Divas Don't Knit

by Gil McNeil

  The boys look horrified.

  Lulu shoves him. ‘Of course it isn’t.’

  There’s a dog sitting on the marble step of the shop doorway, wagging its tail and looking very keen, and the man behind the counter smiles, rolls some mince into a ball and throws it to the dog, who catches it in his mouth. The boys clap, and the man laughs and does it again.

  Archie’s very impressed.

  ‘Trevor could do that, if we teached him.’

  I can’t quite see our local butcher going in for chucking bits of mince to assorted dogs, but this is obviously a regular routine because the dog makes no attempt to go into the shop, but sits waiting patiently as a woman with a little girl goes in. The woman smiles and nods at the butcher, who throws the dog another meatball. The boys clap again.

  ‘Please can we buy something, Mum, and get him another bit of meat?’

  ‘All right, come in and help me choose something.’

  We get some nice-looking chops, which I’m sure are far too small to belong to anything that used to be able to neigh, and the dog gets another treat and wags its tail so hard it nearly falls over, so everyone’s happy, and then we sit in the café in the square so the boys can carry on watching the dog. Lulu’s ordering toasted sandwiches when my mobile starts to ring; I’m still very impressed with myself for having a phone which is so international, but I still half expect it to be someone speaking Italian.

  It’s Mum, sounding stressed.

  ‘Are you still at the fish market?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Get some prawns, would you, but not the big ones.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you know how to make vol-au-vents?’

  ‘Not really.’

  She’s sounding even more stressed now.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure, yes. I’m not very good with pastry, especially not the puffy stuff. It never puffs for me. I could do you flat ones if you like.’

  She sighs.

  ‘Do try to be helpful, Josephine, please. I’ve just heard there’s a rather important American woman coming tonight, and she’s part of the Guggenheim set and their parties are always wonderful, so don’t be late back. I’d like you all to look your best this evening. Do the boys have something smart to wear, by any chance?’

  ‘Not really, no. I’ll put them in clean shirts, though. Will that do?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Is there anything else you want me to get?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Shall I still get the prawns?’

  ‘No, I’ll do my spinach and ricotta things with pine nuts; everyone always loves them.’

  ‘Great.’

  Vin grins as I put the phone back into my bag.

  ‘Don’t tell me. That was Mum, right?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s formal evening dress tonight, so I hope you remembered to bring your dinner jacket.’

  ‘What?’

  Lulu smiles.

  ‘She really gets you both going, doesn’t she?’

  ‘And she wants you to make fifty mini quiches, Lulu, when we get back, and if they’re not up to professional catering standards you’ll be in big trouble.’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘Not entirely.’

  She laughs. ‘Christ.’

  My phone rings again. ‘Yes, Mum?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  It’s Daniel. He rang yesterday to say he was due in Venice today, and we’re meant to be having tea with him in Florian’s this afternoon, but I bet this is him ringing to cancel.

  ‘I got here earlier than I thought, and I’m at the Gritti if you fancy some lunch. Where are you?’

  ‘We’re at the fish market, and the boys are in their wellies in case the flooding kicks off this afternoon, so I’m not sure about lunch at the Gritti.’

  ‘What flooding?’

  ‘Dad said they reckon it’ll be a really high tide, especially tomorrow.’

  ‘Great, that’ll be me soaked again. Christ, every time I come here in winter I end up wading through fucking water.’

  ‘Didn’t you bring your wellies?’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘I’m sure you could buy some. What size are you? I’ll have a look for you if you like.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but they sell plastic things you can put over your shoes when it gets bad. I haven’t worn wellies since I was a kid.’

  ‘Fair enough. Just don’t come crying to me when you’ve got wet socks.’

  He laughs. ‘So if you’re not up for lunch shall we meet earlier for tea?’

  ‘That would be lovely. It’ll take us a while to get over there, though, especially since Vin’s got the map.’

  ‘Around three?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘How’s the chocolate orange thing going?’

  When I talked to him yesterday the boys were mid-bicker about a missing segment.

  ‘Still pretty tense, but they’ve negotiated a ceasefire, for now.’

  He laughs again. ‘I’ll see you all later, then.’

  We carry on wandering, heading vaguely in the direction of the Grand Canal, and the boys become fixated on all the bakery shops with their beautiful displays of marzipan animals and nougat, so we stop for another coffee in a little café with marble-topped tables and they try some nougat, which goes straight to the top of their list of Top Sweets, and renders them silent while they chew, so it’s pretty high up on my list, too.

  Vin orders himself another panini. ‘So who’s this bloke we’re having tea with, then?’

  ‘Daniel Fitzgerald.’

  Lulu puts her cup down. ‘Like the famous photographer?’

  ‘Yes. He’s meeting someone about a job taking pictures of Venice, I think; I’m not really sure.’

  ‘You mean he actually is the famous photographer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘God, I wish I’d known. When you said we were meeting a friend for tea I thought you meant someone normal.’

  ‘He is normal, well, fairly.’

  ‘Yes, but at least I could have worn my clean jeans. Did he take those great pictures you were showing us?’

  ‘Yes. He came down to do the magazine shoot with Grace, and Ellen invited him to supper, so he ended up playing football with Trevor and the boys, didn’t he?’

  They both nod, but their mouths are jammed full of nougat so they can’t speak. I must remember to buy lots to take home.

  Vin finishes his panini.

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear he plays football, because for a minute there I thought we were going to be stuck all afternoon with someone else poncing on about light, and we get quite enough of that with Mum, thank you very much.’

  Lulu smiles.

  ‘It’s not funny. Either she’s giving you one of her History of Art lectures or she’s treating you like a flaming waiter for one of her parties, and they’re all such.’ He hesitates and looks at the boys. ‘Such interesting people.’

  We cross the Rialto bridge and head towards San Marco, and the shops start getting smarter and more expensive-looking. And then we see another wool shop, full of amazing hand-dyed silks and some fabulous cashmere, and despite protests from Vin we go in for a quick look round. They’ve got lots of beautiful hand-knitted cardigans and wraps, and skeins of wool hanging from wooden poles and more stock in glass-fronted cupboards. It’s all incredibly elegant and I buy some of the silk in a really deep olive which I can’t resist, and take a price list and a leaflet about the cashmere to look at when I get home; maybe if it’s not too expensive I can ask Connie to call them for me and put in an order.

  The water’s starting to lap round the edge of the canal steps as we cross the little bridges and make our way to St Mark’s Square, and workmen are putting out linking trestle tables as walkways, ready for tomorrow’s high tide, which the boys think is very exciting. Vin promises to bring Archie back tomorrow so he can walk on the tables, and I promise to
stay indoors with Jack.

  Daniel’s sitting in a window seat when we get to Florian’s. He hands Jack and Archie a paper bag each, with a chocolate orange in.

  ‘I thought these might come in handy.’

  Archie jumps up and down with the thrill of it all.

  ‘Oh thank you, thank you, because I’ve run out of mine.’

  ‘So I heard.’

  Jack’s looking very pleased, too. ‘Yes, and now I’ll have nearly one and three quarters.’

  Lulu gives him a hug, as Archie starts unwrapping his.

  ‘Just have a little bit though, Archie, yes?’

  ‘Yes. This time I’m going to make it last. Or I might not. I haven’t decided yet.’

  We drink glasses of thick, hot chocolate and try some of the delicious cakes, while Lulu tells us about her friend who kept all her Easter eggs on a shelf in her bedroom, untouched in their boxes, just to annoy her sister, and Archie rolls his eyes. Daniel’s telling Lulu he’s in Venice for a meeting about a special project for the Biennale, while I try to surreptitiously wipe hot chocolate off Archie’s face.

  ‘Can we have more cakes?’

  Lulu laughs.

  ‘You can’t possibly have room for any more, Archie, and anyway Uncle Vin’s going to take you up the tower in a minute.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotted about that. Can we go now?’

  ‘In a minute.’ Vin sighs. ‘Anyone care to join us?’

  Lulu shakes her head and I tell Daniel that Vin and the boys are going up the Campanile, as I start getting their coats on.

  ‘Actually, I was hoping you might take some photographs of them for me, with my camera, because I haven’t got any really nice ones of them since they were little. I know it’s a terrible cheek, but would you mind? It’s got a film in it.’

  He looks at my camera. ‘Not with that, I can’t.’

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry.’

  I suppose it was a bit of a cheek to ask him really.

  He lifts up a battered old camera from beside him on the seat.

  ‘I’ll give it a go, but I’m not very good with kids, so don’t expect anything brilliant. What are you after?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What sort of pictures do you want?’

  ‘Ones with both of them in, without the tops of their heads cut off, and not scowling or pushing each other.’

  He smiles. ‘I think I can probably manage that. The light’s pretty good now.’ He looks at Archie. ‘Does he have to wear that hat?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it makes him look like he’s got a pointy head.’

  Jack shrieks with laughter and Archie takes his hat off and throws it on the floor.

  ‘Thanks, Daniel. Archie, put it back on, and I’ll fix it so it doesn’t go pointy. Come on, or you’ll get cold. Any more style tips you’d like to share with us, Daniel?’

  ‘No, they’re fine.’

  ‘Good, because I can make your hat go pointy too, if you like.’

  ‘I haven’t got a hat.’

  ‘We can soon fix that.’

  After an initially tricky moment when everybody goes rather stiff and self-conscious he gets us all running round the square, shouting orders to us in such a bossy voice we’re all leaning up against pillars and balancing on one leg before we know it, and two rolls of film later he’s finally happy.

  ‘They’re only snaps though.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll get Tony to send them over.’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I can easily get them done in Boots.’

  ‘Boots? Are you mad? I’m not having my stuff done in Boots. I do have some standards, you know.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. But you must let me pay.’

  He smiles.

  ‘I do all my work with them. It’ll just get lost on a client’s bill, don’t worry about it. So where are we off to now?’

  ‘Shopping, I think, while Vin does the tower thing.’

  ‘Great. Gucci? Prada? Bags or clothes? I’m great at shopping. In small doses.’

  ‘Tea bags. Mum’s only got Earl Grey.’

  ‘Just tea bags?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re the only woman I know who’d come to Venice and only go shopping for tea bags.’

  ‘And a hat for you, of course. I thought maybe one of those velvet carnival ones, with the bells. I’ve seen them on all the stalls.’

  We head off down a side street, and find a shop selling lots of different kinds of glass beads, which I can’t resist; they’ll be great for beading on shawls and scarves. I buy a few packets of the smaller ones and a box full of the larger ones in lovely deep colours, and Lulu spots an old glass cake-stand on one of the shelves, in pale pink glass, and a smaller one in pale green, which are both so pretty I’m really tempted, until I see the price.

  ‘They’d be great for your new Teatime window display.’

  I’m thinking of teapots and tea cosies and little knitted fairy cakes for the new window display in the shop, and I was talking to Lulu about it yesterday, while we made the tomato tartlets.

  ‘I know, but they’re really expensive.’

  Daniel sighs. ‘Honestly, you two are hopeless. This is Italy: haggle.’

  ‘I hate haggling, it always makes me feel like I’m being mean.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, go and wait for me outside.’

  We can’t resist peering through the window, and there’s a fair amount of arm waving before Daniel comes out with a carrier bag with two tissue-wrapped parcels inside.

  ‘Done.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, that’s brilliant. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

  Lulu looks puzzled. ‘But you got lots off, right?’

  ‘No. Actually the price went up at first.’

  We both start to laugh.

  ‘But that was because the green one was part of a set or something. I got the pink one for half-price, I think. Now, can we talk about something else, please?’

  I finally persuade him to let me pay for them, but only after a fair bit of bickering, and we walk back to the square to find the boys have loved the Campanile, but Vin’s exhausted.

  It’s starting to get cold.

  ‘I think we should probably be heading for home.’

  Vin nods. ‘Good plan. I’m crackered.’

  Lulu puts her arm round him and kisses him, which makes Archie giggle.

  ‘Damn, I forgot to get tea bags.’

  Daniel smiles. ‘I’ve got some tea back at the hotel, if you want it. Why don’t you all come back with me? Or we could put the boys in a water taxi with your brother and you two can come and get them, and we can have a drink?’

  Vin looks enthusiastic. ‘Sounds like a good plan to me. Except I’ll do the tea bags and the girls can do the water taxi. I could do with a beer right now.’

  Lulu shakes her head. ‘Oh no you don’t. I’m not having you coming back singing rude songs in the middle of one of your mother’s parties. No, Jo can get the tea and we’ll take the boys back.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  ‘Don’t whine, Vin. I’ve told you before: it’s not very attractive.’

  Daniel laughs. ‘Right, well that’s sorted then. Yes?’

  Everyone looks at me.

  ‘Okay, but tell Mum I’m on my way, will you?’

  ‘Sure. Come on, boys, we’re going home in a boat.’

  They cheer.

  We put them all into a water taxi and I make the boys promise to stay sitting inside in the warm, and then we walk to the hotel, which is very splendid and hushed, and smells of wood smoke and polish, in a non-Pledge kind of a way. Daniel walks straight past the reception desk and towards the lifts, as a beautiful young woman comes out from behind the desk with an envelope.

  ‘This arrived for you, Mr Fitzgerald.’

  ‘Oh, right. Thanks.’

  She smiles at him, but
he doesn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘Yes. Tea bags, lots of them, but no Earl Grey.’

  ‘I’ll send some up directly.’

  ‘Great.’

  The room turns out to be a suite, with a living room looking over the Grand Canal.

  ‘Bloody hell, this is amazing.’

  ‘I guess you’d like some tea now, right?’

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘Do you want cakes or anything? I think they do quite good ones here.’

  ‘No, thanks, just tea, please.’

  We sit talking and drinking tea while we watch the boats going up and down the canal, and the occasional gondola full of tourists, as it starts to grow dark. The tea’s lovely, and he’s very easy to talk to.

  ‘So why are you in Venice in this fabulous room all by yourself?’

  ‘I told you, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.’

  ‘I know, but you must know someone who’d like to spend a couple of days of splendour in Venice with you.’

  He smiles.

  ‘I do. But she’s married.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘No, not really, but it’s nice to be able to talk about it. She’s quite high-profile, so it’s tricky.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Or rather it used to be tricky. She just gave me my cards, just before Christmas, actually.’

  He starts to look rather sad, and tired.

  ‘Oh dear. Tell me about her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Tell me about her, if you’d like to. How you met, everything. Just don’t tell me her name.’

  He looks pleased. ‘I’d like that. Tea and sympathy, right?’

  ‘It helps sometimes, talking.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry. I forgot.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘About your husband. Look, let’s have a proper drink, shall we? Do you fancy a whisky?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  He walks over to a large wooden drinks cabinet, and pours two tumblers of whisky.

  ‘Ice?’

  ‘Please.’

  He hands me a glass and sits back down.

  ‘So do I start at the beginning, then?’