A/N: I'm back, and trying something a little bit different, still the same people (who else?) and still nicking the characters and occasional bits of storyline and dialogue from S1, but definitely AU, especially the location. Enormous thanks to Flossy who rescued me when I lost the first 10,000 words to a hard drive failure (note to self – in future save everything on everything, cloud, hard drive, dongle … just in case there's another power supply monster out there waiting to kill my laptop) she'd kept the first drafts so I didn't have to go back and start again from scratch. I do hope everyone will enjoy it and will review for me, and please be kind.
-OG-
When I first got back, I used to spend hours lying on my bed in the room I was allocated in the nurses home, or Cell Block H as we call it when we're being kind, I'd be doing my best not to let it get to me just how bloody dingy and depressing it was. It's a bleeding dump with bars on the windows, not sure whether they're to keep us in or keep others out, and it always smells of cabbage, don't ask, I don't know. I'm well used to it now, of course, but then, I had to keep beating myself over the head telling myself not to keep comparing it to the Aldo, that it wasn't helping and at least I could afford the rent.
I've buried a lot of it, have managed to stick it in the place I call my cupboard under the stairs with all the shit from Afghan, but sometimes, like when I've had a really horrible day and I feel, you know, fucking useless, I get the box down.
I keep it on top of my wardrobe, and before anyone says, I know it's not exactly the cleverest thing in the world to stand on tiptoes on a chair and just hope the bloody thing doesn't move from under me when I over-reach, that risking breaking my bloody neck is not worth it, but it's the only place I can think of that feels private enough to keep stuff hidden. The box is where I put his 'T' shirt.
I stole it. I'm sure he never knew I had it, but it's not like he was going to miss it, was it? And if I try really hard I can kid myself I can still smell him on it. I know that sounds a bit weird, sniffing someone's 'T' shirt and telling yourself you can still smell them after all this time and especially as I've actually washed the bloody thing, I mean you don't need to tell me it's bollocks, I know. When I first got back, I used to sleep in it, every night, I'd hold it up to my face and smell him on it and then end up bawling my fucking stupid eyes out. Tears and snot all over until even I had to admit it got a bit rank, it was musty and sweaty and well you know what I mean. So I washed it and even though I'm allergic to ironing, ironed it carefully before deciding I had to be a big girl, that I needed to get my shit together, so I put it away in the box. I did think about getting some tissue paper to wrap it in but could almost hear him laughing at me, telling me to stop being such a fucking drama queen.
-OG-
PART ONE
Before
It was the first thing she noticed when she got off the bus, well she could hardly miss it, could she? It was so bloody quiet, it was sleepy and dusty and still, there were no people anywhere and all the buildings round the square had their shutters closed up tight, the whole place looked as if it was fast asleep. And in spite of it being teatime, it was still roasting bloody hot, no sign of it cooling down at all and it felt like she'd been sitting on one bus after another for about a week.
Even though they'd said they'd cover her fare, would give her back whatever she shelled out, they hadn't said a dicky about paying it upfront, and she definitely hadn't been willing to risk spending a shed load of money she didn't have. Well she couldn't really, could she? And anyway, all she could think was what would happen if it went wrong, if they laughed and told her to fuck off. She'd be in such deep shit. So she'd searched everywhere for the cheapest possible flight, and had actually really enjoyed doing it. It had felt like part of the adventure, well the start of it anyway, turned out EasyJet to Treviso was by far the cheapest, even though it did mean her being at Stanstead at sparrow's fart. And she'd thought it was a no-brainer choosing to do the transfer by bus rather than the train, it was far bloody cheaper. But like most things it turned out there was a bloody good reason for that, having to keep changing busses was the price you had to pay.
And it was unbelievably, totally boiling bloody hot on the bus, they had hardly got going when she started bitterly regretting her jeans as the sun streamed in through the window next to her. And she could feel sweat trickling down her face and making her shirt stick to her back, but that was more from sheer bloody fright. There were these hair-pin bends the bus kept rocketing round at about 100 miles an hour, and it kept lurching over what she hoped were potholes, and being a bus meant there were no fucking seat belts, all she had to hold onto was the seat in front. She just had to keep praying that the bloody driver had passed his bloody test. She'd never been exactly keen on heights, but this reminded her of those god-awful rides everyone else seemed to love, or said they did, the ones she bloody hated. She'd found out the hard way the day her and her section had gone for a fun day out at Alton Towers, a day that had turned out to be memorable for all the wrong reasons. She'd never felt so Tom and Dick in her entire life and had vowed then and there never to go anywhere near any of them ever again. And here she was, and this was worse, this time there really were sheer drops on one side.
Eventually, after about a lifetime, she decided that knowing exactly how bad it was couldn't be any worse than what she was imagining and dared to open one eye. The scenery turned out to be almost worth all the stomach churning fear. They seemed to be in the middle of some mountains, which were probably foothills or something, lots of them, misty hills everywhere she looked, or maybe they were mountains she didn't know, but they were all blue and green and purple, and nothing like the dusty brown and sandy hills with rocky bits that she'd been expecting. They were nothing like the ones in Afghan. They didn't look all dry and she could see what she thought were rivers glinting like tinsel a very long way away in the distance, and a few flashes of blue she thought might be lakes.
They stopped occasionally in little towns so they could change to another bus which then carried on going up and down winding roads and over more hills and they passed little villages baking in the sun. There were orchards with loads of fruit trees, lemons and that, and some fields with grapevines and some full of vegetables growing in neat rows. And a couple with horses in them. It all reminded Molly of looking at a kid's picture book. She could see palm trees in with some others, but trees had always given her the willies so she hadn't really got a scooby about them, but she did know what palm trees looked like. Well, everyone knew that, didn't they? But she could only guess that the hundreds and hundreds of neat rows of small ones with leaves that looked silvery in the sun were most likely olives.
In spite of the scenery, it all got a bit tedious towards the end, she was hot and tired and dying of bloody thirst, her throat was completely parched. There'd only been a couple of mouthfuls of water left in the bottle when she got on the first bus because she'd been going to buy some at the airport, but that was before she'd copped an eyeful of the prices and had made an executive decision that she'd make do with what she'd got. She'd vaguely thought she'd get some when they changed busses but, in the end, had been far too bothered about getting left behind to go off and find some somewhere. She'd ended up drinking what she had left long before they got anywhere near and even then it had been lukewarm and disgusting, had reminded her of ducking her head under the bathwater and drinking it when she was little. Still, no matter how disgusting it was, she'd have killed for it at that moment, she was not only dying of thirst but starving bloody hungry as well. She'd only had a packet of crisps since the breakfast EasyJet had thrown at them first thing, the one she hadn't even really eaten because of being a bit excited. Now her stomach was grumbling and growling, demanding food.
But, now she was standing by the memorial thing in the middle of the square, she had this definite little buzz of satisfaction in her guts that she'd made it, despite what everyone had said, and that all that was left now was to find the bloody place. Something that was beginning to look like it might be easier said than done.
Apart from two skinny little cats foraging under one of the tables outside the café, the whole place was bloody deserted. No-one, not a soul, not even the café had any people and the couple off of the bus had fucked off, even the bus and the driver had gone. Not that any of them had taken a blind bit of notice of her anyway, it was as if she was invisible standing there with her backpack by her feet looking lost. She took a proper good look round, starting with where she was standing in the middle of the square and took a deep breath blowing the strands of hair off her sweaty face where they were annoying her. First things first, she needed to get her brain in gear about what was best to do next, and to do that she should start with believing what she kept telling herself, that this was it. What she'd wanted. She'd nearly had a Julius at the thought of having to spend the whole summer back at home in east Ham, sleeping in a bunk bed and sharing the room with Bella, with the two of them bickering over nothing and everything the whole time. Well, until it was time for her to start her new job and move out again. She loved her family, most of the time, just not that much when she couldn't get away from them, so had hatched a plan and then spent bloody hours trying to make it happen. And then it had, and like it or lump it, this was it. Now all she had to do was find something to drink, and then look for this sodding hotel, and stop feeling sorry for herself. Sorted. Trouble was It didn't feel quite as easy as it had when she'd been a little bit ratted in the pub and telling everyone she was going to Italy, that she'd blagged herself a holiday job as a reward for working her socks off and passing her exams and then getting a proper job lined up She could hear herself now crowing loudly about having some fun in the sun. Shame there was this persistent bastard little voice in her head keep telling her it wasn't a lot of fun so far.
She was still busy trying to convince herself that panicking never helped anyone and that all the people had to be hiding somewhere, it wasn't a fucking ghost town, was it? Not when there were shops, alright they were all shut up but there was a café with umbrellas open so maybe it was early closing day or something. All she had to do was work out a plan for what to do next if, when she'd had a proper look everywhere, she still couldn't find anyone. She was still trying to think what the best plan was going to be when to her utter relief a bloke appeared outside the café and started swiping a cloth over tables and emptying overflowing ashtrays. Ashtrays on their own were something of a novelty as far as Molly was concerned, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen any on tables outside anywhere, at home people used the floor for their dog ends. And the best thing about that was unless he was someone who went round randomly emptying ashtrays, he was almost certainly local, and with a big fat bit of luck he'd know where places were. As he began closing umbrellas with one hand and tipping chairs up against tables with the other in what seemed a well-practised routine Molly hovered, not liking to interrupt, and waited hopefully for him to notice her. She was doing her best not to be rude. She kept telling herself it wasn't that funny, but nerves or something had fot to her and she had this terrible urge to give in to the giggles as she watched him. He was about 3 foot tall and roughly three times that round his belly, he looked exactly like a hobbit.
"Posso aiutarti … come se chiama?"
"Sorry … ?"
Oh Shit! Well, that served her right for giggling, didn't it? She had been about to try and mime asking him if she could get a drink somewhere, some water maybe in his cafe, but he stopped what he was doing and looked at her with his eyebrows up. And said stuff she didn't understand, although she thought he was probably trying to tell her to piss off so he could close up.
"Sorry … ummm … dead sorry to bother you, mate … but … ummm … I'm looking for the Casa Aldo 'otel?"
She pulled the bit of paper with the name written on it out of her jeans pocket and waved it in front of his face pointing to the name just in case she was saying it wrong.
"This one?"
He took the bit of paper and looked at it carefully before giving it back and shaking his head, then shrugged expressively.
Fuuuuck, even she knew the international language for he'd never heard of the bloody place.
Now she really didn't know what the fuck to do next, there was this horrible sinking feeling in her guts that the place might not even exist, that she should have googled it or looked it up on TripAdvisor or something, made sure the advert wasn't a con. All those e-mails flying backwards and forwards confirming the job and that they were expecting her and all the rest didn't mean the place actually existed, it could well be some bloke with a laptop in one room in Nigeria. And whoever she'd been talking to might well have nothing whatsoever to do with holiday jobs in Italy. Like everyone else she'd read about stupid people being taken in by that crap, mind you, if it was a con and was about them getting hold of her money, they were on a hiding to nowhere. She hadn't got any. Or if it was about turning her into a sex trafficked slave or something, no matter how desperate she was, there was no bloody chance of that happening either. But still her heart sank, all she could think was she'd been travelling forever, was knackered and crumpled and smelly and desperate for a drink and now it looked like she had nowhere to go.
"Come se chiama?"
"Yeah … you said …" Him saying it again and getting a bit irritated wasn't exactly helpful, was it? "Okay, look, sorry, I don't understand …ummmm … is there … you know, anyone 'ere speaks English?"
She had this nasty feeling she was possibly doing that shout it slow enough and loud enough and hey presto all the foreigners will magically understand what it is you want. Not that it seemed to be working that well so far.
"He's asking you what your name is and how he can help you"
"Sorry?"
She hadn't seen anyone sitting in the café but then she hadn't really been looking, had she? Had been far too busy trying not to panic and then trying not to giggle to notice anything. But hearing him speak English came as the most enormous bloody massive relief, she hadn't realised just how tired and worried she was, not that she needed any bloke to rescue her, but they did com e in handy when you're a bit lost and don't understand what people are saying. As far as she was concerned right now he was her knight in shining armour. He was on his own, well she couldn't see anyone else, had been sitting at a table just inside the door, not that it mattered, she didn't know who he was and didn't care, didn't give a toss, he was English, wasn't he? She could have kissed him. But made do with beaming at him instead, before she tucked her hands into her armpits to stop some of the fumes, she was horribly afraid her deodorant wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and then stood there waiting for him to say something else. She sort of expected him to say who he was, or with a bit of bloody luck where this bloody place was, or to say something, but he put down his coffee cup and picked up his book and phone and then tucked his sunglasses into his pocket without even looking at her. He'd simply glanced over in her direction nd turned away to start chatting in Italian to the girl behind the counter. He was English, she was bloody sure of it, but it didn't stop him being bloody rude, did it?
Molly stood there feeling the expectant smile on her own face slowly fade away to nothing, what a rude bugger, even if he didn't know where this place was, there was no need to be so sodding unfriendly was there? Admittedly it wasn't unheard of for her to piss people off, it was just not usually that bloody quick.
"I'm Molly" She decided there was very little point in waiting and turned back to the hobbit and smiled ingratiatingly at him then pointed# hopefully at her chest "I'm looking for … need to find the Casa Aldo 'otel"
She could hear Bella's voice in her head telling her she'd be fucking useless as a customer help person, that it was a posh title for a skivvy anyway, and that she wouldn't last five fucking minutes because she had no patience to speak of and was liable to tell someone to fuck right off if they upset her. Well, Bella should see her now, shouldn't she? In spite of looking dog rough and feeling worse, being tired, thirsty, hungry and needing a wash, and being just the tiniest bit bothered about where this hotel was bloody hiding, she was still being a total saint. She was still smiling, had ignored Mr Rude Bugger, and had told the hobbit the same thing over and over and hadn't lost it yet, had she? Bella had been sniggering loudly which had made Molly long to punch her, it showed just how little faith her entire family had in her. They were firmly of the opinion that she couldn't hack it, which made them top of the list of people she was determined to prove wrong.
"Maybe … you know, ummmm … maybe, oh I know, is there a taxi?... Taxi?"
She hadn't done anything about sorting her phone for all that roaming stuff, had meant to check it out but hadn't got round to it, and anyway her battery had died hours earlier. And even if it hadn't, she had a feeling they didn't have uber. Still, some bloke looking at her like that for no good bloody reason made her even more determined she was not going to give up. Anyway, she couldn't, could she? What the fuck was she going to do? Here in the arse end of nowhere. She'd told everyone about it, admittedly after necking a lot of Vodka, and giving up at the first hurdle or because some miserable bugger looked at her like that wasn't going to happen.
She'd been very short on choices, she couldn't afford a holiday because no matter how carefully she'd watched every penny of her deployment money, nearly two years of studying with just a pittance to her name meant she was totally skint. And at least this way she was going to get paid for being in the sun. Hopefully. Well, that had been the plan anyway. But experiencing different things hadn't included being stranded with nowhere to go, with some bloke looking down his nose at her like she was a bad smell and with her phone out of charge and her phrasebook buried deep somewhere in her backpack. She should have thought to put it in the side pocket with her passport, but it was too bloody late now and she was not going to rummage under her knickers for it in front of him. Not that he was taking any notice of her, he was still rabbiting away to the girl behind the counter, and it began to dawn on Molly there was no guarantee the bastard was actually intending to help her at all. It didn't look like he was bothered, so much for being her knight in shining armour. Wanker.
"Ciao"
He leaned over the counter to kiss the girl on both cheeks as Molly watched and tried hard not to judge, he seemed to have forgotten all about her standing there like the spare prick at a wedding. Waiting. Or maybe he was ignoring her on purpose, hoping she'd just give up and bugger off. Actually that was exactly what she'd do if she had the first idea where she could bugger off to. And it was none of her business who he went round kissing, was it? She watched as he patted the hobbit on the arm "Ciao, Giorgio" before turning turned to look at her without a hint of a smile on his face. She didn't know whether to smile at him with all her teeth and ignore how bloody rude he was, and then ask him as nicely as she could manage if he could maybe draw a little map of how to find the fucking place, or to give into her instincts and scowl back at him. Or maybe kick him.
He was long out of the habit of rescuing waifs and strays from their own stupidity, and was thoroughly pissed off at being caught up in helping some stray bloody teenage backpacker sort out something that was without doubt her own fault. He was aggravated beyond belief that she obviously hadn't done her homework, hadn't planned properly, didn't even speak a word of the language, all of which set his teeth on edge with irritation, there was absolutely no excuse for it. Especially when she was apparently travelling alone when they hunted in packs as a rule. Her careless disregard for her own safety was now about to fuck with his carefully constructed routine, but he couldn't just walk away, not when she appeared to be way out of her depth, and it was no good him telling himself it wasn't his responsibility, all his years of looking out for others meant he couldn't just abandon her to her fate. It didn't mean he had to like it though.
"Come on then … here …" He put out his hand to take her backpack as she struggled to lift it onto her back in a hurry "I'll take that…"
"Nah ta, s'alright … I can manage me own kit thanks"
He might be English but there was no bloody way she was handing over her stuff to him, her passport was in there and she didn't know him from a row of houses. He could be anyone. And she wasn't sure she even wanted to know him, miserable sod, what the fuck was his problem? She still couldn't think what she'd done, and anyway, what was to say he wouldn't just fuck off with her stuff leaving her in an even worse state than she already was.
"Suit yourself"
He muttered it under his breath so that Molly couldn't swear that was what he'd said, although it was definitely something on those lines. And just for a minute she felt a little tiny bit of guilt at being so bloody churlish, whether she liked it or not, he didn't have to help, did he?
"Sorry … that was a bit rude"
He nodded to acknowledge the apology but didn't repeat the offer, just jerked his head to tell her to follow him and went striding off, before she knew it he'd rapidly disappeared through an archway. By the time she got her act together and caught him up, he was striding up the steep narrow cobble pathway between houses.
"You know it's not a hostel, don't you?"
He didn't stop, didn't even look back at her, just raised his voice and kept going even though he had to know how far behind him she was and how hard she was struggling to keep up.
"What?"
She couldn't run even if she wanted, she was hot and sweating and desperately thirsty as well as starving bloody hungry, it had been hours since the crisps. And she was horribly puffed out. He might be 19 foot tall with legs to match but she wasn't and the backpack was a lot heavier than she remembered. Still, there was no way she was going to ask him to wait or slow down or anything, was there? Childish it might be, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction.
The cobbled pathway was not only very steep and narrow but claustrophobic, she could hardly see the sky and felt like all the tall stucco houses were trapping her the way they were rearing up on both sides, something she'd learned about from watching "A Place in the Sun". And all of them had these wrought iron balcony things that weren't real balconies, and pink and purple flowers that were spilling over and making the air smell lovely, as well as dropping petals that looked like pink and purple snowflakes on the cobbles. Molly didn't have a scooby what they were, but would have loved to just stop and smell them, except she thought he probably wouldn't wait. He wasn't exactly the warm and chatty sort, was he?
But he wasn't thinking about anything except walking without imping and trying to ignore the sudden and worrying pain in his leg. A burning pain that was enough to make every single step an effort. He knew he was being stupid, that it was some sort of misplaced pride that was stopping him from resting it, nut was determined not to show what the effort was costing him.
It was only when he reached the top where the path opened out and he took a quick glance back over his shoulder at her that he felt a tiny pang of conscience. The knowledge that he'd allowed his own frustrations and irritation to affect the way he'd been dealing with the situation made him feel reluctantly sorry for her, knowing as he did that she was about to rock up at the Aldo only to be told to piss off. He stopped and waited for her.
"Listen … it's Molly, isn't it? Okay, look, the Casa Aldo … really is not a hostel"
"Yeah, you said"
Shit, how thick did he think she was? He didn't know her, but had obviously decided she'd forgotten already or hadn't listened or was Mutt and Geoff or something, if he hadn't been quite so shitty to her she'd have explained about the job.
"Right …" He shrugged as if he was giving up "Well, if you change your mind, you can get a bus that stops right outside the hostel in town" He pointed to the gap between the houses "Over there …"
She heard him muttering something again but ignored it in favour of looking around for the hotel or maybe it was the bus stop he'd meant. But she'd had enough of busses to last a bleeding lifetime, and was also beginning to wonder all over again whether the fucking hotel even existed. But she knew enough to know that if it didn't, he'd have been only too happy to tell her, wouldn't he? He definitely wouldn't mind making her feel even more bloody stupid. But every time she looked at him, and she was trying very hard not to, there was something screaming in her head about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, something she was sure she should know, but just didn't.
-OG-