‘Good evening, Professor Innocenti. I was just thinking how smart you were looking as well.’
‘Penny, hi. I’m so glad you could come.’ Penny turned at the sound of the voice to find Jonathan at her shoulder. He, too, cast an approving glance across her. ‘You look stunning, I must say.’
Professor Innocenti had been captured by another couple so Penny was able to lower her voice and give Jonathan a conspiratorial grin. ‘Afraid it’s just me in here for now, but Olivia’ll be coming at seven.’
‘I know, she told me all about it.’ Just then he spotted somebody over her shoulder. ‘Do please go on in and look around. I look forward to hearing what you think of the exhibition. You’ll have to excuse me now; I’ve just spotted the British Ambassador who’s come all the way up from Rome to be with us.’
Penny walked into the huge first floor exhibition room and paused at the door. The very first thing she saw, right in front of her, was a massive painting of Venice, unmistakably by Canaletto. As she stood in silent appreciation, a waiter glided up with a tray and offered her a glass of champagne. She took one and then moved on into the room, partly looking at the artworks, but really very much on the lookout for Rico. All the women were dressed to the nines and she in no way felt out of place in her frighteningly expensive Chanel number. All the men were wearing suits or dinner jackets and there was absolutely no sign of a battered black leather jacket or, indeed, a tall man with an unruly mop of dark hair. Her hopes began to fade. A sense of disillusionment gradually began to settle upon her as she realised that her last chance of seeing her mystery man again had come and gone. She took a big mouthful of champagne, reflecting that her new job might, at least, indulge her in her newfound taste for the expensive stuff, but it didn’t help.
She worked her way around the room full of priceless treasures, unable to fully appreciate their beauty because of the cold void of disappointment that had formed inside her. She was standing in front of the magnificent portrait of Flora by Titian, on loan from the Uffizi, when she heard a voice.
‘Good evening, Olivia, I’ve been hoping so very much that you’d come.’ The voice came from behind her, but she would have recognised it anywhere. She wheeled round with a delighted smile that changed to one of amazement when she saw him. The mass of dark hair had been seriously trimmed by a very good hairdresser. The scruffy beard had been removed and was now reduced to sexy stubble on his cheeks and chin. His tall, muscular frame was now clad in what looked like a silk dinner jacket that screamed good taste and expense. He looked even more drop dead gorgeous than normal and she felt the now familiar unsteadiness in the knees that his appearance always caused. He was smiling back at her somewhat nervously. ‘This was my only hope. I had to see you again. I even went back to that hotel of yours and asked for Olivia Brookes-Webster, but they had no record of you.’ He suddenly looked very serious. ‘Listen, Olivia, I’ve got to talk to you. I’m so, so sorry I offended you. Please let me explain and maybe you’ll be prepared to forgive me.’
Penny was literally speechless. He looked so very unlike what she had been expecting. Gone was the unkempt, bohemian look, to be replaced by elegance and affluence. She found it hard to process. However, although muddied by his changed appearance, her feelings at seeing him again, when she had truly believed all hope had gone, were close to ecstatic. With a considerable effort, she cleared her throat and addressed him.
‘Rico, I’m so very, very pleased to see you.’ Her voice almost cracked with emotion. ‘No, you didn’t offend me, yes, we’ve got to talk and, yes, I really am at that hotel, just not registered under that name. There’s so much I’ve got to tell you.’ At that moment, a waiter appeared and murmured something into Rico’s ear before withdrawing. Rico nodded and looked back at Penny.
‘Will you do something for me, please, Olivia? Can you just stay here and not budge for ten minutes or so? I’m afraid there’s something I’ve got to do.’ He gave her that same nervous smile. ‘You won’t go off again, will you?’ She shook her head and he left her there. Suddenly, as her eyes focused on the Titian again, she saw it with new eyes. The girl in the painting had hair almost the same colour as hers, and her enigmatic look away from the viewer was tantalising, not least as she was near naked. As she studied the picture, her head was spinning. He was here, Rico. She had found him and the only thing she couldn’t get her head round was the way he had changed so markedly from casual to formal in appearance, even though his smile had still been unmistakably his.
She didn’t have to wait long for the explanation. She heard somebody tapping on a microphone and the noise level in the room suddenly dropped. She turned to find Jonathan standing on a low podium at one side of the room, ready to give his welcome speech. On one side of him was Professor Innocenti and on his other side, to her considerable surprise, was Rico.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m delighted to welcome you all to the Carstairs Gallery, part of the Carstairs Foundation, created by my grandfather back in the nineteen-sixties. It was always his intention to set up a gallery here in the incomparable city of Venice, to create a space where quintessentially Italian art could be showcased. And now, at long last, this has come to fruition. We’ve been extremely fortunate to have been able to find as the home for our new galley this magnificent Renaissance palace, owned by my good friend Prince Federico di Valdastico.’ He turned towards Rico. ‘Would you like to say a few words, Your Highness?’
Penny’s amazement was then compounded as Rico took the microphone and started to speak in near-perfect English. Up until now she and he had only spoken in Italian together, and she had had no idea he was so very fluent in English. And then there was the fact that he was a prince. As she vaguely listened to him talking about how worthwhile a cause the Carstairs Foundation was, and how happy he was to have this amazing exhibition housed in his property, a terrible realisation began to dawn upon her.
He was a prince. She was a nobody.
He obviously believed she was Olivia and, as such, a person of similar social standing. So, far from Rico being a possible gold-digger, the only person trying to punch above her weight here was Penny herself. And when he found out who she was, or rather, who she wasn’t, that would be that. Yet again, she found herself bitterly regretting entering into this charade. Her mum would have been oh so right. It would, indeed, end in crying. And the person doing the crying would be her.
She looked round. Rico was still speaking, now in Italian, thanking all the civic dignitaries who had come along to the opening, and his attention was directed towards a group of sober-looking men in suits at the far end of the room. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, Penny slipped backwards through the crowd until she was able to disappear behind the screen upon which the magnificent Canaletto was hung, and make her escape down the stairs. She knew she had to get out, to avoid putting Rico, and most probably Jonathan, in a most embarrassing position when her true identity was revealed. What, she wondered to herself, would he think when Olivia herself appeared and positioned herself on Jonathan’s arm? Penny was quite sure she didn’t want to be around to see that.
Remembering that Olivia would be arriving to take her place in less than half an hour, Penny told the cloakroom girl that she had to pop out and she would be back shortly. She retrieved her coat and rushed out of the main entrance, not even waiting to put it on. Only when she was several streets away did she stop in the light of a street lamp and pull the coat on, wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck. Her breath formed clouds in front of her face and she wished she had brought her woolly hat. Remembering what she had told Olivia, she pulled out her phone and sent a two word text, Gone. Penny. She retrieved her gloves from her pockets and pulled them on before setting off, blindly, into the Venetian night.
As she walked along a succession of narrow, stone-paved streets, she couldn’t miss the fact that, in spite of the cold, there were more people about. It gradually began to dawn upon her that it was not only a Friday night, but the Fri
day night before Christmas. In five days time it would be Christmas and she would, by then, be back in the UK with her mum, her dad and her sister’s family. She would not, however, be with Rico. She would never again be with Rico. In spite of the sparkling Christmas decorations everywhere she looked, in spite of the evident happiness of the majority of people she met, she felt alone and sad. She had found him, she had lost him, and she had found him again – only to discover, a matter of minutes later, that he had once more to be torn out of her life.
She walked round in circles, losing track of time, barely aware of her surroundings, her eyes passing over the incomparable beauty of Venice without registering what she was seeing. It was only much later, when she found herself on top of the humpbacked Ponte dell’Accademia, where she had met Rico barely three days earlier, even if it now felt like a lifetime ago, that she stopped and took stock. She went over to the wooden balustrade and rested her elbows on the rail, looking down onto the dark waters of the Grand Canal. Behind her, a street vendor was flying little luminous helicopters, but she ignored them and stared down into the shadows. To one side were the red and white posts that marked a landing stage outside a stunning ochre palazzo flying the flags of Europe, Italy and Venice from its façade. A water-bus was chugging down towards the open lagoon and all around there was a magnificence, a stunning beauty that finally managed to break through her depression. She took a deep breath of freezing air and mentally shook herself.
No, she told herself, she didn’t regret taking on the job of replacing Olivia. First and foremost this had brought her two new friends. Second, it had allowed her to sample a lifestyle she could never otherwise have afforded and, third, it had allowed her to come here to this magnificent city of art and culture. The beauty of Venice shone through, defying her to be too downhearted at losing the first man who had ever turned her knees to jelly. She gazed around in silent appreciation of a place that was unique in the world and living perilously closer to disaster with every high tide. She was glad she had come to Venice, no matter what.
Her reverie was interrupted by her phone. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID. It was Jimmy from London.
‘Hello, Jimmy, if you’ve phoned to cheer me up, you’ve timed it just about right.’
‘Oh, sweetheart, didn’t you find him?’ He sounded truly sorry for her and she felt a warm wave affection for him.
‘No, Jimmy, I found him all right. It’s just that it turns out he isn’t who I thought he was.’
‘So what? Let’s face it sweetie, you aren’t who he thinks you are either.’
‘I know, Jimmy, but, you see… it turns out he’s a prince.’
‘He’s a what?’ She could imagine the expression on Jimmy’s face.
‘A prince. Prince Federico of Valsomething or other.’
‘Blimey. So that makes you Cinderella, I suppose. But, to be honest, I didn’t think there were princes and princesses in a place like Italy. Isn’t it a republic?’
‘I’ve no idea, Jimmy. All I know is that the man I fell in love with is way, way out of my league.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Those days are long gone. Look at Princess Kate for instance.’
‘No, it’s not going to happen, Jimmy. The man owns a palace! Why would he want somebody like me?’
‘I’ll tell you why he would want you, why I’m sure he does want you. He wants a sweet, kind, caring, funny girl. He wants one of the most gorgeous-looking girls I know and the most talented artist I know as well. So you aren’t a princess. Who cares?’
‘When he finds out who I really am, he’ll care, Jimmy. I’m from another world.’ She glanced at the time and was amazed to find it was almost nine o'clock. ‘And he’ll definitely know by now. No, Jimmy, the best spin I can put on this affair is the whole “better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” thing. Who said that? Shakespeare maybe?’
‘Tennyson, Alfred Lord Tennyson. Who says I’m just an uneducated waiter, eh?’
‘Not me, Jimmy, and you know the other thing you are? You’re a star. You’re a lovely man and I’m really lucky to have you as my friend.’
‘Well, listen to your friend now. All right? I’ll speak slowly so you can understand. Go back and look for your pirate prince once more. If he’s going to dump you because you haven’t got your own castle or palace or whatever, you need to hear it from him. It’s not fair of you to prejudge how he might feel about you. Give the poor man a chance, would you?’
‘I’d be wasting my time… and his.’
‘Then waste it, for crying out loud. But you’ve got to hear it from him. If you really think I’m a good friend, then listen to me and go back and hear him out. You might be surprised.’
‘All right, Jimmy, just for you, but…’
‘You won’t be wasting your time, believe me.’
Penny dropped the phone into her pocket and made her way back down the slope and off the bridge. She knew her way from here to the gallery; it barely took her five minutes. However, as she reached the gallery, she was unsurprised to see the lights out and the doors locked. The party was all over and everybody, including Rico, had gone. She stood there for a few moments, unsure what she felt. On the one hand, being unable to see and talk to him as Jimmy had instructed was disappointing, but, on the other, she knew she was relieved she didn’t need to go through the embarrassment of what would, she felt sure, be rejection.
She set off back to her hotel. As she passed restaurants and bars, now mostly packed with people, she toyed with the idea of stopping for something to eat, but her appetite had deserted her. Instead, she decided she might as well go home and go to bed early. St Mark’s Square was still cold and dark, but tonight there were certainly more people to be seen, walking round enjoying themselves. She took a final look at the massive Christmas tree with its bright lights and then went down the road beside the basilica to her hotel. When she walked in the door, she got a surprise.
‘Thank goodness. I thought I’d lost you again.’ She stopped dead. It was Rico, waiting in the lobby. ‘I came here and did what I should have done the other day. When they told me they had no guest with the name Brookes-Webster, I should have done what I did tonight. I asked them if they had a very beautiful English girl with shining chestnut brown hair and grey eyes, who spoke really good Italian. They knew immediately who I meant so I’ve been waiting. So, I understand I have to call you Penny now?’
Penny still hadn’t got a clue what to say. She just stood there, stock still, staring at him. Slowly, part of her brain started to react again. ‘You know my name?’
‘Jonathan and the real Olivia told me all about your little bit of play-acting. Very convincing by the way. The thing is, you weren’t the only one. I owe you an explanation and an apology.’ He glanced across at the receptionist, who was trying not to look as if he was listening to their conversation, and then dropped his eyes to his watch. ‘Have you got time for a little walk?’ Penny nodded blankly, still unsure what was going on and what she should be saying or doing. She let him take her hand and lead her out into the street once more. Once outside, he kept hold of her hand as they walked back into St Mark’s Square. She didn’t mind.
As they walked across the square they didn’t speak. She was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had tracked her down and, apparently, didn’t seem to mind the fact that she wasn’t Olivia. A few minutes past the square she realised they were heading back to the gallery. He squeezed her hand and looked across at her. With her killer heels she wasn’t much shorter than him. ‘I’ve got wine and cheese at my place if that’s all right.’
She nodded her head, still unsure of her voice.
His place, it turned out, was the top floor of the palazzo, above the exhibition. The entrance was down a narrow alley to the left of the building and she saw that the alley finished at a wooden landing stage on the Grand Canal. The door was a massive, carved oak affair, with nails embossed into it. They walked into a spacious hall
way and up a very fine white marble stairway to the second floor. He opened the door and led her inside. He flicked a switch and a single lamp came on, giving just enough light for them to make their way past a huge settee to the window. When they reached it, she stopped in awe. The view onto the Grand Canal and across to the ancient buildings on the other side was incomparable. She stood there, eyes ranging over the scene before her, and she knew this was one of the most amazing views in the world. She felt him come up behind her. His arms reached gently round her waist and pulled her towards him. She felt his lips on her neck and then she heard his voice.
‘I’m sorry for deceiving you. I didn’t mean to, but it’s just a sort of self-protection mechanism I have. My friends all know it, even the waiters in the places I go know it. I don’t like the bright lights and all the paraphernalia of celebrity. I would have wriggled out of tonight’s event if I could have done. I’m much, much happier if people just think of me as Rico. That’s all I ever want to be. Will you forgive me?’
His lips touched her earlobe and she almost collapsed backwards. Her whole body felt more alive than it had for months, years. She kept her eyes on the canal and took hold of his hands in hers as they clasped across her waist. Then she, too, apologised.
‘So you know the story now? I didn’t want to deceive you either. It’s just that I was employed to do a job and the job involved me changing into somebody else. But I’ve changed back now. I’m Penny, I’m an artist, I live in London and I’m very pleased to meet you.’
She felt his arms rise to her shoulders and then he very gently turned her towards him and kissed her. She kissed him back and pressed herself against him, her heart soaring. After the kiss, he crushed her into his chest and she heard his voice again.
Dreaming of Venice Page 24