Landing in Naples the heat from the tarmac met her face as they left the small plane. He was already a few steps ahead, keen to get through passport control and get a taxi to the hotel in Sorrento. They’d argued for days about whether to spend the night in Sorrento or Naples before visiting the ruins the next day. A sumptuous hotel, teeming with charm, only a thirty-minute taxi drive from the airport, and just ninety minutes to Pompeii had been her choice. His persistence had won for Sorrento, meaning a taxi was too expensive and a two-hour bus journey lay ahead. Sure, the hotel in Sorrento wasn’t as fancy, was further away from the airport, but definitely cheaper and being only half an hour from Pompeii meant they could do the full seven-hour itinerary. Since first opening that hefty, brown book of his dad’s, Histories and Mysteries, that he used to lift with both hands. he’d wanted to see Pompeii in person.
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