The Wedding Officer

24

THE APPLICANT’S name was Vittoria Forsese, and she was demurely dressed in a black frock. Her first husband, she said, had died fighting in Greece. But now, a year later, she had been lucky enough to meet another man who cared for her, a corporal in the Engineers.

James could see why her fiancé had been attracted to her. She was extremely pretty and completely charming.

“And what have you been living off?” he asked, his pen poised over his notebook.

There was just the faintest of pauses. “Savings.”

“Which bank do you have your savings in?”

Another pause. “The Banco di Napoli.”

Something about that name rang a bell. “Wasn’t that the bank the Germans raided?”

“Yes. To pay for their war. They stole everything.”

“So how have you been supporting yourself since then?”

“My neighbors give me food sometimes,” she said hesitantly.

“Can you tell me their names?”

Another pause. “Sometimes it’s one neighbor, sometimes another.”

“Is there anyone who can vouch for you? I must have a name, you see, and follow it up.”

“I don’t remember,” she muttered.

“You don’t remember your neighbors’ names?”

She shrugged miserably.

He glanced around the little apartment. It was spotlessly clean, and hardly opulent. But there were the usual telltale signs—a lipstick in the bedroom, a small jar of olive oil in the kitchen, a pair of shoes with leather soles instead of wood. “The money comes from soldiers, doesn’t it?” he said gently. She did not answer, but a tear rolled silently down one side of her face.

He considered what to do next. She was beautiful; she seemed hardworking, loyal and sweet-natured. And she had had the ridiculous good fortune to meet someone she loved who loved her.

He hesitated, his pen still hovering over his notebook. Then, abruptly, he came to a decision. Closing the notebook with a snap, he got to his feet and held out his hand.

“You must be very fortunate in your neighbors,” he said. “Not to mention your fiancé. Congratulations, Vittoria. I can see no reason why you shouldn’t be married as soon as possible.”

As he walked away from her apartment, her tears of gratitude still damp on his cheeks, he stopped and took a deep breath. Naples was going about its business, much as it always did. The sun was shining. High above his head, two unseen housewives were arguing across the narrow gap which separated their apartments. On the street, two old men stopped and greeted each other with a kiss. In a shady doorway, a plump baby sat on its mother’s lap and surveyed its surroundings regally, as if from a throne, gravely accepting the salutations and tickles of passersby. From somewhere the smell of tomatoes simmering with parsley and garlic wafted majestically down the street, mingling with the dusty scent of hot stone. The baby’s mother smiled shyly at James, and he tipped his hat to her in response.

Yes, he thought, Vittoria Forsese was indeed fortunate in her neighbors. As they all were, in this extraordinary city.