The Church of Lost Souls 13

Obviously, Sofia got her way but only on the strict proviso that if anything started to go remotely wrong we’d turn back.

On the way to The Vatican we saw a few car crashes. A little Fiat was pummeled into by a larger car at a junction and it was obvious who was in the wrong. The guy in the Fiat was clearly injured, nothing major but shaken up and bruised, so when he got out from his car the guy from the larger car, who had caused the crash, went up to him and hit him plumb on the chin. I’m sure I saw a few teeth fly through the air.

There was no point in fighting for the Fiat driver, having been knocked almost unconscious. Seeing his predicament as it was he fled back to his car and tried driving off, only to smack straight into another car, whose driver came out and waded into him, kicking and beating him into a pulverized mess as he sat helpless in his seat.

Paolo ran over and pulled the guy off him. The other driver drove off and almost ran over Paolo and the guy as they jostled in the road.

Only when Sofia screamed in a high-pitched voice did they stop. At that time Paolo walked back over to us, still hurling abuse at the guy.

He was fine, he said, ‘but what an asshole’. His Psychedelic Furs t-shirt was ripped a little at the neck but it would survive.

As we got to the hole in the wall next to The Vatican, a cold air wafted onto us as the sun disappeared from sight. Walking through the hole in this relative darkness the almost mortarless old wall bricks looked like they were pulsating. Maybe it was just a reaction to the light change coupled with the energy we’d consumed walking in the heat.

‘It’s awful dark here, Aunty Ann,’ I said.

Paolo giggled momentarily. Leading the way, Sofia nodded her approval as if to say we’d had our fun but now it was showtime.

There were cats everywhere. They’d walk in our path, then scurry off and hide under a parked car, watching us as we went. No one was around. The place was devoid of life, a dead zone. No cafes, no shops, just shuttered windows on tiny cobbled streets, the tourist din dissipating as we delved further away from the hole.

After tackling the two or three streets that led to Maria’s, we approached the final corner to Maria’s street and started to hear singing. Walking on and into the street the voice became louder and clearer. It was a low, guttural female voice, full of slow, seething contempt.

‘This is it,’ I said. They were so taken by the singing I had to stop them in their tracks.

‘OK,’ said Sofia. ‘Try the door.’

Turning the small copper handle, I pushed at it and the door opened.

We scurried inside en masse and headed straight for the letterboxes, which were hanging on the wall towards the stairs. Number six read ‘Ursi’.

‘Right, let’s go,’ I said. We scurried back to the door and out onto the street.

‘Listen,’ said Sofia, asking for quiet. She’d really been taken in by the music and wanted to hear more but all I wanted to do was scarper.

As we stood there, in front of Maria and Giovanni’s apartment block, a male voice could be heard pleading to the female singer. His words fell away and then there was a silence in which a ghost could have been heard farting.

A single voice shouted bravissimo and then a crowd erupted, audibly clapping its heart out. Paolo and Sofia were transfixed.

It sounded like the noise was coming from upstairs somewhere so I looked up and saw a head disappear into a window. There were many windows open up there on the third floor, which would have explained the resonance of the din.

‘Come on, we’ve got to scram,’ I said, but Paolo and Sofia were in some sort of trance. ‘Oi,’ I said, touching Paolo’s shoulder, ‘I think it’s coming from Maria’s apartment. We’ve got to go.’

‘It sounds like a good party,’ he said dreamily.

‘I wish we’d been there,’ said Sofia. Then she turned on her heel and stomped off.

By the time we got back to the hole, she’d established that Ursi was the name of the cardinal that banned the Cult of Purgative Souls in 1969, condemning it to a state of religious purgatory, its souls lost to the church.

Paolo was still in too much awe of the singing and clapping to take all this in but I was having none of it. Even if what she said was true, it only confirmed the fact that I was going to Switzerland to pick grapes with Paolo and away from the Roman madness. Working for Maria was no longer an option.

Sofia suggested we go directly to a library to look up the cult, then at the very least it would all be out in the open.

‘Shall I try and call her?’ I said. ‘If she’s the one having the party or whatever it is there’s no way she’ll be able to keep the noise down. It sounded like there were hundreds of them in there.’

Sofia sanctioned my request so we went off in search of a phone box and called Maria. It rang and rang and then she answered, clear as a bell.

‘Allo?’ she said.

‘Hello, Maria, it’s’

‘James,’ she said, ‘thank you, thank you. How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I said. ‘How are you?’ I was surprised at how quickly my penis had managed to respond to the sound of her voice. It was standing to attention within seconds so I had to crouch a little in the open phone cubicle.

She was well. Giovanni had asked after me. Amongst other things, he wondered whether I might be available to work as a life model at his occult art class.

Her voice was so divine I was getting wet under the foreskin. Would my shorts show the stain? I didn’t know. All I knew was that this conversation had to end otherwise I’d burst a love gasket.

Sofia was watching me in a strange way.

‘Maria, I’m thinking of going to Switzerland to pick grapes,’ I said.

‘Oh you mustn’t, James,’ she said, audibly scolded by my treachery.

‘I think I’d better,’ I said.

‘Can we talk about it?’ she asked. ‘I have a proposition for you and I think you’ll like it.’

‘We could talk about it, if you like,’ I said, my penis steaming like a waterless engine at breaking point.

‘When do you intend to leave for Switzerland?’ she asked.

‘Saturday morning.’

‘Ok, so let’s meet Friday evening. That’ll give you time to think things over. If you can be a friend to Giovanni I’ll show you my gratitude and you’ll receive the salary as we agreed before.’

My penis was by this time a hammer. When I said ‘yes, OK’, I heard something in the background, a cup or glass hitting a floor or carelessly placed onto a table.

‘OK, so where shall we meet?’ she said.

‘Well, could you come to the campsite?’ I asked.

‘I could do that, yes, of course,’ she said.

‘There’ll be a party. Would you like to come to that?’

‘I’d like that very much,’ she said. ‘Il Buon Tempo Campeggio, no?’

‘Is eight o’clock OK?’

‘Perfect. Bye, James. See you domani.’

Sofia had definitely noticed my erection. As I replaced the handset I saw she was creased up in laughter and as I waddled my way over, bent at the knees like an old man, Paolo joined in.

‘Do I detect that you may have the hots for Miss Maria?’ he said.

There was no hiding it but at least the erection had gone.

‘She’s coming to the taverna party tomorrow night. I’ve got a job if I want it but I told her I was planning on going to Switzerland.’

‘Looks like you’ve got some thinking to do,’ said Sofia. ‘Can we go to the library now?’

It was only a few hundred yards to the nearest one. We walked inside and as Sofia darted off in search of the correct section Paolo and I reveled in the cool air. She guided us to a table and then she was off again, stomping up and down a few aisles before taking a large leather bound book down from the shelf.

She thumped it onto the table and opened it to the index page.

‘Culti, culti, culti,’ she murmured.

‘I told you she’s got cults on the brain,’ I said.

‘Very funny, here it is,’ said Sofia, sliding the book over our noses. ‘Here, il culto delle anime pezzentelle.’

In a whisper she translated the text for us. When she came across a name we’d already encountered, her finger would stop under it as it appeared there on the page and we would have to acknowledge it.

‘So what does all this mean?’ said Paolo.

‘I’m damned if I know,’ I said.

‘And if you don’t?’ asked Sofia, closing the book over my fingers.