‘Nancy, darling, I’d like you to meet Dino.’
‘Dino Di Maio,’ the man said, holding out his hand. She noticed how smooth his skin was, how neatly manicured his nails.
‘Dino is the main sponsor of our conference. If it weren’t for him, none of us would be here.’
The man made a deprecating gesture. ‘The conference has many sponsors, Mrs Tremayne, and it’s my pleasure to contribute. This is my city, after all, and it seems we could be facing serious problems. Anything that may help us has to be supported.’
He nodded at Leo and Leo smiled warmly back. ‘But, tell me,’ he went on, ‘how has a beautiful young lady like yourself been spending time while her husband has been hard at work – her new husband?’ He smiled archly.
Nancy didn’t care for the smile or for the words, but she answered mildly enough. ‘I’ve been discovering Venice, Mr Di Maio – or trying to. Though finding my way around hasn’t been easy.’
‘The city is complicated,’ he agreed, ‘even though it’s small. Really, it’s a collection of villages, each with its own flavour, its own dialect. And finding your way can be most puzzling. The same street names appear in every sestiere – it’s no wonder visitors get lost.’
‘The postman must get lost, too.’ Leo gave a small laugh. He evidently liked this man, and she must try to as well.
‘Now that’s where you are wrong, my friend. There is a postman for each sestiere and within that quarter the buildings on every street start at number one and carry on to the very last house, no matter how many alleys or courtyards or squares are in the way.’
‘I remember—’ Leo was about to respond, when a large woman, in billowing skirt and tight blouse, bustled up to them, ignoring Nancy but waving a bright pink sunhat at Leo. He looked embarrassed, but nodded at the newcomer.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I think I’m needed, darling. I’ll be back in a very few minutes. Dino – I’ll see you tomorrow no doubt.’
‘So where have you visited, Mrs Tremayne?’ Dino asked, once they were alone. She had hoped he might drift away when Leo left, but it seemed he was not to be easily dislodged.
‘I’ve only been in Venice a few days,’ she responded, ‘and so far I haven’t managed a great deal. Let me see – I’ve queued at San Marco, walked around the Accademia, and taken several vaporetto rides. Oh, and I went to La Fenice last night. The opera was wonderful – Madame Butterfly. But…’
At the mention of the theatre, his face had changed.
‘Were you there, too?’ she asked. It sounded like a challenge though she hadn’t meant it to.
‘I was. A dreadful evening. I heard the news late last night. I hope you weren’t too upset by the incident.’
‘I was extremely upset. I would have been distressed for anyone, but I’d met Signora Moretto earlier in the day and we had talked a while. She seemed a very nice woman.’
‘She was. A most respected lady. A patron of the theatre. A patron of Venice, in fact. It is a terrible business.’ He gave a sad shake of his head, but she noticed his eyes strayed. He seemed to be contemplating escape.
‘You heard the news late last night? So you weren’t in the theatre when it happened?’
‘No, no. I had to leave early. I’d booked a business call from America. The time difference makes things difficult, you understand, and I had to be home to take it.’
‘What kind of business are you in?’
‘The luxury business, Mrs Tremayne. These days in Venice, it is the only one to be in.’
She shouldn’t be surprised. Everything about this glossy man spoke luxury. But her silence appeared to make him voluble, or was that defensive?
‘We Venetians have always traded, you know. In the past, we were a great sea power and traded half way round the world – Arabia, China, India. And defied the Pope to do business with Muslims or Jews or anyone who was willing. The Orient began at Venice and even today our buildings are filled with treasures from the East. When you have the time to explore, you will find them everywhere – silks, jewels, mosaics. So you see, we are expert at making money. And we know just how far to squeeze our customer before he says goodbye! We do it charmingly, of course.’
‘And what form does your particular squeezing take?’
Dino laughed a little uncertainly. ‘I belong to a consortium. We own many palazzi between us and rent them to people like yourself, who want to enjoy the old Venice.’ He paused for a moment, his head to one side. ‘And I own a beautiful yacht – Andiamo is my particular joy. Occasionally my friends are allowed to hire her. But perhaps you would like to come aboard? Once the conference is over, I’ll have more time to sail and I could take you both for a jaunt – is that the right word?’
‘I’m sure you know, Mr Di Maio. Your English is excellent.’
‘Dino, please. My English should be excellent. I spent four years at Cambridge. It’s where I first met Leo.’
Another part of her husband’s life of which Nancy knew nothing. Leo rarely spoke to her of his university days, perhaps out of consideration. A humble art school diploma was the pinnacle of her achievement, and she had gained that only with immense determination and a stubbornness not to be beaten. For her parents, the need for further schooling was incomprehensible, their particular hostility reserved for any form of art education. A typing course was what she should take, with shorthand if possible, followed by a respectable job in an office – just for a few years until she found a husband and had the right number of children.
‘So, you will take a ride on my wonderful yacht?’ Dino asked.
‘That is most kind, but we really couldn’t trouble you.’ She was unsure she wanted to spend any more time with this pampered man.
‘It would be no trouble at all and it keeps Salvatore busy – he is my captain. I would love to show you the islands, too. Maybe we can go to Burano for lunch?’
‘Thank you. I’m sure Leo would enjoy it.’
If Dino were her husband’s friend, she must be gracious. Although not so gracious that she lost the opportunity to return the conversation to the tragedy that dominated her thoughts. ‘Leo was shocked to hear of Signora Moretto’s death. He knew her through her business and considered her a very knowledgable woman.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Archie, glass in hand, talking to a shorter man, dark-haired and compact. Their bodies were hunched, leaning in towards each other; it appeared to be more a confrontation than conversation. Archie, usually so coldly efficient, did not look himself and she wondered how many drinks he had downed.
Dino was nodding gravely. ‘Signora Moretto was knowledgable. Her art colleagues in Venice will miss her very much. The Moretto business is most respected in the city. It belonged to the lady’s husband – until he had the heart attack, God be with him – and his father and grandfather before him. But now, who knows?’
‘I imagine it will continue. I’ve heard the signora has a son.’
‘Yes, Luca. But he could sell, too – eventually.’
‘Sell? The family business is to be sold?’
Dino looked around him, as though to check for any likely eavesdroppers. ‘I should not be saying this. I can be a little indiscreet.’ He smiled as though this image of himself pleased him. ‘But I consider you a friend, Nancy, and I will tell you. For some time I have been working for the signora, negotiating for her with buyers from Florence. And we had nearly reached an agreement, but now… as I say, who knows?’ He looked suddenly deflated.
The sound of raised voices drifted across the lawn, causing people nearby to turn their heads. Archie, it seemed, was embroiled in an argument that was becoming louder and more threatening by the minute. Nancy wished Leo was around to restrain his assistant, but whatever fracas Archie was involved in, she must ignore it. Questioning Di Maio was too important.
She turned back to him. ‘Why on earth would the signora want to sell a business that has been in her family for years? And one that is so successf
ul.’
He spread his hands wide. ‘Marta did not confide in me. All I know is that she wished for freedom. She had plans for a different future, I think. She wanted to sell and be free.’
‘But she could have been free,’ Nancy protested, ‘if she’d handed the business to her son.’ When he said nothing, she added, ‘Do you think Luca Moretto will want to sell?’
‘At the moment, no. It seems he wishes to keep the business going, but who knows?’ Dino shrugged his elegant shoulders. ‘When I have talked with him more, he may change his mind. He had no part in the negotiations so everything is new to him. Marta was in charge, she was the power, the driving force. A small woman, but that should not mislead.’ He smiled as he said this, but Nancy heard the unspoken message. Luca had been unimportant.
‘But here is the very man.’ Dino half turned – with some relief, she thought – to greet the figure shambling towards them. ‘I must introduce you.’
‘The signora’s son is here?’ she asked very quietly. ‘The day after his mother’s death?’ She tried to keep the shock from her voice, but found it difficult.
Dino was quick with an excuse. ‘The signora herself should have been here today. I believe Luca felt it right that he represent his mother.’
The burly man had reached them and Dino bounced forward. ‘Mrs Tremayne, this is Luca Moretto. Luca, this is Nancy, Leo Tremayne’s new wife. She has been busy discovering Venice.’
‘How do you do?’ Luca’s English was laboured, unlike his friend’s mellow tones, and he possessed nothing of the other man’s polish. ‘I hope you enjoy your time with us,’ he said slowly.
He wore a heavy suit and was sweating profusely. As they stood there, he passed a handkerchief several times across his forehead. ‘Too hot for me.’ He grimaced, his awkward figure sagging beneath the wool jacket.
Nancy braced herself to mention Marta’s death and offer her condolences. ‘I was so very sorry to hear of your loss, Signor Moretto.’ She looked directly at him, but his face was an almost complete blank. Dino might be uncomfortably shiny, but this man seemed to lack all life. ‘I am so sorry,’ she repeated.
He looked even blanker. Then as though a button had been pressed, sprang suddenly into life, his face becoming oddly mobile as if at that instant he had donned a pliable mask. ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs…’
‘Tremayne,’ she helped him.
‘Mrs Tremayne. It has been a great shock.’
‘And so sad. I spoke to your mother very recently and she seemed bright with plans for the future.’
‘Yes, yes. She was.’ Luca seemed distracted, appearing not to hear his own words. Then realising he was expected to say more, he added, ‘I thought I should be here. Mama would have wanted it.’
Nancy was about to offer an anodyne response when a loud crash brought every conversation to an end. For a moment Luca’s small eyes looked hunted, then he straightened his shoulders. ‘There is a little problem, I think.’
To Nancy it looked a large problem. A tray of glasses lay shattered on the floor, the pale straw of champagne seeping into the Cipriani’s immaculate lawn. And there was Archie walking away, slightly unsteady, but making for the hotel entrance and presumably a boat back to the city. Behind him, a man lay spreadeagled on the grass.
Dino uttered a barely suppressed oath. ‘Salvatore,’ he said, and hurriedly excused himself.
The next second Luca Moretto had disappeared silently into the crowd and Nancy was left alone. But not for long. Leo was soon by her side and taking her hand. ‘Time to go, I think.’
‘What has Archie been doing?’
‘I’ve no idea. Except he seems to have taken a dislike to Dino’s captain. But I think we may have outstayed our welcome, don’t you? Definitely time to go.’
She thought Leo remarkably unfazed by this sudden turn of events and liked that in him.
Chapter Six
The view from the Giudecca had to be one of the loveliest in Venice: the basilica of San Marco and the Doge’s Palace straight ahead of them, to the left the marble dome of the Santa Maria della Salute rising majestically behind the customs office where for centuries ships from around the Venetian empire had paid their excise duties, then the long stretch of the Zattere with its colourful bars and restaurants and on to the port area at San Basilio and its rows of elegant yachts. No doubt Dino’s was among them.
The Cipriani’s own vessel took them back across the lagoon to St Mark’s Square, where Leo immediately hired a sàndolo crewed by a solitary oarsman. ‘A small boat will be fine,’ he said. ‘The Lido looks a distance, but it’s not far.’
Nancy spoke little on the short journey, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her bare limbs and the stiff breeze tingling her cheeks and teasing her hair. In the distance, silent islands lay all about, their shallows littered with shambling palisades. She could just pick out small figures on the nearest sandbank, knee deep in sludge, and prodding in the mud for shellfish.
The exhilaration of being on water! The village in which she’d been raised, Riversley, was thirty miles from the sea, and her parents had taken her to the coast only once, on a day trip to Bournemouth. They had gone by coach and she had been sick on the way, but she had loved every minute of that day and begged to go again. It was too expensive, her parents had said, and when she’d persisted, her mother had pronounced the town vulgar.
Leo reached across and clasped her hand. ‘Enjoying the ride?’ He had to raise his voice to be heard over the sounds of water and wind.
For a while, Nancy had forgotten yesterday’s horror, forgotten the sense of foreboding she seemed unable to shake off.
‘I am,’ she said. ‘It’s wonderful.’
‘I hope you like the Lido as much. It should be reasonably quiet today. The casinò will still be going great guns, but the film festival chaps will have packed up and gone.’
‘Are we going to the casinò?’
He laughed. ‘Not unless you fancy gambling your lire away. I booked a table at the Hotel des Bains first thing this morning. We’re a bit early but I’m sure the hotel will cope. I thought you’d like it – it’s reminiscent of the old Lido. A bit stuffy perhaps, but the building is beautiful.’
They were nearing the jetty now and she could see the Hotel des Bains standing proud of a wide beach with its parasols and sunbeds arranged in military fashion. She half stood to get a better view, holding tightly to the side of the boat.
‘It’s just like a picture I saw – when I was very young – it was in a library book, Bathing in the Lido it was called, and I loved it. The women were all in Edwardian bustles and holding frilled sunshades.’
‘It’s not quite as buzzing these days.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s peaceful. More peaceful than the Cipriani.’
She was hoping to prompt him into talking of Archie. His assistant had behaved very badly at the reception, yet Leo had allowed it to pass without comment. Did he know what was behind the enmity between Archie and Salvatore and wasn’t saying? There was so much about her husband she didn’t know, and it worried her.
The boatman was manoeuvring the vessel alongside the jetty and tossed a rope over one of the mooring posts, pulling it tight until they were both ashore. The smell of the sea hit her anew and the sound of cicadas filled her ears as they walked towards the immense white square of hotel.
It was an idyllic picture, but her mind was still busy with the quarrel they had witnessed. ‘Have you any idea why Archie was fighting with that man?’
‘None. Salvatore is a friendly enough chap. At least, I’ve found him so. Dino loaned me his yacht for a few days when I was here two years ago and Salvatore tooled me around the islands.’
‘So Archie knows him well?’
‘Pretty much. I thought they were drinking buddies. Something must have gone awry.’
If they were drinking buddies, what on earth could Archie have said to provoke the man so badly? Might it have anything to do with the enquiries he’d promised t
o make? It was strange, too, that Leo appeared so unbothered by his assistant’s behaviour, even though from the little Nancy knew of Archie Jago, it was wildly out of character.
‘You didn’t say anything to Archie before he left.’
‘What would you have had me say?’ There was a slight coldness to Leo’s voice.
‘He was embarrassing. He embarrassed you.’
‘True, but then he excused us from staying on at the party, and here we are at the Lido.’ He waved his hand expansively. ‘And just look at that view.’
They had reached the end of the jetty and he’d turned to face the distant city. She turned, too, and together they gazed across the lagoon at a hazy Venice, its skyline crowded with campaniles and domes and the familiar red rooftops, and here and there a fluttering flag.
‘It’s wonderful.’
‘Quite something, eh?’
He took her hand again and they walked on towards the uniformed man standing rigidly at the hotel’s entrance. Hotel des Bains was very different from the Cipriani, which despite its luxury had felt intimate – the modest lobby, the garden, the peacocks even, had made her feel at home. Here the splendour was more intimidating.
‘Rather grand, isn’t it?’ Leo whispered, as the maître d’ showed them to a table nestled between a gigantic potted plant and a pillar of pink marble. ‘But worth a visit, I hope. It’s a pity we don’t have bathing costumes with us.’ He gestured to the terrace that ran the length of the dining room and, beyond that, to the beach and the sea. Nancy was quite happy they had left costumes behind – she had never learned to swim.
There followed a lengthy consultation with the waiter over what they should order as an antipasto, what for the primo, the secondo, and which wine should accompany each course. But when, at last, he left them, she found herself returning to Archie. She didn’t understand why and, after Leo’s small coldness earlier, feared her husband wouldn’t either. It seemed almost a compulsion.
The Venice Atonement Page 4