of the visitors ranged from six to sixty. To his delight, there were no slot machines. He turned around and went home satisfied.

  Once he arrived at the turn on to Viale Bardolino, he saw that Petra had joined Berry and Marion on their terrace. He hesitated. He wasn’t sure he was in the mood for that now. But by the time he got to his own mobile home, Petra got up, making the decision easy for him. She said good-bye to Thijs’s parents and walked toward him.

  “So, Sherlock,” she said, laughing, “was the investigation successful?”

  “I came to the conclusion that our son is a perfect gentleman and is having a wonderful time.”

  She winked at him and opened the door to the mobile home. “I hope that you can relax now. Have a beer.”

  Right at ten thirty, Thijs and Niels arrived on their bikes. Niels stopped at their mobile home and said good night to Thijs, who continued on to his own mobile home and parked his bike.

  “Right on time,” Hans said. “As you should be.”

  Niels tapped on his new watch. “Keeps perfect time.”

  “So was the pirate ball fun?” Petra wanted to know.

  Niels shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Kind of.”

  Hans picked up the cards from the table and held them up.

  “Feel like playing one last game?”

  “Yeah, cool,” Niels answered as he pulled up a folding chair. He happily took advantage of the fact that he didn’t have to go to bed yet.

  8

  Ottavio Galli stumbled across the path that ran parallel to Lake Garda. The bottle of wine and the small amounts of leftover food he had collected from the garbage bins had not taken away his hunger. Usually he managed to ignore the empty and ravaged feeling in his stomach and accept it as part of his life. After another miserable week of begging and gathering leftover food, he usually found a place to rest his weary body. That kind of rest was relative though. Even though he was exhausted at night, his mind continued running well into the early morning.

  This was because the situation he had found himself in over the past three years—actually five years, if you counted the last two miserable years when he still had a house and family—could only be blamed on him. He didn’t end up on the outskirts of society because of other people’s mistakes. Oh, no. That kind of compassion, let alone sympathy, wasn’t part of his story. The fact that he walked around here now, along Lake Garda, unwashed, in smelly clothes, and without any personal belongings whatsoever, he could only blame on himself.

  While he slowly drifted off, deep in thought, another part of him remained alert. That was second nature to a homeless person. Always be on guard. People were still animals that could react instinctively. When it came down to it, a nice suit and polished shoes didn’t mean someone was civil. He lived like an animal and because people also treated him like one, it became increasingly difficult for him to see himself as human. He was an outcast on a continual downward spiral. Eventually, if you end up with the animals, you automatically become one.

  In passing, he heard a group of guys make some sarcastic remarks. The girls laughed quietly. He didn’t care—this happened every day. This was his fate; he had brought it all upon himself. Permanently, because he couldn’t see a way out or back. Only a miracle could save him now. Divine intervention, which he considered highly unlikely. His mistakes had been far too big for that.

  This thought forced to look him up. Twilight had fallen and the first stars appeared in the sky.

  “Arianna,” he whispered. The star that he named after his wife appeared dimly in the sky. Her rays would reach him later, maybe even warm him. Just like in the past, when she had been in his arms.

  He turned his head toward Rome, which was somewhere just beyond t
he horizon.

  His daughter’s, Dorotea’s, star beamed down on the metropolis where all that happens or needed to happen in Italy was discussed and determined. In this epicenter of the country, she would grow up to be an independent woman who had her future in her own hands. He had accepted that he would never be a part of this process, no matter how painful that was. The woman she would become could never be associated with the kind of terrible father he was. A man who had not responded adequately when his wife became ill and had drunk himself into a stupor instead, forcing the authorities to relieve him of his parental status. With a father like that weighing her down, Dorotea’s options were limited. Therefore, it was only logical and fair that he carried this burden alone. The one and only thing he could do for his daughter.

  He turned his head away from the sky and walked to one of the small, metal garbage bins found all along Lake Garda. As was his regular routine, he put his hand into the opening and searched for something useful with his fingers. Moments later, he held a half-empty plastic cup and part of a hamburger in his hand. It was not much, but something was better than nothing.

  On his way to the next bin he had to slow his pace again. A group of passing bicyclists took up the entire road, and nothing about them suggested that they would make room for something as vile and disgusting as a homeless guy.

  He stepped to the side, against a fence, so the group could pass by. The fence, which separated the road and the La Regina di Garda campground, seemed to give way somewhat, as if it was loose. The campground was known for its strict security and high maintenance. But one time he managed to slip past a security guard and was able to collect quite a nice meal from various guests, who were sitting outside of their tents or who had just enjoyed their barbeques. That meal had been a feast, he remembered. Meat, bread, beer, wine. Without thinking twice about it, they had stuffed him full of their leftovers.

  He stopped and quickly scanned the area. He saw a few couples strolling along about twenty yards ahead of him; they probably wouldn’t even notice him. Thirty yards or so behind him there was a couple with kids. If he was quick enough, he could find out what was wrong with the fence.

  He took a very casual stance against the fence and pressed his foot down on the hard material. About two yards ahead of him, the fence split open a little bit. The space it created was just wide enough for an adult to crawl through.

  Perfect, he thought. The possibility of crawling through the opening to go exploring around the campground was very tempting. It would be a great opportunity to fill his belly and maybe more. …

  But it was too early now. Later, when it was dark, he would slip through the fence.

  9

  “There you go,” Marion said, placing two bottles of beer and two glasses of rosé on the table.

  “Cheers,” Barry said as he put a bottle to his lips. Hans followed his example, and Marion and Petra clinked their glasses together.

  “To the perfect vacation,” Petra toasted.

  “Thijs told me that you guys have been here before,” Hans said.

  “This is the fourteenth year,” Marion answered. “The first time Eline was three years old. It was such a success that we’ve come back every year since.”

  “That’s their daughter,” Petra clarified. Right after Hans had left to go see how Niels was doing, Berry and Marion had asked her to sit with them. They had already spoken to one another extensively, but she didn’t want to give the impression that she had already discussed all of it with Hans. Otherwise, there would be so little left to talk about now.

  “Seventeen years old,” Berry grunted, disgruntled. “And she doesn’t want to go camping with Mommy and Daddy anymore. Way too boring, you know?”

  “She went camping in the Ardennes Forest with her girlfriends,” Marion added. “But she does call every day.”

  Hans gave her an understanding nod. “Yeah, before we know it, the same thing will happen to us. But I don’t even want to think about that now. …”

  Berry shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, you get used to it. In the beginning I had a hard time with it, too, but now I’ve adjusted to it. Besides, she’ll be home in two weeks, at the same time we return.” He took a few sips of beer and let out a satisfied sigh. “In ten years, it will just be me and the wife here and our kids will be off leading their own lives. It’s just the way it goes. In fact, it is exactly as it should go. Right?”

  Hans nodded. He didn’t feel like getting into a heavy discussion tonight. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that Niels was out there on his own, even within the confines of the campground. “This campground has really surprised me. It’s nice, clean, there is a lot to do, and there is barely any noise.”

  “And what do you think of the location?” Petra continued. “We took a bicycle tour up north, and the sights there are simply breathtaking.”

  Hans nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m not a big nature freak. But the variety of sights you find here within such a short distance is truly unbelievable!”

  Marion smiled as she reminisced. “I know just what you mean. During our first few trips here, we explored the area quite a lot. But after you have seen it all, you end up spending most of your days right here at the site and find yourself having a drink in front of your tent at night. The need to go out and do so much wears off eventually.”

  “Well, I am very impressed with what I have seen so far,” Hans said. “Here in the surrounding area in the south, the landscape is as flat as a pancake. Just like it is in Holland. But as soon as you head up north, the surroundings change constantly.” He counted on his fingers. “On our way I saw gorgeous hills with oleander, cypress, and lemon trees, just to name a few. Because of the constant glare of the sun reflecting on the lake and the huge variety of vegetation there, you begin to get the feeling that you’re constantly surrounded by changing colors and landscapes. We came across such beautiful places that I purposely began to slow down my pace.”

  “So you could enjoy the view more?” Marion asked.

  “No, because it was so beautiful there that I worried I may accidentally run over Adam and Eve!”

  His joke landed; everyone chuckled.

  “The lake itself is also incredibly beautiful,” Petra added. “That color, a kind of azure blue. Everywhere you look you see boats and windsurfers. If you take the mountains out of the equation, it looks just like a typical beach on the Mediterranean.”

  Berry raised his finger. “But I think the mountains actually make it even more beautiful. With a circumference of one hundred miles, the lake is largest and cleanest lake in Italy.”

  “How is that possible?” Hans pondered out loud. “It’s a mystery to me.”

  The threesome didn’t understand his question and looked confused.

  “Those mountains, the plains, the variation of the vegetation, I mean. It is unbelievable that in such a relatively small area you can find such huge differences. A mix of so many countries, all pressed together into one manageable piece of natural landscape.” He nodded, self-assured. “I’m so glad we chose to go to Lake Garda.”

  “The whole area is fantastic, and the campground is top-notch,” Berry agreed. “Everything is within walking distance, and I’ve never experienced a single problem during the fourteen years that we’ve been coming here.”

  “Except for the barbeque incident,” Marion recalled.

  “Well, yeah that was quite something.” He could see that Hans and Petra were interested in hearing the story, so he decided to give them the short version.

  “Our neighbors on both sides decided to have large barbeques at the same time. We were getting smoked out over here. Because they kept on going, at one point I decided to go and talk to them. I asked them if they would be so kind to either stop or to move the damn things somewhere else.” He let out a long sigh at the memory. “Eventually, they did stop. But then it became very chaotic there. You know the drill; they drink too much and then they become loud and rowdy. I was ju
st at the point of intervening and giving them a piece of my mind when three people from the site security showed up. They had a short talk with them, and the parties were over instantly.”

  “After that night all of them gave us dirty looks for the rest of the vacation,” Marion added.

  Berry grinned. “Which was totally unfair, because we weren’t the ones who called security on them.”

  “So who did?” Hans wanted to know.

  “I have no idea,” Berry answered sincerely. “But the message was loud and clear, because we never had a problem with them again.”

  “We never saw them again after that summer,” Marion continued. “Those people didn’t belong here anyway. They were rude.”

  But that is exactly the kind of people I was expecting to find here, Hans thought. “Yeah, well, you have ignorant and selfish people like that everywhere.”

  “Except for Baarn—you never have that problem there right?” Berry winked as he said it.

  “What do you mean?” Petra asked.

  “I thought only rich snobs lived there?”

  Hans waved Berry’s statement away. “It’s not that bad. Unless you consider us to be rich snobs too?”

  Berry slapped his knee after the last remark. “That’s a good one. No, you don’t seem like rich snobs to me. But from what I understand, from what Petra told me, you guys are comfortable and don’t have much to complain about.”

  Hans looked at him somewhat confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, that you have a good job as a physiotherapist, and she is able to arrange her schedule at the clothing store in such a way that she can be home in time for Niels. To me, that means you are comfortable, and that you’ve really got it together.”

  “I explained to them yesterday how Liesbeth takes over from me at two o’clock,” Petra clarified.

  Hans nodded. He took a sip from his beer. “So, what about you guys? Do you both work?”

  “Berry has his own courier service,” Marion answered. “And I clean at a local fast-food restaurant in the mornings. I get home around one thirty.”