By the time she had helped herself to scrambled egg and bacon from the battery of heated dishes along the breakfast bar, another unpleasant truth had occurred to her. She filled a glass with freshly squeezed orange juice and returned to the table. Caroline had finished her toast and was staring out of the window, an expression of deep contentment on her face. As Penny returned, the expression changed back to concern again. But before she could offer any more words of support, Penny pointed out the major stumbling block she now faced.
‘Besides, there’s a big problem. Even if I can talk things through with Olivia and we can come to some sort of arrangement that allows me to see Rico again and explain what’s happened, the fact is that I still haven’t got a clue as to how to go about finding him again.’ She looked across at Caroline, a sense of deep frustration bubbling up inside. ‘His name’s Federico. He’s Italian. He lives in Venice. He’s an artist. And that’s your lot. I don’t know his surname. I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know a bloody thing about him.’ She picked up her fork and stabbed angrily at the scrambled egg. ‘He’s gone, and that’s that.’
‘Surely not. What about the restaurant? I bet if you go back there and ask, they’ll be able to tell you who he is or, if they don’t actually know him, at least they might know some of the others in that group. Didn’t he say this was a regular monthly thing? The blond giant, for instance? There can’t be too many seven-foot-tall men going round Venice with blond pigtails.’ She reached over and gave Penny’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’ll see. Just talk it through with Olivia then go back to the restaurant. I bet they’ll know.’
Penny nodded absently. Caroline was right, of course. The restaurant was the obvious answer. But first, she had to find a suitable place to meet Olivia. She dug into her plate of bacon and egg and found it excellent. The smell of bacon reminded her of her time at the Apocalypse Café. So much had changed since then, most notably the trio of men who had exited her life in swift succession. At least, she thought to herself, she still had Jimmy. He would know what to do. She decided to phone him later on to talk things through with him.
Before travelling over to the conference on what was in all likelihood to be her last ever trip in a water taxi, Penny packed everything into the two suitcases and left them with Caroline. She filled a small bag with enough clothes to last her for two more days and, as she did so, she remembered the brochure she had picked up in the other hotel the previous night. She gave them a call and booked a room for three nights. On the way to the conference she checked in there and dropped her bag, so that at the end of the afternoon, she could seamlessly cease to be Olivia Brookes-Webster and revert to just being plain old Penny Lane. It gave her a funny sensation.
All the way over in the water taxi, she reflected on the fun she had had as Olivia. She knew she would never forget moments like the reception in the Southbank Centre with all those famous faces, her subsequent groping by Rafe Stinky-breath Kingsholme, her first ever flight in a private jet, the unbelievable luxury of the hotel or the feeling of having diamonds hanging from her ears that cost as much as a limousine. This brief interlude, apart from restoring her to a position of relative financial security and lifting her out of her rodent-infested previous existence, had also given her two really close girlfriends that she felt sure she would keep for the rest of her life. Her feelings at returning to the real world were genuinely mixed.
Before the first session started, she sneaked off to a corner of the beautiful cloisters and phoned Jimmy. He was on the morning shift at the café and she could almost smell the bacon as she spoke to him.
‘Hi, Jimmy, it’s me.’
‘Hello sweetie, how’s things? How did it go with your mystery man? You promised me details.’ There was a momentary pause. ‘But just don’t tell me he’s got a hairy back. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a man with a hairy back. Just tell me about the rest of him. Was he as hunky as you were expecting?’
‘I never got to find out, Jimmy.’ After glancing around to be sure the coast was clear, Penny told him all about their evening together and its disappointing end. Predictably, Jimmy was concerned for the man.
‘The poor dear. How awful for him. There he was with a totally gorgeous girl in his oh-so-muscular arms, rubbing her juicy bits against him and then, just as he’s getting his hopes up, slap bang wallop and she dumps him. By the way, when I say getting his hopes up, you know what I’m referring to, don’t you?’
‘I always know what you’re referring to, Jimmy. But the fact is that I didn’t have any choice. Besides, although I feel very sorry for him, it hasn’t been a bundle of fun for me, you know. I hardly slept a wink last night.’
‘You poor thing. But don’t despair. Just you sit down with your evil twin and she’ll be bound to let you tell him the truth. By the sound of it, you’ve pretty much reached the end of your contract now anyway, so the secret can come out.’
‘I know, Jimmy, but first I’ve got to meet up with her and talk and that’s not so easy. The one thing we don’t want is for people to see us together. Nobody should ever know about this little subterfuge. Olivia has to be able to slip back into her job without anybody being any the wiser. The trouble is to find somewhere here in Venice where we can meet without being seen.’
They talked for a minute, Jimmy pitching suggestions at her and she shooting them down in flames, until he finally came up with a better idea. ‘I’ve always found cemeteries good. People don’t look at each other there; you know, respecting the grief of others and all that. Besides, you could wear a headscarf, a veil even. Isn’t there a cemetery there you could go to?’ The ramifications of Venice’s situation in the middle of the lagoon suddenly hit him. ‘Or do they all get a burial at sea there? Lots of decomposing corpses floating around can’t be very sanitary though…’
Penny realised that he had indeed cracked it. ‘The island of the dead. That’s it, Jimmy. I was reading about it the other day. The island of San Michele is just one big cemetery and, even better, it’s on the way from the airport to the hotel. I’ll get Olivia to call in there this afternoon while the sun’s still out and we can talk in peace and quiet. It should be pretty well empty on a cold December Wednesday.’
‘And then you go and get your man, Penny. You deserve him.’
‘Easier said than done, Jimmy. I don’t even know his surname, let alone where he lives.’
‘You’ll find him. Let’s face it, Penny, the universe couldn’t really make it any clearer for you. He keeps walking into your life unannounced. You two just have to get together and you will. You’ll be paddling your gondola along the Grand Canal and you’ll bump into him. Just you wait and see.’
Penny couldn’t help laughing. ‘You don’t really know how it works here in Venice, do you Jimmy? You don’t paddle around in gondolas.’
‘Well, canoes then. You know what I mean.’
* * *
Penny left the conference at half past three and took two different water-buses to get her to the island of the dead by just after four. She stepped onto the pontoon and walked in through the cemetery gates along with a handful of other people, all of them carrying flowers. For a moment she rather wished she had thought of flowers as extra camouflage, but nobody spared her more than a passing glance. As she entered the cemetery, she looked to her right, admiring the lovely old white church, one of the earliest Renaissance buildings in Venice.
She and Olivia had decided to meet by the tomb of Igor Stravinsky, one of a number of famous names to be buried here, and Penny easily found the gravestone. It was just a smooth slab with his name chiselled on it, alongside his wife Vera’s. There were a number of bunches of flowers lying on the graves, along with notes, weighed down with stones. Out of curiosity, Penny glanced at one, but saw that it was written in Cyrillic script and replaced it. She had spent the princely sum of five euros to buy herself a black headscarf from an Indian man on the quay before leaving, and she had tied this over her head, concealing her ha
ir. A further outlay of ten euros had brought a rather chunky pair of thick-rimmed dark glasses and she reckoned her disguise should be good enough to fool most people.
About ten minutes later, she heard the crunch of feet on the gravel path and Olivia appeared. Their eyes met and both of them had to struggle not to burst out laughing. Olivia, in an attempt to look anonymous and dissimilar to Penny, had unwittingly opted for an almost identical outfit, complete with dark headscarf and sunglasses. The net result was that they still looked like twins, in spite of their disguise. The good news was that their faces and hair were suitably hidden and here, in this part of the cemetery, there was nobody to be seen. Olivia came across to the grave and deposited a bunch of flowers on the tombstone before straightening up and coming across to give Penny a hug.
‘Penny, hi. So good to see you again.’
Penny kissed her on the cheeks, genuinely delighted. ‘And me, Olivia. Congratulations on doing it. I’m so, so pleased you decided to come.’
‘So am I and so’s my stepmum. She called from Antigua to tell me she’s having a great time and feeling really good. She sends her love.’
Penny felt a real sense of satisfaction, knowing that Olivia’s stepmum was regaining her own happiness. ‘Who’s looking after Gilbert? He’ll be missing you.’
‘He’ll be fine. Janice spoils him rotten and Arthur walks him to the pub and then feeds him crisps. He’ll probably be ten pounds heavier by the time I get home.’
Together they walked across to a stone bench in the sun, situated beneath a centuries-old yew tree, and sat down side by side. Penny glanced around cautiously, but there was only a gardener way over to one side, well out of earshot. ‘Have you left your stuff in the water taxi?’
Olivia nodded. ‘He’s waiting out by the pontoon. He’ll take me round to the hotel once we’ve had a chance to catch up. So, tell me all about it. You definitely sounded a bit down last night. What’s happened?’ An expression of concern appeared on what little of her face was still visible. ‘It’s not about Jonathan, is it? He hasn’t cancelled our date tonight or anything, has he?’
Penny was quick to reassure her. ‘No, nothing like that. He’ll be waiting for you in the lobby at eight o'clock or even earlier. By the way, when I saw him the other night he was wearing a jacket, collar and tie, so I imagine you should aim to look a bit smart tonight.’
Penny saw Olivia smile. ‘I’m not just going to look smart, I’m going to look so blooming good, his eyes’ll pop out of their sockets. Anyway, so what’s happened?’
Penny told her all about her chance meeting with Rico at the Accademia, their evening together, and then the discovery that he knew who she was, or so he thought. She ended up apologising. ‘I’m really sorry, Olivia, I shouldn’t have gone out with him. I forgot my job, I’m afraid. Hopefully I managed to nip things in the bud, so you don’t need to worry about finding yourself with a hairy artist knocking on your door, hoping you’ll fall into his arms once more.’ Penny tried to sound as upbeat as she could, but she didn’t fool Olivia.
‘Oh, Penny, you should’ve told him! It wouldn’t have mattered. I’m feeling good now, really fine. There’s the conference tomorrow and I’m really looking forward to it, and to seeing a load of people I know again.’ She reached out a gloved hand and caught hold of Penny’s. ‘This is all Miles's fault, isn’t it? I told him there was no need for a written agreement between us, but of course, just like all lawyers, he had to dot the i’s and cross the t’s and put the fear of God into you. I’m so sorry, Penny, it’s my fault you’ve lost him.’
‘Of course it’s not, Olivia. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure. Anyway, if by some miracle I do find him again, you’re sure it’s all right with you if I tell him the truth?’
‘Absolutely. Tell him whatever you like.’ Olivia glanced around, but they were still alone in that part of the cemetery. ‘But how are you going to go about finding him?’
Penny didn’t have an easy answer to that one, but she knew where she was going to start.
* * *
Penny spent the best part of half an hour wandering around the island after Olivia had left, the sombre mood of the cemetery matching her own. Finally, as the setting sun dropped to the horizon in an orange ball, she took the vaporetto back to Venice, taking the precaution to get off a stop further on than normal, so as not to alight directly in front of the hotel where Olivia had now taken her place. She made her way through the narrow streets back to St Mark’s square, the temperature dropping like a stone as darkness fell. As she threaded her way through shoppers and tourists, she spent a good bit of time looking in the shop windows for a present for Jimmy. He had always been so very supportive and, of course, his agreement to keep silent about their charade was invaluable. The answer came to her just as she was approaching her new hotel. She spotted a shop that described itself as The Home of Artisan Leather. In the window were exquisite wallets, bags and cases, all looking beautifully soft and smooth. She went inside for a look around.
Doing her best to think of what Jimmy might want, she remembered that he usually carried a canvas shoulder bag. She found the perfect replacement in a chestnut brown leather satchel, complete with retro brass buckles and a padded shoulder strap. She felt sure that Jimmy would appreciate this and she added a matching wallet as an afterthought. The present took a sizeable chunk out of the thousand euros she had got from Olivia, but she knew he was worth it.
Her room on the top floor of the new hotel, while very different from the luxury of her previous room with its views across the lagoon, was comfortable and clean, with free wifi, and the view from the window over the roofs of Venice had considerable charm. As soon as she got in, she dumped her stuff and stripped off her Olivia clothes. The impeccable linen blouse and the mohair jumper disappeared into the little wardrobe, as did the designer jeans. She ran herself a bath and poured in the contents of one of the bottles she had picked up in her previous bathroom. Within minutes, the water was invisible under a dense cloud of bubbles. She climbed in and lay back, feeling like Cleopatra in her bath of asses’ milk. As she closed her eyes, she did her best to think happy thoughts.
She was definitely, genuinely, happy for Olivia, who now looked as if she was really back on her own two feet. She was also happy that Mrs B-W appeared to be emerging from the cloud that had struck her too. She was immensely pleased and grateful to have had the opportunity to visit the amazing city of Venice, not least as everything she had been hearing at the conference had made it ever clearer that Venice was desperately threatened by climate change. And she was extremely happy, and grateful, that Olivia had insisted that she would be paid a thousand pounds a day for the next two days, even though she was just going to spend the time cruising around the outlying islands of the lagoon. Not many people got to do that and even fewer got paid that kind of money for doing it. Yes, she told herself as she lay there, feeling the tickling of the bubbles as they exploded against her nose, she had a lot of things to make her happy.
Unbidden, however, the spectre of Rico appeared before her. In fact, his image was so powerful that for a moment she felt a sensual thrill run right throughout her body. Oh, she thought to herself, to have him there with her. She found herself remembering things he had said, little things about his voice, his face, those amazing eyes. She remembered the warmth of his thigh against hers at the table and then the feel of his arms around her and his lips upon hers out there on the little bridge. There was no doubt in her mind that the way she thought of him was different from any man she had ever known, and that included Rick and Owen. Of course, she told herself, that was the problem with this love at first sight thing; it wasn’t just for a few seconds. It happened and then it carried on happening, hopefully for a whole lifetime. And now, in all likelihood, in spite of what Jimmy had said to try to cheer her, she really had lost him forever. Would she ever see him again? She closed her eyes and let her head sink below the surface, the water washing away the tea
rs that had sprung, unwanted, to her eyes.
When she emerged from the bath, she had regained her resolve, and she knew what she had to do. After an embarrassing hiatus when the hairdryer in her room didn’t work and a replacement had to be found, she finally set out from the hotel into the cold winter night at about eight o'clock. She was wearing jeans; not designer jeans, but her normal jeans, and with thick tights underneath. She had a woolly hat pulled down over her newly washed hair, and a hefty scarf wrapped round her neck. In consequence, she felt pretty confident that nobody from the conference would recognise her if they should spot her as she set off through the backstreets in the direction of the restaurant.
Within fifteen minutes she was lost once more. Time and time again she would follow a narrow lane, only to find her way blocked by a canal or a dead end. She was forced to turn left and right into ever smaller alleys so many times that she lost all sense of orientation. It was, therefore, with a certain amount of relief, a good while later, that she emerged on the eastern side of the city on the waterfront, looking out towards the isle of the dead.
She stood under a street lamp and studied the map she had got from the hotel. Even though she could see she was on the shore of the lagoon, it still took her five minutes to work out where she was and where she had to go. Finally, after a bit of a struggle, she made her way back in the general direction of the restaurant until, mercifully, she came across it. She heaved a sigh of relief that only lasted until she read the notice on the door. It translated as Closed on Wednesdays. She stood by the darkened windows and growled, ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger.’ But it didn’t help.
After a few minutes, she turned and set off again. Within a few minutes she managed to find a familiar sight. It was her grappa café and it was open. She went in and was greeted as an old friend by the man behind the bar whose name, she now knew, was Leonardo. She spoke to him in Italian, always glad to have the opportunity to practise.
Dreaming of Venice Page 21