She went across and checked a sign on the wall by the street lamp. It read Ponte de l’Acquavita. The bridge itself was sandwiched between a group of faded pink houses, the lower parts of the walls badly scarred where the decrepit plaster had fallen off, now reduced to bare brick. Somebody with more time than sense had sprayed graffiti along the wall and across the grey metal shutters of a locked shop front. She pulled out the map she had got from the hotel and pored over it in the light, but without success. She couldn’t see any more signs so she came down off the bridge and decided to follow the narrow lane her pirate man had taken. This led her away from the water into another maze of buildings. It was much darker here and she couldn’t help feeling a sensation of anxiety, all alone in the shadows.
Fortunately, in less than a hundred yards, she found herself at a crossroads, illuminated by a street light. She was relieved to find there was a café here and it looked open, so she pushed the door and went inside, partly in case her pirate man might have been heading here and partly so as to get away from the freezing cold out in the echoing streets. It immediately became clear that her pirate wasn’t here. In fact, there were no customers in the café at all. She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven o'clock and the proprietor was pretty clearly in the process of closing up. He looked up as she came in and shook his head.
‘Sorry, no coffee. Closed.’ He spoke in English, having accurately guessed her nationality. Penny nodded and went across with her map. She asked him in Italian if he could show her where she was and he turned out to be very helpful. He not only showed her where on the map she had ended up, but also the best way back to St Mark’s Square. He became more cordial as he realised he could speak to her in his own language.
‘I’m afraid I’m just closing up, otherwise I would have made you something hot. You look frozen stiff. It’s very cold outside, isn’t it?’
Penny realised that her face was burning in the warmth in the bar, after the cold night air, so she nodded. ‘Yes, very, but at least it’s dry.’
‘I know what you need. Here.’ He reached behind the counter and, before she could object, he produced two shot glasses and filled them with transparent liquid from an anonymous bottle. She looked down, pretty sure she knew what she was being offered.
‘Grappa?’
He nodded and pushed a glass over to her. He picked up his own and held it out to her. ‘Cin cin. With my compliments. You look as though you need it.’ She picked up her glass gratefully and clinked it against his. He took a big mouthful and she followed suit, praying it wouldn’t burn the roof of her mouth off. She was relieved to find it was really very good, remarkably smooth compared to some other types of grappa she had sampled over the years. She returned his toast, swallowed and nodded appreciatively.
‘Yes, that’s a very good grappa.’
He smiled back at her. ‘My father-in-law makes it, with his own grapes. Once upon a time it was forbidden to distil liquor and he had to make it on the sly. Now our lords and masters in Rome permit us to make a small amount for personal use and he always lets me have some.’ He gave her another smile. ‘I sometimes have a little drop when it’s cold, but I don’t like drinking alone.’
‘Well, I feel specially privileged.’
‘At least you’re looking better now. When you came in, you looked as if you’d just seen a ghost.’
She looked at him over the rim of her glass. ‘I rather think that might be what just happened.’
* * *
When she got back to the hotel she was intending to go straight to bed, but she was in for yet another surprise. As she walked in, a man sitting in the lounge bar area adjacent to the main lobby jumped to his feet and hurried across to greet her. ‘Olivia, it is you.’ He sounded very pleased indeed to see her. ‘I checked the list of participants at the Save the Planet conference and I saw your name. How amazing you should be here. You didn’t say you were coming to Venice.’
Penny mustered a broad smile and set about wondering what she should do. He was probably around her age, tall and rather good-looking. He was wearing a very formal suit and what could have been an old school or regimental tie. His shoes were immaculately polished and his red hair was short-cropped and very neat. As she spotted the hair, a memory came back to her. She found herself thinking back to the time Olivia had talked about the boy she really liked. She had said he had red hair. Now what was his name? Stalling for time, she took a gamble, reaching out her arms to him and giving him a big hug. As she did so, it suddenly came back to her; Jonathan, abbreviated to Jon. She uttered a silent prayer that she had got the right man and stepped back from the clinch, still smiling.
‘Jon, how wonderful to see you.’
It worked. His smile broadened.
‘You look absolutely lovely, Olivia. I’m so, so pleased to see you.’ He looked and sounded it.
‘And you, Jon.’ She remembered now that Olivia had said he was in the army. ‘So, are you over here on duty or is this a holiday?’
‘I left the army in the summer. I wrote to you about it, but you probably don’t remember.’
Penny affected a sudden surge of memory. ‘Of course, silly me, I’d completely forgotten. And now what’re you doing?’
‘You know my father’s in the art business.’ Penny’s ears pricked up immediately. ‘He’s setting up a new gallery over here and I’ve been sent over to represent the family at the grand opening.’ Penny would dearly have liked to hear more, but he immediately changed the subject back to her, or rather to the girl he was convinced was Olivia. ‘But how’re you doing now? I was so sorry to hear about your father and even more sorry to hear you haven’t been well.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
Penny was still burping the grappa she had drunk earlier and she knew the last thing she needed was more alcohol, so she hesitated. She also knew full well that drinks here in the five star hotel wouldn’t be cheap. Either he was seriously loaded or he was in for a shock. She could see he was very keen for her to join him, so she made a decision. ‘Thanks, Jon, you know what I’d really like? A hot chocolate. I’ve been out walking and it’s bitterly cold out there.’
He led her over to the table where he had been sitting and caught the eye of a hovering waiter. ‘A hot chocolate and another scotch and soda please. No ice.’ He was very attentive, relieving her of her coat and hanging it over the back of a spare chair, on top of his. Penny sat down and prepared for the performance of a lifetime. From what Olivia had said, she liked Jon a lot, but there hadn’t been time for them to develop any great intimacy before the death of her father had interrupted relations. Penny hoped this was right, anyway. Although more than happy to attempt to impersonate her employer to the best of her ability, she knew that this definitely didn’t extend to an exchange of saliva with some random man. She looked across the table and killed two birds with one stone, starting the conversation and finding out about this art thing he had mentioned at the same time.
‘So, tell me all about what you’re doing here, Jon. The new gallery sounds amazing.’ She reflected that he had ordered the drinks in English. Did this mean he didn’t speak Italian? Surely this would be a major handicap for somebody starting a new enterprise over here?
‘Well, it’s our Foundation, really. We’ve found amazing premises right beside the Grand Canal and we’ve got a whole series of big-name exhibitions planned, with paintings being borrowed from all over the place.’ Penny would have dearly liked to know more about this Foundation. Presumably it was some kind of charitable trust, rather like Olivia’s own BWF. If his family had so much money they could start giving it away, pretty evidently he was going to be able to afford a cup of hot chocolate even in this place. Just then the waiter reappeared with the drinks and Penny had time to give Jonathan a covert examination.
He was really quite handsome in a terribly well-groomed sort of way. He was extremely smart, polite and attentive and it certainly looked as though he liked Olivia a lot. His accent was a bit too
public school for Penny’s tastes and he was altogether far too well turned out for her, but even so… Maybe if he grew a beard he might look better, but that would make him look even more like Prince Harry. Olivia hadn’t been joking. There was a distinct resemblance. Thought of beards reminded her, yet again, of her mystery man. This was really starting to trouble her now. Who was he? What was he doing here? Did he even exist? Could it be he was the product of her imagination; somebody her subconscious had dreamed up to satisfy some unfulfilled schoolgirl desire for a love at first sight experience? On her way back to the hotel after a pleasant chat with the barman at what she was referring to in her head as the grappa café, she had come close to screaming her frustration down the echoing, empty streets of Venice. Who the hell was he? Doing her best to shake his bearded image out of her head, she concentrated on Jonathan.
She didn’t learn much more about his gallery as he kept turning the conversation back to her and how she was feeling. Penny did her best to reassure him that she was now well on the way to recovery after her sort of breakdown, confident that what she was saying was the truth. Certainly, the real Olivia had definitely started to come out of herself much more over the past few weeks. Thoughts of Olivia reminded Penny she still had to call her and then, of course, Jimmy. She took a surreptitious glance at her watch and saw that it was past midnight, even if back home that meant eleven o'clock. She knew she needed to get back to her room to make the calls pretty soon. She swallowed the last of the excellent, highly calorific, hot chocolate and looked across the table apologetically.
‘Look, Jon, I’m going to have to go to bed as I’ve got an early start in the morning.’ His answer was predictable.
‘When can I see you again, Olivia? Could I take you out for dinner tomorrow?’ He hesitated as Penny desperately searched for a convincing excuse. Luckily, she didn’t need to, this time. He shook his head in annoyance. ‘Oh, blast, I’ve just remembered, I’m in Milan tomorrow evening. I won’t be back until Wednesday. How about Wednesday night?’
Penny decided she had better say yes. The last thing she wanted to do was to screw things up between Olivia and her love at first sight man. At least the forty-eight-hour delay gave her more time to discuss with Olivia just how she wanted to play it. ‘That would be delightful, Jon. Shall we meet here at, say, eight?’
‘Perfect. I do so look forward to it.’ Yes, Penny thought to herself, just a bit too formal and polite for her taste. She stood up and he immediately jumped to his feet and retrieved her coat for her. ‘Sleep well and I’ll be counting the hours until Wednesday.’
Penny hesitated, unsure how to conclude the evening. In the end she decided to offer him a bit of encouragement. She stepped forward and deposited a light kiss on his lips. ‘Goodnight, Jon. I’m so, so pleased to see you again.’ She saw his eyes shine.
‘Me, too, Olivia. Me, too.’
Penny went up in the lift and straight to her room. The housekeeping staff had made the bed, tidied everything, even folding the jumper she had left over the back of a chair and adding it to the collection of clothes now unpacked and stashed in the wardrobe. There were fresh flowers on the table and a little brown box of Gianduiotti chocolates at the bedside. It all looked lovely. Penny dropped her coat and reached into her bag for her phone. Her first call was to Olivia.
‘Olivia, hi. I hope I’m not calling too late. I haven’t woken you up or anything, have I?’
‘No, not at all. I was just thinking about you. I made a cake this afternoon.’
‘Wow, that’s progress. What sort of cake?’
‘Victoria sponge. It’s a little bit burnt on top because I didn’t take it out in time, but I’ve just had a slice now and it’s really rather good. Gilbert’s here at my feet and he’s given it his seal of approval. I’ll work on it and hope to be able to present you with a non-burnt one when I see you next. Anyway, what about you? How’s it all going?’
‘A couple of interesting developments. The first concerns your visit to the National Gallery.’
‘Oh, dear, yes, I quite forgot. I think I met your friend from that café where you were working.’
‘Jimmy, that’s right. I got a phone call from him. Olivia, he’s smelt a rat.’ As she mentioned the rat, she was reminded of her previous place of residence. She shuddered and continued. ‘I haven’t said a word to him about what we’re doing, you know, because of that legal thing I had to sign, but he doesn’t miss much and I reckon he’s twigged that you aren’t me.’
‘Oh dear, I rather thought that was the case. He came up to me and started stroking my hair and I was a bit sharp with him until I realised that he thought I was you. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, living a double life like you’re having to do at the moment. So, do you think he’s going to tell anybody?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He’s a sweetie really and I’ve asked him not to say a word. I told him I’d phone him tonight, but I wanted to talk to you first.’ Penny hesitated. ‘I’d really rather like to tell him the truth, or at least a doctored version of it. He’s a good friend and I’m sure he won’t breathe a word to anybody, but after that meeting I had with the lawyer, I’m terrified of being chucked in prison.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about Miles. You go ahead and tell your friend whatever you want, Penny. Apart from any other considerations, I reckon I’m pretty well back on my feet now, so if it did all come to light, I think I’m just about ready to stand up and face the music.’
Penny felt a tremendous sense of relief. ‘Excellent. Well, with your blessing, I’ll tell him just enough to keep him quiet and I’ll really impress upon him that he keeps it to himself.’ She found herself grinning into the fabulous, gold-framed mirror on the wall of her room. ‘That’ll be good. Up to now he’s been convinced that my new hairstyle and fingernails are because I’ve turned into a call girl.’ She heard Olivia giggle on the other end of the line and changed the subject. ‘Anyway, there’s been a very interesting development here. And you’re right about how tricky it is to pretend to be somebody else. I’ve just been having a drink with Jonathan.’
‘Jonathan?’ Olivia sounded amazed. ‘You mean, Jon, Jonathan Carstairs?’
‘I don’t know his surname, but I remembered what you had said about him and took a guess. Yes, it’s your rather good-looking Jonathan with the red hair.’ She went on to tell Olivia all about the conversation they had had and the invitation to dinner on Wednesday. ‘I suppose the best thing will be for me to invent some excuse and wriggle out of it, unless you feel like contacting him and explaining what’s been happening. I’m afraid it’s going to be almost impossible for me to keep up appearances if we do go out for dinner.’ A thought came to her. ‘Alternatively, here’s a better suggestion. Why don’t you consider coming over and taking my place?’ She heard an intake of breath at the other end of the line, but she carried on. ‘You know, you pretending to be me pretending to be you.’ Now it was her turn to giggle. ‘Bloody hell, but it’s complicated.’
‘Oh, Penny, I don’t know…’ Penny couldn’t miss the note of longing in Olivia’s voice so she did a bit of pressing.
‘Seriously, why don’t you fly across tomorrow or Wednesday? Apart from anything else it might get me out of a hole. I gave him a goodnight kiss tonight and who knows where that’ll lead on Wednesday night.’
‘You did?’ Olivia sounded part excited, part worried. Also, Penny noted with a grin, she even sounded slightly jealous as she went on. ‘What sort of kiss? On the cheeks? Lips? Passionate…?’
Penny took pity on her. ‘No, no passion, just a gentle brush of lip against lip, but he definitely enjoyed it. So, like I say, give it some thought. I know for a fact that he would be really, really pleased to see you in the flesh.’
‘I don’t know, Penny…’ Olivia was repeating herself, but Penny was delighted to hear that she still hadn’t said no.
‘Anyway, you think it over and let’s talk tomorrow. You ring me or I’ll ring you. I’ll give J
immy a call now and see that he keeps his mouth shut. And give my big hairy friend Gilbert a hug from me.’
When Penny rang Jimmy, she had to wait a while before he answered. He hastened to explain. ‘Hi, Penny, give me a minute and then call me back, would you?’ He was whispering. ‘I’m serving champagne cocktails to a load of footballers and their WAGS. Just give me time to slip out to the loo. Bye.’
Talk of going to the loo reminded Penny this was something she had been wanting to do for quite a while now. She took her phone into the bathroom with her and then had the surreal experience of sitting on the loo, talking to Jimmy, knowing that he, too, was in the toilet on the other end of the line. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and started giggling to herself as she spoke to him.
‘Jimmy, do you remember Caroline?’
‘Yes, of course. The very elegant girl you’re sharing a house with now.’
‘That’s her. Anyway, she works for a girl called Olivia and I’ve been employed to act as Olivia’s double.’
‘Her double?’ Penny could hear the incredulity in his voice.
‘You must have seen how similar we look.’
‘Absolutely identical, even down to the shape of your ear lobes.’ Penny found herself amazed that he should have noticed such fine detail in either of them. ‘She had me totally fooled this morning. It was only when she started speaking to me that I began to realise there was something dodgy going on. That and the fact that I thought she was going to give me a slap at one point. So, why her double? Doing what?’
Penny explained, but without giving away Olivia’s surname or telling him anything too specific about the Foundation. She finished by saying, ‘She’s been terribly upset since her dad’s death and she’s just coming out of it now. Please promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anybody. If it got out and the media started hounding her, I’d be terrified it might undo all our good work and send her right back into deep depression again, or worse.’
Dreaming of Venice Page 17