So close

Of course, the return of the Criscuolos didn't happen quite overnight. When I made the decision that the promise must be kept, I was only thirteen. A mere boy.

Nan and grampa had been going to Italian evening classes for years when I became aware of it. It never really struck me as strange although it might reasonably have done. As I recall nan got on better with the language than grampa did. Grampa cursed in Italian but that was the only Italian he ever spoke and I didn't realize that he was cursing in Italian until years later.

They used to go on Mediterranean cruises. I don't remember whether it was every year or every other year or what it was but I remember they went on them. One year the cruise stopped off in Amalfi and they went ashore. Nan told me when they came back. It must have been in the early '70s.

They sat down for a drink in the square. Nan said she asked about getting to Pontone (Ponton' it was always called in our house) but couldn't make herself understood; or at least that was her impression. She said though that, while they were sat drinking their cup of coffee, a lady saw grampa and motioned him to come with her - "Venga, venga", she said (Come, come). Nan said that grampa was afraid to go and shook his head.

I have no idea what to make of this story but I can imagine someone seeing him and seeing in him a local face.

Anyway, they had an hour or so in the square and headed back to the launch to get back on the ship. That was it. He was almost home. Within a few miles of his cousins up in the mountains. I have to say that I understand the fear; or at least I came to understand it many years later.