Last updated on 14/11/2024
Chapter 4 continued.
Part of The Road To Ancona.
The welcome party.
The night of their second day in the resort (the third of their holiday) saw everyone invited to the Galaxy Tours welcome party. The coach took them some way along the coast to an old villa on a headland overlooking the sea. The party was held in the large open-air area of the villa, its stone-tiled floor dotted with small trees and overhead a wooden trellis was covered in vines. Coloured lights were strung from the beams of the trellis. A band played on a low stage in one corner of the leafy courtyard. Between the courtyard and the edge of the cliff, a broad stone terrace looked out over the sea. Bottles of wine had been placed on the tables; dark green bottles with their tops wrapped in gold foil so they resembled champagne. In fact, they contained a fizzy, sweet, local white wine, worth around five shillings in the English money of that time. The drink was called Moscato and became a favourite with the teenagers. The boys were sitting at a table with Jane, Sandra and some other girls. They soon had the bottles popping as they tore off the gold foil and pressed their thumbs against the corks. A large, thick-set man on the next table came over to them and placed two bottles of the complimentary wine on their table. ‘You can have these,’ he said in a broad Black Country accent, ‘we don’t like wine. We’re getting some lager from the bar.’ Michael was impressed by the table in front of him, spread with many glasses and an array of golden-topped bottles. A few moments later another man, from another nearby table, also placed more bottles on the teenagers’ table. ‘You can have these,’ he said, ‘we don’t like it. It’s too sweet for our taste.’
The band played jaunty Italian melodies and couples began to dance. Waiters in white coats and black bow ties began to serve plates of food. Michael was drinking the free wine as fast as he could. It tasted deliciously sweet and was very bubbly. After dinner, Michael danced with Carol. She was on holiday with her parents, who approved of Michael because he was, “such a nice young man.” Short in stature and wearing a colourful printed frock, Carol did her best with the awkward movements of Michael. At various points in the evening, the dancing was interrupted by the arrival of a cabaret act. At one point a magician entertained them with a display of conjuring tricks that everyone thought were stunning. Later, a beauty contest was held and two of the girls from the party were invited to join in. Michael regarded this as being rather trite and false. That did not stop him from going with Richard to dance with the winning girls once it had finished. Michael had brought with him a black jacket which he wore with a white shirt and bow tie. It made him feel smart and glamorous. He felt very proud to be dancing with a ‘beauty queen.’ Richard was still in his shorts and beach shirt; he had not bothered to dress for the occasion.
As the bottles emptied, the behaviour of the teenagers deteriorated and this led to conflict with the parents who were watching them from their tables. A group of young Italian men had found their way into the room; probably waiters who had finished their shift changed into their everyday clothes and wanted a bit of fun before they went home. Several of the English girls made a beeline for them. In the competition for romantic partners, the Italian males always won hands down. The girls were infatuated with their walnut-coloured skin, their big brown eyes and glossy black hair. Most of the English boys in the party still looked pasty-faced, not yet having developed a tan.
Michael and Carol went on to the broad stone terrace overlooking the sea. The walls around the terrace were hung with blue lights. They talked about the holiday and how they felt about it. Michael explained about his writing and that he would, at times, write poems to capture the experiences he was having. Carol was genuinely impressed by this. She liked Michael; he was different from the swarthy lads from the Midlands. She regarded him as having a sophistication that the others lacked. The moon had risen and was casting its clear silvery glow on the dark sea, sprinkling it with sparkling diamonds of white light.
‘I have never in my life experienced anything like this,’ Michael said. ‘I have never been to a dance before. And I have never been to an ancient villa overlooking the sea.’
‘Yes, it’s all rather romantic,’ Carol responded. ‘At home, I went to a couple of my parent’s office parties but they were held at the working men’s club. It was not as nice as this.’
‘When I get home, I am going read books about the history of Italy,’ Michael said sipping at his wine glass. ‘I am going to the local library to see if they have any books about the Adriatic Riviera.’ He glanced at Carol, seeing her nod of approval. ‘I will certainly write a poem about tonight.’
Later, Michael dashed off a few lines in his notebook. He could not be bothered to scan the lines into rhymes so he just scribbled free verses as quickly as they came into his head:
Talking about literature on the stones of the ancient villa
overlooking the moon dazzling sea
the taste of sweet wine on our lips
as we converse under the stars
music dancing in our ears
we savour the things we have never done before
and the night ends with fireworks
lighting the darkness with their colours
their bangs and bursts splitting the silence of the night.
Back in the courtyard, the band was playing, couples were dancing and the behaviour of the English youths was gradually deteriorating into drunken lewdness. None of the holidaymakers from the Midlands spoke Italian. For the females in the party, there was only one language and everybody spoke it with equal fluency. Sexuality was a universal language and they all understood it. Some of the English girls were seen kissing the Italian boys. Richard got into a clinch with Jane but Michael and Carol were still outside enjoying the moonlight and talking about literature. When they rejoined the teenagers inside, the girls were talking about horoscopes. ‘What star sign are you Michael?’ Sandra asked. He replied, ‘I’m a Virgo.’ The whole group collapsed in hysterics. From that time on Michael was given the nickname ‘the virgin.’
Towards the end of the evening, the party-goers began one of their time-honoured rituals. They danced the conga. The Italian musicians had learned to play it from previous occasions of this sort. They knew it was something that the British always did and were happy to oblige them if it would make them enjoy their time in a foreign country. Another dance tune the musicians had picked up was called ‘The Highland Fling’. No one understood how this should be danced but the holiday-makers had a great deal of fun inventing moves that they thought it should entail. The finale of the evening was a fireworks display. Huge clouds of coloured stars burst into the sky as rockets exploded with loud bangs. The whole event was a wonderful experience for Michael; a unique event, the like of which, he had never known before. They all felt like this great occasion had been specially organised in their honour. In fact, it happened every night as part of the tourist industry routine for the resorts between Rimini and Cattolica.
Next: The Streets of Cattolica continued.