Dreaming of Venice
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Acknowledgements
Copyright
Dreaming of Venice
T.A. Williams
To Mariangela, as always, with love
Prologue
In London it was grey, wet and cold, yet in Penny’s head it was a warm, sunny day in Venice. She imagined herself lounging in a shiny black gondola as a gondolier in a stripy shirt sculled along the Grand Canal. All the way past magnificent monuments, incomparable palazzi and some of the greatest art galleries in the world, she sat back and listened as he serenaded her in his melodious tenor voice. When they reached the Rialto Bridge and slipped smoothly underneath, onlookers waved down at them and smiled. Penny looked up from the comfort of her upholstered divan and smiled back. As daydreams went, it was pretty damn good.
An incomprehensible message over the station loudspeaker and a trickle of rain on her cheek brought her back to reality. She sighed, wiped the water off her face and glanced down the line, relieved to see the yellow front of the train approaching. At this time of day she knew she wouldn’t get a seat, but at least it should be warm and dry.
As the train drew nearer, a woman appeared down the slope from the road. She was pushing a pushchair with one hand while helping herself along with a crutch held in the other. She looked even wetter and more miserable than Penny, who felt a sudden wave of compassion sweep through her. Here she was, cold, soaked and broke, but at least she had her health. Grim as things were for her at the moment, they could be worse.
But Penny didn’t have much time for introspection. As the woman hobbled down the sloping path from the road, she lost her footing on the slippery surface, her bad leg gave way, and she let out a despairing squeal. The crutch slipped on the wet concrete and she toppled over, landing heavily on her side in a puddle. Penny watched in silent horror as the pushchair rolled free of the mother’s grip and across the platform towards the line. The mother’s squeal turned to a panic-stricken scream. The buggy slowed as it reached the edge and for a moment it looked as if it would stop, but as they all held their breath, the wheels kept on turning and the child, still secured in the buggy, toppled onto the tracks.
Penny was the first to react. Dropping her bag, she sprinted to the edge of the platform. The noise of the train was louder now as it rumbled ever nearer, but she didn’t hesitate. She leapt down onto the line and grabbed the pushchair containing the child, lifting it up and almost throwing it back onto the platform, into the arms of a rapidly growing group of people. Behind her she heard the deafening blast of the train’s horn and the squeal of steel against steel as the driver desperately applied the brakes. She scrabbled furiously at the wet concrete, trying to pull herself back out of danger. Hands gripped hers and she was whipped up and out of the way just in time. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the driver’s face contorted in horror as the train slid past and screeched to a stop, two carriage-lengths further on. As she lay sprawled on the wet platform, panting for breath, Penny’s eyes flicked down to the spot where she and the pushchair had been only seconds before. Any trace had disappeared in the shadows beneath the massive wheels.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the faces of the crowd that had gathered around her. Hands helped her to her feet as a cacophony of praise assailed her.
‘Fantastic. That was awesome.’
‘How incredibly brave.’
‘You were amazing. You saved that little girl’s life.’
Hands patted her on the back and cameras clicked. The child’s mother was helped across to greet her, the little girl now clutched safely in her arms and apparently none the worse for her experience. The mother was crying her eyes out and all she could do was to throw her free arm around Penny’s shoulders and collapse against her, mouthing the words ‘Thank you,’ over and over again.
Chapter 1
Next morning, it was still raining as Penny walked to work past the railway arches, carefully avoiding the potholes in the tarmac. A few days earlier she had made the mistake of leaving her only umbrella in the bucket by the entrance to the café, and somebody had stolen it. She knew she wouldn’t have any spare cash to replace it until the end of the week and in consequence a dark blue line had formed on her thighs as the water running off her jacket soaked into her jeans. The flimsy hood was plastered down over her head, and her hair was damp underneath it, making her feel cold and miserable.
Her knees and elbows were still sore after yesterday’s events at the station and her jeans now had a tear at the knee that had nothing to do with fashion. At the time, the excitement had been a welcome highlight in her humdrum life, but she had woken in the middle of the night bathed in sweat and shivering as she realised how close to death she had come. She had tried calling Rick in Australia to tell him all about it, but the line had just rung and rung. He had been in Australia for three months now and she really missed having him around. She had little doubt that he was at work, in some meeting or other, but it would have been reassuring to hear his voice.
When she reached the café, she pushed the door open and walked in, the smell of bacon assailing her nostrils as she did so. When she had first started the job at the aptly named Apocalypse Café, this had been a welcome smell, stimulating her appetite. Now, two years later, it was all she could do not to throw up.
‘Here she is! The hero of the hour!’
Spiro’s voice echoed across from the counter, making heads turn towards her all across the café. Behind him, Piotr peered out of the hatch from the kitchen and gave her a whoop. Penny felt her face flush as Jimmy came rushing across to give her a big hug.
‘Well done you. You’re famous, sweetheart. A total celebrity.’
‘You’re all over social media. They’re saying you deserve a medal, Penny.’ Spiro emerged from behind the counter and, ignoring her soaking wet jacket, enveloped her in a bear hug of his own. Penny felt the air whistle out of her lungs as his powerful arms lifted her off her feet and spun her around. ‘Our very own Penny, a hero. You really do deserve a medal for what you did.’
‘I just did what any normal person would do.’ Penny did her best to hide her blushes as she made her way through the tables to the counter and into the back of the café to dump her jacket and put on her apron. Jimmy came in with her, took her wet jacket and hung it up for her, then tidied her hair with his long slim fingers, just like he did every morning. He perched himself on a spare stool and scrutinised her carefully, also just like he did every morning.
‘You’ve got the most beautiful hair, you know, sweetie. You really should get it styled, specially if you’re going to have to go to Buckingham Palace to receive an award for bravery. You can’t just tie it up with a scruffy band like this.’ His own hair, as ever, was immaculate.
‘Fat chance of me ever meeting the Queen, Jimmy. Anyway, do you know how much a good haircut costs these days? Where am I supposed to find the money for that? I can’t remember the last time I went to the hairdressers, or bought new clothes for that matter.’ She gave him a grin
. ‘My underwear’s so worn, it’s transparent.’
‘I’ve told you time and time again, just go on the game, darling. With a face like yours and a body like yours, not to mention your transparent underwear, you’d make a fortune.’ He grinned back at her. ‘If I was that sort of man, I’d be in the queue.’
‘Jimmy, for the last time, would you stop trying to make me into a prostitute. Sooner or later I’m going to get my paintings accepted by one of the big galleries and I’m going to become an overnight sensation and it’s all going to be fine. My hair can wait until then to be cut.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Besides, if I keep letting it grow, when I get really desperate I can cut it all off and sell it. That’s as close to selling my body I’m going to get, thank you.’
‘Such a waste.’ Piotr was standing at the door. He glanced back over his shoulder to be sure Spiro wasn’t listening. ‘But what I not understand is why you work here in this shithole?’ His colloquial English was improving in leaps and bounds, even if his vocabulary did tend to lack finesse. ‘You could get job in high class coffee shop or champagne bar in West End, no problem.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe topless bar in Soho. You soon make lots money.’
‘Listen you two. I’m happy here, thanks, with my long hair and fully clothed. Just give it a few more months and my paintings will be hanging on the walls of the rich and famous. Just you wait. Dreams really do come true, you know.’
‘You honestly believe you’re going to be the next Damien Hirst?’
‘Damn right I do.’ She tried to sound as confident as possible, but after three years trying to break into the London art scene, she was gradually losing hope.
‘And, talking of dreams, what about the man of your dreams?’ Jimmy was incurably nosey.
‘The man of my dreams is ten thousand miles away, Jimmy. You know that.’ She could hear the regret in her voice. Separation from Rick had been harder than she had thought.
‘So Rick’s still the man of your dreams, is he, Penny? You still think this long distance thing’s going to work?’
She caught Jimmy’s eye. He really did know her very well by now. ‘Of course it’s going to work. We’re making it work.’ She did her best to sound confident, but she knew it wasn’t easy. As the weeks went by, it was getting harder and harder to find things to say to each other when she and Rick spoke.
Jimmy was reading her mind. ‘They say absence makes the heart grow fonder but, in my experience, it’s the opposite. Unless you see the person regularly, you start to forget them. You mark my words.’
‘It’ll be fine, Jimmy. You’ll see.’ Secretly, in her pocket, she was crossing her fingers.
‘If you say so, darling. But you’re a sensual woman and you have needs.’
‘Needs? Who said I had needs, or I was sensual, for that matter? You’ve been reading too many women’s magazines.’
‘Of course you’re sensual. A beautiful girl like you has to be. And now you’re famous and a hero. So, what if some gorgeous man sees your photo on social media and comes looking for you? Might you be prepared to give him a try? Your boy’s ten thousand miles away, remember.’
‘My photo on social media…?’ Penny didn’t like the sound of this.
Jimmy caught her eye and explained. ‘Spiro’s been tweeting all morning, telling the world that he employs heroes and urging people to come here to the Apocalypse to meet you.’
‘Oh, God…’
It was just after three o'clock when somebody did indeed come into the café looking for Penny, but it was a woman, not a man. Penny noticed her as soon as she came through the door. She was wearing gorgeous soft tan leather boots with heels, a stylish coat, and, unlike Penny, she had clearly been to a high class hairdresser very recently. Compared to the normal clientele of the café, she could just as well have come from another planet. Eyebrows raised and jaws dropped around the room as the woman went over to the counter to speak to Spiro. He beamed and waved across the room to Penny.
‘Here, famous Penny, come over here. This lady wants to talk to you.’
Blushing once more, Penny did as she was told. The woman extended a manicured hand towards her and introduced herself. ‘Hello, Penny. My name’s Caroline Moor. I saw your photo on Twitter. You’re a very brave girl.’ Her accent was very posh, but her smile was friendly.
Penny shook her head and repeated the mantra she had been using all day. ‘I just did what any normal person would do.’ She studied the woman more closely. She was probably four or five years older than her, maybe thirty or so. She was well-groomed and looked affluent. Penny suppressed a sigh of jealousy.
‘Is there somewhere we could talk for a moment?’ The woman was looking around warily.
‘Er, yes. Are you a journalist or something?’ Penny led the woman across to a table in the far corner and ran a cloth over a seat before indicating she should sit down.
‘No, nothing like that, Penny.’ The woman, Caroline, sat down tentatively, but avoided putting her arms on the table top. Penny nodded to herself. Although she knew that Spiro kept the Apocalypse spotlessly clean, the battered appearance of the furniture could be off-putting, especially to somebody wearing an expensive light-coloured coat. Caroline waited until Penny had sat down opposite her before starting to explain. ‘No, I came to see you to ask if you might be interested in a job.’ Seeing the surprise on Penny’s face, she was quick to expand. ‘Not a full-time job. You could still carry on working here most of the time, if that’s what you want.’
Working at the Apocalypse certainly wasn’t what Penny wanted, but a job was a job, and she had grown close to the boys, Jimmy in particular, over the months she had been here. She looked across the table. ‘What sort of job?’ She saw the other woman hesitate, shooting a wary glance around the room before replying. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper.
‘How would you feel about meeting me somewhere we can talk more freely?’
Penny began to get a bad feeling about this. Was this some sort of attempt to recruit her to the secret service? Or maybe the woman was some sort of pimp, trying to sign her up for a life of prostitution just like Jimmy and Piotr had suggested. Caroline must have seen the suspicion on her face as she was quick to reassure her.
‘It’s nothing underhand. Please don’t worry. It’s just that my employer is a very private person and I’ve been given strict instructions that what I have to say must be strictly between the two of us.’
Penny nodded. Although several tables separated them from the counter, Spiro was leaning forward nonchalantly, his good ear trained on their corner. Not a lot escaped him. She took another good look at Caroline. She looked trustworthy enough and she was very well spoken. Maybe if they were to meet in a public place there would be no harm in it. She nodded again and the other woman made a suggestion. ‘Do you know the JC coffee shop below the Metropole Hotel halfway along Piccadilly?’
Penny nodded again. She knew it from having walked past it a good few times, but she had never dared go inside. The place had expensive written all over it, from the tropical fish in the massive aquarium by the window to the liveried doorman whose only job appeared to be to open the door for patrons of the establishment and to keep riff-raff out. Riff-raff which would no doubt include Penny, the way things were at the moment. She dismissed the thought and brightened up. Assuming they let her in, at least she was unlikely to be mugged, raped or kidnapped in a classy establishment like that.
‘I know the place. I’m on the early shift here tomorrow so I finish at four. Would five thirty be all right for you? I could get there by then.’ Caroline nodded, an expression of what could well have been relief on her face. Penny remembered her manners. ‘Fine, I’ll see you there, then. Now, can I get you a coffee or a tea or something?’
Caroline stood up rather too quickly and shook her head. Penny didn’t blame her. Her own immune system had strengthened no end since working here, and she could well understand the other woman’s reservations.
‘No,
thank you, Penny. Here’s my card. If something comes up, just give me a call. Otherwise I’ll see you in the JC.’ She deposited a crisp new visiting card in Penny’s hand and headed for the door. Penny watched her walk out to a black cab that had been waiting for her. As the taxi drove off, Penny found herself wondering just what this mysterious job could be. Nevertheless, there was no disguising the fact that it sounded interesting and, apart from the baby on the line incident, her life was sorely lacking in interest at the moment.
That night Penny found herself lying in bed dreaming of Venice once again. As so often in her dreams, she was travelling slowly up the Grand Canal in a gondola propelled by a tall man in a stripy jumper. All around her were gorgeous historic buildings, many housing extraordinary works of art, but the funny thing was that she wasn’t concentrating on the buildings. She only had eyes for the gondolier. Frustratingly, though, every time she tried to see his face, he turned away from her, and all she could see were his broad shoulders and his mass of dark hair.
Chapter 2
Penny just about had time to rush home as soon as she got off work next day. Mercifully the weather had finally dried up after two or three weeks of interminable rain and, although her room was on the middle floor, sparing her the constant dripping that was driving the top floor residents to distraction, the whole house felt and smelt damp as a result. She jumped in the tepid shower to remove as much of the smell of all-day breakfasts as possible and changed into the only half-decent clothes she still had. She was lucky with the trains and it was five twenty-five when she emerged from Green Park tube station and hurried along to the JC coffee shop. The door was opened for her by the bulky doorman, his eyes ranging discreetly over her clothes as he did so. Somehow she had a good idea that he had worked out their provenance and cost down to the last 99p, although his expression gave nothing away. Mercifully, he let her in. She walked in and stopped on the mat, looking around for Caroline.
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