‘Don’t worry. I’ll get it.’ The fire hadn’t travelled that far. I could race upstairs and back in no time.
I left her standing on the garden path. ‘Run next door and call the firefighters,’ I yelled as I ran indoors, the lower part of my face covered in the wet towel.
Trying not to breathe in smoke, I took the steps two at a time. I remembered Auntie’s manuscript was on the desk in her study, just at the top of the stairs. I pushed open the door and, peering through the smoke-filled room, spotted her old typewriter and a box of papers. I grabbed the box and hurried back outside, where I handed the manuscript to Auntie.
‘I want to save my paintings,’ I told her.
They’re my creation, like children to me. I can’t let them burn to ashes.
‘Help is on the way,’ Auntie said, grabbing hold of me. ‘You should wait.’
I shook myself free. ‘There isn’t time…’
Panic-stricken, I headed back into the house. Have to save my work.
My makeshift studio was in the corner of the kitchen where the flames hadn’t yet taken hold.
I grabbed my watercolours and a couple of canvases, then hurried toward the front door.
The wet towel was no longer wet, so I dropped it.
My mouth and nose filled with smoke.
My lungs screamed in searing agony as I took in a ragged breath.
I was back at King’s Cross, staggering through the smoke-filled tunnel.
Only, this time, there wasn’t a train I could get on.
This time, the fire had spread and was licking its way along the ceiling timbers. A huge bang echoed, and the joist above my head came down.
This time I really was going to die…
A crash resounds. Maria Santissima! The shouts outside fade. The blaze spits and crackles, and the searing heat forces my back against the wood. There’s nothing I can do.
Zorzo, where are you?
You’re too late.
Too late to save me.
Too late to save anyone.
I shall never see you or Lorenza again.
Never feel your warm lips on mine.
Never hold our child in my arms.
Never have the future I’d dreamed of with the two of you. Who will look after her? Lorenza!
Smoke fills my nostrils and I breathe it in, willing the fumes to take me before the flames do.
Heavenly Father, let this be quick!
The heat is a shock, burning my nose, my throat and my lungs. I gasp and inhale scorching air, choking and retching.
My breath is sucked from me. The bitter stench of my singed eyebrows, hair and skin fills my nostrils. The gold at my neck is too hot to bear, and a deafening sound echoes in my ears.
‘Lorenza,’ I whisper through cracked lips.
How did I manage to speak when I can’t even breathe?
I sense the strange woman and know why she is here. The woman is a spirit, but a good one. She will search for Lorenza and find her… of that I am sure.
The pain is now consuming me, and I cry out in agony.
I writhe and then my head is filled with a buzzing, and then a shimmering and then…
Luca
I arrived at the villa, lightning zigzagging across the sky. A police car was parked out front, and I pulled up next to it. I yanked the door of my Alfa open. Through the sheeting rain, I raced up the front steps and into the sitting room, all the while the voice in my head repeating, Too late, too late, too late.
Chiara was perched on the grand piano stool, her leg stretched out in front of her. There was an angry-looking bruise on her left cheek. A balding police inspector with a pencil-thin moustache sat on one side, Mother on the other, and my brother Antonio stood next to them.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
Through stuttering breaths, Chiara told me.
‘I went to check on my horse. Then I heard a rustling of the straw in the empty stall next to his.’ She shook her head. ‘Federico was there, demanding to know why I hadn’t returned his phone-call. So, I told him to fuck off.
‘He said the girl was just a fling and that he really wanted to be with me. I laughed in his face. That’s when he grabbed me and knocked me to the ground. He started swearing at me and calling me a spoilt bitch. Then he punched the side of my face. At that moment I realised how much I hated him. He tried to pull off my shorts. I think he wanted to rape me. I managed to bite his hand. He was rolling around in agony, making such a fuss, what a mammone. I grabbed my crutches and got the hell out of there, slamming the door to the stable shut and locking him in.’
‘That was so brave of you, Chiara,’ I said, rushing up to her and giving her a hug. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’
‘Yes, thank God,’ Mother repeated.
Antonio huffed. ‘Commissario, I hope you will arrest that stronzo shithead for assault.’
‘Si, signore.’
Another fork of lightning ripped the sky open.
I spun around, the voice in my head almost deafening, Too late, too late, too late.
‘Oh my God, Fern!’
The hounds of hell at my heels, it seemed, I ran to my car, jumped in and raced toward Altivole.
I could see black smoke rising from the end of the road leading out of Susan’s village. Cazzo!! I put my foot down on the accelerator. I was back in that recurring nightmare, the dream that had stalked my sleep ever since I’d met Fern. Too late! Too late! Too late! This was what it had all been about. My heart thudded.
I pulled up behind a fire engine, its lights strobing through the mist that had come down in the wake of the storm.
An ambulance was parked in front of it.
Firefighters were standing, hoses in their hands, spraying the blackened house.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I jumped out of my car and rushed forward.
A police officer barred my way.
‘Troppo pericoloso.’
Too dangerous, of course, but where the hell were Fern and her aunt?
The officer pointed at the ambulance.
My heart fucking sank.
Chapter 25
I opened my eyes.
Sunlight slanted through a gap in the curtains.
I lifted my hands.
They were swathed in bandages.
I swivelled my gaze to the left.
Luca.
Sitting on a chair next to my bed.
Lines of worry on his face.
‘Wh… wh… what happened?’ I groaned.
‘You’re in Castelfranco Hospital, sweetheart. Your aunt’s house caught fire. Thank God you’re all right.’ He got up from the chair and perched himself on my bed. ‘The paramedics had to resuscitate you and give you oxygen.’ He bent and kissed my mouth. ‘They’re keeping you under observation to make sure there are no aftereffects from smoke inhalation. The second degree burns to your hands should heal completely in a couple of weeks.’
‘Is Auntie all right?’ I asked, coughing. My lungs felt as if they’d been branded with a hot iron.
‘She’s fine. Checked into the Hotel Duse in Asolo with her cat. Oh, and she’s got your paintings with her.’ He lowered himself and kissed my mouth. ‘Rest now Fern. Don’t try to talk…’
I nodded and the action made me dizzy. I was tired, so very tired. Sleep overtook me quickly, I must have been on medication, and when I woke I felt much better, especially because Luca was still here with me.
‘Hi,’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for staying.’
‘I wish I hadn’t let you go back to Susan’s.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ I breathed, and there was no longer any pain. ‘Auntie would have died if there’d been a fire and I hadn’t been there.’
His expression darkened. ‘I don’t understand why you went back into that inferno,’ he said sternly. ‘I thought you were afraid…’
‘I am, but I couldn’t bear it if my paintings had been destroyed.’ I paused and collected my thoughts. ‘I know what hap
pened to Lorenza.’
‘She died in the fire?’ His eyes met mine.
‘No. Lodovico took her.’
My face crumpled and I started to cry. It was all so sad. Slowly, between sobs, I told him what had happened to Cecilia.
‘I thought I was too late to save you,’ Luca said. ‘But it wasn’t me, it was Zorzo who was too late to save Cecilia.’ He pulled a Kleenex from the box on my bedside table and dabbed at my eyes. ‘I must have been dreaming I was him. The remorse he felt for not getting to the Barco in time must have come down to me through the centuries.’
‘We can’t change the past, can we?’ I took a deep breath, filling my lungs. ‘The course of our lives can change on the tiniest decision. Cecilia resisted Lodovico. If she’d left with him, she would have saved herself. Zorzo went to fetch the army from Treviso. If he’d stayed with Cecilia, things would probably have turned out differently.’
‘And if you hadn’t gone into the house to rescue your paintings, you probably wouldn’t be in hospital tonight. I nearly lost you, Fern.’ His words came out strangled. ‘History could have repeated itself in the same way that Zorzo lost Cecilia.’
‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out what happened to Lorenza.’ My heart felt like it was breaking. ‘Poor little girl, being brought up by an uncaring father. He only took her out of spite.’
‘At least she didn’t have to suffer the malice of the soldiers.’ Luca stroked a tear from my cheek. ‘Cecilia probably wouldn’t have been able to save herself and her child. So, in a way he rescued her.’
‘Such a tragedy.’ My breath caught on another sob. ‘Shame the Queen couldn’t have bent her rules and allowed Cecilia to take Lorenza to Venice.’
‘I doubt it even entered her head there was any danger. The Republic thought itself infallible, and it became so again,’ Luca said calmly. ‘I’ve been reading the book Mother found. Apparently, Pope Julius soon realised that the eventual destruction of Venice would be too dangerous.’
‘Oh?’
‘He needed Venetian support to face up to the Kingdom of France and the Ottoman Empire.’
‘The Pope’s alliance with Louis ended?’
‘Yep. And Pope Julius also fell out with Lodovico’s duke.’
‘Don’t tell me he excommunicated him…’
I nodded. ‘Didn’t stop the Duke of Ferrara from fighting back, though. Then Maximilian switched sides and allied himself with the Pope. He wouldn’t give up the territory he’d taken from Venice, though. Soon after, the Republic jumped horses and joined up with the French to combat Julius and Maximilian. Venice and France ended up dividing the whole of Northern Italy between them.’
‘And the Republic endured.’
‘You could say that. But the events of 1509 marked the end of Venetian expansion.’
I lay back on the pillows and closed my eyes. Sadness overwhelmed me, as if I was in mourning. Cecilia’s death had affected me deeply, I realised; it would take time for me to adjust.
‘How long are they keeping me in hospital?’ I asked.
‘Until tomorrow, all being well. A precaution. They advise against returning to London for at least a fortnight.’
‘Right. More sick leave.’ I exhaled slowly. ‘The bank will really be fed up with me.’
‘Concentrate on getting better, my love,’ Luca said in a firm tone. ‘Your room at the villa is waiting for you. Mother and Chiara sent their love and will come to visit this evening.’
I gave him a shaky smile. ‘You didn’t tell me about the intruder…’
‘It was Federico. He tried to force himself on Chiara, but she managed to get away from him, thank God.’ Luca went on to recount the events of last night.
‘Federico behaved just like Lodovico,’ I gasped, shocked. ‘I didn’t mention to you how much he reminded me of Cecilia’s husband in case you thought it too far-fetched. But everything that has happened, has been an echo of what happened in the past, and has changed our lives forever.’
‘We can’t change the past,’ Luca said, stroking my arm. ‘But the past can change us…’
I caught my lip with my teeth. ‘Oh my God! I’ve just thought of something. Lodovico locked Cecilia in her room, but Chiara did the opposite and locked Federico in the stable.’ I burst into tears again. ‘I’m sorry. Not normally such a cry baby.’
‘Post-traumatic stress, my darling,’ Luca said, pulling another Kleenex from the box. He wiped the snot from my nose then held me close again before kissing me tenderly on the lips.
With a sudden whoosh, the door swung open and Auntie came in, a bouquet of pink roses in one hand, and a box of Baci chocolates in the other.
‘Sorry I set fire to your house, Auntie,’ I whispered as she kissed my cheek.
‘You did nothing of the sort. It was a freak accident. And it’s you I have to thank for saving my life, and Gucci’s. Not to mention my manuscript.’
Auntie pulled up a chair, opened the box of chocolates, and offered them. Luca took one, but I declined. He handed me the small piece of paper that had been wrapped around his chocolate.
I read to myself, in dreams, as in love, all is possible.
A week later, I was in the living room at the villa, waiting for Chiara to appear. I stared at my hands. They were still a vibrant shade of pink, but they were healing, and my lungs were back to normal. My greatest worry had been that I wouldn’t be able to draw and paint as a result of the accident.
I blew out a long, slow breath. I was dreading going back to London. Dreading my imminent separation from Luca. I’d used up all my vacation entitlement, but we’d agreed he would visit me regularly by adding a day’s leave to one weekend a month. It would have to do.
For now.
I looked up as Chiara hobbled into the room. She’d been helping me sort through the old boxes in the cellar, bringing me rolled-up maps and documents to scrutinise before cataloguing them. ‘Look,’ she said, holding a small oval painting in her hand. ‘I think it’s of one of our ancestors.’
I slipped on the cotton gloves I wore to protect my hands and reached for the cloth I’d been using to wipe the dust from parchments. I screwed up my eyes and examined the signature in the bottom right-hand corner of the picture, partly hidden by the dirt of centuries. I wiped gently, and revealed the letter L. Then an O, followed by an R. Lorenza. Oh my God! Could it be? My heart pounding, I carefully uncovered the rest of the signature. Lorenza Gaspare.
Gaspare had been Lodovico’s surname. How had the girl managed to become an artist? And who was the Goredan ancestor in the portrait? ‘This is fascinating,’ I said to Chiara. ‘Is your mother around? We must show it to her.’
Chiara was already heading out the door. ‘I’ll go and get her,’ she said.
I held the portrait up to the light, marvelling at the fine brushwork. Within minutes Chiara had returned with Vanessa. ‘Look at this,’ I said, my face wreathed in smiles.
Vanessa let out a gasp. ‘Incredible! Who’d have thought? I’ve no idea who the man in the portrait is. Where did you find it, Chiara?’
‘At the bottom of the last chest. It was under another stack of those boring letters. I’ll go and get them.’
A warm feeling spread through me as I watched mother and daughter search through the correspondence. They’d grown much closer. Chiara, no longer under Federico’s influence, had even agreed to go back to the university. As for her ex-boyfriend, he was in jail awaiting trial. I hoped he’d be sent down for a long time.
‘These letters don’t tell us much,’ Vanessa said eventually. ‘They’re mostly about buying and selling spices. Like many Venetians, our family was in the spice trade in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.’
Disappointment rolled though me, but I told myself not to be silly. Just because a painting signed by Lorenza had miraculously appeared, didn’t mean the mystery of her life would be solved all at once. I would have to content myself with holding the miniature in my hand; I would use my imagination t
o fill in the gaps. Lodovico had gone some way toward redeeming himself by allowing Lorenza to pursue her artistic talents. I’d been haunted by the fear he had repressed the girl like he’d tried to repress her mother.
Lorenza probably twisted him around her little finger; she was that sort of child.
When Luca returned from the office, I showed him the portrait. ‘This could be the connection between me and Giorgione,’ he marvelled. ‘Another reason why I dreamed about him.’
‘A portrait of your ancestor. Painted by Giorgione’s daughter. How amazing is that?!’
‘Beyond amazing,’ he said, holding me close and kissing me.
I wished I could tell Cecilia about Lorenza. But my nemesis no longer came to me in dreams and visions. She’d helped me reach out to Luca, and now we’d become a couple, she was leaving me in peace. I’d have to find somewhere associated with her, I supposed, but I couldn’t face that yet.
After dinner, Luca put his arm around me and led me onto the terrace. We sat sipping Prosecco in the warmth of the summer night. Fireflies flitted across the garden, their lights like tiny lanterns, and the air was redolent with the scent of honeysuckle.
My eyes met Luca’s and I knew, I suddenly knew, what I’d say next. ‘When I get back to London, I’ll hand in my notice at the bank and put the flat on the market.’
He leapt from his chair and swept me up in his arms.
Then he kissed me.
A long, lingering kiss. ‘I love you, Fern.’
‘And I love you, Luca. With all my heart, amore mio.’
Epilogue
One Year Later
I’m in Luca’s and my new home, and I can hear his Alfa coming up the driveway. We’ve been married for six months now, the happiest six months of my life. I love him so much. I know it’s a cliché to say this, but he’s taken all my broken pieces and has glued them back together again.
I also love my life in Italy. Love the beauty of the landscape and architecture, not to mention the kindness of the Italians. Thankfully, my return to London was only brief. Within a month, I was back in this country, helping Luca plan the restoration of the farmhouse where we now live. We moved in a fortnight ago and have named it, Casa Cecilia.
LADY of VENICE Page 23