Dreaming of Venice

by Dreaming of Venice (retail) (epub)

  Such was her state of exaltation, she almost missed her stop. At the last minute she spotted the unmistakable façade of the hotel and pushed past the passengers coming on board to slip off just in time. She crossed the quayside and went in through the revolving doors just as Caroline was about to come out. Caroline took one look at her and held out a hand to steady her.

  ‘Penny, are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘I have, Caroline, and he’s real.’ Penny saw the hall porter look up in surprise and she realised she was almost shouting with exhilaration. She took a few deep breaths and made a conscious effort to calm down, lowering her voice before continuing. ‘I’ve seen him, Caroline, I’ve touched him and he’s a real person. His name’s Rico and he’s an artist. He’s got amazing eyes and he’s ever so nice and…’ She realised she was babbling.

  ‘What? Your pirate man? You’ve seen him?’ Caroline's eyes widened. ‘Where, when, how?’

  Penny told her all about the scene in the Accademia and how she had finally met her mystery man. Caroline looked pleased for her, but still a little uncertain. ‘That’s amazing, Penny, and he’s asked you out tonight?’ Penny nodded enthusiastically. ‘And you don’t know where you’re going? And all you know about him is his first name?’ Penny nodded, less enthusiastically now. ‘Are you absolutely sure you’ll be all right on your own? Listen, Nick and I are supposed to be going to a place he knows over on Giudecca. I could get him to cancel the restaurant and I could come with you if you like.’

  Penny shook her head vehemently. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll be fine. It’s a restaurant, after all, and it’s bound to be bang in the middle of Venice. If it were a private house or out in the sticks somewhere I might be a bit concerned, but this’ll be fine. Besides, I’m sure I can trust him.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure…’

  ‘Yes, definitely.’ Penny had absolutely no doubt about that. ‘Now, you two lovebirds go out and enjoy yourselves. If I see the Do Not Disturb sign on your door handle later on, I’ll draw my own conclusions.’ She smiled as Caroline blushed red.

  ‘Well, just do me a favour, will you, Penny? When you get back tonight, just send me a text so I know you’re home safe.’

  ‘Yes, mum.’

  Up in her room, the first thing Penny did was to phone Olivia, to find out if she had decided to take the plunge and come across to Venice the next day, but there was no reply. She stared out of the window at the lights of Venice and knew she definitely wanted to talk to somebody else about her sighting of the mystery man. After a brief pause for thought, she called Jimmy. He answered almost immediately.

  ‘Hi, Penny, how’s it going? How’s the double life treating you? Do you get two breakfasts? One for you and one for your employer?’

  ‘Just the one, but talking of breakfasts, the food over here’s out of this world. Anyway, listen, I’ve met my pirate man.’

  ‘Oh, I say, how exciting! Do spill the beans.’ She told him all about the chance encounter in the gallery and he evidently approved of Rico’s technique. ‘Couldn’t have done better myself. Galleries are marvellous places for pick-ups.’

  ‘It wasn’t a pick-up, Jimmy. It was a chance meeting. Two artists in the same gallery at the same time.’

  ‘Rubbish, he’s been following you, that’s what. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Of course he hasn’t. It was just chance.’

  ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart. But, either way, you’ve finally met him in the flesh.’ He paused to giggle. ‘Although that’ll probably come a bit later on. So, tell me all about him. Is he as handsome close up as he first appeared? He hasn’t got bad breath or hairy nostrils or anything?’

  ‘He’s got the most amazing eyes, Jimmy. Real emerald green. It’s like staring at a cat. And, yes, he’s a real hunk.’

  ‘Mmh, sounds gorgeous. No chance of him being a little bit gay, maybe?’

  ‘No chance at all, unless my radar’s totally wrong. No, I think he’s as straight as a die.’

  ‘Pity.’ Jimmy didn’t sound too disheartened. ‘Anyway, I’m so pleased for you, darling. After what that Owen did to you, you deserve a nice hunky man all to yourself. And fancy him being an artist as well! He certainly ticks all the boxes. And I bet it won’t be long before he does more than just tick your…’

  ‘Be that as it may, Jimmy, I’m going out for a few drinks with him and his friends. That should give me the chance to get to know him a bit better. I still can’t get over the coincidence of seeing him all these times.’

  ‘I still don’t think it’s a coincidence, but maybe that’s just because I believe in love. Ah, a love story in Venice, how Shakespearian. Now, you will call me tomorrow and let me know how it went, won’t you? And I’ll be expecting a full description of him, warts and all. No, on second thoughts, forget the warts, just tell me about the good bits.’

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, but don’t expect a blow by blow account of how the evening went.’ She realised what she had said before she heard his giggle. ‘No intimate details, all right?’

  ‘All right, sweetheart. Have fun. I’ll be thinking of you… or him.’

  * * *

  The Ponte dell’Accademia is a huge hump-backed wooden bridge and from the top, Penny found herself able to look up and down the Grand Canal in all its glory. Even in the nighttime the views were spectacular. The magnificent palazzi all along the waterfront were each more beautiful than the other, and the constant flow of boats of all different sizes and types up and down this most famous of canals brought a vibrancy to the scene that she would have loved to capture on canvas. She took a number of photographs, in the hope that she might be able to use them in the preparation of a series of paintings when she got back home. She had only been there for a few minutes before she saw Rico running up the steps towards her and her heart leapt.

  ‘Olivia, please excuse me for being late. I had to take a phone call just before I came out.’ He came up the last steps and held out both his hands to greet her. He grasped her right hand in his and, even through her woolly gloves, she once again felt a tingle of excitement run through her. He shook her hand and then glanced back down the way he had come. ‘Shall we go?’ She nodded so he turned and led her off the bridge. As they walked, he explained. ‘The place where my friends and I meet is just beyond the Rialto. It shouldn’t take us more than fifteen minutes or so to get there, particularly at this time of year.’

  ‘You mean because there are no tourists?’

  He glanced across at her. ‘There’s never a time with no tourists, but this is definitely just about the quietest it gets in Venice. In mid-summer, it would take us twice as long.’ He was right. The squares and streets they walked though were remarkably free of people, no doubt the freezing cold keeping many indoors. As they followed the narrow lane that was as close to a main street as Venice could provide, they chatted sporadically. For the most part, though, Penny just concentrated on committing her wonderful surroundings – and, of course, her intriguing companion – to memory.

  The restaurant was just behind yet another church, situated in a narrow lane. Not for the first time, Penny found herself thinking of the logistical difficulties all businesses in Venice must face. Presumably everything was brought through the canals to the nearest point and then carried onwards by hand or by trolley. As she walked through the square in front of the church, she suddenly realised she recognised it from the previous night. After leaving the grappa café, she had walked home this way. In consequence, when she had seen him, he must have been within spitting distance of the restaurant. Maybe he had been on his way here. She looked across at him as they reached the restaurant entrance.

  ‘Were you here last night?’

  He looked surprised. ‘Yes, briefly. I was out for a walk and I came to check if they had reserved a table for our group for today. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure I saw you, walking alongside one of the little canals.’ She did a quick cal
culation. ‘Just before eleven?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s right. So you’ve seen me before, have you? Well, I’m very sorry, but I can’t think how I could have missed seeing you. I normally have very good antennae when it comes to beautiful women. The first time I set eyes on you was this afternoon at the Accademia at precisely 6.24pm.’

  Luckily they were still outside, so her blushes were hidden by the dark. ‘You remember the time so exactly? That’s amazing.’

  ‘Some things you never forget.’ She didn’t have time to consider what that might mean before he pushed the door open and led her into the blessed warmth of the restaurant. It was a cosy place, with low, wood-beamed ceilings supported by brick arches, racks of wine bottles round the walls, and a smell of wood smoke in the air. It was almost full. There was a general hubbub of noise that rose as Rico led her towards a large table in one corner. His arrival was greeted by hoots of welcome from a miscellaneous bunch of people already sitting at the table. She and he squeezed into two free seats and he set about making the introductions. It occurred to Penny as he did so that she hadn’t told him her surname and she had no idea of his. Somehow, this anonymity was really rather exciting.

  ‘Ciao ragazzi. Can I present you my new friend Olivia? She’s English, but she’s done us the honour of learning our language.’ He turned towards Penny and rattled off the first names of the other people round the table. Penny knew there was no way she would be able to remember them all so she just concentrated on memorising the names of those closest to her. These were a very pretty girl called Susanna with long dark hair and alongside her, a remarkable character called Fritz.

  Fritz shook Penny’s hand formally and immediately poured a big splash of red wine into her glass. ‘Hi, Olivia, good to meet you. The name’s Fritz.’ He spoke to her in excellent English with just a slight German accent. What was remarkable about Fritz, however, was his hair. This was the first time Penny had ever seen a seventy-year-old man with a Mohican haircut. It looked almost as strange as the fur-trimmed jumper he was wearing, but Penny didn’t bat an eyelid. She was no stranger to weird and wacky dressers. Many of the people she had got to know on the London art scene were as eccentric in their way as Fritz. She shook hands with both of them, slipped off her coat, hung it over the back of her chair, and addressed Susanna in Italian.

  ‘Hi, are you an artist?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Yes, and you?’

  Penny gritted her teeth, wishing she could tell the truth, and shook her head. ‘Just an amateur, I’m afraid.’

  Fritz laughed and joined in, this time in Italian. ‘We’re all amateurs here. There aren’t many people who make a living out of painting these days.’ His Italian was totally fluent and Penny was impressed. ‘Apart from the caricaturists down on the waterfront.’ He grinned. ‘Or people making counterfeit banknotes.’

  ‘Wow, you speak wonderful Italian.’ Penny had never heard a German speak it so well. Fritz grinned at her.

  ‘Thanks for the compliment, but that would be because I am Italian.’ He explained. ‘I was born and brought up in the mountains above Bolzano, to the north of here. It’s Italy, but we all speak German as well as Italian. Anyway, complimenti, your Italian’s pretty damn good. Tuscany by the accent.’

  Once again, Penny gritted her teeth. It would have been such fun to tell them about her year working as an artist’s apprentice in Florence, but now that she had opted for Olivia as an identity, she knew she had to stay in character. She thanked him and, as she did so, she felt Rico’s hand on her arm.

  ‘I see Fritz has already poured you some wine. What can I get you to eat?’

  Penny liked the feel of his hand on her arm. He had now taken his leather jacket off and she was surprised to see him wearing a very smart jumper. Somehow, she had been expecting a big hairy pullover covered in paint stains. The wool adhered to the contours of his very fit body and she definitely liked what she saw. ‘I’ll have what you’re having, but just not very much of it. I love Italian food and I won’t fit into my clothes if I’m not careful.’

  She saw his eyes flick down across her body and back to her face. ‘I would say you’ve got a good way to go before that happens. Anyway, I’m going to have a plate of my favourite pasta, bigoli in salsa. Do you know it?’ Penny shook her head. ‘You’ll have to trust me on this one. Bigoli are sort of big chunky spaghetti and the sauce is made with salted sardines and onion. It doesn’t sound particularly appealing, I know, but it tastes really good and it’s one of the specialities here.’

  ‘I’ll give it a try, but, like I say, a moderate portion.’

  ‘And maybe some San Daniele ham to nibble as a starter?’

  ‘You’re the local. I’ll put myself in your hands, Rico.’ As she said it, she felt a delicious tremor of excitement. There was something very stimulating about being here with this very handsome, friendly, cultured man and yet not knowing anything much about him, nor he about her. She felt wonderfully relaxed, knowing she could pretty much say or do anything she wanted and nobody she knew would ever be any the wiser. As he removed his hand from her arm and turned to call the waiter, she laid her hand on his thigh and gave a little squeeze, telling herself it was just to attract his attention. He turned back towards her, his eyes glancing down to where her hand had landed, a little smile on his lips.

  ‘You’d better get some water as well, Rico. If I spend all evening drinking wine, you might have to carry my home.’

  ‘Well you did say you’d put yourself in my hands. Water, it is.’ Reluctantly she removed her hand, but not before she felt his muscles tense.

  It was a great evening. The company was warm, friendly and some of those around the table sufficiently outrageous to make her laugh out loud on many occasions. She spoke to Susanna about her work and learnt she was a sculptor who worked principally with marble. Penny didn’t know a lot about stone sculpture and she was fascinated to learn that newly-quarried stone was much softer and more malleable than stone that had been lying around on the surface of the ground for centuries. She had never given that a thought before, imagining that stone was stone was stone. After a bit, she hit on the idea of inventing a friend of hers who was an artist and, by using her, was able to talk a bit more about the kind of stuff she was doing. She heard about the various exhibitions running at the moment, and Rico gave her a flyer advertising a brand new gallery with what looked like a fabulous collection of Renaissance works, opening later that week. She promised to do her best to go to as many of the exhibitions as she could fit in.

  The ham was excellent, accompanied with fresh bread and olives and washed down with the local red wine. The pasta lived up to its billing and Penny found she had no trouble clearing her plate, even though the chef had clearly ignored her plea for a small portion. Too full for dessert, she ordered an espresso, as did most of the others at the end of the meal. This came with a bottle of grappa and a handful of shot glasses, but she shook her head, preferring to stay reasonably lucid, not least so as to remember this delightful evening in all its details. Beside her, the presence of Rico was very, very pleasant. He was a fun companion, very knowledgeable, but also a good listener. She told him as little as possible about her life, or that of Olivia, and she noticed that he said very little about himself as well. As the night went on, she found this ever more exciting; the notion of two anonymous people hooking up, like ships that pass in the night, somehow very stimulating.

  She left the restaurant on Rico’s arm well after midnight, having thoroughly enjoyed herself. They walked back towards St Mark’s Square down darkened streets and narrow alleys. She hung onto his arm with both hands and loved the feel of his strength and his warmth against her. When they came to a little bridge, not dissimilar to the bridge where she had lost him the previous night, they stopped in the middle and she turned towards him, looking up in expectation. Her breath formed a white cloud in the air, barely illuminated by what looked like a centuries old street light. He dropped his head towards her, to
ok her in his arms and kissed her.

  It was fortunate that he chose to take her in his arms because there was a very real danger of her falling sideways into the canal as his touch once more destroyed her equilibrium. She reached her hands up and ran them across the sides of his face and on around his neck, catching his hair in her fingers. The kiss went on a very long time, but, even so, she didn’t want it to stop. She pressed herself against him and loved every moment of it. Finally, they both came up for air. He raised his lips from hers and stared down at her, his eyes sparkling in the dim orange light. She could see he was smiling and she knew she was. There was no doubt in her mind as to what she wanted to do now. She wanted to go with him to his home and spend the night doing whatever felt right, knowing that their anonymity was preserved. She could say or do whatever she wanted and have no fear of recriminations in the morning.

  ‘It’s funny, Olivia, you’ve really surprised me.’

  Penny looked up at him as he explained what he meant and as he did so, a cold, hard lump began to form in her stomach.

  ‘I knew your father very well. I first met him a couple of years ago when he was over here buying a rather wonderful painting at auction. He was a charming man and we got on very well together. I was shocked to hear of his death back in the spring. I’m so sorry for you, Olivia. It must have come as a terrible blow.’ Penny was still trying to come to terms with the fact that the anonymity in their relationship was purely on his side. She still knew nothing about him, but he knew all about her – or at least, he thought he did.