When I was 21, I spent 2 years in England. I had a fabulous time, riding a bike around the countryside, holidaying in Spain, Austria, Paris. It was hard to settle down when I came home to Bayside Melbourne. Australian streets are so wide compared to the hedgerows of England. It was like coming home to the Wild West. It took years to settle back into a comfortable lifestyle. It was the same now after spending 10 weeks in Europe. This latest trip could not compare to the first, when I was young and Europe was less crowded, but it was still exciting. You do something different every day when you are abroard, back home I was just bored. I forgot the night with the gigalo the minute I left Sorrento. The night lost its reality, I did not think of Mauritzio again.

I renovated my flat, that kept me interested for a while but I had a basic discontent. On a whim I bought a puppy - a chihuahua jack russell cross. Jack. He was no trouble at all. House trained himself in a minute, an hours walk on the beach in the morning, slept on the couch for the rest of the day. No trouble at all. So I bought another pup. Georgie Girl! Jack was black and tan and George was a tan and white foxy jack russell cross. She was so cute. The first day I left her alone she ate through the rung of an antique chair. The second day she ate through the legs of the bedside tables, the third day I came home to a flat full of orange stuff and George was panting, exhausted. She had got into the end of the double bed and removed all the stuffing; the bed was now just wire with material stretched over it. Not comfortable! Jacks eyes were wide. You could see him saying "I told her not to Mum". George just looked at me sweetly and said "I really need a house in the country". I put the flat on the market and rented on the Mornington Peninsula while I built George the house of her dreams.

Georgie's dream house is a red brick cottage. It has 2 bedrooms with a passage down the middle, so that when you come to the front door you see straight out to the garden. The difference between an old cottage and a modern cottage is that the rooms are spacious. The garden is huge and I have to keep working to support it. It has a large central bed with
a fountain in the middle, the fountain has a mermaid on the top and the water comes out of a shell she is holding. The fences are festooned with roses and clematis and ornamental grapevines and their are 7 manchurian pear trees dotted around plus apple trees and crabapples. Georgie is very happy here and so am I.

I should tell you a bit about Jack. For me he is the perfect dog. All he asks of life is that he be fed and allowed to love me. However, he has bitten 54 people at the last count. The only reason he survives is that being a chihuahua his bites are small and he has beautiful teeth. I have a kiddi-gate halfway down the passage ,so that friends can come in safely while I deal with him. The laundry has a doggie door out to a white fenced area, with a wisteria arch and we call it Jacky's office. Jacky hates it and now when anyone comes to the door, he hides under the table, which is good, because he doesnt try to bite them until they leave and I pick him up then. I had a dog wisperer out to him ($600) and he said that because Jacky is the only male living in the house, he feels he has to protect George and me. And because he is so small, he thinks his best option is to bite first. I have a neighbour who calls in every day for a cuppa, he loves Mary and doesnt really want to bite her but he feels obliged, so what he does is, he waits until she is safely on the other side of the kiddi gate and goes for her then. Despite all this, lots of friends come and stay with me in the country and if they are staying the night he doesnt bite them. Makes no attempt at all. Embraces them. Would probably protect them if necessary. Feels they are part of the family.

I was pulling up weeds one day when my friend Cathy rang; would I like to come to lunch at her place, as her bestie from school, who lives and works in New York, is visiting her mother in Melbourne and wants to catch up. I didnt know Barbara at school but I said yes anyway.

We sat out by the pool for lunch because it was such a lovely Spring day. Cathy served smoked salmon, with a dollop of caviar on top, inside a crisp iceberg lettuce leaf with horseradish on the side. This was accompanied by rye bread, unsalted butter and French Champagne.

I asked Barbara what she did in New York.
"Oh I am personal assistant to Charles Carter. He runs a chain of shops throughout America. A mini empire really. Clothes, home decor, that sort of thing. Its a wonderful job, wonderful perks".
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, he has seasons tickets to the ballet, the opera, he is invited to all the art exhibitions, everything of note really. He doesnt go, he's divorced, so I take the tickets and I go. I take a friend, people are used to seeing me everywhere, I guess I fall into that category of someone who goes to the opening of an envelope". She laughed at herself, and added "I love it".

"Has he been divorced long?" I asked.
"Years" she said, tucking into her salmon. "I dont think his marriage lasted a year. There was a child, poor little Kristine, she was more or less brought up by the cook and the gardener, at Charles country house".
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"Funny you should ask" replied Barbara , "Kristine is 25 and if you had asked me where she was, at any time during the last 10 years, I couldnt have told you. As it happens, she's in Italy now, Sorrento".

"Oh" I said "I visited Sorrento a few years ago".

Barbara looked interested. "Ive not been to Italy" she said. "Ive not been anywhere much really, outside New York. We only have about 10 days holiday a year in America, and I always come back to Australia to see my mother".

"So Kristine doesnt work in her fathers business?" I asked.

"Certainly not" replied Barbara "the poor girl's a drug addict. Her mother left the minute she was born. There were a series of nannies but in the end, her care fell to the cook. She married shortly after she finished school, that didnt work, Charles lawyer, Phillip, had the marriage annulled. Then she became a bit of a rock groupie, married an American rock singer, he died of a heroin overdose, she nearly died too but gave birth to a child first, Charles had her put into rehab after that."

"What happened to the child?" I asked.

Barbara looked slightly embarrassed. "There was a bit of skulduggery Im afraid. Between Charles and the hospitals Medical Director. The child was adopted out, legally, to a woman with 2 little boys. A widow. Good woman. She used to come and feed babies at the hospital while her kids were at school. Apparently, babies born of drug addicts are jittery at birth, withdrawing from the drugs. Women come in and feed them and cuddle them, because hospital staff dont have the time."

"And is Kristine still a drug addict?" I asked.

"I dont know" answered Barbara. "I worry about her a bit. I used to take her out sometimes, when she was in New York on school breaks. She was such a pale, sad little thing. She stayed in rehab for nearly a year. I just kept on paying the bills. Charles was happy. She was safe there, but a few weeks ago, she just up and left, and ever since credit card accounts are coming in left, right and centre, from Sorrento."

"What are the accounts for"? asked Cathy "drugs?".

"No" answered Barbara "beauty salons, Prada, Max Mara. Things Kristine has never bothered with in her life. She has a private fortune she's never touched. Phillip brought the accounts over to me, to shed some light, but I knew nothing. I showed them to Charles, he hardly looked at them, just said "give them to Phillip". You'd think he didnt care about her at all", Barbara looked very concerned, you could see this situation bothered her considerably, then she added "but of course he does. He and Phillip have had a terrible row. Charles has, just recently, made his will. He's left his entire estate, private fortune and business, to Kristine. Phillip is furious".

"But she is his only daughter" said Cathy indignantly , "who else would he leave it too?"

"The private fortune maybe", Barbara allowed, "but not the business. Hundreds of people earn their living from Carters, you cant leave it to a drug addict. Even if she is off drugs, she's had no training and she is not a stable girl".

"Oh well, its none of our business" said Cathy, anxious to bring the conversation back to our own world. She gathered up our plates and took them inside, insisting that she did not need help.

"Just tell me " I said to Barbara "what is the name of the hotel these accounts are coming from?"

She told me the name but I already knew it, it was my hotel and Kristine was one of Mauritzios "unhappy ladies", Id put money on it!

The Gigalo

I met a gigalo in Sorrento. He was the most beautiful looking boy I have ever seen. About 17 or 18, short black curly hair and grey eyes. I turned to see who had spoken at my shoulder and his beauty stunned me. I was speachless and momentarily breathless. Great beauty has this effect on me. I once saw Elizabeth Taylor peering out of a London taxi. She was quite young still, Richard Burton was slumped beside her and I experienced the same shock then, and the first time I heard Maria Callas sing "Softly awakes my heart" - same thing. Unable to move. And I was not an opera lover at the time.

The gigalo said something, his accent was heavy and I was feeling confused, it was something about "hotel" "me" "you" "bed". You would think I would know what it was all about, and I think I did, but I just stood there, stunned, and he linked his arm in mine and headed up the hill to my hotel. He seemed to know whereto go and when we got to the hotel, he guided me happily up the stairs to my room. I had no chance to sort myself out, I was just swept along.

Now I was 50! Im a very ordinary person. I couldnt believe this was happening. Later on, I would remember reading, in a womens magazine, an article about middle aged women, going to Italy for holidays, sitting on the beach surrounded by young men, who entertained them by teaching them a bit of Italian, swimming with them, taking them sight seeing, dancing and dining in the evening. At the time I thought "as if". What would middle aged women want with teenage boys? Yes, well, Ive always been a bit naive in that direction!

Our tour bus had arrived late to Sorrento, I was with a group of about 20 men and women, mostly women, a variety of ages but most middle aged, like me. We dropped our bags in our rooms and had to be in the dining room 5 minutes later. Italians are so obsessed with food and the chefs had been waiting for us for over an hour. After dinner we were told we could go down into the town and shop - it was already 10 pm but the shops were open until late. I walked down the hill with my friends, but once we started shopping we separated, agreeing to find our own way back to the hotel and seeing each other at breakfast. We were on a Leisure Tour of Italy. The "Leisure" bit meant that we had 2 days in each place. In the case of Sorrento it was just a few hours in the evening the 1st day and a few hours in the morning the 2nd day! We saw every inch of Italy though, even if it was only for a minute!

Once in the bedroom, the gigalo looked at me expectantly. He had kept up a running commentary as we walked up the hill, what a lovely night it was, so clear, the moon lighting our path, the stars so bright in the sky . Good tour guide! I still couldnt believe I was in this situation. My head was full of cotton wool and I couldnt think. He looked at my handbag and I instinctively drew out money, notes, I didnt really know how much I handed over, but he seemed very pleased. "I stay whole night" he told me with a big smile. We stood there looking at each other for some moments and his expression became puzzled, "you no want bed?" he asked. I dont think I responded at all. Suddenly the worried look left his face and he said, quite delightedly "we will just talk then".

The next thing I knew, he had ushered me out onto the tiny balcony, overlooking the sea. 2 small chairs and a table. I could hear the sea as it splashed onto the shore and the moon shone a silver ribbon across it. The night was warm and velvety and there was a perfume in the air - I think it was Jasmine - I dont know where it came from. It could have been roses, some roses release their smell at night. Mauritzio, that was his name, disappeared for a moment and returned with 2 glasses and a carafe of light rose. He poured a glass for me and one for him , "my brother, he owns this hotel", he announced as he poured. That explained how he knew his way around so well.

He sat down and smiled at me. I wish I could describe his beauty. His features were perfect, chiselled and the way he held his head, so proudly, he had an arrogance, how could he help it? But his eyes were kind. When he smiled at me, the overall impression was kindness. Beauty and kindness. Absolutely irrisistable in a man. Although he was just a boy. "I am not a gigalo" he said. "OK" I thought. "I am like dottore or priest". I nodded, I believed him! "My brothers were gigalos, beachboys", he continued , "I am not like them. I wanted to be priest.The monks at monastery turned me down". He looked at me as if to say "can you believe that?". "I think they turn me down because of my family. My brothers being gigalos". ( I thought they may have turned him down because he would be an occasion of sin ! To males and females!)


"My mother from Assisi" he told me. He pronounced it "Aseeesee". "She very beautiful. Daniella. My Poppa, Beni, he good looking too. Mama's poppa, he not want her to marry Beni. Not good worker, he think. My momma only 16 anyway but she go out window at night and meet Poppa. Then she pregnant with Joey. Had to marry. Beni no job. My Nonno buy them bakery, here in Sorrento, good business but very hard work. Up early, heavy trays. Poppa hurt his back, work no more. Mama, she get up early and lift trays by herself. She strong woman." His accent became thicker and his English less perfect as he became engrossed in his story. He sipped his wine and sometimes looked out to sea. Not that you could really see the sea but he looked out into the night, thoughtful. "She have more children. Fabio, Silvia, me, later on Angelina". He took another sip of his wine. "Joey 16 by time I come. Joey look after me. He my mother and my father. He love mumma. He want to be dottore. Joey very clever but he leave school to help Mumma . Joey do all heavy work. Then Joey make friends with Andreas". Mauritzios nose and lip curled. "Andreas a peacock. He make friends with lady tourists and they give him presents. Money, gold watches. He does not even love these ladies. Joey different. Joey loves women." Mauritzio smiled. "Joey loves all women. No matter what age, what size, Joey loves." Fabio ask him "what about ugly ones". Joey say "no ugly ones. All beautiful. Nice eyes, nice hair, nice boob,nice bottom, age dont matter", Mauritzio looked at me and laughed and nodded "truly, Joey love all women". I believed him. Joey would be the florid, overweight but handsome man, in his mid thirties, who welcomed us when we arrived. He had a look about him as if he loved all women!

Mauritzio's voice became warm when he spoke of Joey. He obviously adored him.

"Fabio different" he continued "artistic. Fabio likes boys but that is good. Many boys come to Sorrento looking for love. But Fabio" he shook his head "Fabio is sensitive. Joey, he love a woman, they have good time, Joey cries when they leave, hugs and kisses and cries and the ladies, they cries too, but in afternoon - Joey find another woman to love. Not Fabio. He is so upset when boyfriend leaves, he gets sad, and does not find another boyfriend for weeks. So , Joey much richer than Fabio".

Mauritizio stood up and leant over the little iron railing of the balcony. "You like Sorrento?" he asked "You think pretty?". I joined him and looked out to the twinkling lights of the shoreline. "Very pretty" I agreed. Mauritzio nodded and pointed out to the right "Carpree" he said "you go there?" . "We go there in the morning" I answered "to the Isle of Capri, then to Pompeii". Mauritzio nodded. "Carpree very pretty but you no see it. Too crowded. Cant see it properly. Its just a little town. Should not have so many people".

"Do your brothers still work, er, ah, at the beach"? I asked. Mauritzio shook his head and returned to the little table.

"Joey sell bakery and buy hotel. Now we are hoteliers. More respectable. Except for me. I work in hotel too, but Joey say I have other vocation. I must look to ladies and make them happy. But I am not gigolo. I look for ladies who are unhappy, ladies who are lonely, ladies who dont make best for themselves. I take them to beauty parlour, give them new look. Take them shopping, make them pretty, show them how to be happy, to have fun, to make love. They go home from holiday happy, with new confidence, new women. I know i have done good job. Like dottore. Joey say we better than dottore. Dottore give pills. They not really work. We make true change to persons."

"Do your sisters work in the hotel?" I asked. Mauritzio frowned. "No, no, no" he said "would not be right. Joey send them to convent school in Paris. He buy apartment in Paris. Mumma goes to apartment in school holidays - be with girls. They also go for holidays to Venice, Austria, wonderful holidays." He added a trifle resentfully "I would love".
"Do you never go on holiday?" I asked. Mauritzio shook his head "I am man" he said "I must work. Only Angelina at school now. Silvia marry, live in Meelan."

"How old is Silvia?" I asked, but he did not answer. "You are cold" he said quite suddenly, concerned, and in a moment he was up, into my room and back, placing a pashmina around my shoulders. I hadnt been cold until he mentioned it. Only then did I notice that the night, though still warm, had added a little breeze to its charms. I realised also, that while Mauritzio had been talking, he had had me and my welfare at the front of his mind all the time. I was interested in his story, if I had not been, he would have known instantly and changed his focus completely. It suited him to tell me his story but he also knew I wanted to hear it. His movements were so quick, so graceful, the mood was never interrupted. The level of my wine, which I sipped throughout the night, never dropped below half full and yet I was never aware of his refilling it. I took time out to marvel at the fact that , for this night only, he was there for me. I was paying for this attention of course.

"Mauritzio, what about me? Did you think I was lonely?". He smiled. "I make mistake with you", he confessed, " was dark, I thought you were on your own, so must be lonely. Only when we come up hill did I remember you are with tour - I dont bother with tour persons. Only with ladies on their own. Sometimes widows, sometimes heartbroken, break with boyfriend, come to Italy to get over. They come for weeks, 2 weeks, 3 weeks. Too long to be on own. They think the culture and the paintings will help them", he shook his head, "wont help - persons only thing that will help other persons. Someone needs to show them they are beautiful, worthwhile, confident - THEN culture and paintings help." He smiled into my eyes "I make mistake with you" and he laughed a little laugh, just short of a giggle. ( I was very pleased to know that I hadnt looked completely pathetic.)

"So what do you think?" he asked. "About what?" I returned. "About me" he said indignantly. "Do you think I am good man or gigalo?" Ahhh, I began to get it. I was paying to be entertained but at the same time, he was using me as a cousellor. "Well" I said "you cant be a bad man, can you? Bad people are those who set out to hurt others and you certainly dont do that. Bad people hurt others by selfish actions, but you dont do that either, so, no, I dont think you could be called bad". Mauritzio nodded. "That is what Joey says" he confided. "Joey says dottores not as good as us and charge more. Still, it is different from priest." He was silent for a while and so was I. I couldnt deny that his chosen profession was very different to a priests. The thing was, Mauritzio was very good at his profession but he hadnt really chosen it. It had been put upon him by Joey and much as he loved Joey, he did not sound as if he were 100% happy with things.

"Did Joey send your sisters away because of gigalo-ing?" I asked. "Si" Mauritzio agreed "they would not make such good marriages here in Sorrento and that is why I am not so happy. If not good for them - why for me?"

"Have you told Joey that?"
"Si. He says I am good at work, I enjoy helping ladies to be happy and I must make money for family." There was a momentary silence, then "and I am happy most of time, but sometimes I just wonder".

"Do you all pool your money?" I asked.
Mauritzio shook his head "No, I have my money in account but I must keep myself and if hotel did not have good year, or if Mumma and girls need money and Joey not have enough, I would be expected to put in, of course. That is family".
"Could you not go away and have a holiday yourself, maybe go to France for a month sometime, really think about what you want to do?".
Mauritzio shook his head "Joey would not allow" he said firmly. "In the summer if I not have ladies I must help in hotel - busy time. In winter, things to do for hotel, painting, fixing, things." He shook his head again. "Joey does not have holiday, not Fabio either. It would be wasteful, selfish. Joey work hard to buy hotel, educate girls, I must work too".

"What is your ultimate dream Mauritzio?" I asked "what do you want from life?"
He stood up again and looked out into the night, gripping the railings of the little balcony. "I would love villa in Tuscany" he said. He threw his arms out wide, "I would have grape vines, beautiful food. Wife to cook. children." He turned and really smiled at me. "That is my next dream. And I would have holidays".
I smiled up at him. The thought of a new dream had made him happy and he was all the more beautiful when he was happy. Really, he was breathtaking. Young and slim and supple, graceful in his movements, and that exquisite face.
"Where would you travel?" I asked.
"All over the world" he replied.
"And you would take your wife and children?"
He looked appalled. "No. Wife stay home and look after children".
"Really? I dont think wife would like that".
"Good Italian wife would" he assured me, a trifle indignantly.
"And you would marry a virgin of course?"
"Of course" he answered, horrified at the thought of anything other!
I looked at him and I must have looked amused . He suddenly got the irony and laughed too.


"The sun begins" he said softly. I stood and joined him. The dark sky had changed and there were white and navy streaks across it. Sorrento was quiet; in a minute people would start about their day and the town would bustle but for now there was only the 2 of us, looking down over terracotta roofs, watching the day begin.
"I have had a delightful night in Sorrento" I told him.
"Me too" he said and leant over and kissed me on both cheeks.
"I send you breakfast" he said and disappeared into my room and then appeared again "Caio" he said with a gorgeous cheeky grin and this time he did leave.

I lay on top of my bed. It was no use trying to sleep now. I had to get up in an hour. I fell into a doze anyway and was awoken by a knock on the door. "Come in" I called. The door opened and a tall, fair man, not as beautiful as Mauritzio but definitely beautiful, wheeled in a small silver trolley with coffee , freshly baked bread, butter and jam.
"Enjoy" he said softly. I knew he must be Fabio.

I joined my group milling around the bus, our tour guide checking our cases. I didnt feel tired at all, although later in the day I wilted badly. I didnt tell my friends how I had passed the night. It had been a lovely night but the bottom line was - I had paid a young boy to entertain me. the fact that "nothing happened" didnt mean much when you said it out loud in the light of day. My friends would be shocked and appalled to think I had allowed myself to be picked up in the street by a gigalo, given him money and spent the night with him, even if it had been just talking. I wondered how it would have been if I had been younger and gamer. He was so gorgeous. I wondered if I would regret "just talking" as time went by. As it turned out, as time went by, I did not regret it, because it is a small world and I was to meet the gigalo again.